by Jasmin Quinn
He looked at her, a sheen of dismay in the creases of his frown. “I’m not going to lie. I could use a drink.”
Her lips quirked and she took a few even breaths. “Me too.” Then she turned to the press.
It went as well and as badly as she expected. They demanded a statement from Robert, wanted to know why he left. Mira said, “Mr. Creed has been instructed not to address the press. As his counsel, if you have questions they come through me. You know the routine. Formal charges against my client have not yet been laid. When they are, you’ll be the first to know what our next plan of action is.”
She gave them an hour and then told them she had to leave. She and Shonan stepped out of the room and were quickly hustled out of the courthouse by Hector and Andre and into a waiting car. Mira took a huge breath as she settled into the back seat. “I don’t ever want to have to experience that day again.” But her adrenaline was pumping. It was the same high she always had after a successful court appearance, after a tussle with the press.
Shonan laughed. “You did great, Mira.”
“Where are we going?” she asked when it became apparent that they were not headed out to Jack’s estate.
“To the nightclub,” Andre said. “Jack and Rob are there. You’ll be able to have a drink in private before the club opens.”
Mira’s mind shifted back to the night at her house six months ago, when Andre terrorized her. So much had happened since then. The man talking to her now was respectful, even protective of her. A heady sense of power quaked through her. It’s not what she wanted or ever actively sought out, but her relationship with the Creeds had unintended benefits. Then she boxed up the thoughts. They had no business being in her head. She didn’t want to be corrupted. She couldn’t live with that.
The club was locked down tight, but Andre ushered them through the back entrance, through the kitchen. Only Jack and Rob were in the bar, Rob behind it, pouring a scotch, Jack on a stool talking to him. They looked up as Mira’s party of four walked in. “Mira!” Jack bolted from his stool and grabbed Mira as she approached, hugging him to her. Genuine, joyful, unfettered. Mira let him, brought her arms around him, her hands to his back, felt the strength of his muscles and almost wept. He let her go quickly and led her by the hand to the bar stool next to his, helping her up.
Rob flashed her a rare smile, then leaned over the bar, grabbed her head with both hands, and planted a kiss on her forehead. “Thank you, beautiful angel.”
Jack was still holding her hand as he seated himself beside her. “Drinks all around,” he said jubilantly to Rob who lined up four more glasses on the bar and poured doubles into each one. As they took their glasses in hand and raised and clinked them, Mira felt a tug of belonging, of warmth, of acceptance that she had not experienced since her parents died. It was heady, like the scotch. But tasted better.
Twenty-Seven
Jack hadn’t wanted to leave Mira behind at the courthouse. It was the plan, he and Rob get out while Mira address the press, but she seemed so small, so defenseless as she stood in the courtroom. Despite how vulnerable she looked, she was a dynamo, withstanding the attacks on her, not cracking under the hostility. Saying her piece, doing her job, making magic happen. He was proud of her, admired her. He’d already known this about her, how coolly efficient she was. She’d prosecuted Rob after all, and back then, as he watched her do it, there were so many times he’d wished she was representing Rob. She was that smart, that clever.
His heart lurched in his chest as he watched her face down the judge, face down Aaron Leeds. She was everything to him. He didn’t know how he was going to do it, but he was going to win her back. He knew she responded to him, knew he could seduce her, but he wanted more than her body, he wanted her heart back too. He was a selfish man, he wanted it all and almost wept as the judge freed Rob. She’d given him his brother back, he’d do anything for her, almost. He wasn’t sure he could ever let her go.
As they returned to the nightclub, he and Rob did what brothers did. Talked, joked, disagreed. Rob’s relief at being out of prison was palpable as was the grief he still held in his heart for Amber. “The two together made me think about dying,” he said solemnly. Then grinned, not comfortable with the depth of feelings they were sharing. “You got there in the nick of time. I just didn’t think your champion would be such a wispy little wallflower.”
“She’s hardly a wallflower,” Jack objected.
“She didn’t used to be, Jack. Sure as fuck not when she was prosecuting me, but have you looked at her? She’s a mess. It’s hard to believe she could stand on her own two feet let alone speak as eloquently as she did.”
Jack frowned as his mind traced Mira. She was beautiful to him, that’s all he saw when he looked at her. Her beauty. He said to Rob, “She worked practically all night getting ready for today. She’s tired.”
Rob nodded. “Okay but take better care of my lawyer please. I’m not free and clear yet.”
Then she was there at the club and he was so happy to see her that he hugged her and better yet, she hugged him back. They were all talking at once as Rob poured the drinks. About the trial, laughing about the Judge and his sternness, the press and their questions. Andre imitating one of the reporters, which set them roaring, Mira included. Mira telling them about the discussion in chambers; brief and to the point because she refused to answer questions until she knew the DA’s intentions. She came alive for the first time since her world crashed down.
But Jack was seeing her with new eyes. Rob was right, she was a mess. Her hair was limp and lacked its sexy shine and curl. She wore no makeup, her clothes hung on her frame and he wondered how much weight she’d lost. She looked pale, eyes cloudy even as she laughed. And her words, her mannerisms were stilted, lacked confidence. She was a dynamo in the courtroom, but with him, she was a shell. He did this to her, he thought with icy realization. He destroyed her.
“A couple more rounds and we’ll be clear.” This from Shonan, who didn’t seem put out that Mira was leading. Jack wanted to laugh about it. Shonan had failed and Jack forgave him because he was no match for Mira in the courtroom. No one was, which is why she handled the state’s big cases. Maybe Shonan would become a better lawyer working with her. He saw the way Shonan looked at Mira, a mixture of affection and respect and narrowed his eyes. That better be all the intentions he had or he would become a lawyer in a wheelchair.
“The DA will throw everything they find at us to make the first-degree charge stick. We’ll have to play hardball with their witnesses.”
“Or make them go away,” Jack said as he took another drink of the whiskey.
Mira whirled on him, her eyes blazing. “No! You will stay the hell away from anything or anyone who has anything to do with this trial. We can win this cleanly.”
Jack considered Mira. Was she that good? “Are you sure?”
“I’ve been on both sides of that courtroom, Jack. If I didn’t think I had enough for first degree charges to stick, then there isn’t enough. The DA would have to invent something from thin air and I can discredit anything they come up with, including their witnesses.”
Rob threw her a half-smile. “That a girl. What’re you gonna need from us, if you won’t let us break legs?”
“Investigators. The DA will throw a huge list of potential witnesses at us. Every single one of them will need a profile and not some half-assed, bullshit profile.”
“Mira,” Jack said softly. “Use your pretty words.”
Mira flushed and clamped her mouth shut.
Rob offered another round, but Mira turned him down. “I’m exhausted. I just need to go home… to Jack’s place. Back…” She was casting about for the right words and failing.
“I’ll take you,” Jack offered as he slid off his stool. He knew he was the source of her discomfort, his untimely rebuke.
“No, Hector can take me. Rob just got out – I’m sure you have lots to discuss.”
Hector stepped up. “No prob
lem, boss.”
Jack hesitated, then nodded. It was clear she needed her space. He’d give it to her, but they were going to talk later. If not tonight, then tomorrow.
Her smile was fragile as she picked up her briefcase. “See you soon,” she said to Rob and Shonan. Nodded to Andre and then followed Hector out.
Jack furrowed his brow as the door closed behind them, then said to Andre, “Are you sure she has enough protection? There are a lot of lunatics out there right now. Whoever knocked over our warehouse means business. I don’t want them thinking they can help themselves to Mira.”
Andre returned his boss’s serious gaze. “Hector’s the best. He’ll die before he lets anything happen to the lady.”
Jack nodded but it was incongruent with his words. “That doesn’t comfort me, Andre.”
Twenty-Eight
Michael Black was riveted to the television, to Mira Richardson as she spoke at the news conference. There was something fascinating about her that he couldn’t quite work out. She was a lovely woman and he had to give her credit, as an attorney, she was fucking brilliant. The press nailed her left and right. When they pushed her boundaries, her response was, “That’s personal, ask me a relevant question.” Not once did she get angry, look agitated or even flush. He was a little in awe.
Isabelle came into the room and glanced over at the television. She was still angry with him, hardly talking to him these last few days, since he fucked her on the couch. It was becoming a regular occurrence, the angry fucking, but she usually cooled off quickly. Not this time. He couldn’t understand why. She didn’t resist him, opened her legs to him, begged him to fuck her, came more than once. Maybe he was a little rougher than he should have been, but she responded to him just the same. He glanced back to the TV, returned his attention to the woman who had managed to get the courts to throw out a plea bargain, had freed Jack Creed’s brother.
“Look at her,” Isabelle snapped, the edge of her words razor-sharp.
Michael narrowed his eyes. Isabelle didn’t use that tone with him, he wouldn’t allow it. “Quiet,” he said bluntly
She stormed over to the coffee table and snatched up the remote control, then paused the TV, the large screen filling with an image of Mira. “Look at her, Michael!” Isabelle yelled. “Look at her! She doesn’t even look like the same woman on the screen this week; it’s like watching a ghost.”
Michael stared hard at the screen, at the lawyer. Isabelle was right. The prosecutor on the television earlier this week had been just as articulate as she addressed the press six months ago after sending Rob Creed down for 15 years, but her hair curled and shined, her eyes sparkled, she made a few jokes that had the reporters tittering. She looked healthy and vibrant. The woman on the TV screen today looked like she hadn’t eaten or slept in a week. No sparkle, no humour. The suit she wore hung on her, too big for her frame. Another victory but no joy. He glanced up at Isabelle. “So what?”
Isabelle shook the remote at the TV screen. “That’s what Jack Creed does to women, Michael. He uses them, ruins them, then discards them. Why can’t you get that through your head? Why can’t you see what he did to me? Why I would never go back to being that.”
“Isabelle –” Michael started, but Isabelle forced him to duck as she winged the remote control at him. He shot to his feet and was on her in seconds, grabbing her hair, pulling her face to his. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“You, Michael. You are!” she stormed as she broke his hold and staggered a few paces back. “Jack is a ghost, haunting us. You can’t let go except there’s nothing to let go of. I hate him! I hate this place. I hate every fucking thing that is happening right now. I don’t care if Jack lives or dies. I just want him out of our lives!”
“Are you sure, Isabelle?” Michael’s tone was a mix of derision and disbelief.
“Fuck you, Michael. I’ve done everything I can to prove my love, my loyalty to you. I have nothing left. I thought we were the best there was. But we’re not. You’re not because you can’t let go of your distrust.” Tears of frustration swam in her eyes, a dam threatening to burst.
Michael’s temper flared and he fisted his hands at his sides to keep from reaching out and gripping her. “It’s not distrust, Isabelle. Nobody crosses me. Nobody!”
“Me, isn’t that what you mean? I crossed you and since you can’t take it out on me, you are hellbent on taking it out on Jack. Do you think watching you destroy Jack will bring me to my knees? I’ll kill him myself if you need proof of my devotion.”
Michael’s precious control was slipping. Isabelle was the only person in the world that could do that to him, break him down like that. He loved her so much he had no way to manage his feelings for her. He could never hurt her in his anger, but he also couldn’t find his way to forgive her. “Leave!” he shouted.
She didn’t hesitate, bolting out the door. Somehow she knew that if she stayed, it would end badly. Michael rubbed his hands over his face trying to settle himself as he heard a door slam in the suite. Then he looked at the woman on the screen. What did Isabelle want from him? His empathy for the lawyer? No, she knew better. He could be kind to people, but not empathetic. The woman on the screen was a means to an end.
Then what? He believed Isabelle when she said she hated Jack. She didn’t need to convince him that she would never be with Jack, hadn’t been with him since their marriage ended. He already knew that, he knew she loved him, adored him. What she didn’t realize was that his anger wasn’t about what happened in Vancouver. His anger was about something he couldn’t change, even if he saw Jack Creed dead and buried.
The problem, the real issue was that Jack Creed had been there before Michael. Jack Creed held a small piece of Isabelle and she left it with him when she ran from him. Michael couldn’t reconcile it because he loved this woman with all his heart, the very thought of her not being in his life left him breathless. At the same time, he knew he was driving a wedge between them. He just didn’t know how to stop.
Twenty-Nine
Jack stepped into his apartment and looked around. It was late, almost midnight. Shonan left shortly after Mira and Hector, and he and Rob took a bottle and their discussion into the office. The nightclub was already hopping as a waitress brought their dinner in about 8:30. She smiled broadly at Rob. “I heard the good news. It’s great to have you back, Mr. Creed.
Rob stroked her with his eyes. “When’s your next break?”
“Uh, 11 o’clock, I have a 10-minute break,” she said, a little shaken by the bold question.
Rob leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms and looking around to her ass. “Come back to the office then. Bring me a scotch.” Pretty enough, Jack thought with disinterest.
She smiled hesitantly. “I’ll be back at 11.”
Rob nodded dismissively, his attention on his meal. “Don’t be late.”
After she left, Jack shook his head. “Jesus, Rob, you know that screwing the girls fucks with staffing.”
Rob glared at him. “Amber’s gone, Jack. Am I supposed to stay a monk? I haven’t had a fuck in six months.”
Jack didn’t respond, didn’t tell Rob that neither had he. A little guilt filtered through him as he thought of the meal he shared with his brother. He wondered if Mira found something to eat. The cook would not have thought to bring something up for her. Jack realized he needed to rectify her status in the household, introduce her to the help, make everyone including Mira understand that they were there to look after her. He would do that first thing in the morning.
As he headed toward his bedroom, he noted the light was still on in Mira’s room. He walked quietly up to the door and twisted the knob, pushed the door open and looked in. She was in bed, sitting up, back supported by a couple of large pillows propped against the headboard, the covers pooling around her waist. She was wearing a large green T-shirt. He remembered her wearing it the day after she arrived. Big, comforting, safe. She’d obviously showered, her wet hair clun
g to her shoulders and down her back. She had a hardcovered notebook propped up against her knees, a pencil in hand and papers strewn across her bed. She startled when he entered the room and watched warily as he walked round the end of the bed to where she was propped up and sat down on the mattress beside her.
She didn’t say a word, didn’t object, but he heard her shaky intake of breath.
“What are you doing, Mira? I thought you were tired.”
“I was, but I had a shower and felt a little more awake. I’m just going through my old files. It’s cheating a little, because I shouldn’t have them, but what Aaron doesn’t know could hurt him.” She flashed Jack a small smile that warmed him.
“Did you eat something?”
Mira shook her head. “I couldn’t find anything but a box of crackers and some goat cheese I think may have gone bad. The crackers were good enough, but we really need to stock your kitchen better. I’m used to eating… well… whiskey is not exactly a food group.”
Jack grinned. She was in a good mood. He picked up her hand and held it between his, tracing the palm, caressing it. “Mira…” What the fuck was he going to say to her? I’m worried about you. I’m sorry I’m such a prick. He leaned in and kissed her, pressing his lips to hers. She let him, didn’t turn away until he pressed harder, tried to slide his tongue into her mouth. Then she moved her head to the side.
“Don’t, Jack.” Her voice broke and tears welled in her eyes.
“Mira, I’m sorry I hurt you.”
The tears spilled over, trickling down her cheeks. He reached out and wiped at them. She tried to choke back a sob but wasn’t successful.
“I promise that everything I said to you that weekend was the truth. You matter to me and when I look at you, I see how much I’ve hurt you.”
“Stop. Jack. Please stop.” She raised the blanket and ran it across her face. She was trying to contain the tears. “You’ve broken my heart twice now. I don’t have a third time left in me.”
