by Diana Duncan
She’d begun to tremble, and Dallas squeezed her shoulders.
“When I got home, I got punished for ‘talking about family business with outsiders’ by losing ‘chow hall privileges’ for twenty-four hours. Going hungry was another regular discipline. I used to immerse myself in cartoons on TV. For a while, I could imagine myself in that cheerful, carefree world and escape the misery in my belly, the throbbing aches in my body.”
The weight on his chest made it hurt to breathe. “Ah. That explains the love for Bugs Bunny.” And the way she ate whenever she had the chance.
“Yes. So … um … eight months later when the Colonel twisted my arm and snapped my wrist, I didn’t deny the story that I’d fallen out of my bunk bed.” Her voice went quiet. “And, yeah, he repeatedly hammered it into me that it was all my fault.”
“The sonofabitch.” He wanted to hunt down the bullying bastard and teach him a personal lesson about tackling an opponent his own size. Dallas buried his fury. Mia didn’t need that from him right now. He kissed her temple.
“Anyway, a skull fracture when I was six was the final straw for my mother. She figured he’d eventually kill me, and he probably would have.” Mia shakily inhaled. “Mom wasn’t afraid for me, she was afraid of the consequences to him. She talked the Colonel into sending me to boarding school to ‘relieve his stress.’ Afterward, I was the recipient of an occasional ‘accident’ on holidays and summer vacations, but as I got older, I opted to stay at school year ‘round.”
“Nobody questioned that?”
“Nope. Lots of students stayed, especially kids whose parents had high-powered careers or traveled abroad. At seventeen, I left boarding school and started college with scholarships I’d earned. My first month there, during a ranting telephone call from the Colonel about my ingratitude, I hung up on him. I decided to break all contact with my parents. You can’t begin to imagine how empowered that made me feel.”
“God, you’re strong, Mia. It took smarts and determination to overcome all that. To sever ties with your abusers and carve out a new life, then put yourself through law school. Do you know how rare that kind of fortitude is? I admire the hell out of you.”
“Th-thank you. Most times, except for the occasional flashback, I try hard not to let what my parents did have any power over me. Something I learned in psychology class when I was studying for my degree in family law, is just because you have a biological connection to someone, it doesn’t obligate you to have a relationship with them. Especially if they’re hurting you, physically or emotionally.”
“They’ve never contacted you, even after all these years?”
“No.”
A giant fist squeezed his heart. With a ruthless, sadistic father and a doormat mother—who made excuses instead of quilts—no wonder Mia struggled with trust. Come hell or high water, he could count on his mother to stand by him. He never would have made it without her support. “Children should be able to count on their parents to protect and care for them. I’m sorry, darlin’.”
The slender shoulders beneath his arm squared. “Don’t be. My experiences made me what I am today. Made me strong. A survivor. And gave me the empathy and resolution to help others escape the cycle of abuse by practicing family law. Representing and helping women and children who’ve been victimized is what I live for.” A shuddering sigh. “Or it was, until Harper and Paul Grayson stole it from me. I speak for those who don’t have a voice, and they’ve silenced me.”
A terrible suspicion had begun to torment him. “Mia … did Paul Grayson … did he sexually harass you?”
She snorted. “He tried. And ended up curled on the floor choking on his nuts that my knee had jammed up into his tonsils.”
He smiled. “Good for you.”
“Not so much.” Mia hesitated, unsure whether she wanted to continue. But maybe if Dallas understood her motives, he’d know why she had to see this through. “I thought Paul was my friend. He’s five years older than me. I first met him when he gave a series of lectures my final year of law school, and I stayed afterward to ask questions. We ended up in a coffee shop talking for hours. He said I’d be a huge asset to the firm, and when I graduated, he gave me a glowing recommendation for a job. Although the only family law they practice is high-profile divorces, I took the job in order to hone my courtroom tactics. Paul even helped me study for the bar exam.”
She grimaced. “But when I started working there and saw his behavior toward the secretarial staff, I was stunned. Innuendoes, risqué jokes, an ‘accidental’ brush of his hands or body—clear incidents of sexual harassment. I got all the women together, helped them write up complaints, and brought them to Harper. I told him he’d better get rid of Paul, or I’d file formal charges.
“He assured me he’d take care of it. A few days later, Harper called me into his office. He showed me a copy of an email sent from my computer, with my personal password, that revealed the top dollar amount on a confidential litigation settlement statement to the opposing council. The statement told the other side exactly how much our clients would pay to settle. A figure far higher than they wanted anyone to know. The opposing firm had convinced their client to accept much less, but when they saw the statement, they upped the ante. Our client lost two million dollars.”
She stared down at her hands, clenched in her lap. “Harper fired me, said he would claim I’d left by mutual agreement if I didn’t make a fuss. He told the other firm and the judge that the ‘slip-up’ wasn’t deliberate on my part and asked them to keep my ‘careless mistake’ quiet. Everyone believed he was covering for me, and my reputation was shot. No decent firm in town would touch me.”
“Fucker,” Dallas muttered.
“The night Harper fired me, Paul showed up at my apartment building as I was walking from the parking lot to the door. He was drunk. Said now that we weren’t coworkers anymore, we could have ‘lots of fun.’ He got grabby, rammed his tongue down my throat … and I put him down like a rabid dog. Left him puking up his guts on the cement.”
“And you didn’t report it,” Dallas said quietly. “Because after you’d been fired, the accusation would’ve looked like a bid for revenge.”
“You got it. At that point, I figured it was finished. I was wrong.” She braced herself. “The next day, the police stopped me on a routine criminal patrol, where they set up roadblocks and stop random cars, looking for drunken drivers, drugs, and unpaid tickets, that sort of thing. My car is old and junky, I’ve been stopped before. I didn’t have anything to hide. Or so I thought.”
The nightmare images exploded inside her, and her body quivered. “They knew exactly where to look. Under the front seat, they found a stash of meth, enough to charge me as a dealer, not just a user. I was taken to the station, booked, fingerprinted—” She choked.
“They—” She gulped. “At the jail, two matrons took me into an interrogation room.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “One of them held me down and the other strip searched me.” Mia could barely speak. “It was horrible.”
“Jesus Christ. Grayson set you up.”
“You got it. I spent the night locked in a filthy, reeking jail cell. Paul showed up in the morning and bailed me out. He gloated about how he’d personally arranged the strip search and asked if I enjoyed it.”
A low savage growl rumbled in Dallas’s throat. “I’ll geld the sorry fucker and feed him his own balls.”
Mia swallowed nausea. “He … ah … he told me as long as I stayed quiet and didn’t make any trouble for him or the firm, didn’t breathe a word to anyone, my drug arrest would disappear. At that point, I realized what kind of power he and Harper have. I had to agree. Had to cut a deal with the slime.”
She bit her bottom lip, tasted blood. “If Harper ever puts the drug arrest back on record, which he’s fully capable of doing at any time, I’ll go to prison.”
Dallas leapt to his feet, paced the room. “Don’t worry. Not happening. Because they’re dead men.”
; Fear stabbed her. “No! Don’t say that! Dallas, don’t act rashly and ruin not only your own life, but everything we’ve been working toward. The only way to fix this is to stay focused on our goal and finish what we started. It’s the only way to get justice. For everyone Harper and Paul and Montoya have hurt.”
He thrust his fingers through his hair. “No wonder you’re afraid to depend on men. We haven’t done real well by you, have we, darlin’?”
She managed a rueful, wobbly smile. “Not exactly.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “They keep knocking you down, yet you get back up and keep on fighting. You’re an incredible woman, Mia. One of a kind. You have brains and strength and courage. You’re a helluva a survivor. And no matter what happens, you’re going to defeat these assholes.”
She stared into those fierce blue gladiator’s eyes, and a storm of conflicted emotions washed over her. But the most surprising was hope.
“You know what, Dallas? For the first time in my life, I actually believe that.”
Chapter 14
Around one a.m., the intermittent patter of raindrops on the roof pelted into a downpour. Dallas had traveled the globe with his job, but had never been to a place where it rained so often. While most people accustomed to a dry, warm climate might despise it, he found the rhythmic patter soothing.
He carefully levered himself up on one elbow from his reclining position on the couch to look down at Mia in the flickering firelight, her back spooned to his front.
After their intense talk, they’d made more popcorn to replace the spilled bowl, then watched the Bruce Lee marathon and engaged in lively banter that relaxed them both. When she’d fallen asleep against his shoulder, he should’ve put her to bed. But he couldn’t resist the temptation to hold her in his arms for just one night.
Her sleeping face serene, she looked as sweet and innocent as a spring lamb. He smiled. His “innocent” little lamb could morph into Rambo in the blink of an eye … and he and Zane had the battle scars to prove it.
He clenched his jaw. Given the circumstances of her childhood, he couldn’t blame her. She’d had to be feisty to survive.
Dallas brushed a soft kiss on her temple, then eased back down.
He was still awake when the black, rainy night morphed into a brilliant orange dawn. But the night wasn’t nearly as long and lonely with Mia’s soft curves snuggled into him.
Even though he knew it was impossible, as the morning star faded from sight, he wished on it with all his heart that he could keep her there.
* * *
Bright light battered Mia’s closed eyelids, and she squinted them open to see the living room washed in sunbeams. They must’ve fallen asleep on the sofa. Dallas’ warm body was curled around her back, his even breaths fanning the nape of her neck. One muscled arm possessively wrapped her waist, and a massive arousal throbbed against her bottom.
Her nipples hardened in immediate response. Thick, hot desire bubbled through her veins, and a strangled squeak slipped out.
“Mornin’, darlin’,” his husky voice said from behind her.
She shifted onto her back and blinked. Dallas’s face swam into view. The subdued light glowed around him, weaving an eerily beautiful halo that reminded her of when he’d been waiting for her at the altar on their wedding day. Her pulse kicked, and she gasped.
“Mia? You okay?”
“Yes. It’s just … you have a halo.”
His deep chuckle vibrated inside her, sparkling through her system like fireworks on the fourth of July. His wicked grin sent her pulse racing faster. “Sugar, you must still be dreaming.”
She wouldn’t mind waking up to that gorgeous smile every morning. Ignoring the clutch around her heart, she managed to smile at him. “So, do you have a permit to carry that big gun concealed, McQuade?”
He uttered a graveled laugh. “And that would be my cue to go take a shower. Then I’ll rustle us up some breakfast.”
“Okay, I’ll make coffee.”
He stared down at her another moment. “What the hell,” he murmured, and bent his head. His mouth devoured hers in a hot, hungry kiss that immediately set her aflame.
Then he got up and stalked from the room.
Mia sat up. Blinked. “Well, good morning to you, too.” She rose and staggered into the kitchen. Caffeine would have to be a lousy substitute for what she really wanted this morning.
After breakfast they finally swung by her apartment and grabbed some of her things, and she followed him home in her own car so she’d have a vehicle.
The rest of the day passed in preparations for their commando raid the following afternoon. Janet had agreed to let them know when the floor had emptied for lunch hour, and then depart for her own lunch, “accidentally” leaving the main door unlocked. Dallas assured Mia he could pick the locks on Harper and Paul’s offices, and he’d used his own computer program that would hack into, and static out, the building’s security cameras for the time period they needed. He tried to explain it to her, but lost her somewhere between “interface” and “remote viewing.” He claimed any security expert worth his wages knew not only how to create security, but also how to thwart it.
After dinner, he stunned her speechless and melted her heart by producing half a dozen beautiful pink bakery cupcakes decorated like roses, complete with lit birthday candles. He sang “Happy Birthday” to her, then presented her with a small wrapped box which, when opened, revealed a Daffy Duck watch.
Amidst all the preparations for their raid, she’d completely forgotten it was her birthday, and Dallas’ thoughtfulness touched her soul-deep.
Mia spent a restless night tossing and turning—and resisting the longing to go crawl into bed with him—and wondering if he was doing the same across the hall in his office.
Wednesday finally arrived. Her jumpy stomach couldn’t handle more than a bagel and coffee. After a hot shower, she put on jeans, her plaid Chucks, and a coral blouse Dallas had bought her.
And then it was go time.
Mia stood on the street corner beside her husband, palms sweating, nerves jittering. Her anxious gaze devoured his lean-muscled body dressed in a long-sleeved maroon T-shirt, snug faded jeans and his leather blazer.
He gave her a reassuring grin. “Hornet gun … check. Hornet sting … check. Let’s roll, Kato.”
She chuckled. As they strode up the sidewalk and into the lobby, the sight of that confident, sensual grin held her steady. Avoiding the elevators, they quickly slipped into the stairwell, where there was less far chance of being seen and recognized. They donned surgical gloves—leave no prints behind.
They hiked upstairs to the tenth floor, where Mia opened the door a crack, cautiously peering through the scant opening.
The hallway was empty, so they strode down to the glass doors of the law firm. The reception area was also deserted, the door unlocked. Janet had done her part.
Inside, Mia led the way into the associate’s private back corridor and scurried down the plush gray carpet to Paul’s office, Dallas directly behind her.
Dallas picked the lock with no problem. He booted up the computer, and she typed seven or eight different combinations before hitting on Paul’s fraternity nickname of “Casanova” combined with the date he’d passed the bar. She rolled her eyes. Once a slimeball, always a slimeball.
“Data is encrypted, including the emails,” Dallas said quietly. “I figured as much.” He downloaded the hard-drive contents to the jump drive they’d brought. With everything back in place and the door relocked, the duo moved to Harper’s office.
Mia struck out with his password.
Dallas roamed the office, checking things out while she continued typing guesses.
“We’re nearly out of time, Mia. We’ll have to go without— Howdy, what do we have here … hanging just a tad crooked when every other diploma, award, and photo is surgically precise?”
He lifted an autographed photo of Harper and Arnold Palmer from its hook on the wall
, carried it to her side and turned it over. A long string of random numbers and letters was taped to the back. “Try this.”
“That’s it! I’m in. This almost seems too easy.”
“Oh, hell, darlin’, don’t go jinxing us now.”
The data was seventy-four percent downloaded when Mia heard Janet’s overly loud nervous titter. “Mr. Grayson! What are you doing back so soon?”
“I forgot my lucky putter, it’s in my office.”
“Shit!” Dallas muttered. “Janet must have seen him coming this way and tried to head him off, and is warning us … bless her heart. Mia, complete the download and get out the back exit while I’ll go stall him. If it looks like it’s not going to finish in time, just take what you have. I’ll meet you in the Jeep.”
Pulse hammering in her ears, she whispered, “Okay.”
He gave her a fast kiss. “Don’t worry. I won’t let anything happen to you. And I won’t leave without you.” Stripping off his gloves and stuffing them in his pocket, he slipped out.
“Mr. Grayson,” Dallas’ smooth baritone said. “How are you? I’m Dallas McQuade. We met last week when I accompanied Señor Montoya to your office.”
“Ah, yes,” Harper replied. “Did Señor Montoya have an appointment someone forgot to tell me about? We’re not usually here on Wednesdays.”
“No, sir.” Dallas sounded as cool and unruffled as if he were at a cocktail party. “I came by to pick up some paperwork.”
C’mon! Mia urged the computer, now at ninety-percent. Finish already. She did not want to leave without all the information.
“I’ll get that putter for you, sir,” Janet volunteered.
