Page 6 of Defensive Indifference

“I’ve already threatened them with everything under the sun if they harm a hair on his head, so to speak. I don’t think they’d be stupid enough to hurt a horse like that, but I’ll be sure to send an animal advocate to check on him. Frankly, the horse is my priority over your vehicles and your home.”

I lurch forward. “I’m sorry, did you say my home?”

Peterson blinks. “I thought you knew. Koa, they seized all of your vehicles, your home, your boat…everything.”

At this, I stand and growl. “How can they seize a whole house? Where am I supposed to sleep? How am I supposed to take care of myself or my sister if my income is frozen?”

“Your contract payouts and endorsement income will be unfrozen soon. Give me a day or so to get all of the paperwork filed. Until then, I’d suggest you ask a friend to be very generous and allow you a place to sleep. Katie too.”

“Katie—are you kidding me? She lives in an apartment. She pays rent on time from her own job.”

“Again, there isn’t anything more I can do. We have to wait and let it play out. In time, you will be vindicated. Until then, pray and be patient. Don’t cause me any more trouble.” He pushes his wiry hair out of his face and frowns. “I realize it’s not ideal, but you hired me because I am the best at what I do. Let me work.”

Another frustrated groan escapes, but I know he’s doing all he can. He’ll continue to do so until Katie and I are fully restored, but that can take time. The only thing I know to do now is ask Spencer if we can stay with him for a few days, maybe a few weeks, and figure out how to access the funds coming to me.

“Do I need to open a new bank account?”

“You let me worry about all of that. I’ll have my assistant set everything up and deposit funds for you to live on this week. I’ll call you when everything else is taken care of.”

For all of my frustration and anger, complaining and whining, Peterson stays as professional as always with that caring edge that does make him a great choice for a lawyer. I blow out a long breath and collect my thoughts.

“All right. Okay, yeah, I can deal with that. Keep me posted, and I’ll just go about life as normally as possible.”

“That is the best course of action. I’m truly sorry you’re dealing with this, but you’re not the first, and you won’t be the last.”

I bid him a final goodbye, nod to his assistant on my way out, and glance around before heading into the parking lot. It seems clear, so I head to Lottie’s car and resume my incognito travels through Savannah. It doesn’t take long for a news van to pull in behind me. At first, I hope it’s little more than a coincidence, but when I begin taking the side streets headed to Andrew’s house and they follow, I know it’s more. I can’t take them back to his home, destroying his solitude, especially not with his young kids.

The only thing I can think to do is lose them, which of course, would have been a lot easier if I’d had one of my sports cars. An SUV doesn’t take the turns as well, but if it’s the last thing I do, I’m going to lose the jerk riding my tail as if I’m a murderer and this is the story of the year. How noble he must be to spend his days chasing innocent people, trying to end their careers for a story.

I merge back into traffic on the main road after navigating the neighborhood. After a quarter mile, I merge onto the interstate and gas it. Fortunately, the SUV is a bit more agile than a big reporter van, but if I can see them in my mirrors, then they can still see me. Weaving through traffic as safely as possible, I work to put too many vehicles between us for them to keep track of me.

When I go around a soft curve and downhill, I speed off the interstate on an exit ramp that’s well hidden by a line of trees. Taking a sharp right hides me altogether, but I haven’t disappeared just yet. I catch them pulling off onto the same exit, but I’m well enough ahead that I can take some back farm roads and disappear. Dirt road after dirt road eventually brings me back to town, but I seem to have lost them. Just in case, I decide to park the SUV in a large shopping center parking lot and leave it for a while. Disappear into a little shop somewhere, let them chase their tails while I hide out.

Once parked, I scout the area in search of anything suspicious, as if I truly am the criminal they have all deemed me to be. I spy Sparkly’s, Andrew’s favorite donut shop, and decide that’s as good a place as any to hide from them. I remember he mentioned once that the owner is nice and often lets him hide out in her kitchen or exit out the back if he needs to escape fans. Hopefully, she’ll spread the favor along to a little rich kid whose father may or may not have scammed people out of their hard-earned income.

“Nothing to lose,” I grind under my breath, and pull open the pink door.

Chapter Four

Evalina

When the door opens, I’m jerked back to reality and slide the paperwork that has had my attention beneath the counter. Thirty days to vacate, and not a single approval for a business loan, means I’m going to have to shut down my bakery and get a regular job. It’s the last thing I want to do, but without a loan there’s no chance I can afford a new location.

The man who walks in pauses at the counter as if he’s never seen one before. He pulls his hat off, revealing disheveled blond hair that matches his wild eyes and a seemingly permanent scowl. Upon closer inspection, I understand why. While I’m pretty used to Andrew Rossi gracing my little shop, I’m not used to his teammates dropping in. Especially recently disgraced ones. Still, the verdict isn’t in on his guilt, so far be it from me to assume the worst.

I clear my throat and earn his fleeting attention. “What can I get for you today?”

“Uh…” His eyes flutter to the menu behind me, back to me, then to the door again. “Just black coffee, please.”

“Sure thing.” I step away from the cash register to make his drink while he stares out the window like a man on the run. Based on what I’ve seen on the news, he probably is. I can’t imagine losing everything and being accused of money laundering and working with a big-time mafia boss…or something like that. Losing everything is bad enough.

“Here you go. On the house. If you sit by the back booth, you can slip through the kitchen door and out the back alley if you need to. That’s Andrew’s signature move.” I thumb over my shoulder at the swinging kitchen door where his teammate has made more than one quick exit. Still, my attempt at humor only deepens his scowl.

“Thanks,” he mumbles, but takes my advice and settles into the booth nearest the counter entrance.

His gaze drifts over the décor—the brick facing behind him that boasts photographs of the city and hand-drawn maps of old Savannah, the bookcases that line the opposing wall filled to bursting with books. A small smile tugs at my lips when I think about how that began. One patron left a book behind and never came back. I put it on the counter, and someone else took it…but left a different book behind. And thus began a massive free book exchange program inside of Sparkly’s.

Eventually, his eyes settle on the menu, then drift down to me. Realizing I’ve been staring at him forces heat to my cheeks; nothing a quick wipe down of the already clean counter can’t cover. I get to work arranging the items on the countertop so I can clean it again before humming to myself. The momentary distraction occupies my mind enough that I almost don’t hear the oven buzz.