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After the police left, he’d gone to his office, created and made copies of three representation contracts, which were now in his satchel, and called Mel Cartwright to inform him that the three women were now ex-employees and all communications needed to go through him. Now he just needed their signatures to make it all legal.
He wasn’t too concerned about Rita and Alice, but Blondie was a different story. She hadn’t believed him about jaywalking or going home, so convincing her this was the only legal way to get out of the contract she’d signed with Cartwright’s wasn’t going to be quick or simple. He’d done his research last night. Not only had he discovered all of the women’s full names, this morning he’d been able to obtain a copy of what Cartwright had coerced girls to sign. It was more in-depth than he’d imagined. Which also made them more binding. Hence the reason very few lawyers would even listen to girls that had come to them for help once they’d realized how trapped they’d accidently become.
That didn’t faze him. He’d already discovered the loopholes he needed. A part of him wondered if he’d lost his senses. Gone over the deep end. He didn’t know these women. In fact, if one of them had approached him, asked him to take on a case against CB’s, he’d have referred them to someone else.
He provided pro bono services on a regular basis, but they were usually for business deals, those starting up, just getting established, or for nonprofit groups. Contracts were his specialty. He thrived on getting the best deal possible for his clients.
It didn’t make a lot of sense to become involved as deeply as he had already, but he was excited about it. Blondie was the reason. She was full of spunk, but that would only get her hurt here. He had to make her see that, and get her out before it was too late.
He tapped on the window of the diner’s door. Julia rose from her chair to open the door, but it was Blondie’s reaction that made him wonder all over again exactly what the hell he was doing. Her blue eyes shot daggers at him. He sucked in air. Helping someone who didn’t want help was hell. Plain and simple. But he didn’t need another Theodore or Lucy on his conscience.
“Hello, Walter,” Julia greeted with a smile that didn’t quite hide the apprehension in her eyes. She closed the door after he stepped into the diner. “The other girls are up at the cabin, but Shirley is here. The two of you can talk while Greta and I take some food to the others.” She glanced between him and Shirley. “I told them to stay put until I come get them.”
He caught the full understanding of that. Blondie didn’t listen to anyone. “All right,” he said, walking toward the table where she sat.
Blondie shot to her feet. “No, it ain’t all right. I ain’t got noth—” She drew in a deep breath and huffed it out. “I don’t have anything to say to you.” She pointed at him and then herself. “We don’t have anything to talk about.”
It took effort to keep a grin at bay at how she corrected her speech. He waited as Julia and Greta cleared the dishes from the table and walked into the kitchen. “We don’t?”
She crossed her arms, but bowed her head slightly. “Well, it was nice of you to keep us from getting arrested, so thank you.”
He was a bit taken aback by her statement. Should be, because she was full of surprises. “I’m glad you appreciated that, Miss Burnette.” He set his satchel on the table. “I believe it will behoove you to listen to what I have to say about that.”
“Be what me?”
“It would be appropriate and to your benefit to listen to me.” He pulled out a chair. “Please sit down.”
“No, I don’t need to sit down. I don’t have time to see how many big words you can throw at me. I have a job I have to get back to.”
Walter opened his satchel and chose his words carefully. “That’s why I’m here. In your best interest, Miss Burnette. To assist you and the other girls in being released from your contract with Cartwright’s.”
Her lips were pursed, her eyes glaring straight at him, and once again, he found it difficult not to smile. She was a good-looking dame. Her short blond hair was a mass of curls this morning, and the flashy red dress, with layers of fringes from her shoulders to her knees, looked more fetching here than it had back at the speakeasy. Last night, while looking into those big blue eyes, while feeling the softness of her skin with his palms, he’d considered hauling her home, locking her up inside his house. That was also when he’d considered kissing her. Alice had gotten shoved up against him then, and it knocked some sense into him. Blondie’s comment about cattle, a stampede, confirmed his initial thoughts—that she only knew enough about life off the farm to get hurt.
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