Big Bad Lawyer (Misters of Manhattan Book 1)

by Lana Lachlan

  Jack’s bulk blocked her exit. “Shaw’s in a coma so you won’t be able to talk to him.”

  She slumped on the edge of the tub as dizziness hit. “This is all my fault.”

  Jack lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bedroom. Laying her down on the bed, he covered her with the comforter. “If it’s anyone’s fault, sweetheart, it’s mine for not anticipating this.”

  It didn’t lessen the guilt tearing at her. “I have to do something.”

  Jack tucked the comforter around her cold body. “Bill’s already got the city’s finest out looking for him but I’m going to help. I’m still the bastard’s attorney.”

  “He’s dangerous.”

  Jack smiled grimly. “If I can find him, I can deal with him. But you are not to leave the apartment under any circumstances.”

  “I won’t.”

  He stroked her cheek. “Good girl. I’ll call you later today.”

  A minute later, she heard the front door close.

  Ophelia didn’t know what to do with herself. She’d showered, dressed, made the bed, tidied the kitchen and fixed coffee. Now she sat on a breakfast stool, sipping a latte and worrying about Jack. An hour had passed since he’d left and he could be gone until supper or even all night. She needed Jack, needed his warmth and strength and reassurance that everything would be all right.

  She wore the guilt of Brock Shaw like a heavy blanket around her shoulders. For as long as she could remember, she’d wanted to be a lawyer—the kind of lawyer who helped survivors of crime. By not arranging police protection for her witness, she’d turned him into a victim.

  She gazed around the kitchen. The most fabulous kitchen she’d ever been in, yet it felt empty and cold without her Dom. Sliding off her stool, she trailed her fingers over the white granite while she thought of how to fill her time. Mmm, there was something. Baking.

  Working through the cupboards and refrigerator, she found a baking tin and everything needed to make a simple chocolate cake minus the frosting. She had the mixture in the tin, ready for the oven, when she heard the front door open and somebody moving around. Heart surging with joy, Ophelia slammed the cake in the oven and waited for her Dom. Except the footsteps coming down the hall weren’t a man’s.

  The woman who strolled into the kitchen had to be a supermodel. Tall—over six feet in her red skyscrapers. Long blonde hair and gray eyes that matched her slim-cut mini dress and leather shoulder bag. She made a visual sweep of the kitchen before setting her gaze on Ophelia.

  “I gather Jack is out.”

  “Yes he is.”

  The woman’s eyes fell to Ophelia’s ripped jeans. “Sensible of him to hire a housekeeper. I’ve been telling him long enough. You are…?”

  “Ophelia Tate.”

  A smile stretched the perfectly made up mouth. “Nice to meet you, Ophelia. I’m Candice Daniells.”

  Of course it would be Candice. Jack’s real girlfriend. And of course Jack’s real girlfriend would be beautiful and have her own key. She absolutely belonged in Jack’s apartment. Sleek and modern and dripping designer.

  “Do you know when Jack will be back? His cell is off.”

  Ophelia, feeling very plain in her jeans and tee, smiled weakly. “He could be gone until late this afternoon.”

  “That’s a pity. I’ll let you get on with your work.”

  She should set Candice straight about the housekeeper thing but then again, Candice wouldn’t want to wait all day so why bother.

  “But before you do, I’d love a coffee,” Candice said, nodding toward the machine.

  Apparently, Candice intended to hang around. “Of course.”

  Ophelia fixed the coffee and began wiping down the countertop.

  “How long have you worked here?” Candice asked, sliding onto a stool.

  “Not long.” To turn the awkward subject from herself, she blurted, “Do you visit Mr. Slayer often?”

  Candice laughed and Ophelia felt silly for asking.

  “Not recently. Do you enjoy housekeeping?”

  Candice needed to know the truth but to explain at this point would be uncomfortable for both of them. She headed for the door. “Please excuse me. I have other things to do.”

  “Hey, don’t forget your baking. It smells yummy.”

  Without an answer, Ophelia kept on walking although there was nowhere to hide. She went to the lounge, praying Candice wouldn’t follow.

  “Mind if I join you?”

  Ophelia, busy straightening a stack of magazines on the coffee table, watched in dismay as Candice sat on one of the sofas and crossed her gym-toned legs. She seemed nice but Ophelia sensed a darker side to Candice.

  “Where did you meet him, Ophelia?”

  “I…” she paused, unsure how to explain it. “Actually, it… in a library. What about you, Candice?”

  One of Candice’s finely shaped eyebrows rose in surprise. “Where did I meet him? I met him in a sex dungeon.”

  Ophelia blinked at the honesty. “Oh.”

  “The Blue Cavern is Jack’s favorite. Have you been there?”

  “No.”

  “He likes to play.” She smiled and Ophelia noticed it had lost some of its warmth. “But you already know that, don’t you?”

  Things were about to go south of awkward.

  “Why don’t you sit down, Ophelia. I’d like to talk to you.”

  Ophelia sat on the sofa opposite, took a breath and faced Jack’s girlfriend.

  Candice swung a slim foot back and forth, her red lips pursed. “I saw your bag in his bedroom so you spent the night. Do you enjoy Jack’s discipline?”

  Stumped for a response, Ophelia fidgeted with the hem of her tee.

  “He spanks you?”

  Ophelia shook her head, not wanting this discussion. “No.”

  The foot continued to swing. “Of course he spanks you. He’s a practicing dominant and you’re a new submissive to his stable. With Jack’s heavy hand, you’ll be feeling it now. Why be ashamed of it?”

  Ophelia didn’t answer, didn’t need to because Candice had started talking again.

  “Jack can be full on, I know that from experience. We’ve had many sessions over the years, even the occasional three-way with a particularly good sub. And of course, he loves restraints.”

  It was then Ophelia noticed the shadows on Candice’s wrists. Those marks had been made by Jack. God, she’d been so stupid, thinking she was the only one.

  “Did you think you had him exclusively?”

  “I don’t know what you mean,” Ophelia lied.

  Candice’s gray eyes cooled to ice. “I think you do.”

  Ophelia eased forward to stand, but Candice motioned for her to remain seated. “You need to hear this. Jack and I go back a long way. We have an open relationship, so I don’t mind that he amuses himself with his women because afterwards, it’s me he calls for a real session.”

  Ophelia’s heart dropped to her stomach. “H-he told you about the Bulwer Hotel.”

  “I know all about the Bulwer. I’ve been there myself with Jack. And I know how a sub can get the idea he cares for her when, in reality, she’s only a plaything to him.”

  “Plaything?”

  “That’s right, although I’m surprised that he’s interested in a mousy girl.”

  Ophelia wanted to be outraged at the insult, but compared to Candice, she did feel like a mouse.

  “You and I both know you’re not his type,” Candice continued softly. “I’m Jack’s favorite because I understand him. He loves me and no scruffy sex brat in cheap jeans will ever change that.”

  Ophelia’s natural stubbornness and her lawyer training had given her plenty of fight. But in her heart of hearts, she knew this thing with Jack had been a dream all along. Dreams ended, people woke up. Jack had called her a naïve kid who needed to grow up. That time had arrived.

  Standing, she faced Candice, determined not to show her inner pain. “Will you tell him I’ve gone to stay with
a friend and won’t be back.”

  Candice’s smile warmed. “Sure. Is it a man?”

  “No, it’s my girlfriend, Lily.”

  “Okay, well have fun.”

  “I hope you and Jack will be very happy, Candice.”

  She didn’t hope any such thing but pretending was part of being grown up, right?

  Candice rearranged the cushion behind her and settled back. “Thank you, Ophelia. And please don’t feel badly about this. I’m sure Jack likes you in his own way.”

  A tangle of emotions made it impossible for Ophelia to answer. Walking on stiff legs to the bedroom, she packed her few clothes. She didn’t belong here, never did.

  As Ophelia left the apartment and Jack’s life, she heard Candice walking to the kitchen, talking and laughing. He must have turned his phone on.

  Chapter 8

  Jack arrived home mid-afternoon. Hours of searching for Sebastian and nada. Raynott’s staff didn’t know his whereabouts, nor did any of Jack’s numerous police contacts. Being MIA showed desperation. Sebastian knew he was facing a potential murder charge. In this situation, there was nothing to be done except wait until Raynott returned Jack’s voice messages. He didn’t doubt the call would come. Sebastian might be pissed over Ophelia, but he’d still call. His client had dug himself into a hole and he needed his attorney to get him out.

  Jack went straight to the kitchen, eager to see her. A half-eaten chocolate cake was on the counter and empty coffee cups were in the sink. She sure had a thing for chocolate and coffee. Grinning, he made long strides to the bedroom. Missy had better be in her PJs and up for some serious cuddling.

  “Hi stranger.”

  Candice.

  “How in hell did you get in?”

  Candice, down to bra and thong, arranged herself more comfortably on the bed pillows. “You remember that long weekend I stayed over and I borrowed a key? I had it copied. I hope you don’t mind.”

  It was then that Jack noticed Ophelia’s overnighter had gone. Ophelia had assumed the worst or been told the worst by Candice. Either way, she’d left him.

  “Did Ophelia say where she was going?”

  “To stay with someone or other. I begged her to wait until you got home but she insisted.”

  The friendly tone didn’t deceive him. “How long ago?”

  “This morning.”

  “Exactly what time?” he asked, inwardly cursing himself for using Candice’s name in the phony sex call and at the Bulwer. It hadn’t seemed important at the time.

  A pat on the comforter before he got an answer. “Shortly after I arrived. Why don’t you sit down so we can talk? I’ve been so bored waiting all day.”

  Jack’s expert eye saw the fresh marks on her wrists from an unpadded cuffing. He hadn’t touched her in months, and he had no interest in doing so now. Moving to the other end of the bedroom, he called Ophelia’s cell, dread swamping him when she didn’t answer. If she’d been followed to wherever she went, she’d be in danger. She might never have made it.

  “Did she say who it was?” he asked.

  Candice drew a pair of handcuffs from under the pillow. Not his.

  “I know you won’t let a sub start a session, Jack, so you can punish me hard if you like. I always was your favorite for hard discipline.”

  At one time, she had been a favorite. Practiced, smart and kinky as hell. Over the past three years, they’d had good times until she’d wanted to get serious.

  “Answer me, Candice. The name.”

  “If you don’t come over here, I’ll cuff myself to your bed.”

  “And I’ll have them unlocked in ten seconds flat. Who’s Ophelia’s friend?”

  “She never said. Why do you care anyway?” Candice huffed petulantly. “You never cared about me.”

  If she meant that his sessions with her were strictly business, Candice had a point. When he wanted to romance a woman, he went regular, had regular sex. That was then. Now he had his girl and his girl was in trouble.

  Jack grabbed Candice’s clothes from the floor and tossed them at her. “If you don’t intend to be useful, then get the fuck out.”

  Her lips compressed to a scarlet line. “I need it, Jack.”

  “Zero fucks, Candice.”

  The look he got could peel paint. Walking away, he barked over his shoulder, “You’ve got five minutes and leave the key on your way out.”

  “Lily.”

  At the name, he turned. Candice had her panties down, ass up. “Now can I have my punishment, sir.”

  Jack went to his study to call Bill Nealand, pacing while Bill went to find out if anyone knew of Ophelia’s friend, Lily. Finally, he got Lily’s last name, cell number and street address but no apartment number. Nealand didn’t ask Jack why he wanted the details, but he had news about the witness, Brock Shaw. Shaw had died an hour ago and the police hadn’t found Sebastian.

  Jack took his revolver from the safe. He had his coat on when Candice appeared in the study, still half dressed.

  “You fucked her at the Bulwer, didn’t you?”

  The question momentarily caught him off guard. Candice must have drilled Ophelia to get that nugget. Tamping down his anger, he strode past her. He heard her bare feet pattering on the wood floor as she followed.

  “She’s repressed, Jack. They never change, not really.”

  If only Candice knew. He opened the door. “Don’t be here when I get back.”

  She flashed a bitter smile. “I thought if I stayed away for a while, you’d realize you wanted me after all. But you’re in love with that girl. I saw it on your face the moment you realized she’d gone. I guess it had to happen someday. Why couldn’t it have been me?”

  There was no doubt Candice had beauty, a socialite’s chic and a truck load of sex appeal. She wasn’t what he wanted.

  “Because you’re not her,” he said quietly and truthfully.

  For a split second, sadness touched her eyes. “A kiss for old times’ sake?”

  He left her standing in the hallway.

  Jack floored his Ferrari, making it to the Village in minutes and leaving it double parked outside Lily Mason’s building. His cell rang as he headed up the steps.

  “I’ve got her.”

  Jack went cold, he prayed that Sebastian hadn’t heard the news about Shaw. “Why now?”

  The answer came on a savage bark. “Because Shaw’s dead. If the bitch had let it go in the first place, none of this would have happened.”

  “I’m outside the building, Sebastian. Come down so I can talk to you about this.”

  “Fuck you, Slayer. You’ve been screwing her.”

  “And if you touch a hair on her head, you’re dead.”

  Raynott’s violent laugh made Jack’s blood run cold. “I’m fucking dead anyway, counselor.”

  Jack took a breath to stay calm. He could call for the SWAT team, but it could end in disaster. He had no choice but to deal with this himself.

  Walking back to his car, Jack looked over the building to see if Raynott was watching him from a window. He saw a curtain open on a corner apartment, third floor. Sebastian would have had his investigator on her tail from the moment she left his apartment building. And when Sebastian had learned about Shaw’s death, he’d come here to deal with Ophelia in person.

  “Are they okay?”

  “For now.”

  “So what do you want to happen, Sebastian?”

  “I want you to get me a deal, counselor. No murder charge and I walk free.”

  Jack was on a tightrope. The D.A.’s office didn’t do deals with hostage taking murderers. Once Sebastian realized he had no leverage with his hostages, he’d kill them.

  “I can probably plead it down to manslaughter,” Jack said calmly. “But you need to let the women go.”

  “Not until I get a deal in writing from the D.A.”

  That wouldn’t happen. “I’ll help you as much as I can, Sebastian, but I need to know the women are okay. Put Ophelia on.”<
br />
  He heard movement, then her soft voice. “Jack?”

  Raynott had the cell on speakerphone.

  “Are you both okay?” Jack asked, keeping his voice even so as not to alarm her further.

  “Yes, but are you all right?”

  Jack felt an upwelling of emotion at her worrying about him. “I want you to do everything he says.”

  “We will.”

  Behind the composed voice, Jack heard the fear. Sebastian was on the edge and his girl was trying very hard to stay cool. “Put him back on.”

  “So, do we have a deal, Jack?”

  Jack noticed the curtain had closed. “Let me make a few calls and I’ll get back in ten.”

  Jack slipped into the building, took the stairwell to the third floor and moved noiselessly along the hallway to what he hoped was Lily Mason’s apartment. Attempting to break down the door and immobilize Raynott without being shot himself would be suicide. His only chance was to talk Sebastian into opening the door, then take him down. Raynott fancied himself as a tough guy so he’d be overconfident.

  He waited five minutes before making his call. Sebastian answered on the first ring.

  “Good news,” Jack said, moving down the hallway, out of earshot. “I’ve spoken to Bill Nealand and he’s willing to look at a deal of justifiable homicide. Apparently, Shaw had a knife on him so we can argue you had no choice. No jail time if you turn yourself in now.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “I’m your only chance of getting out of this, Sebastian. We’ll sort this. Come downstairs.”

  Raynott hung up. Jack waited, knowing Raynott would be working out whether to trust his attorney. It seemed an eternity before he heard the lock being turned.

  Jack positioned himself behind the door.

  All Ophelia saw was a blur charging headlong into Sebastian the moment he opened the door. The force of it sent Sebastian reeling back, his gun clattering to the floor as he fell, his shoulder hitting Lily’s new glass coffee table and breaking it clear in half. Sebastian rolled over to his side, reaching for the revolver but Jack kicked it away. Hauling Raynott to his feet, Jack punched him so hard it sent Raynott back to the floor in a shower of glass. After that, Sebastian didn’t try to get up.