Dark Whispers by Debra Webb Page B

only surprising part was that April had discovered his secret. There were only a handful of people who knew that part of his history. Farago, the bastard, had likely put in a call to the sister. One of these days he was going to get his. Clint hoped he was around to watch.
    “It has something to do with why you chose not to pursue a career as an attorney,” Natalie suggested.
    She’d asked him about that before and he’d done what he always did, he’d brushed her off. Making that leap now was the reasonable route to take. “It does.”
    “Is it relevant to my case?”
    “No.” Was she offering a way out of this discussion?
    She nodded. “I see. Well.” Shoulders squared, she picked up her cup. “I don’t see any reason to discuss the matter.”
    He wanted to be relieved but he understood this would not be the last time the issue came back to haunt him. “Why put off the inevitable? April feels the issue is relevant to my trustworthiness.”
    Natalie lifted her chin. “But I don’t. Despite recent events, my sister is not my keeper.”
    The seed of doubt had been planted. Clint was well aware how this worked. The subject might feel irrelevant at the moment but in the middle of the night when she couldn’t sleep it would nag at her.
    “My father worked in a factory,” he began. “My mother operated a daycare in our house for the neighborhood children. Together they made enough to keep a roof over our heads and to fall above the income level for any sort of government aid. There was no money for college, much less law school.” He resisted the urge to stand and pace. “I was a smart kid. I didn’t get the kind of scholarships the athletes received, but it was enough to get me in the door. The rest, however, was up to me.”
    “So you worked your way through school,” Natalie offered. “There’s no shame in hard work. College is expensive. Law school is even more costly.”
    She couldn’t hide the automatic guilt she clearly felt for growing up rich when she heard stories like his. No matter, when she heard the rest that guilt would shift into outrage and disgust. What the hell?
    “I worked as an escort .” He figured she would comprehend the full implications of the statement without him going into graphic detail.
    She sipped her tea, cleared her throat and took a breath. “Do you mean—?”
    “I mean exactly what you think I mean. The Alabama State Bar used its morals clause to preclude my admission to the bar based on my character and that was that.”
    “You did this for...?”
    If she blinked too hard the frozen expression on her face would no doubt shatter. Clint almost laughed. He was a damned good investigator. Whether he’d delivered pizza or pleasure during college should be of no consequence to the job he had to do now. “Five years.”
    The duration of his early career startled her and the dainty cup almost slipped from her slim fingers. “I see.”
    No. She didn’t see at all. There were other things he could tell her, like the fact that he earned more in his first year than the average attorney did in his first four. He’d had a high-end operation, not a street corner. His clients had been the rich and famous of Alabama. By the time he hit law school he had invested widely and wisely. He could retire now, if he chose, on the investments he’d made. None of that would matter. He saw the horror and disbelief in her eyes.
    He stood, fury and frustration beating in his pulse, and buttoned his jacket. “You have my number. Let me know if you still require my services. If not, I’ll ask the boss to send someone else.”
    “Sit down, Clint.”
    Whatever hesitation she’d felt before, there was none in her blue eyes now. He, on the other hand, hesitated. He wasn’t apologizing for his past.
    “Please,” she added.
    He ripped the jacket button loose once more and sat. His boss, he still had to work at reminding himself not to call Jess chief, would be the first one to say he