Evidence of Desire

by Lexi Blake

“Well, first off, models aren’t stupid. Stereotypical much? And second, you should have known the name of the ADA you were going up against.” She sounded prim and proper in her admonishment.

  Noah sighed, a guilty sound. “Yeah, I did, but I didn’t actually catch her name. It was loud in that club.”

  “Ewww, it’s no wonder you have the worst reputation. You’re lucky you’re cute.”

  Some dark instinct flared inside him and he found himself suddenly in her kitchen staring at the younger man. Cute? No one ever accused David of being cute. Was cute what did it for Isla? “Cute won’t stop syphilis. What the hell are you doing here, Noah?”

  Noah put a hand on his chest as though his heart hurt. “Syphilis? Couldn’t I get something that sounds more youthful?”

  “I don’t know. Are there millennial-specific venereal diseases?” It irritated him wildly that Noah was sitting there. He was wearing a perfectly pressed suit, looking exactly like a young, professional lawyer who also happened to have a billion dollars at his fingertips.

  “I’m sure Señor Sarcasm would have a comeback for that,” Noah replied, a slightly confused look on his face, as though he knew something was wrong, but couldn’t quite figure it out.

  “Live-at-home-itis,” Isla offered helpfully. “Or in Noah’s case, Live-off-big-brother-itis.”

  Noah flushed, the first time David had ever seen him go that shade of pink. “Hey . . . all right, it’s fitting. I can’t help it. My brother is extremely pushy when it comes to us not living on the streets. I offered to go one hundred percent vagrant, but Drew said no.”

  “Why are you here?” Had Noah decided to renew his old friendship with Isla once he’d gotten a look at her? Had he seen how gorgeous she’d turned out and decided she would be his next one-night stand? Because they would have a long talk about that.

  “Would you like some coffee?” Isla stared up at him, a quizzical look on her pretty face. She was holding a mug in her hand. She was also still dressed for bed. Her legs were covered in the pj bottoms she’d worn the night before and she wore a tank top that barely covered her breasts. She’d put on a bra but they were still beautifully on display, as was the long, graceful line of her neck. Her honey-brown hair was piled on top of her head. She looked sweet and soft and so sexy it made him ache. “Do you want cream and sugar?”

  He took the mug from her. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”

  “It’s my favorite, French vanilla biscotti,” she said with a smile.

  Noah’s eyes widened. “Oh, hey, one of the things you should know about David . . .”

  Damn it. He was not going to let that satisfied smile on her face get ruined by Noah. He hated flavored coffee. Flavored coffees were horrible, the single worst invention since someone thought, Hey, let’s put a set of circular escalator steps on an endless rotation and call it a stair stepper. He hated that thing, too. But he hated the thought of hurting her more. “David loves vanilla. Loves it. Especially in his coffee.” He took a sip. Yep, that was flavored coffee. He forced a smile on his lips. “So good. That hits the spot. Thank you.”

  He swallowed that sucker. No spitting it out.

  Noah stared at him. “Are you serious?”

  “I’m very serious about coffee,” he replied.

  Noah was the one laughing now, and he definitely got in a snort or two. “I did not see that coming.”

  David sent him the look he used to send players across the line from him, the one that said he was coming to get them and they should back the fuck off.

  Noah’s hands went up in the universal symbol for I surrender. “Hey, I get it. And I am here because you’re here. Henry called a team meeting but you didn’t answer your phone, so we decided to bring the meeting to you. We were lucky that address turned out to be Isla’s and not some random hooker you picked up for the night.”

  “I’ve never picked up a hooker.” Though he had thought a hooker was a fan once at a championship game party. He’d ended up paying for that mistake. Literally.

  “That’s good to know.” The sexiest smile curled up her lips as she tipped her coffee mug back. “I don’t pick up hookers either.”

  The nasty taste in his mouth was worth that smile. But he had another question. He turned to Noah. “How the hell did you know where I was?”

  Noah’s smile faded. “Would you believe I’m a touch psychic?”

  Son of a bitch. Well, he’d known Noah used to be a hacker, and it couldn’t possibly hurt that his brother’s firm wrote the software all their phones ran on. “You put a trace on my phone.”

  He shrugged. “Yours. Henry’s. Win’s for Henry. Margarita’s. All my siblings and in-laws. I have issues with people disappearing on me so I keep tabs on you all. You’re boring actually.” He looked back to Isla. “The most interesting place I’ve caught him at was a strip club on Fourth, but it turns out Sneaky Cheeks was the place of employment of one Lula Linoleum. Not her real name.”

  “Her real name was Harvey Stone.” Now it was his turn to blush a little. Not that he wasn’t proud of his work. “Lula’s trans. She got arrested protesting. Her mother is a friend of my mother’s, and that’s how I ended up representing her.”

  She totally went gooey on him. “Really? I thought you were some high-powered, take-only-the-most-money kind of lawyer.”

  He chuckled. Most people thought of him as a bloodsucking predator and not the champion of the underdog. He could be both. “I make plenty of money.”

  Noah was off his seat, a hand on his shoulder. “But he’s also known as the softy. Once he’d repped Lula, he became the lawyer everyone at Sneaky Cheeks called when they got in trouble. And then there was the actual vagrant he repped.”

  “He was a homeless vet who got accused of robbery. It was a case of false witness identification. He looked a lot like the actual perp and he was an easy target,” David explained.

  “You take care of the underdog.” She said the words like they did something for her.

  Pro bono got her hot? “I will admit to using the money I make from high-powered clients to fund some of my other work.”

  “Heart of gold, this one,” Noah said with a nod.

  “Who’s got a heart of gold?” Henry strode in, carrying a shopping bag. His eyes found David’s. “Are we talking about the fact that Bleeding Heart there can’t handle a sob story? It’s sad. I swear we have a never-ending line of sad sacks on pilgrimage to my upscale office.”

  “Henry?” Win was behind him.

  Henry stopped, his face in a grimace. “I meant I love all the good work David does. The smell doesn’t bother me at all. It’s the smell of social justice.”

  “Forgive my husband,” Win Garrison said with a shake of her head. “He’s a helpless snob. But David is kind of awesome when it comes to helping the helpless. We got the pancake mix, Isla. Let me help you out. That bacon smells heavenly. You cook it in the oven?”

  “I do. I find it cooks more evenly and makes way less of a mess. I’ll show you. It’s supereasy.” Isla glanced his way. “I hope you don’t mind. They showed up about thirty minutes ago. I didn’t have enough pancake mix, but apparently your partners really like breakfast.”

  And being supernosy. There was no way Noah hadn’t figured out this was Isla’s building and so he and Henry had shown up to investigate. “It’s okay. It’s probably good that we’re all together. I should be apologizing to you for my nosy friends invading your apartment.”

  “I don’t mind. It’s good to have something to concentrate on, and I love to cook. I usually do it for one. Having people to feed makes me happy. And thank you, David. Thank you for last night. You are a kind man.”

  Yep. Kind was not what he wanted to be known for with her. “You’re welcome.”

  She turned and moved back into the kitchen with Win. He stayed in the living room with Henry and Noah.

&nb
sp; “Turns out Win knows Isla pretty well,” Henry said. “I couldn’t leave her at home. They met on the charity circuit and Win likes her a lot.” He gestured to Noah. “Weirdo over here keeps tabs on all of us, so we knew where to go. Was a little surprised you stayed the night.”

  “And didn’t sleep on the couch,” Noah pointed out. “I happen to know this is a one bedroom, so unless she stuffed you in a closet somewhere . . .”

  “Can we discuss the fact that Noah invaded all of our privacy?” What the hell was happening?

  Henry shook his head. “Nah, he’s got childhood issues, and honestly, isn’t it good that someone out there knows where we are in case, say, a murderer decides to chase one of us down and we almost float away in the ocean? Besides, I don’t go anywhere interesting and it is kind of cool to see the app he built for it. It’s got little avatars and everything. You can watch yourself fly slowly across the screen.”

  So Henry still had PTSD when it came to what had almost happened to Win. It likely wasn’t a good time to point out that Win hadn’t had her phone that terrible night and Henry definitely hadn’t been in a smart enough headspace to have tracked her by it. “Fine. I did spend the night, but these clothes stayed on. I stayed here last night because Isla was having some trouble processing. She found the body.”

  Henry grimaced. “That was a hell of a scene. I brought you some of the paperwork and the crime scene photos. Don’t ask how I got them. I have my sources. I haven’t managed to get the autopsy report, but they might not have started yet. It’s still early. They’ll have to give them to us soon anyway. If they don’t arrest Trey Adams for this within forty-eight hours, I’ll eat my hat.”

  “You don’t wear a hat,” he murmured, taking the file. He moved more firmly into the living room where Isla and Win wouldn’t be able to hear them. They were tough, strong women, but they knew the victim and they would have to dive into this soon enough.

  “I’ll buy one and then eat it,” Henry replied. “This does not look good for your guy. Did you know about the CTE?”

  He sighed. “When did that get out?”

  “They were talking about it on SportsCenter early this morning. They had a roundtable and it was the first thing they talked about. One of his old teammates brought it up.” Henry sank down into one of her comfy chairs. “It was inevitable that someone would ask the question. I actually think this is a good thing.”

  “If I go with a mental disorder plea.” He opened the folder and immediately wanted to close it again. It wasn’t that he had a weak stomach. This wasn’t his first murder case. But he couldn’t help looking at the photos and thinking that Isla had seen this live and in person. She’d walked into that scene, into a place where she’d likely been comfortable, and she would never see that room the same way again. That lovely queen suite had been turned into a killing field, and Isla had witnessed the outcome.

  So much blood.

  “Tell me you’re going with mental disorder,” Henry said, staring at him with dark eyes.

  “I don’t know.”

  “David, the man tried to kill himself in front of a bunch of cops, and if you don’t think they can twist that and make it look like he was trying to take a few of them out when he went, you’re not thinking straight,” Henry explained.

  “That’s a separate charge.”

  “Excellent. We’re running up a hefty tab here.” Henry sat back, studying him carefully. Sometimes when Henry’s eyes narrowed, his focus closing in, David thought he knew what it meant to be a bug pinned down and examined by a curious scientist. “You’re the one who asked for the emergency motion on his mental health.”

  “I’m trying to keep him out of jail. I don’t think he’ll do well there. And where are we on that front? I got a message late last night that they still hadn’t done the eval.” He wouldn’t feel comfortable with Adams behind bars with the general population of a prison. All it would take was one asshole who hated the Guardians to start something serious. The last thing they needed was Trey getting involved in a prison beatdown.

  “I think our best bet is to get that eval, and if he’s crazy pants, we cut a deal as fast as we can,” Henry said.

  He’d known that would be Henry’s advice. This case was the kind that would do their firm a world of good if it went to trial. It would put their faces on TV every night. It would get them incredible press coverage. It would put them on the map.

  But going to trial might not be the best thing for the client. Especially a mentally ill client who couldn’t defend himself properly.

  And despite all the lawyer jokes and Henry’s moniker, their first job was to do right by their clients.

  But what if the client was innocent? Didn’t a mentally ill man deserve some kind of trial? Of course, all that might be a moot point. “I don’t know the DA’s office is going to bargain on this one.”

  “We need to paint Trey as sympathetically as possible,” Noah added. “They can’t want to put a mentally ill former football hero on trial.”

  “For killing his wife? I assure you they can and they will. There are about a million political reasons for them to want this trial,” David pointed out. “They can look good because they’re not giving a rich white celebrity any more privilege. They can represent this like they’re coming out hard against domestic violence. In this climate, this case could check off a lot of boxes for a man looking to run for higher office.”

  “We have to squeeze him.” Henry paced, a thing he always did when considering a problem. “We have to get the public on Trey’s side, and we use the CTE to do it. He’s a wounded warrior. The DA is the monster here for not seeing he was out of control and needs professional help.”

  He needed to get control of this and fast. “You know simply because he has CTE doesn’t mean he committed the crime. I haven’t even talked to him yet. I know what it looks like. I know what the police are likely to do, but we’ve got some time to figure this out. I’m going to take it. I don’t care what the press has to say about it. I’m taking my time and doing this right.”

  Henry sat down, crossing one long leg over the opposite knee. “If you don’t go with mental disorder, what do you go with?”

  He held up a crime scene photo. It was one of the less bloody pictures. It showed the scene of the chaos that was the victim’s bedroom. “I seriously doubt the victim routinely kept her room in this state. Our perp was looking for something and they were serious about finding it.”

  “Or Trey Adams found out his wife was having an affair and he lost his shit,” Henry replied.

  “Not according to Isla.” He could still hear her talking about how perfect their marriage was. Well, not perfect, but loving and true. “Portia stood beside him even as his mental health deteriorated. Again, I haven’t investigated, but Isla seemed quite certain.”

  “Given what I read about CTE last night, he would likely have suffered from paranoia,” Noah said. “She could have been perfectly faithful, but if those voices in his head started talking, he might not listen to her at all. Early onset dementia is one of the outcomes. The question is, does the family want this thing to go to trial?”

  He thought they were moving too fast. “Can I talk to my client first?”

  “Is he truly your client? Isla’s got power of attorney,” Henry pointed out.

  “She’s not the client. Trey is.” For some reason he needed to make that plain. He didn’t want to put her in a position where she had to choose between putting up a defense for her employer or sparing his kids a lengthy and expensive trial where the outcome was uncertain.

  And there might be other reasons he didn’t want to go into.

  Henry looked at Noah, his brows high.

  “You want to know the truth?” Noah asked.

  Henry’s lips curled up slightly. “Can I handle the truth?”

  “Watch this,” Noah said before
turning to David. He leaned in. He gestured toward the kitchen. “Dibs.”

  Was Noah Lawless actually calling dibs? Like they were fucking teenagers? And why did David suddenly want to throttle him? He knew Noah was trying to goad him but the kid was annoying as shit sometimes. He should mind his own business and keep his hands off . . .

  “Whoa, I’ve never seen him turn that shade of red before,” Henry was saying. “And I’ve known him a long time. We used to drink together in college. That’s a serious red.”

  “I’ve never seen him drink French vanilla coffee before and claim to love it,” Noah replied.

  “Seriously?” Henry’s jaw was hanging open. “He actually drank coffee that wouldn’t grow hair on his chest?”

  “Are you both twelve? First of all, we’re supposed to be discussing a murder trial. You two are acting like gossiping high school girls. And secondly, dibs? You know she’s a human being, right? You can’t call dibs on her.” David was well aware he was getting backed into a corner.

  “How else do we decide who gets to go after the girl?” Noah asked, his eyes perfectly innocent. “We could rock, paper, scissors for her.”

  “She’s a woman, not a girl, and how about I just shoot you and the problem is solved,” he said before he could think.

  “Shit,” Henry said.

  Shit was right. If he didn’t watch himself, he would get taken off this case, and all for no reason. “I’m not going to do anything about it.”

  “And I’m not calling dibs,” Noah said, more sober now. “Not really. She’s an old friend. I was merely pointing out the obvious. If it helps at all, I think you could be good for her. She’s been alone for a long time.”

  “And technically she’s not the client.” Henry sighed. “Not that I should talk since I married a woman who technically wasn’t the client, but she absolutely was the client. But, David, there are things you need to think about. This woman could be in serious trouble. There’s rumbling at the DA’s office that she could be charged as an accessory after the fact.”

  They were moving quickly if they were already talking about a charge like that when they hadn’t technically arrested Trey for the murder. “She didn’t do anything.”