Big Riggs (Trilogy Bundle) (BBW Erotic Romance)

by Hart, Melissa F.

  “Scary and maddening,” Paul agreed. “It makes me shudder. Who’s Grant?”

  “He’s the investigator who works for the firm. The poor guy happened to come by while I was stuck in the stairwell and by helping me he got himself involved. He also ended up missing the flight he was taking to Toronto and had to fly out late tonight. I feel bad.”

  “Why? Because you threw a rock at your own car window and painted vulgar things on the side?”

  “No, because I fell apart and cried like a baby and left him feeling like I was helpless. He didn’t want to leave me alone. After the tow-truck picked up my car, he drove me home and walked me to my door and kept asking if I needed him to stay. I’m mortified.”

  “You’re crazy, that’s what you are. I’m a man, sweetie, and trust me, he wanted to stay.”

  “What?”

  “We love that Knight in Shining Armor shit. Especially when it involves a woman we’re attracted to,” Paul told her.

  “You’re the one who’s crazy,” she said. “He was just being nice, and doing his job. He is an investigator, you know.”

  “If you say so,” he said. “But when I was being stalked, none of the investigators ever drove me home or asked if I needed them to stay.”

  Fannie laughed. “Would you have taken them up on it if they had?”

  “A few of them were kind of hot,” he said.

  She cracked up at that.

  “Hey, speaking of my stalker…”

  “Yeah, I thought of her. I told the police officer. He said he’d check her out and let me know.”

  “Good. I hope it wasn’t Miranda. I was sure that she had moved on. It’s been almost a year since I’ve heard from her.”

  “It probably wasn’t,” Fannie said. “But she was the first one I thought of. Remember how much she hated me?”

  “She was jealous of you,” he said.

  “She told me I was a fat cow and the sight of me repulsed her. I’d call that hate,” she said.

  “She was jealous that you were so self-assured that you didn’t have to run to the bathroom and vomit every time you ate and ruin the enamel on your teeth in the process.”

  “I love you, Paul,” she said. Everything he said was designed to make her feel better, and that was the main reason that she loved him.

  “I love you too,” he told her. “Get some rest and call if you need me. By the way, do you need a ride to work in the morning?”

  “Please,” she said, glad that he offered. She hated the thought of having to take the bus. She should have called about a rental earlier, but she didn’t have it in her tonight. Tomorrow she would see about renting a car.

  “I’ll be there with bells on,” Paul told her. “Call me if you decide you want me to come early for the hot, sweaty sex.”

  She laughed again. “Will do.”

  Fannie’s phone rang again right after she talked to Paul. She didn’t recognize the number and thought it may be the detective from earlier.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, Fannie, it’s Mark.”

  “Oh, hi, Mark,” she said, adjusting the pea-green granny sweater she wore when she was depressed. Then, she straightened her posture as if he could see her.

  “I’m sorry it’s so late. I just heard what happened today. I wanted to make sure that you’re okay?”

  Fannie bit her bottom lip. She was positive that Mark was too successful and mature to have done something so vicious and stupid, but when she had seen the word “Pig” on the side of her car, it had really been him who was the first person that she thought of.

  She took a deep breath. “I’m good, Mark, thank you. It was nice of you to call.”

  He sounded sad as he said, “I have a lot to make up for where you’re concerned. Calling to see if you’re okay is only scratching the surface. I’m sorry that happened to you, and at the firm, of all places. Mike is livid. He called me a while ago and told me what happened. He also told me that he’s doubled the security patrol in the parking garage and he has them scouring the tapes for the entire two days leading up to the incident.”

  Fannie smiled. “That’s nice of him too. I hate that I’m causing all of this fuss though.”

  Mark sounded like Paul as he said, “You’re not the cause of anything. You’re the victim here. Let me know if you need anything. How about a ride to the courthouse tomorrow?”

  Fannie was touched that he had asked but she said, “Thank you, but my friend already offered. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Okay then, I’ll let you rest. You have a good night too. I mean it, you have my number in your phone now, call me if there is anything I can do.”

  Fannie told him that she would and hung up, shaking her head at the marvel of the way life can change. The way that people can change. Mark had come a long way since elementary school. But then, so had she.

  * * *

  When Paul got to her apartment to pick her up at eight-fifteen the next morning, Fannie was ready. Today, she had chosen a simple blue dress that cinched at the waist and then flared over her hips and ended just above her knee. She wore a dark blue blazer over it and dark blue pumps over sheer blue stockings.

  “Wow, are you sure you don’t want that sex I’m offering, because I can be late for work?” Paul said when she opened the door.

  She laughed. “Thanks, but our friendship would never be the same.”

  “Looking at you in that dress makes me think we were never that close anyways,” he said with a mischievous grin.

  She just shook her head at him. “You are such a man. Let’s go.”

  Paul carried her briefcase for her, and as they made their way down the stairs, neither of them noticed the woman coming down one flight behind them. She wanted to run down and push the pig head-first down the next three flights. She despised seeing them together. She didn’t know why Paul wanted to hang around her, much less touch her. The thought of it made her want to retch.

  CHAPTER TWO

  It was jury selection day for the trial that Mark was working on, so Fannie had Paul drop her in front of the courthouse downtown.

  He leaned across the seat and kissed her on the cheek before she got out of the car. “You go and have a great day, my Fannie. You’re fabulous and you know it.”

  She almost teared up. The great thing about Paul was that when others may be thinking that her angst over what happened yesterday came from a place of being a victim of a crime, Paul knew her well enough to know that the spitefulness of the word sprayed on the side of the car had hurt her the most.

  She told him that she loved him and thanked him again. Closing the car door and turning to go up the courthouse steps, she came face to face with Mark.

  “Good morning,” she told him with a smile.

  “Hi, Fannie. How are you doing?” he asked, with genuine concern.

  “I’m doing well,” she said, honestly. Paul was right; she wasn’t going to let someone’s mean-spiritedness get her down any longer. I am fabulous.

  “Glad to hear it,” he said. “Was that your husband who dropped you off?”

  Fannie smiled. “No, Paul’s my best friend. He’s the one who has to do things like bring me to work after my car has been vandalized and listen to me whine about it on the phone last night.”

  “You didn’t sound whiny to me at all when I talked to you.”

  “That’s because I had already dumped it all on Paul. Poor guy.”

  Mark opened the heavy double doors that led into the courthouse. “I don’t know. I’ve never had a female best friend, but it might be kind of fun.”

  “Paul and I have fun with it,” she said.

  Mark led her to the courtroom, and they went inside. There were a few people seated here and there. Mark went over to a man near the front and said, “Zane.”

  The man turned to look at them. Fannie saw a forty-something man with brown hair peppered with gray at the temples and a strong chin. She laughed at herself inside for that thought. She had read
so many romance novels that had used that phrase, and she had always thought, “What the hell does that even mean?” She looked at Zane now though and she knew. Strong was the only word that would have described his chin, and if she had to describe his eyes, piercing would be the word she would use.

  “Zane, this is Fannie,” Mark said by way of introduction. “She’ll be observing on the case. She’s the newest associate at the firm.”

  Zane held out a hand and Fannie shook it. His hand was as strong as his jaw.

  “Pleased to meet you,” she said.

  “Likewise,” he said. “Welcome.”

  Zane picked up a thick briefcase off of the floor in front of his seat and followed Mark and Fannie up front to the defense table. Mark held Fannie’s seat out for her. She was still marveling at the way things had turned out. She could have taken his bullying to heart and allowed it to shape her life in a negative way. Instead she had allowed it to strengthen her and form a positive sense of self-worth.

  She looked at Mark as he and Zane were whispering at the table next to her. He was still gorgeous, and rich, and he could have continued to be a bully. Instead, it seemed that he had found an outlet for whatever aggression he had been feeling back then. That was probably why he was such a good attorney. He got rid of all of that now in the courtroom the way he had done on the playground in the past.

  The defendant, or that’s who Fannie assumed she was, came in soon after. A nice looking silver-haired man Fannie thought must be the father-in-law escorted her. The woman was smartly dressed in a lime-green skirt and matching blazer with a white lace blouse peeking out from underneath. She was blonde and blue-eyed and looked like she could have been a model rather than a hotel manager had she so chose.

  She came forward, leaving the older man in the gallery and sat in the empty seat at the table.

  “Hi, Nicole,” Mark said.

  Zane nodded at her and Fannie smiled.

  “Nicole, this is Zane, our jury expert and Fannie, a new associate at the firm who will be helping me.”

  “Nice to meet you,” the woman said in a soft voice. It was hard to visualize her with a shotgun in her hand, ending the lives of three people before pouring kerosene on them and setting them on fire. It probably boded well for her, since juries are often swayed by the outward appearance of the defendant. “Is Harlan coming?” she asked.

  “He’s due in court on another case this morning. If he finishes in time, he’s going to come over,” Mark told her.

  “But you won’t need any help, will you?” The voice came from them.

  Mark and Fannie both looked up. Fannie saw a man about thirty years old with dark brown hair and green eyes. He had a well-trimmed mustache and goatee and was dressed very nicely in a black suit and a tie that matched his eyes nicely. She couldn’t help it; she noticed everyone’s attire.

  “Not to beat you,” Mark told him. The man smiled, and Mark shook his hand. “Fannie, this is ADA Lance Howell. Lance, Fannie Riggs, our newest associate. I’m showing her how to win a case.”

  The other man told Fannie he was pleased to meet her and then said, “But I feel sorry that you have to work with this guy. If you ever want to come over from the dark side, look me up.” He went back over to the prosecution table then and took a seat next to an older red-haired woman.

  The courtroom had been filling up as the lawyers readied themselves. A case involving wealth, passion and beauty inevitably attracted many lookie-loos and reporters. At precisely nine a.m., the bailiff called the court to order and announced the arrival of the honorable Judge Malcolm White. They stood as he entered. Judge White was an extremely large black man. He didn’t look fat large, but as if underneath that flowing robe he was probably built like a truck. She could tell that by the way the arteries on his thick neck were prominent, and he too had a strong jaw.

  She giggled and didn’t realize that it was out loud until Mark whispered, “What’s so funny?”

  Fannie felt her face flush hot with embarrassment. “I’m sorry, I was just thinking about something.” She made a mental note to stop reading so many romance novels.

  Mark smiled at her. His pretty blue eyes sparkled when he did. “You’ll have to tell me about it later.”

  “Sure,” she lied.

  The judge sat down and told everyone else to be seated and then he announced that the court was now in session. The prospective jurors had been filed into one small section of the courtroom before the judge had come in. He looked at them now and thanked them for their time and then went over the laws and rules with them for jury selection. He introduced Lance Howell and Mark Lloyd as the attorneys for the prosecution and the defense.

  There were thirty potential jurors in the box. Fannie watched as Zane took out a thin book that looked like a photo album from his case. Inside of it, he had a photograph of each potential juror, and a half-page dossier. She was impressed. She had seen things like that on television, but never in real life. She wondered how Zane had gotten that information since this was only day one of jury selection. She glanced over at the prosecutor’s table. She wondered if they were privy to the same type of information.

  The judge asked the bailiff to call up the first juror. Betty Louise Sinclair was a sixty-something year old lady who had the look of a career wife and mother.

  The judge asked her if she had ever served on a trial before and she said, “Yes.”

  As the judge went through his other questions, Zane slid the file over in front of Mark and pointed at the woman’s page. Her picture was circled in red and underneath her dossier it read: Career juror, usually elected foreperson and always sits on trials that end in a guilty verdict.

  When the judge was finished with his questions he said, “Mr. Howell?”

  The prosecutor could either now ask her his own questions, accept the jury, or use one of the “challenges” that he was given. A “challenge” dismissed the juror from the case, and each side was given a certain number of them for each trial.

  Howell looked up from the papers that he’d been studying in front of him and said, “Accept, your Honor.”

  The judge then said, “Mr. Lloyd?”

  Mark said, “Challenge, Your Honor.”

  The woman in the box looked like she didn’t understand when the judge told her she was dismissed. Then as the bailiff ushered her out of the seat, she looked like she might cry. Fannie felt sorry for her. It was sad to think that sitting on a jury day in and out was more pleasurable than one’s own life.

  They repeated the process for ten more prospective jurors with Mark issuing two more challenges, and Howell three. At the end of the first session, they had chosen five of the twelve jurors. The judge put court on recess for two hours then, telling the jurors to make sure and be back at least fifteen minutes before court was due to resume.

  “I’m going to get some lunch,” Nicole told Mark. Fannie watched her walk toward the older man in the back row. He stood up, and she linked her arm through his as they left the courtroom.

  Curious, Fannie asked Mark, “How much was her bail set at?”

  “Two million,” he said. “The father-in-law paid that as well.” He gathered his files back into his briefcase. “Are you hungry?”

  Fannie hesitated. Years ago, eating anything in front of Mark Allen Lloyd would have given him license to tease. She told herself once again that she needed to leave the past where it belonged. She would have to get used to the idea of eating in front of him if they were going to work together. She was actually starving, and she forced herself to say so.

  “Good, me too,” Mark said. “There’s a cute little sandwich place right across the street.” He turned to the jury expert then. “Zane, would you like to join us?”

  The man was still looking at the album in front of him. It took him a few seconds to process that Mark was talking to him but at last looked up and said, “Oh, no thank you, I brought mine.”

  “Okay then, we’ll see you in a bit,” Mark told him.<
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  Fannie followed him outside. It was unseasonably warm for February in Chicago and the sun felt nice on her face. They entered the sandwich shop and ordered their sandwiches and drinks.

  “Where does Zane get all that information about the prospective jurors?” Fannie asked as they waited for their order to be ready.

  “He has a full staff working for him. Some of them were in the gallery today even. As soon as subpoenas go out, he gets a list. He won’t tell anyone from whom, since that information is supposed to be confidential. Then, he puts his staff to work on investigating these people’s backgrounds. He used to be a behaviorist for the FBI, so even the little things that you and I don’t notice like tone of voice or body language come into play for him. I trust him explicitly. He’s never done me wrong yet.”

  “It’s all very impressive,” Fannie said. “Getting to see things first hand that I learned about in school, and then also seeing things like that I had no idea about.”

  “Yeah, it gets addicting, this law stuff, I have to warn you. You almost become married to it. It’s safe to say that it’s why I’m not married. How about you, Fannie. No fiancé or boyfriend ready to pop the question lurking behind the curtain?”

  She smiled. “No. I haven’t really had time for anything like that in a long while.”

  Mark nodded. “I know what you mean.”

  Their sandwiches came and they ate in silence for a while, and then Fannie’s phone rang. She excused herself and answered it. It was the police detective who was going to look into finding out where Paul’s ex-stalker had been yesterday.

  “Hi, Ms. Riggs, this is detective Edwards from the Chicago Police Department. I just wanted to get back to you about our conversation yesterday regarding Miranda Jones.”

  “Yes, hello, Detective. Thanks for getting back to me.”

  “I located Miss Jones. She’s staying with her parents in Missouri right now. I had an officer with their local police department make contact with her. He confirmed that she is there.”

  “Okay, well that’s a relief anyways,” Fannie said. It really wasn’t though. At least if it had been Miranda, her enemy would have had a name. “Thank you for doing that.”