She moves to leave my office, but then hesitates, like she wants to say something more. But she must change her mind, as she sighs and heads to the door.
She’s hiding something.
And I’m going to find out what it is.
chapter 3
I WALK INTO TRISTAN’S OFFICE, where he’s sitting at his desk, texting on his phone.
“Working hard, I see,” I tease, taking a seat opposite him. I’ve known Tristan since law school, where we quickly became close friends. We made a plan that we’d open a firm together, and six years later that’s how Bentley & Channing Law was born. We’ve both worked our asses off to be where we are now, which is one of the top law firms in the city, even though we’re small. Tristan and I decided when we started that we’d run things differently—taking less cases than a normal firm but truly handling everything ourselves, from beginning to end. We don’t have secretaries, instead we hire law students to help us research case law. But we do have one secret weapon—Yvonne, who is pretty much our go-to person when we’re in a jam. While we each practice criminal law, we’ve recently realized that we needed to start branching out, so we also hired a family-law attorney and an associate fresh out of law school. We also have a competitive intern program, allowing us the ability to work with the best and brightest of new talent and have our pick on who to hire. We’re a small firm, but we’re kind of a big deal.
“My client’s late,” he says, glancing at his watch and putting his phone down. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah,” I tell him, studying him. “It’s just that something isn’t sitting right with me with this case. I feel like there’s more to it.”
“Tell me,” he says, giving me all of his attention.
“I looked into her claims, and she didn’t lie about her aunt. Her mother’s sister, Leona, has lung cancer, and Scarlett did fly out to see her,” I tell him. “She says she was home during the time he was murdered, but there’s no witness to testify that. I have nothing to work with here besides her word.”
“Do you think she’s guilty?” he asks me straight out.
“I don’t know,” I tell him honestly. “The evidence all points toward her pulling the trigger, yet . . .”
“Yet what?” he asks, waiting patiently for my answer. “Go with your gut, Jaxon. You know it doesn’t let you down.”
I can’t explain to him the reason I want to help her, because I wouldn’t admit this out loud to anyone. There’s something familiar about Scarlett Reyes. I couldn’t put my finger on what it was, but when I replay the interview in my mind, it hits me.
Her eyes.
She reminds me of her. Those hazel eyes hold something that Olivia’s green eyes did.
Pain, helplessness . . . and a gentleness that brings out my protective side.
Eyes that have seen much more than they should have.
“I know,” I tell him. “I just need to keep searching until I find something I can use, you know? What she’s giving me isn’t enough, and I know she’s keeping things from me. I’m going to start looking into Darren, see if he had any skeletons in his closet.”
“You want information to make his character look weak?” Tristan asks, brow raising. “It better be something good. You know how messy shit gets when cops are involved.”
“I know,” I say, cringing. “It’s a starting point though. If she killed him, I won’t find anything to help her case. If she didn’t, I need to find out who did. I know he’s a cop, and people aren’t going to like this, but I’m missing something, and I need to know what it is.”
“And what if she’s lying?” Tristan asks, crossing his arms over his chest. He says it without malice, just curiosity. “You can still try to get her a good deal if she pleads guilty.”
“She won’t take a deal,” I tell him. “I gave her that option as a backup, but she refused.”
“Some clients don’t know what’s best for them,” he says.
“I know, but they’re the ones who have to do the time, not me.”
“Let me know if you need any help,” he says, standing up and slapping his arm on my shoulder.
“You got time on your hands?” I ask, smirking, knowing very well that his plate must be full since I haven’t been here. “Don’t worry, if I need help, I’ll go to Kat. She’s better at her job than you are anyway.”
He playfully slaps the back of my head.
“Ha-ha, very funny,” he muses, leaving his office. Kat is Tristan’s girlfriend, who happens to be an associate here in the firm. She was the first associate we hired directly from law school, and started here working with me, learning the ropes. Tristan didn’t want to be bothered, but when I needed to take some time off, she really stepped up and he finally realized what an asset she was. I like to give him shit about his falling for someone who works for him—how cliché is that?—but Kat is a good woman, a hard worker, and a damn good lawyer. As her mentor, I can see the potential she has in law, and as a friend I can see how happy she makes Tristan, who isn’t always easy to be around. Realizing he left his office and I’m now sitting alone, I grab my files and head out.
Time to do some investigating.
I’M SITTING WITH KAT when Callum, an intern who is still in law school, comes into the conference room with his hands full of paperwork. “Here’s everything you requested. You know you can just access all of this stuff online, right? You don’t need me to print it out.” He runs his hand through his dark hair and smirks. The kid has an ego on him, and he’s one hell of a smart-ass, but he knows his shit. He’s tall—really tall, at about six foot six—and when I met him, one of the first things he told me is that, no, he doesn’t play basketball.
“Jaxon is old-school,” Kat inserts, grinning, her brown eyes dancing with amusement. “I don’t think he even knows how to use a computer.”
“Hey,” I mock-growl at her. “I know how to use one, okay, but why should I when I have interns to do that for me?”
“Oh, is that why you started hiring interns? For slaves to do internet research for you?” she fires back, not missing a beat. Today her long black hair is tied up on the top of her head, and it looks like Callum has stuck a pen in there and she hasn’t noticed yet. Due to her current comments, I’m not going to tell her, either.
“Of course it’s why,” I reply, pointing to her laptop. “So keep going.”
She laughs, then makes a big show of pressing some keys. Callum places the paperwork in front of me, grabs a pile, and moves to sit down across from Kat.
“Well, this’ll only take me several hours to get through,” I grumble, picking up Darren’s phone records for the last six months before he died. “Let’s just hope we can find something, anything. We need leads.”
“On it,” Kat says, her tone now serious. “We’re not leaving this office until we find something.”
We sit like that for three hours, stopping only for bathroom breaks. When Yvonne brings in lunch, I finally find something.
“Holy shit,” I mutter to myself, glancing up at Kat and Callum.
“What is it?” Callum asks, closing the folder in front of him and coming over to me.
“Look at this,” I tell him, pointing to a phone number I’ve highlighted. “I kept seeing this number pop up, so I ran a search on it, which gave me the name of a woman. Then when I went onto his property documents and utility bills, her name came up again on one of the properties.”
Kat comes over and looks at the name of the woman I’ve written down, her eyes widening. “I saw that name too. And you ran a search? By yourself?”
The woman has a sass problem.
She rushes back to her laptop and brings it over. “She was an additional cardholder on one of Darren’s credit card accounts.”
“So they shared a house together, utility bills, and credit cards,” I say, arching my brow. “Mistress?”
; “Looks like the cop isn’t so clean after all,” Kat murmurs. “Still not a reason to be murdered, but it’s a lead. Do you think Ms. Reyes found out Darren had a mistress and decided to kill him?”
“I don’t know,” I say, although that does make a lot of sense. Still, in my gut, why do I feel like she’s not guilty? Maybe my radar is off after Olivia. Losing my sister has messed me up in ways I don’t know will ever heal. Maybe I have no fucking idea what I’m doing anymore. I need to look at this from all angles and be realistic about the fact that Scarlett Reyes may indeed be a murderer. “Can you both run searches and find anything you can on this woman?”
They scurry off to do just that.
“Valentina Sullivan,” I say out loud. “Let’s hope you have some answers for us.”
MS. REYES MEETS ME at my office. She looks put together, dressed in all black with big sunglasses on top of her head. Her blond hair is down and flowing to her shoulders.
“Ms. Reyes,” I say, greeting her with a handshake.
“Please, call me Scarlett,” she says. She has the same blank expression as the last time I saw her, and again, when I look into her eyes, there’s something there that reminds me of Olivia. It both kills me and stops me from wanting to look away.
I pull out her chair, and she takes a seat.
“How have you been?” I ask, opening my file. “Any run-ins with the media or anything like that?”
She shakes her head. “I haven’t left my property much, and it’s gated, so no one can really bother me there. You said you have some news for me, but you didn’t say whether it was good or bad.”
I’m going to go with bad.
I’m normally a man who is very open and forward with my clients, but for some reason I’m having trouble telling her the bit of information I’ve found. Then again, maybe she already knows. And maybe she killed her husband after she found out. Still, I wouldn’t want to tell any woman the next words that come out of my mouth.
“I did some research,” I tell her, clearing my throat uncomfortably. “I found some other accounts in Darren’s name, and the trail led me to a person.” I paused, wishing I didn’t have to say the next few words. “A woman. Valentina Sullivan. Does that name sound familiar to you?”
“No,” she says, confusion in her gaze. “Should it?”
I study her for a few seconds, and her reaction seems genuine. Did she really not know that Darren was having an affair? One for too long of a time to call it that; it seems more like he was leading a double life.
I take a deep breath and force myself to push the words out. “Were you aware your husband was having an affair, Scarlett?”
Hazel eyes widen as she shakes her head. “No, I was not.”
She doesn’t show any other emotion, and although I know that’s not a good thing, it makes it easier for me to continue. “It seemed like he was living a double life. He had another house, bills, everything. I’m sorry to have to tell you this.”
That’s an understatement.
“It’s fine,” she says, lifting her chin. I don’t know how it can be fine, or how she can be so emotionless over something that has to hurt. Maybe she just has complete control over her emotions and is good at hiding her reactions, I don’t know, but either way, I’m getting nothing from her right now. “He mentioned a high school girlfriend to me once, now that I think about it. Obviously I assumed that was where it ended, but as usual, Darren loves to prove me wrong.”
She has fight in her, even after everything, and I like that. I respect it. “What does this mean? Does this help me?”
“I’m going to find out everything I can. To be honest, I don’t know whether this will help you. It can either lead us to the real killer or it could give the prosecution a motive for your killing him,” I tell her. “Any questions you have, or if you think of anything that can help, please give me a call. Until then do you have a safe place to stay?”
She nods. “I’m safe where I am, yes. Did you need to bring me in for this? I mean, you could have just told me this over the phone.”
I could have, yes, but I wanted to see her reaction. She’s so cold that I think a phone conversation would’ve been monotone. I want to find out more about this case, about the woman I’m defending. I want to put the pieces together, and I couldn’t have done that over the phone.
“I find it more personal to speak face-to-face,” I tell her, which is half true. “I also want you to feel comfortable coming to me with any information.”
She hesitates before saying, “Darren was not a good man, Jaxon. That doesn’t mean I think he deserved to die, but what I should’ve told you before is that just because he was a cop doesn’t mean he was good.”
“What does that mean exactly?” I ask her, keeping my tone gentle. “He didn’t treat you well?”
Her cheeks suck in, like she’s biting the inside of one, then she closes her eyes as she says, “There was a reason I was finally leaving him. I wanted to for so many years, but I was scared. He’d threaten me, and . . .” She trails off, then stands up. “You said I could tell you anything, that no detail was too small, so there it is. Darren wasn’t the hero cop his friends made him out to be.” She moves to leave, and I know it’s because she’s trying to escape the words she said out loud.
“He’d threaten you, and what?” I push. I know she doesn’t want to talk about it, but I’m here to help her win her case, not to be mindful of her feelings.
“He wouldn’t let me go,” is all she ends up saying, and the lift of her chin tells me she isn’t going to elaborate much more today.
I sigh. “Thank you for telling me that, Scarlett. Call me if you need or think anything,” I tell her again. I stand and walk her to my office door. “You’re a strong woman, Scarlett.”
She turns and studies me, tiling her head to the side a little. “I’m tired of being strong, Jaxon. For once, I just want to be free.”
Free.
Did Olivia just want to be free?
I stand there for a moment, then return to my desk and pick up my phone. Did Darren abuse Scarlett? Is that what she was getting at? She said he wasn’t a good man, more than once, did that mean he put his hands on her? Emotionally abused her? The thought makes my blood boil. No man should ever lay his hands on a woman, especially a cop, who should be leading by example how women should be treated.
There are a few things I didn’t tell Scarlett—one, because I didn’t want to worry her, and two, because I want to find out more information before I do. It seems Darren’s mistress, Valentina, has ties to the Wind Dragon Motorcycle Club, a well-known local biker gang. This would normally be a very bad thing, because no one wants to mess with the Wind Dragons, but luckily I have a contact on the inside.
The phone rings four times before he answers.
“Hello,” he says into the phone.
“Hey, it’s Jaxon,” I say quickly. “Just have a question for you. Are you free to talk?”
“Yeah, is everything okay?” he murmurs low into the phone.
“Yeah, it’s fine. I’m just working on a case,” I say, pacing the office. “What do you know about a woman named Valentina Sullivan and her ex-boyfriend, Darren Melvin? He was a cop.”
There’s silence on the other line for a few moments, but then he says, “You free to meet me today?”
“Yeah,” I say instantly, brow furrowing in concern. “Why, is there a problem?”
“Not yet there isn’t,” he says with a deep sigh. “I’ll be at your house around ten.”
“See you then.”
When we hang up I stare at the phone, wondering why he’d want to see me in person instead of just telling me. I trust him though; he’s a very smart man, and he knows what he’s doing.
Let’s hope the same goes for me.
I HEAR THE RUMBLE of his bike before I even see him, so I stand ou
tside and watch as he hops off his black Harley.
“Jaxon Bentley,” Demon says, grin on his face. He pats me on the back and walks past me.
“Demon,” I say, lifting my chin. “Come on in. Can I get you something to drink? A beer?”
“I’ll grab something,” he says, heading straight to my fridge and opening it. I watch as he acts like he lives here, grabbing a beer and then some chips from the pantry. “You want something?” he asks, sitting down when I shake my head.
“You going to tell me why this had to be a face-to-face conversation? Isn’t this dangerous for you? My imagination is running wild right now.” I sit down opposite him.
“Yeah, about that,” he says, taking a long draw of the ice-cold beer, then giving me his full attention. “I don’t know what case you’re working on, but you need to get the fuck out of it. You know I won’t give you WDMC information, Jaxon, and this is crossing that line. You need to stay out of this.”
“You’re not going to give me any information? I need something more than a warning, Demon,” I say, keeping a close eye on him for anything he might unwillingly give away. I know this man well, and I can tell from his body posture that he doesn’t want to share anything with me. Why is he hiding something? Is Demon covering for this Valentina chick?
“Darren was a dirty cop. He was a piece of shit—into drugs, and all sorts of things. I’m sure if you dig deeper you’ll find it,” Demon says, muscle ticking in his jaw.
My eyes widen. “Wait, you knew him? Fuck, Demon. You need to tell me everything. I need to find out who killed him or his wife is going to do time for it,” I say, my eyes pleading with him. He knows more; I know he does. He might not have been there, but Demon always knows what’s going on.
He continues as if I didn’t say anything. “I also know for a fact that he was an abusive asshole, so I feel for his wife, but I can’t help you here, Jax. Like I said, you should stay out of this,” he says, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, but that’s all I can tell you. My hands are tied. I’m sorry I couldn’t be of more help.”
Seducing the Defendant Page 2
