McAllister Justice Series Box Set

by Reily Garrett

  She moaned at the rending of material. His command of her body preempted thought of the final outcome, letting her enjoy the moment. She would regret snuffing out such a superior specimen of manhood.

  “You don’t need these around me. They’re cumbersome.”

  Rustling material signaled his slacks down before the telltale rip of foil announced him covering what she prayed was an impressive length.

  “When this is settled, you can be a flight attendant with a much better schedule. We can fly wherever we want.”

  He shoved inside her without preamble. She’d been ready before crossing the door’s threshold.

  Small groans puffed out with each forceful thrust. The punishing grip on her hips would leave delicious bruises, a reminder of how well he’d filled her.

  When he pulled her farther back, she bent lower, keeping her hands on the door’s solid surface to maintain balance. The result, well planned, shoved him deeper. She welcomed the moderate pain from the depth of penetration. Never had she fucked anyone so big.

  It was a raw, animalistic mating in the primal sense, guided by savage instinct and transcending any prior experience. She climaxed the second the pad of his finger touched her clit.

  She could picture him in the boardroom with a take-no-prisoners’ attitude. Bringing him to his knees would entail the epitome of role reversal, and she looked forward to it.

  When he finished, he led her to the bed. A quick recovery time ensured him ready for round two before she fully caught her breath. It was going to be a wonderful night.

  Afterward, he lay on his back with his hands laced behind his head, with her curled on her side facing him. Smug and self-satisfied, he offered the perfect memory for later evaluation.

  It was time to get down to business.

  “You know, I happened to find something out concerning your soon-to-be ex-wife.”

  “What? When you said you had a friend involved in the case, I wasn’t sure how close you meant.”

  “She’s made up a new will. I haven’t seen the particulars, but I’m sure it cuts you out entirely.”

  “No doubt. I’m going to need a freakin good attorney to get control over my own damn business. We didn’t have a prenup.”

  “I also know—”

  “I told you I can’t use Salsman and Fernandez. That’s the firm my ex is using. They couldn’t take me since it’d be a conflict of interest.”

  “Ah, but your ex is moving across country, and I have it on good authority she’ll be using a Delaware firm.”

  “I’d have to check on the legality of that. ’Sides, there are plenty of lawyers in the Portland area.”

  “It’ll all work out for the best. Trust me.” She didn’t bother to mention that his wife wouldn’t need an attorney, only an undertaker. The thought occurred that he might actually care for the woman and child. Time would tell.

  “What do you get out of all this?”

  “Besides some rare orchids? Your body, of course. I don’t mind keeping our affair secret, I just hate hiding—”

  “Soon, we’ll have lots of time to spend together.”

  The drop in his voice alerted her to how they’d spend it.

  “I have back-to-back flights this coming week and won’t be able to see you next weekend.”

  “Then we’ll have to make up for lost time...” He reached over and pinched her nipple, letting her know the night had just begun.

  Target # 2

  Another day—another mark.

  Sunday’s schedule barely gave her time to get home and dye her brown locks red. When she finished the job, maybe she’d go blonde. This time, she chose green contact lenses to contrast her hair.

  The physical transition of dying her hair proved anticlimactic when compared to the rush of watching a convoluted plan come together. With the third mark, she could wear a wig since he’d only think he’d gotten some, thanks to a little pill and a lot of booze.

  Each man served a purpose and, in the end, would fear working with a sketch artist, not after she’d implicated each to the point of facing either legal charges or censorship.

  She’d make it clear just how she’d played them, dragging them too deep into her web to speak up. None would stick their neck on the line to help McAllister.

  The initial contact with her second mark had taken place in a small café where she’d pretended enthrallment after chatting him up online. He’d bragged about his supervisory position at Salsman and Fernandez, and practically salivated when she suggested an early dinner.

  They’d barely touched on the subject of her need for a lawyer once she mentioned that it was her sister seeking counsel. His shift in attention came right on cue. From there, it was pathetically easy to guide him to bed.

  Once there, he proved true opposites did exist. She’d hoped for another commanding presence but was sorely disappointed. He was all bluster and no talent.

  Situated in an upscale neighborhood, the house reflected his need to demonstrate superiority. His beady gaze took on a calculating gleam the minute she’d walked through his door.

  Signs of early male pattern baldness and a few superficial blood vessels across his nose declared the slow downward spiral of his life. The pathetic attempt to hide the inevitable by combing wisps over the bald spot almost invited pity.

  Fortunately for her, his schedule didn’t allow time to keep a wife happy or get out and socialize. Divorced men are easy pickings. The right smile made it clear she just wanted a little fun. In a few weeks, he’d learn just how far her version of fun differed from the norm.

  Years of deskwork without regular exercise had taken its toll. His soft body contrasted the CEO’s firm planes, and it took all her superior acting skills to convince him of her interest. Once he lay sated, the satisfied smirk on his face declared her talents successful.

  “I knew it was only a matter of time before we met. Whoever said online dating can’t bring happiness is full of shite.” As if reaffirming his point, he pulled her back against his chest to spoon.

  The bedroom had been a little cool on her arrival to his moderate-sized colonial. A light jacket, casually tossed on the sofa downstairs, had warded off the early evening chill and laid conveniently near the framed picture she’d take as a memento of time well spent. Now, she pulled the sheet up to ward off the goose bumps forming.

  “I have to say, there’s something about lawyers, not just the way they use words to sway judgements—it’s the way you think. Analytical, dissecting possibilities until you find the right path.”

  He trailed his fingers across her shoulders then down her hip. “Oh, I’d say we’ve found the right path.”

  Unless she wanted to endure round two of his fumbling, a distraction was in order. “So, you said you’re close to making partner at your firm. What’s standing in your way?”

  He paused his fingers on her hip before making small circular motions. “Hmm, it would help if I could land a big client. That’s always a bonus.”

  “Like a big divorce case?”

  He chuckled. “That would work.” His puffy breath brushed the back of her head.

  “You remember I told you my godfather is getting a divorce?”

  “Yeah. You said he already had counsel.”

  “True, but I could sway his decision. He’s not happy with his current lawyer, and he doesn’t want to deal with a woman.”

  “Ha. My ex insisted on a female.”

  “Uncle Theodore was contemplating switching to Salsman and Fernandez since it’s one of the largest firms in the area. Isn’t that where you said you worked?”

  “What’s his name?” Greed and ambition crept into his voice, understood by the careful word selection and lack of humor in his tone.

  “Theodore Credlin.”

  He sucked in a quick gasp, followed by a groan. “His wife is a client, so that would make it a conflict of interest. When you talked about him before, I didn’t make the connection because his ex reverted to her maiden
name. What a missed opportunity.”

  “Wow. But I heard she’s moving across country. Won’t she get a new lawyer there? Even if you couldn’t handle the divorce, he’s looking for new counsel to handle business affairs. Sounds like a double whammy in the promotional column...”

  Since plans to finagle Abby away from the CEO’s wife were already in effect, the encouragement and reinforcement of the intended path came at an opportune time.

  Target # 3

  Thanks to the ineptitude of the prior target’s lovemaking, she wasn’t the least bit sore Monday morning, only grumpy.

  A corner unit in her upscale townhouse equaled sanctuary, and she could come and go without notice. It had taken a bit of time to hack into the building’s security system to keep her travels private, but well worth the effort.

  Looking at herself in the bathroom mirror and arranging one of her wigs, she decided the black bob suited her next client. If all went well, she’d never find out if his penis was equally short.

  Havoc preferred her own long wavy locks, but the wigs proved useful, another barrier when gathering information about McAllister. Hmm, blue contacts this time.

  The new quarry, Johen Claver, was an associate attorney and coworker of the McAllister tramp and appeared as a younger version of his boss according to his social media profile. Several pictures of him standing next to his wife revealed body language that made her smile. Another sap.

  Prior digging also confirmed his penchant for snagging a drink at a chic bar one or two nights a week before going home. It shouldn’t take long to get him alone, drug him, and take the appropriate pictures. I hate cheap motels.

  She imagined the panic on his face after showing him photos of them in a horizontal tango. It wouldn’t take five minutes to secure his part in her plan. In the end, she might not have to waste the time and eliminate him if he kept his mouth shut.

  The trick entailed ensuring he enjoyed a good buzz and wouldn’t remember her face, before she roofied him. Under the guise of wanting more of his body and deepening their bond, she’d give him a few flowers that would showcase her feminine side. Stringing a man along was her specialty. Another hidden gem to make him keep his mouth shut.

  According to office gossip, he wanted the promotion to supervising attorney in a big way. She’d just happened to have put herself in a position to help, claiming leverage over one of his bosses. Once he felt the trap closing around his neck, he’d keep his mouth shut about the little B&E.

  As far as the other will, the keeper of that document had indoor plumbing. It was one thing to sleep with a man, but her door didn’t swing both ways. A little bribery went a long way.

  A glance at the wall clock informed she didn’t have time to listen to the day’s recording to glean what she could about Abby’s plans. It would have to wait.

  After her rendezvous with her third target, she’d finagle a way to change the battery in the hidden transceiver that had yielded such specific results. Abby thought she was so smart, but Havoc knew every move before the attorney made it.

  Meanwhile, a brilliant sub-plan took shape, one in which she crushed Abby’s boyfriend. She hadn’t enjoyed herself so much in years.

  A final pat to her wig and she was off to the bar.

  Chapter Twelve

  For the second time, the lock refused to open. If forced to use tools, he’d also leave behind evidence of theft. The night’s goal included stealing with the hope Abby would blame herself for misplacing the precious document.

  Johen’s nonverbal scream echoed in his mind, increasing the tremor which might account for the error. Taking the small penlight between his teeth, he hunched down to get closer to the dial.

  He’d never suspected the conniving bitch last week capable of such devious standards. Never thought I’d be blackmailed. He either came up with the document or forfeited his marriage and career. He didn’t even have the satisfaction of remembering the sex, only a fuzzy haze surrounding the evening and one hellacious hangover the next morning.

  When his wife questioned him about the orchids in his car, he’d elaborated on how she’d love to grow some flowers in their sunroom. He even found a special medium in which to grow them. It hadn’t made up for not coming home the prior night, but they’d weathered tougher storms.

  If wishful thinking could conjure a sledgehammer, smashing the poor excuse of a safe using all the pent-up anger would make the night’s risk palatable. It might’ve helped if he’d foregone that last expresso before setting out to commit B&E and theft.

  The holes he’d cut in the knit cap for sight and breathing had imparted a certain comical appearance when assessing his reflection in his vehicle’s vanity mirror. Another sneeze threatened to shatter the silence.

  His nose kept poking through the lower hole, its misalignment due to the repetitive need to scratch his head. The urge stemmed from nervous tension, as when he prepared to face a jury in a case destined for failure. Had he been one to wear glasses, they might have kept his cover in position.

  Placing his trust in a blackmailer wasn’t the smartest option, but it appeared the only one that kept his life intact. He’d never considered himself as shrewd as some of his colleagues but took a step back after realizing the degree of calculation that had gone into his puppet master’s plan. Underestimating her would not happen again no matter how tempting the package.

  She said she’d looped the security feeds. A silent prayer embraced the hope she was as good with security systems as she was with drugging her victims. He didn’t care as long as his life moved forward and not in the direction of prison and divorce.

  Moonglow through the budding trees outside cast shadow arms along Abby’s desk, mocking his slow progress. Tonight’s success would herald the next phase of his career. Too bad McAllister had to suffer in the process. From the first week of employment, she’d shown him and the other new hires she meant business. It became quickly apparent she was too good to associate with anyone outside of work hours.

  Unlike wall safes situated between vertical studs, the freestanding model before him remained bolted to the floor inside the closet. Had he not known specifically where to look, he would’ve missed it, hidden behind a false box front.

  Knowing in advance he’d find a compact model didn’t assure him he could open it, but a few hand tools tucked in his backpack guaranteed he wouldn’t leave without his prize. It came down to finesse, which he normally lacked.

  In frustration, he stood and searched the unlocked drawers of her desk, confirming McAllister the dumbest smart person in the firm. It didn’t take long to find the lock’s combination. She’d written down several sets of numbers on the back of her calendar. He used his phone to take a picture, not trusting his memory.

  Nervousness didn’t agree with him. Sweat popped up on his brow, absorbed by his mask in the moderate temperature. Each thud of his heart coincided with the imaginary clock ticking down the seconds until someone flipped the light switch and caught him mid-search. Lack of night security didn’t prevent one of the restless senior partners from making late-night appearances.

  His keycard gained him entrance to the building. Determination would see the job done. Once he found and delivered the damned will, he’d sit on top of the world. No doubt, his conspirator knew about the other located in the county office building.

  The fruits of his labor would yield a sweet reward, and the bitch who hired him would get—he didn’t quite understand her motivation. Why did she hate Abby? She had such a sweet face. Hell, he wouldn’t turn either her or the McAllister bitch from his bed, though he’d have to gag the lawyer. Both were too damn smart for their own good.

  At least tonight, he’d outmaneuver one and appease the other. Maybe when it was over, she’d slide between the sheets with him.

  The faint click of the lock inspired images of him and all he wanted in life. Ironic that a few sheets of paper could make such a big difference. A promotion, better office, and more money.

&nb
sp; Inside, several folders occupied the file organizer. If his nerves had allowed the time, he would’ve rummaged through each in search of anything useful. Unlike the black-haired McAllister, his moral compass never made it to true north. Then again, he didn’t come from a family of pigs, either.

  A sigh of relief whispered in the dark as he found the will. After tucking it inside his coat pocket, he returned the folder to its place and closed the door. He didn’t know enough about Abby’s habits and hadn’t thought to ask his colleague if she checked her safe every day. If so, tomorrow might rival the fourth of July. Fireworks in March had a nice ring to it.

  With attention to detail, he wiped every surface his gloved hands had touched. A loose hair wouldn’t point investigators in his direction since he’d sat in her office and hashed out issues many times. Caution around a bunch of determined cops was smart, not paranoia. That same preparedness had urged him to cover every inch of skin, sans eyes and nose, along with carrying a small spray bottle of cleaning solution.

  He could practically taste the sunny island vacation in his future, assuming his blackmailer followed through in coercing Abby to leave the practice. He had seniority over the others vying for the promotion.

  Considering the night’s success, he decided to leave a non-traceable calling card, one his colleague should notice but not be able to pursue. Before leaving, he broke off two lower leaves of her prized African violet sitting on the desk.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Abby opened her eyes but froze every muscle to listen for the sound jolting her from a deep sleep. The thunderous gallop of her heart and a respiratory rate she couldn’t control increased when Royden’s hand on her waist tightened.

  “Hey. You all right?”

  Diego, her brother’s dog, lifted his head at the foot of the mattress, a low whine in his chest. Buttery bars of yellow from the attached bathroom’s nightlight revealed his steady gaze.