Alan Griffith was silver-haired like his nephew, and exuded the same “don’t fuck with me” aura, but added “Or I’ll fucking kill you” to it. Blake knew he was in the presence of an alpha, and cast his eyes down after they glanced at each other. Alan held out his hand and shook Blake’s, hard enough to show that he could very well break Blake’s hand if he so chose.
“You met Dor,” said Alan, as he waved a hand to a chair. They were outside by a beautiful blue pool, decorated with mosaics of ancient Greeks fishing. Alan was in a suit and tie, and looked like he was ready to leave off on business, and that this was a moment in between his busy life. Blake had met people like him before; he had, in fact, represented some of them. Blake sat in the wire chair and Alan sat in the other.
“Yes,” said Blake.
Alan said to Murray, “Some iced tea.”
Murray nodded and left. Blake asked, “Why me? Don’t you have shifter attorneys in this state?”
Alan turned to Blake. “It just so happened that your name came up on our radar,” he said. “An anonymous tip that you were the best in the business.”
“I defend uncontrollable shifters. I bring in experts that explain to the jury what happens when a person shifts without their noticing, or when they’re new to shifting. ‘Dor’ doesn’t look very new to shifting.”
“He’s not.”
“Then why bring me here? I broke with my alpha ages ago.”
Alan’s “or I’ll kill you” aura seemed to come up strong. There was a subtle shift in his position, a readiness, that made Blake wary. Blake shifted as well, to defense.
“I want the best. You have an excellent record.”
“When they’re defendable. He’s walking around saying that what he did was akin to the Crusades.”
“It’s because I wouldn’t let him join the Army.” Alan shifted again, trying to open up. “Dorian wanted to go over there and fight. I refused him to do it, so he took the fight here.”
“They weren’t sleeper cells.”
“How do you know?”
Blake raised an eyebrow. “You believe it too?”
“I believe it was more than a parking spot.”
“You still didn’t answer my question. Why me?”
“Because you have nothing to lose.”
Blake looked askance at him.
“None of the attorneys here will give me an honest answer.”
“That’s what happens when you own them.”
Murray poured the iced tea and retreated. Alan spread his hands in surrender. “I thought it was a good idea at the time.”
“Do you want to know what my honest opinion is?”
“Yes.”
Blake sipped the tea. “He’s spoiled and needs to stay in there for a few.”
“I haven’t bailed him out, Mr. Thompson. I told him I’d get him out once I have an attorney to represent him.”
Blake sipped the tea again. “I’m not admitted to the bar here.”
“They have an oral sitting this weekend.”
Blake laughed, “You seem to think I’m a genius.”
“Law is law, Mr. Thompson. In South Dakota, bringing a minor over county lines is legal.”