Setting his jaw, Jack turned around. Sitting sideways in her chair, Caitlin stared back at him with a mixture of curiosity and concern. He couldn’t say he blamed her.
He was pretty concerned, himself.
“What happened?” she finally said, breaking the tension of their mutual gaze.
Jack crossed the room, but he didn’t return to his position behind the desk. That was too formal, and he didn’t want her to see him as her attorney for this particular conversation. He wanted her to see him as a man. As Jack. So instead, he took the seat recently vacated by her brother.
Caitlin’s expression grew even grimmer. “Look, just rip the band aid off, will you? Obviously, whatever you have to tell me isn’t good, and I’d prefer not to drag it out.”
“I’m stepping aside as your attorney.”
“You…” She stared at him, aghast. “You’re… firing me as a client?”
“No, I’m removing myself. Firing you, as you put it, would indicate that I don’t want to represent you. Your case is fascinating, not at all straightforward, and will bring about a great deal of publicity should it come to trial. Those are the things most criminal attorneys live for, as the bulk of our job is tedious at best.”
She shook her head in apparent confusion. “Then why? Do you think it’s… is the case against me that strong? Do you think I’m going to jail?”
“If I stepped aside every time I thought the odds were stacked against my client, I wouldn’t be doing my job. And I sure as hell wouldn’t be worth my current price tag. You heard what I said earlier. The police aren’t going to give up, not when they’ve gotten their teeth in a juicy bone. But unless they’ve got some solid physical evidence, or a damn convincing eyewitness, any competent attorney can at the very least create reasonable doubt.”
“But you don’t want to be that attorney.”
There was an injured note in her voice that made Jack feel like a heel. “It’s not a matter of want, Caitlin. And I will be referring you to the second most competent defense attorney I know – my associate, Ainsley Tidwell. Or if you don’t want to continue to use this firm, I’ll refer you to another lawyer who I trust almost implicitly. He was one of my mentors. But…” Jack faltered, blew out a breath. “Look, I’ve been trying to handle this as professionally as I can, but it strikes me that I’m beating around the bush. And that’s not like me. So I’m going to be straight, and tell you that I can’t function as your attorney because that role requires a professional detachment that I do not feel. Today? When you called me to tell me that you’d nearly been the victim of a hit and run, and then I saw you lying on the sidewalk, all scraped up? I wanted to kill someone. Literally murder them with my bare hands. I’d be lying if I said there weren’t times during a case that someone or something pissed me off to the point of wanting to do them violence. But I just channeled that frustration into punching back, metaphorically, in the courtroom. It was all about the trial, with my client being almost secondary. I’m generally very adept at separating the legal from the human drama. With you…” Jack made it a point to look her in the eye. “With you it’s different. Personal.”
Jack watched realization replace the confusion on her face, her eyes widening as it did so. It was such a damn cliché, but he felt like he could drown in those blue depths. And he wouldn’t even try to resurface.
“I was going to assure you that I wasn’t going to act on those personal feelings until you were in a more stable place, emotionally and legally. And I was going to essentially go behind your back and work with your brother to arrange for your physical protection until we figure out what the hell is going on. But as much as I tend to do whatever it takes to get my way, I realize that not only is that unfair to you, particularly under the circumstances, it’s also damn presumptuous. So I’m going to ask. Knowing that my intentions toward you go beyond the professional, and in fact pretty damn far into the personal, would you be willing, and comfortable, with me being involved in helping to keep you safe?”
Her mouth opened and closed slightly, making her look like a particularly pretty tropical fish. And then she huffed a laugh of disbelief. “You’re recusing yourself… because you’re attracted to me?”
“No. I’m recusing myself because the depth of my attraction is such that I feel it hampers my ability to carry out my duties impartially.”
“Just when I thought my life couldn’t possibly get any more absurd.”
Jack’s mouth turned down at the corners. “Look, I know that the timing couldn’t possibly be any worse. If I’d met you under other circumstances, I’d almost certainly be aggressive as hell. But you’ve had a series of nasty shocks lately. I didn’t want to be another one.”
When her expression softened, Jack persisted. “You deserve an attorney who is both professional and detached, because personal involvement tends to cloud issues, and that’s how mistakes happen. I won’t risk affecting the outcome of your case.”
“Have you ever removed yourself from a case before?”
“Because a client knocked me off my feet? No. You’re the first.”
Her lips trembled. “You barely know me.”
“And I’d like the opportunity to rectify that as soon as possible. But in the meantime.” Jack reached out, stroked his thumb across her cheek, much as he had in that alley. “Let me protect you, Caitlin. Please.”
He let his hand fall away, because he would not push this woman any further. Not when she’d already been violated.
She searched his face for several long moments before finally nodding. “Okay. Since you’ve been honest with me, I’ll return the favor. You were the one I immediately turned to today when I found out about my car. I thought it was because you are – were – my attorney, but I don’t think that’s all of it. You make me feel less vulnerable. You make me feel… other things as well. However.” She held up a hand when he started to speak. “I won’t be treated like some china doll and stuck away on a shelf. Whatever you and Lance come up with, I have final say. I also want to be kept in the loop if your investigator turns up anything.” She cleared her throat. “And I’d like whatever expenses are incurred to be passed along to me. I have no intention of allowing my brother – or you – to pay for this.”
Jack’s chest hurt, and he realized he’d been holding his breath. “Fair enough.” Although he would argue that last point later. He wanted to touch her, but figured he’d made enough progress for the moment. “Let me tell my secretary to send your brother and his fiancé back up.”
CAITLIN rinsed the hotel shampoo from her hair, closing her eyes as the hot water ran down her sore and battered body. She had a plastic bag taped over her heel, since she wasn’t supposed to get her stitches wet. The ankle on that foot was still a bit tender, but it hadn’t swelled or otherwise shown any further signs of having been sprained. Her new array of scrapes and bruises stung when the water hit them, however, reminding her of her collision with the pavement.
And of the fact that Ryan’s wife – who else could it have been? – had tried to run her over with his three ton vehicle.
A tear leaked out of the corner of her eye, joining the water coursing over her. She wasn’t mourning Ryan. His duplicity killed her feelings for him months ago. But she was mourning the uselessness of his death. If he’d been honest with her, with his wife, with himself regarding the fact that Lydia was mentally unbalanced and needed help, this whole situation could have been avoided.
Well, maybe not the entire thing. There was still a great deal of question surrounding how exactly Hal Cox had come to be in her townhome that night, and whether he’d acted alone or somehow in conjunction with Lydia. It was like trying to work a puzzle in which half the pieces were missing and the other half formed a picture that didn’t make sense. Caitlin pushed it out of her mind, falling back on some meditation exercises to help clear her head.
And once the faces of Ryan and his wife were gone, Jack Wellington’s appeared.
Caitlin consider
ed how she felt about his… well, she wouldn’t exactly term it a declaration of intent, although it was much the same thing. And certainly not something she ever expected to hear from him.
She hadn’t liked him at first.
Actually, that was understating things a bit. She’d very nearly despised him in that hospital room, when she’d felt disoriented and vulnerable, and he’d hammered at her without a seeming scrap of sympathy for what she’d just been through.
But she thought she understood why he’d done it. She needed to be made aware of the precariousness of her legal position, and verbal coddling wouldn’t have gotten through the shell of shock she’d been wrapped in. And since that time, Jack’s own shell, his professional one, had cracked enough for her to see a hint of the man beneath it.
And that man, when he looked at her, made something inside her come alive.
Caitlin shook her head. That was such an overused description, but she couldn’t deny that it was accurate. She hadn’t felt like this since… she didn’t think she’d ever felt like this. Certainly not with Ryan. Whereas Jack dominated any room he walked into, Ryan had been quiet. Intellectual. Handsome, yes, but he’d stirred her mind more so than her loins. There’d never been that primal sort of attraction, the kind that caused palpable arcs of awareness like she’d experienced with Jack.
She’d pegged Ryan as safe. Jack as decidedly not.
Ironic, since Ryan had turned out to be untrustworthy, and Jack…
Well, she still didn’t think Jack was what anyone could term a safe man. But she did trust him. Quite honestly, she’d been surprised by the stringency of his ethics. Especially since she’d always considered defense attorneys – perhaps unfairly – to be shady characters at best. Now, having found herself on the opposite side of a criminal investigation from that which she normally wrote about, she could better understand that things weren’t always what they seemed.
Least of all people.
There was a short rap on the bathroom door, before it slammed open.
Heart pounding, Caitlin shut off the water. “Who’s there?”
“It’s me. Sorry,” Connie said. “I just –”
The awful sound of retching replaced her voice, and Caitlin winced in sympathy. “You’re still sick?” she said, reaching around the curtain in order to grab a towel. “I’m so sorry, Connie. Do you think it was something you ate?”
“No.” She flushed the toilet. “I’ve hardly eaten.”
Connie was rarely ever sick, even when they were kids. And her immunity had been boosted even further by working in the medical field and being exposed to germs as part of her job.
Caitlin wrapped the towel around herself before pulling the shower curtain aside. The toilet was around the corner in a little alcove, so all she could see was Connie’s bent legs sticking out from beneath her black skirt. She appeared to be sitting on the floor, her back against the wall.
“Can I get you something? Water or crackers?”
“No. Nothing.”
“Earlier I thought it might just be nerves, but… do you think you picked up a virus?”
Connie made a noise that might have been a strangled laugh. “I picked up something, but it’s definitely not a virus.”
Caitlin’s brows drew together, and then realization dawned. Caitlin climbed out of the tub, almost slipping in her haste. “Connie?” she said, looking down at the back of her friend’s head where it rested on her knees. “Are you pregnant?”
“Yes,” Connie said without looking up. And then after a brief pause “Not quite three months.”
Emotion surged through Caitlin. Her brother and Connie were having a baby. She was going to be an aunt.
“Oh my God. I can’t believe you didn’t tell me! Are you feeling okay? I mean obviously you’re not feeling okay right this moment, but overall? Lance must be about to burst.”
“Lance doesn’t know.”
“I am so…” Connie’s words finally sank in. “He doesn’t know?”
“No.” Connie looked up, her face positively pasty. “That’s why I ran over to your bathroom to puke. I was planning on telling him when he got home from London, but let’s just say the timing has been off.”
“Because of me.” Caitlin’s shoulders dropped along with her spirits. “I’m so sorry, Connie. This should be a joyous time for you.”
“We have over six months to be joyous. And it’s not like you deliberately caused any of this.”
“No, but it still sucks.” Water dripped from her hair onto the floor, so Caitlin grabbed a second towel and wrapped it around her head before perching on the edge of the tub. And then the significance of Connie’s comment hit her, and her eyes widened. “Six months. Oh wow. You’re going to be, like, nine months pregnant at your wedding.”
Connie looked up. “At least it solves my wedding dress dilemma. I’ll simply wear a tent.”
Caitlin snorted a laugh, and then covered her mouth with her hand. “I’m sorry. It’s just… the visual.”
“I’ll have to put you in a potato sack. Loaded with potatoes. It’s the only way you won’t outshine the bride.”
Caitlin snorted again. “Idaho’s Best.”
“No, no,” Connie corrected. “I da ho. You da ho’s maid of honor.”
At that bit of nonsense, they both started laughing until tears streamed from their eyes. They were undoubtedly slap happy, but Caitlin recognized it as a release of the tension that had gripped them over the past week. Or in Connie’s case, probably longer. The early stages of pregnancy couldn’t be a picnic. Grabbing toilet paper to wipe at her smeared mascara, Connie let out a sigh. “Thank you. I needed that. This week has been a real pisser, hasn’t it? I’m sorry about Ryan.”
“Yes, well. It’s a tragedy, absolutely. And while I would never have wanted to see Ryan dead, I can’t help but think it’s a tragedy he helped create.”
Connie studied the tissue she was wadding in her hands. “Oh what tangled webs we weave…”
“And sometimes people try to extricate themselves from them, and they only get more ensnared. Connie.” She waited until her friend looked up. “I’m so happy for you. I can’t imagine anyone I’d rather have as a sister, since you’ve been one almost all along. You and Lance will make great parents.” She grinned. “And I’m going to be the best aunt.”
Connie still looked a little sickly, but one side of her mouth tilted up. “I have no doubt. Although I’m not so certain about myself. I didn’t exactly have the best role model when it comes to mothers. Or fathers, for that matter.”
“You’re not your parents. You would never run off like your mom did. And I know you liked to … party when we were younger, but you straightened up when you realized you were going down the same road as the one that killed your dad. I’d say you’re undoubtedly a better person for having faced those demons and it will probably make you a better parent.”
“I hope you’re right. And speaking of facing demons, it would appear that your attorney – excuse me, your former attorney – is intent on making you face your demons, of the I’m done with men variety.”
“I never said I was done with…” Caitlin noticed Connie’s expression. “Okay, so maybe once, in a weak moment. Or twice.”
“How do you feel about him abandoning ship?”
“Well, I liked his associate. Ainsley. And I think Lance did, too. But I know that’s not what you’re asking.” Caitlin sighed. “A little freaked out, because he doesn’t seem like the type of man who makes rash decisions. A little turned on, because let’s face it. He’s…”
“Someone whose briefs you’d like to examine?”
Caitlin’s lips quivered. “Criminally gorgeous?”
“A man who knows how to file a motion?”
“Okay. Stop making me laugh.”
“I’ll consider your objection. And speaking of objections, he looks like he can sustain one for a long time, if you know what I mean.”
Caitlin grabbed her own wad
of tissue to wipe her eyes. “Yes. All those things. Which alarms me a little, since I pretty much hated him on sight.”
“Well. Those weren’t exactly ideal circumstances.”
“And he made them even worse by being a pompous ass. But the thing is, he was right. I couldn’t trust the cops to have my best interests at heart, because their concern was and is the best interests of the… the victim. Hal Cox. Oh God, Connie, it’s so awful, and so confusing. Do you think this has something to do with Lance? I mean what are the chances that Ryan’s wife would hire someone who went to school with him?”
“Or someone who went to treatment with her.”
“What?”
Connie hesitated. “Hal Cox was a junkie, right? And Ryan’s wife was unstable. You told me that he said she’d been on and off different prescription drugs. So I’ve been thinking. Maybe not all of them were of the beneficial variety. Did he ever mention rehab?”
“I… I don’t know. Maybe. He did say she had a substance abuse problem, but I don’t know if she went through treatment. To be honest, I was so furious and hurt and humiliated when he and I had that conversation that I don’t clearly remember what he said. I should tell Jack – or Ainsley. Maybe their private investigator can look into it.”
After a beat, Connie nodded. “That’s probably a good idea.”
“Caitlin? Is Connie with you?”
At the sound of Lance’s voice, Connie shot Caitlin a look of panic. Obviously, she didn’t want to let the cat out of the diaper bag just yet.
“Yeah, she’s in here,” Caitlin called back. “Just doing the girl talk thing.”
“Oh. If you still want to go to dinner, Connie, we should do that now. The jet lag is catching up to me.”
“Be there in five,” Connie called back.
“Okay. I’ll wait for you out in the living room area.”
They waited until they heard his footsteps heading toward the communal room that separated the two bedrooms of the suite. Jack claimed he knew the manager of the boutique hotel, and had been able to check them in under an assumed name. Again. Caitlin was starting to feel like a secret agent. Hopefully, they could track down Lydia Fasteland soon and she could get back to her real life.
The Southern Comfort Prequel Trilogy Box Set Page 77
