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crossed her arms over her bountiful chest. “Who said anything about going to court?”
    â€œWell, your mother would have to go to court if she intends to sue Mr. Murdoch,” Dante said.
    Mavis looked confused. “You . . . you think I should sue him? But I don’t know for sure if he was the one who caused the crash. I wouldn’t feel right blaming him for something he might not have done.”
    Dante returned his gaze to Mavis. The old woman was going to be a challenging client, he could tell. She was obviously crippled by guilt for what had happened and would not be willing to lie—at least for now. He glanced at her daughter, Renee, who was listening to him keenly. She was hanging on to his every word. He might have an ally in Renee. That woman looked more carnivorous than a gray wolf. She would have no problem lying and probably could aid him in pressuring Mavis to say what needed to be said when the time came. But for now, Dante would have to choose his words carefully.
    â€œYou’re not really blaming him. This is more of a pre-emptive measure, Mavis,” Dante explained. “If you sue Terrence first, he’s less likely to try litigation with you.”
    â€œThat makes sense,” Renee said, vigorously nodding. “You fire the gun first, Mama . . . the warning shot to scare him off.”
    â€œYou’d file a lawsuit for your injuries,” Dante said, “for your pain and mental anguish. You’d argue that it’s only right that Mr. Murdoch pay a sizeable settlement to make you whole again.”
    â€œBut I wouldn’t . . . I wouldn’t really be expecting that money, though, right?” Mavis asked. Her gray brows furrowed with distress. “I’m not really suing him for real. I’m . . . I’m just doing it so that he won’t sue me . . . first?”
    Dante nodded and indulged her with a warm smile meant to convey empathy, though he felt absolutely none.
    She lowered her gaze, then finally nodded. “Well, I-I guess it’s all right, then. But only if I’m not really going to get the money in the end.”
    â€œOf course not,” Dante lied.
    â€œSo I guess you’re offering to be her lawyer, then,” Renee said, pointing her long silver nail at him that looked like the talon of a vulture. “Is that what all this talking’s about?”
    â€œI’d be happy to assist Ms. Upton.” He quickly turned to the older woman. “On a pro bono basis, of course.”
    â€œPro bono? That means you don’t get paid up front, right?” Renee asked.
    â€œExactly,” he said, giving her a wink.
    Renee’s smile widened. She stuck out her chest even further, almost pushing her breasts entirely over the top of her shirt.
    Oh, he definitely had an ally in Renee, and judging from the heated gaze she was now giving him, he might have a lot more.
    â€œIt all sounds good to me, Mama,” Renee urged. “I say hire him.”
    Mavis pursed her lips, forming them into a thin line that almost looked like a grimace. Finally, she nodded. “Okay. You’re . . . you’re hired.”

Chapter 6
    Terrence
    T errence sat alone in the dark in his spacious living room, gazing through one eye at his television, where ESPN played on the flat screen. One leg—the one he had shattered during the accident—was perched on the suede ottoman in front of him. A beer, already warming to room temperature, was in one hand. He absently scratched at his beard with the edge of his remote, careful not to touch his eye patch and the sensitive tissue underneath it.
    When a commercial came on the screen, he raised the remote to flip to another channel and gazed at an action movie where the leather-clad hero ran across jungle terrain on two legs.
    Two healthy legs , Terrence noted bitterly.
    The hero also had two working eyes, rather than one that had been mutilated and blinded during a car