Barely Legal Vol 1: Barely Legal Series Read online

  Barely Legal

  Barely Legal: A Serial

  VOL. 1

  Kailin Gow

  Barely Legal (Barely Legal Vol 1)

  Published by Kailin Gow Books

  And theEDGEbooks.com

  Copyright © 2014 Kailin Gow

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the permission in writing from the publisher except in case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  For information, please contact:

  Kailingowbooks(at)aol(dot)com.

  First Edition.

  Printed in the United States of America.

  DEDICATION

  To My Readers, Betas, and Kailin Krusaders, Thank You for All Your Love, Support, and Encouragement. You are truly one of the most important reasons why I’m blessed beyond measure.

  To women’s shelters and their dedicated volunteers and staff. As a volunteer during my college and graduate years, I experienced firsthand the good these shelters provide women and their children. It is through them many lives have changed for the better.

  To God, Thank You for providing me the strength, courage, creativity and sight to follow my calling. The glory is yours.

  Prologue

  Laura

  It wasn’t the way I usually dressed to meet someone, especially someone new, but between my long hours at law school and the cryptic and unexpected text I received, I didn’t really have much choice. I didn’t have the luxury of going back to my apartment in Irvine, California to change so I wore a casual chic look of jeans, a sequined tank top and sneakers.

  At least it was better than the sweats I usually wore when I spent the day in study hall and I had managed to pull the tangle of auburn curls that fell into my face back into a relatively neat ponytail.

  Still, as I pulled up in front of the Crystal Towers in Los Angeles I wondered if my casual chic look wasn’t a little bit too casual. Then again, I had no idea who I was meeting. The cryptic text message was simply signed,‘P’.

  I’d made a quick search of the tenants of the brand new building, but the tenant directory wasn’t yet in place.

  Biting my lip, I hesitated before stepping out of the car. I hated not knowing. I pulled my phone out and checked the message once more hoping to find a clue.

  Laura, how was your trip to Aspen? Relaxing, I bet. I know about you and Michael. This time, it went too far…but we know how it is in the throes of passion…sometimes you don’t know when to stop. Now I know it really wasn’t you who gave Michael his ultimate fantasy. You’re not capable of it. Only a master could, which we know you are not. Be prepared Laura, Michael was well-known and graced many social magazines. The police will issue a public statement about his death in the next 48 hours. Soon the world will find out that beautiful, upright Michael Brooks died while having kinky sex in the hands of soon-to-be lawyer and unblemished Laura Turner. If you want to clear yourself, come to the top of the Crystal Towers in Los Angeles. – P

  Clear myself. I’d put way too much time and effort into my law school to have everything crash down on me now. If word got out that I was in any way involved with Michael’s kinky death, the stain would remain attached to my reputation even once I was cleared of any wrong doing.

  Getting out of the car, I looked up at the immense and shiny new building. Everything about it read rich and powerful, strong and intimidating. Well, I reassured myself as I straightened my shoulders, I will not let myself be intimidated.

  Chapter 1

  Okay, so at first glance, I was thoroughly impressed with this new building. The architecture was strong and modern; straightforward lines with a definitive masculine air, but with an intense sense of drama and class. All glass and steel and chrome, the front foyer could have been cold and austere, but it somehow retained a bit of warmth. High above it all hung a striking crystal chandelier that was as strong in its beveled cuts as the large foyer demanded. Off to the right, behind the rich leather upholstered seating area, was a tall and narrow waterfall, and the sounds of the water crashing into the pool was the only sound in the huge space.

  Other than that, the place was empty. Well, at least it wasn’t some hole in the wall dump. With all the riches being flaunted, I had to assume I was going to be dealing with someone of substance… or at the very least someone influential.

  Knowing there was little chance of getting more information, I still took a chance and headed to the directory on the wall by the bank of elevators, but it was completely empty. I looked around hoping to see a receptionist or clerk or guard; nothing. Nobody was on the main floor except for two young men washing the windows at the other end of the foyer.

  Once more I pulled out my phone and considered calling my father, partly to let him know where I was, just in case things didn’t turn out so great, and partly to see if he knew anything about this building and its tenants. It would be so easy for him to find out who this ‘P’ person was, but I’d already involved him in this whole sordid ordeal more than I wanted to. If ever this whole Michael story broke out, he could be implicated for giving me the address of the Brooks Aspen winter home.

  Instead I punched Serena’s name, but after half a dozen rings, I gave up. My best friend was probably with Sebastian anyway. Now that she was finally free of Price’s clutches, she probably wanted to enjoy her newfound freedom with her new love. I couldn’t really blame her. If I’d had someone like Sebastian waiting for me, I’d be locking myself away with him, too.

  Her voicemail picked up and I stammered a second before leaving a message. “Serena, it’s Laura. Look, I’m in Los Angeles, the Crystal Towers to be precise. Um… I don’t really know what I’m getting into here. I got a strange message asking me to come here… something about Michael. Call me back the minute you have a chance. I think we’re going to have a lot to talk about.” I hesitated before cutting the connection. Should I have said more? But what?

  I put my phone away and called for an elevator. The elevator doors opened immediately and I got in, but before I could punch in the button for the top floor, a couple stepped in and pressed it. Apparently we were all going to the same place.

  Professionally attired in business suits, the woman appeared to be in her early thirties while the man seemed a few years older. Once again my casual chic look slapped me in the face. The woman’s grey pinstriped suit was immaculate not to mention pricey, and her long dark hair was sleek in a prim and proper ponytail. Even her glasses were fashionable and professional.

  The man also wore glasses, but they somehow seemed less fashionable. In fact, they almost looked retro, as did his sweater vest and bowtie over a crisp white buttoned down shirt. Though balding, he had pleasant features and an engaging smile.

  After a quick glimpse at me, they turned to face the elevator doors.

  “So what’s this guy’s background?” the woman said. “I mean, can he really replace Wilson? Do you really think he could play the role Wilson did?”

  The bald man nodded. “Graduated top of the class; Harvard law. Spent two years as clerk at the Supreme Court then became a JAG and went back to work at Miley & Townshend. It was about time too. Thirty two years old and he finally decides to join the family law firm.”

  “What held him up?”

  “Exploring the possibilities, I guess.” The bald man looked pointedly at the woman. “You know, he used to be an MMA fighter.”

  “A lawyer who can throw a punch. That’s a switch.”

  “And a lawyer who’s in fucking go
od shape.”

  “I like the sound of that.”

  He shrugged. “It was back when he was a teen and in his early twenties. An injury kept him from competing.”

  “Hope it didn’t keep him from keeping his body in tone.”

  “Can you get your head out of the gutter for just a minute?”

  “Oh, please. I can see your fucking hard-on through those perfectly pleated slacks. Who do you think you’re kidding? You’re itching to fuck the guy more than I am.”

  He reddened as he pressed a catty grin. “Okay, so the guy is hot and I could fantasize about him all day, but that would hardly be productive, now, would it?”

  She let out a throaty laugh and cocked a brow. “I would like to have the luxury of fantasizing about him, too, but from what I’ve heard, Peter Townshend only dates supermodels… maybe a few Hollywood starlets.” She gave him an up and down sweep over her trendy glasses. “Don’t want to burst your bubble, Brent, but I don’t think you’re his type.”

  “Oh, let me dream, will you?”

  “Anyway, I hear he doesn’t date anyone at work,” she went on. “Thank God I’m married.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean? You think he’d date you?”

  “Don’t sound so snide,” she huffed. “If you were straight, you would know what a catch I am.”

  “Cheryl, darling, I may be gay, but I know when I’m out of my league, and, sweetheart, you’re right out there with me. A man like Peter only goes for girls…” He tossed his head back at me. “…like her.”

  Smiling, I offered them an evasive shrug. I couldn’t help wondering if they worked for this Peter Townshend. And as the elevator got closer and closer to the top floor, I couldn’t help but wonder if that was where I was going too.

  The elevator doors opened and the pair walked out. Cheryl offered me a last glimpse over her shoulder as she followed Brent to the offices to the right.

  I headed straight to the large chrome reception desk and waited for the pretty blonde to look up at me. Wearing a clingy white halter-neck dress and large silver dangling earrings, she blended in with the chrome and glass décor. Even her long white fingernails were tipped with chrome.

  “Yes, can I help you?” she finally turned to say.

  For a second, I didn’t really know what to say. I didn’t even know who I was supposed to meet. I couldn’t very well tell her I was there to meet with a mysterious Mr. P. For that matter, I didn’t even know if it was a Mister. Finally, I simply opted to introduce myself, hoping she’d have the appropriate reaction.

  “Hello, I’m Miss Turner.”

  “Oh, yes, Miss Turner. You can go right on in. He’s expecting you.”

  He? It would have looked silly for me to ask who he is, but I desperately wanted to know before I pushed through that large chromed steel door. But of course, I just smiled and though I seriously felt underdressed all of a sudden, I walked, straight back and chin high, to that heavy door and pulled it open.

  I was immediately hit with a blast of arctic chill. Surely someone had forgotten to properly adjust the air conditioning in there. I mean, I was only in there three seconds when my nipples perked up like high beams on a moonless night.

  Of all the times for me to look so damned unprofessional. With only a thin cotton bra and the flimsy fabric of my tank top, I looked more like a stripper on break than a soon to be lawyer.

  Regardless of all that, I walked in with a defiant tilt to my head. All of this mystery was starting to get to me and my mood was quickly shifting from curious and concerned, to angry and impatient. I’d often been told that my eyes turned dark blue like an angry sea when I was upset. Well, they must have been navy blue as I stormed into that office, walked up to the large plate of glass set over some half assed but undoubtedly expensive chrome sculpture and stared at the back of the large white leather seat that was turned to the wall of windows that looked down on L.A..

  The arrogant bastard didn’t even have the courtesy to turn around to greet me. No, he just sat there, high on his perch, looking down at the little people of L.A. like a Lord over his manor. Well, if he thought I was intimidated by his message, if he thought I was going to walk in there whimpering like some sap, he was in for a surprising earful. He wasn’t the only one who could play games. If he was going to play the arrogant bastard with me, I was going to play scathing bitch to him.

  “Well, Mr. P. I’m here, Laura Turner, and I can tell you, I am not too happy about having to put everything aside just to drive all the way to L.A. just so I can stare at the back of your chair. If you think threatening me is a good way of going about getting me to cooperate with whatever you’ve got in mind, you don’t know me very well. I don’t appreciate being threatened and I’m not going to stand for it.”

  With all that said, I stared at the back of the chair, waiting for a response, any response. None came.

  “Did you hear me? Or are you going to hide behind there the whole time I’m here?”

  Still nothing. The nerve!

  Seething, I stomped my way around his desk, grabbed the chair and swung it around.

  No one.

  I heard my breath echo in the large office. Wallpapered in white leather, the room was sparsely furnished with only a few glass shelves on one wall, a large abstract painting in silver hues not yet hung and leaning against the wall below the shelves, and a glass topped bar on the other side.

  There was nothing on the shelves, nothing on the glass topped desk and nothing on the bar.

  “Hello?” I called out. “Is there anyone here? Mr. P., are you here?”

  I was basically talking to myself and I suddenly felt like an idiot. Being up there in that empty office without knowing who knew so much about me left me feeling vulnerable and I didn’t like it.

  For the most part, I was usually in control. I knew where I was going and how I was going to get there. I liked to plan things out, know all the ins and outs of any situation, know all the options. I thought it was a big part of what would eventually make me a good lawyer. But the whole crypted message, a message that surely came from someone who knew me a little too well, knew about my past… it just gave me the creeps.

  With a start, I turned. I heard a distinctive click and thought I’d heard the door close behind me, but there was still no one there.

  Damn it. Bad enough I had to drive all the way down here, but to play this ghostly game…

  “Miss Turner.”

  The deep and booming male voice filled the room, but seemed to come out of nowhere and everywhere at once.

  Gritting my teeth, I turned back to the white leather seat expecting this phantom to just appear.

  “What the hell is going on?”

  “Forgive me, but I’ll admit I’m a little surprised to see you here. I didn’t think you would be able to make it on such short notice. Then again, I’m sure you understood the urgency of the situation. Time is of the essence, isn’t it?”

  “I don’t appreciate these games, Mr. P. Where are you?”

  His sardonic chuckle rumbled throughout the room and infuriated me all the more.

  “Why don’t you man up and show yourself? It’s bad enough you had to send me a cryptic message…”

  “Cryptic? Why, I thought I was perfectly clear and concise.”

  “Either way, the least you could do now is act like a normal human being and come out to meet me in person.” I crossed my arms over my chest while my eyes darted around the room hoping to catch him coming in.

  “Feeling a little defiant today, aren’t we, Miss Turner?” The question was smooth and seductive, as if my angry tone turned him on. “Your temper appears to be as fiery at that mane of auburn curls. I’d hate to come up against you in a court of law, Miss Turner. You must be a real tigress.”

  “You don’t know the half of it.”

  “Well, allow me to congratulate you all the same. Seems like you're well on your way to becoming a lawyer. It mustn’t have been easy.”

&n
bsp; “Not easy at all,” I said. “But when all is said and done, I think I aced the bar exam. I should find out soon enough.”

  “A lawyer… you,” he mused. “Fancy that.”

  Annoyed with his insinuation, I pursed my lips and swirled around trying to find where his voice was coming from. “Yeah,” I said with a tight grin. “Fancy me living through three years of burying my head in one textbook after another, of one sleepless night after the other and with basically no sex life to speak of.”

  He laughed, a deep from the chest laugh. “What torture. When did you become such a masochist? And why? Celibacy isn’t for you, Miss Turner. Why bother putting yourself through all that pain and suffering?”

  “Unlike you, who seem to get a kick out of annoying the hell out of everyone, I like to help people. As a lawyer I’ll be in a position to help abused women. I’ll be able to help children find good homes.”

  “Well, what do you know? An altruistic lawyer. It’s a dog eat dog world out there, Miss Turner. A lawyer with too much heart and too many fanciful ideals can get eaten alive out there.”

  “A smart lawyer with a conscious and a sense of social obligation can get things done, Mr. P.”

  “I do love that fiery passion,” he growled. “And from what I can see, you're also cold… or might you be excited?”

  “Where are you, you pig?” I shouted as I looked at all four walls for a clue to his hiding place. I couldn’t believe the nerve of the man, questioning my integrity then turning around to make sexual insinuations.

  “Maybe you're both; a little cold and a little excited. I’ve been told my voice has that effect on women.”

  I felt the blood rush to my face as I glimpsed down at my nipples poking through the fabric that clung way too much to my breasts. Looking at me, no one would ever guess I was about to be a lawyer.

  Then again, with that aggravating, yet sexy voice making such remarks, a part of me didn’t feel like a lawyer at all. As much as I hated the mystery he was keeping, I was kind of thrilled by it too.