Fighting History (Fighting For Love Book 4) by Marysol James Read Free Book Online Page B

know that, right?”
    She nodded at him.
    “OK, so.” Charlotte ran a hand through her dark hair. “Let me talk to the judge. He already suggested that the trial begin in three weeks. That should be enough time to prep you, and for Yates’ team to mount a new defense strategy.”
    “Strategy?” Mitch said.
    “Yes. If it’s all about Reena – and I’m sure it will be – then they have to deal with what she says happened.”
    “What did happen,” Mitch corrected, an edge to his voice. “I’ll testify to it.”
    “Yes, normally you would,” Charlotte said. “Normally, I’d call you to the stand, Mitch. After all, you were the first person to see Reena and the apartment after the attack.”
    “Right. So what’s the problem?”
    “The problem is that you and Reena are together now.” Maggie glanced at Charlotte. “Right?”
    “Exactly.” Charlotte shrugged. “Yates’ lawyers would argue pretty strongly that you’re making up supporting testimony to help your girlfriend.”
    “Fuck!” Mitch ground out.
    “Also?” Charlotte said mercilessly. “Your little underground brawl with Yates, where you snapped his leg damn near in two, wouldn’t help matters in the slightest. The lawyers would say that you have an ax to grind with him. They’d also portray you as a street thug, Mitch, as a dangerous, unstable, violent man. And then they’d ask just what the hell is sweet little assault victim Reena doing with a guy like that?”
    They all stared at her, horrified.
    “But why would the fight even come up?” Adam asked. “It was totally illegal… you think Yates’ lawyers would admit to him being there? At a fight organized by local drug dealer and pimp Kirk Jensen? Seriously?”
    Charlotte shrugged. “If it made Mitch look even worse than Simon? You’re damn right they would.”
    “So Reena’s on her own,” Mitch said heavily. “Totally alone.”
    “Yes.”
    “Goddamn,” Katie said. “I hate these assholes.”
    “Oh, yeah.” Charlotte gave them a wry smile. “Me too.”

Chapter Seven
     
    One week later, Maggie ran her hands over the apsara’s leg, admiring the curve. She’d gotten it just right, she thought: it was shapely and sexy, but also strong and fluid. The goddess looked like she was actually supporting some weight on it as she moved, and that was what Maggie had been after. Light and airy, a creature of air and myth, but still somehow flesh and blood. All woman; all spirit; all essence.
    Her cell phone buzzed now and she frowned when she saw Joe’s number.
    Argh. What now, creep? You call me every day, and I have yet to figure out why.
    Briefly, she considered not answering, but she knew he’d just keep on calling. The man was nothing if not persistent.
    “Hello?” she said, going for polite, at least for the moment.
    “Hi, Maggie.” Even over the phone, Joe sounded tired, and Maggie reminded herself she didn’t give a crap.
    “Hello.”
    “How’s it going?”
    She sighed. “The same as it was this morning when you called and asked me the same question. Good.”
    “Good progress today?”
    “Yes.”
    “So.” He cleared his throat. “Can I come later this week and see the first sculpture?”
    Maggie rolled her eyes. “It’s your apsara. You can come and check on its progress any time you want. I’ve told you this many times.”
    “Yeah, I know,” Joe said. “I just want to come and see it when I’ll get a sense of the final result. Before then makes no real sense.”
    She glanced up at the sculpture looming above her. “Well, if you can hold on two weeks, I think you’ll be able to see the completed bottom half.”
    “The bottom?”
    “Yes. I’ll work on her face last. I always do.”
    “Oh, right. I’d forgotten that’s how you work.”
    She said nothing. She’d long ago assumed that Joe Carlisle had forgotten pretty much everything about her.
    “OK, then,” he said, and she heard paper rustling. “So I’ll come on Thursday morning. The