1 Motor City Shakedown Read Online Free PDF Page A

need me dumping mine all over you.”
    Darren knew there was something he wanted to get out, but the words weren’t coming. He wasn’t accustomed to that. Normally, words were the easiest thing in the world for him. They were his stock in trade.
    Frustrated and glum, he rose and walked over to the window again. Outside, beyond the parking garage, the sky was clear, untroubled. He leaned his forehead against the glass and closed his eyes.
    “I’ll tell you something most people would probably laugh at,” he said. “Some people—not many, mind you, but some-- they get into the law because they want to help people. Not for the money. Not for status or praise. It’s a simple and beautiful thing, if you really have it inside you. It makes you strong if you can put someone’s interests above your own and do everything you can to get them out of dire straits. It gives you a sense of dignity.”
    Some of the dour pessimism seemed to have passed out of him now that he was articulating how he felt.
    “I had that kind of dignity, Mr. Pullins. I did my best for people who were stuck in a really brutal system. And then I…I made a mistake.”
    Behind him, a series of ruffling sounds. Darren jerked around and found himself staring at the pretty young lawyer from the hallway.
    “I’m so sorry,” she blurted. She was down on her knees, furiously scooping up from the floor what looked to be all of the contents of her briefcase. “The clasp is going bad. Everything just spilled out. I am so sorry.”
    Without thinking, Darren walked over and bent down. He started gathering up loose sheets of paper and handing them to her. She smiled hesitantly, a rush of blood turning her cheeks scarlet.
    “Here, let me help you.”
    “I’m sorry, I was—“
    “You were eavesdropping,” he said mildly, and she blushed deeper. She snapped the briefcase shut once the papers were all back inside it, and both of them stood face-to-face.
    “I really am sorry,” she repeated. “I tried to be quiet because I thought you were talking to Mr. Pullins.”
    “I was.”
    “No, I know. I know. I meant…I don’t know what I meant,” she stammered, and there was something endearing in her flustered discomfort that made Darren want to lean forward and plant a kiss on her forehead.
    Instead, he put his hand out between them and gave h er his crooked grin.
    “Darren Fletcher.”
    “Issabella Bright,” she said, and they shook.
    “Well, Izzy, if you came here to—“
    “Issabella. Not Izzy.”
    Darren’s crooked grin grew wider and he cocked his head in curiosity.
    “Yeah? Izzy’s such a cool name, though. Really? No room for Izzy?”
    “When I was a kid, yeah. But no, not anymore. Why are we talking about this?”
    Darren put his hands on his hips and regarded her for a beat. He noted her clean, unadorned appearance. She was lovely, with long chestnut hair worn straight and simply. Her business suit was well-pressed but cheap. Her nails were not long and had no polish. She wore no jewelry and her face seemed like an open book, her expressions genuine and guileless.
    ‘This is what the girl next door looks like after she grows up and gets a law license,’ he thought, and chuckled to himself.
    “Hmm,” she said, and a wrinkle of consternation appeared between her eyebrows. “You just laughed at me, didn’t you?”
    “Not de risively, no. It was an appreciative chuckle. Complimentary chuckle? Can a chuckle be complimentary? Let’s say it can and move on. How’d you make it past that big cop?”
    Issabella glanced at the door through which she’d come, then back at him.
    “I’m not sure, actually,” she admitted. “I was going to start blathering at him about the Constitution, but I didn’t even have to. He just waved me through. I think you scared him or something.”
    “Are you with a firm?”
    “Me? No. I’m solo. You?”
    “Same. You’re new. Right?”
    Issabella stiffened, and he realized the question was probably easy