Because of a Boy

by Anna DeStefano

  “Working hard isn’t all there is to consider.” Neal’s casual stance was the kind of practiced ease that had lured many a legal opponent off guard. “You can’t demand loyalty from people. It takes something more personal than ‘do it because I say so’ to win trust.”

  “The staff is paid to be just as loyal as we need them to be,” Stephen snapped. Then he sighed as he threw down his pen.

  He’d been trying to work for hours, despite the constant flashbacks of having Kate in his arms. He was on edge and distracted, but that was no excuse for being a bastard.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  Neal shrugged as he seated himself in the only chair not cluttered with files and papers Kelly hadn’t yet processed.

  “Keeping things rolling with as little personal stake as possible,” he mused. “I saw things pretty much the same way for years. I was as wrong as you are.”

  Stephen gave up on the Hastings file. “Is making things personal a new litigation tool I’m unaware of?”

  “Think of it as a life lesson I’m inclined to save you from learning the hard way.”

  “You haven’t had a problem with the way I’ve handled things before.”

  “I don’t have a problem with it now. I’m just wondering if curling up with your law books at night is starting to wear a tad thin.”

  Stephen didn’t sleep alone any more often than he wanted to. His level stare said as much, as silence stretched between them.

  “When are you talking with the brother?” Neal asked.

  “As soon as I finish this brief.” Stephen motioned to the open file.

  But it was Kate’s image that sprang to mind, not Martin’s. Stephen could still feel her shuddering in his arms. The memory of every demanding kiss she’d returned that morning had been distracting him all day, making the case more personal by the second.

  “Next week’s going to be crazy with me out of here,” Neal said.

  “I enjoy a good challenge.”

  “Challenge? Like still going full speed ahead on the Digarro case?

  “Manny’s a client.”

  “Not since the hospital cleared him of the abuse charges.”

  “The bogus abuse allegations aren’t all he’s up against.”

  “They’re all he asked us to represent him for.”

  “Because he’s a terrified parent trying to protect his kid, and he didn’t think we’d take the case if we knew he was illegal.”

  What Stephen wouldn’t have given for just one of his parents to have cared that much about him.

  A heavy sigh drew his attention across the desk.

  “But this case isn’t personal?” Neal asked.

  “Of course not.”

  Stephen returned his attention to the Hastings file.

  “Good.” Neal nodded as he stood. “Then I don’t have to worry about you being in over your head while I’m gone.”

  “Hey, Neal,” Stephen said as his boss left.

  “Yeah?”

  “Keep your cell phone with you, all right?”

  “Of course,” Neal agreed, understanding more than either one of them would ever discuss. “Delegate whatever you need to. Let me know if that’s not enough. And do what you have to do to help the Digarros, and anyone else involved.”

  “Neal?” Jennifer Gardner popped her head into the outer office. “Ready? Hey, Stephen.”

  “Have a great trip, you two.” Stephen waved as Neal looped his arm through his wife’s and ushered her away.

  “Take it easy,” Neal said over his shoulder.

  Stephen’s answering smile faded as he had a mental flash of him and Kate Rhodes…arm-in-arm, leaving work early on a Friday, and heading out to do…didn’t matter what, as long as they were doing it together.

  Where the hell had that come from!

  “THERE’S A WOMAN OUT FRONT asking for you.” David Weller stepped into the academy’s bathroom long enough to relay the message, then ducked back out.

  Martin finished washing his hands.

  He was actually looking forward to seeing his sister tomorrow night. But he’d counted on having another day to accept their reunion.

  He straightened to his full height, grabbed his crutch and pushed into the hallway, walking as normally as possible, his head high, his right leg dead weight but moving with him. His hip was still screaming from last night’s slip and slide, but he’d be damned if he’d let Katie see it.

  He was willing to welcome back his sister—and their mother’s pasta—into his life, but there was no place for her pity.

  Except it was a tiny fireball of a blonde waiting in the academy’s reception area. She was picking at the wilting ends of the fern no one in the building seemed to care about. Martin had been sneaking it water between classes, or late at night, after everyone else had left and he couldn’t stand to go home.

  Lissa loved plants. She’d bought him several for his hospital and rehab rooms. He’d found a way to keep them alive those first few months after the shooting. He’d left most everything but his parents’ antiques behind when he moved away, except each plant had found its way into the moving van. There was one for every room of his tiny apartment, and then some.

  Now he couldn’t pass a fern without thinking about Lissa, or keep himself from stopping to touch it, to check if it was getting enough water.

  His crutch creaked as he stepped forward. She looked up, the beauty of her smile fading when he didn’t return it.

  “It’s good to see you.” She fiddled with a pinched-off piece of fern.

  “Why are you doing this?” He glanced to where Weller was manning the reception desk, then motioned Lissa toward the couch no one ever used.

  She sat. He walked to a nearby table and settled on its edge, his uncooperative leg stretched before him, the crutch draped across his lap. He usually kept the damn thing as far out of sight as possible. But it was important that neither of them forgot it was there, or what it represented.

  “I told you I’d come,” Lissa explained.

  “Your life is back in Oakwood.” He could smell the citrus of her shampoo, the subtle fragrance that always lingered on his clothes after he held her. “Being here is a waste of both our time.”

  Lissa set the piece of fern aside.

  “For someone who gave me the full-court press for as long as you did, you’re awfully sure we can’t weather our first problem.”

  “Problem?” The hurt in her voice tempted him to reach for her. He locked his hands together in his lap. “I have to retrofit my apartment to keep from killing myself doing things I shouldn’t have to think about doing. I’m fighting to get my mobility back, Lissa, but it may never happen.”

  “Fighting? Is that what you call ranting at your physical therapist, pushing so hard you’re messing with the progress you’ve already made?” Her chin rose. “Sounds like a temper tantrum to me.”

  “We may not be able to make love. Ever.” He didn’t bother checking to see if Weller was listening. “We might never have a normal relationship.”

  The reality of knowing he couldn’t get hard, not even now, with the most beautiful woman in the world sitting within arm’s length…He could accept all the rest, but never loving Lissa again…

  “Martin—” Shock stole the rest of her sentence.

  “Is that what you came up here to get?” he demanded. “You think taking a cripple back home with you will be easier than dealing with a real man after your divorce?”

  “I’m sorry to interrupt,” a voice intruded from the building’s entrance.

  Both Martin and Lissa jumped. Lissa pushed to her feet, losing her balance briefly before righting herself.

  Fury rolled through Martin. Not at the interruption, but at what he’d just said.

  Damn it!

  Lissa’s ex had left her for his secretary, but she’d rallied and rebuilt her life. She was the strongest, bravest woman Martin had ever met, and he’d just called her a user and a coward.

 
“I was leaving anyway,” she whispered, her head down. But at the door, she turned back. “Be as much of a bastard as you like, Martin Rhodes. Hurt yourself. Hurt me while you’re at it. But the only way you’re going to get rid of me is to listen to the physical therapist. Then we’ll see if we can handle where that leaves us. Until then, I’m going to be an in-your-face reminder of everything you’re throwing away.”

  Martin rose slowly to his feet, but not to try to stop her. His crutch crashed to the floor, his focus riveted on the way his body had tightened in response to the vision Lissa made in a full-on fury.

  Her cheeks were flushed, her temper flashing. Blond hair curled maddeningly around her heart-shaped face. She’d looked just as disheveled as she’d looked the one time they’d come close to making love. And his body was reacting now exactly the same way it had then.

  He was hard as a rock, straining against the fly of his pants. Friction and shock had him gritting his teeth against the urge to adjust himself in the middle of the reception area.

  Good Lord!

  When he said nothing, Lissa’s shoulders slumped.

  “See you around, tough guy.” With a glance at Creighton, she turned on the heels of her sexy black boots and walked out.

  Martin stepped to follow and stumbled over his fallen crutch. He cursed as he bent to pick up the infernal thing.

  “Sorry I interrupted,” said Katie’s lawyer friend who wasn’t a boyfriend. Creighton came closer as Martin stood. “I seem to be making a habit of that today. I barged in on your sister at the hospital this morning.”

  Martin pinned the man with a glare, then headed down the hall. Each step sent a jolt of excitement through his system—originating from the hardened flesh below his waist, and the shock of once again breathing the same air as the woman who’d triggered it.

  Lissa.

  She refused to believe he didn’t need her. His body was clearly taking her side.

  Creighton followed him.

  “Whatever you want from my sister—” Martin limped into the classroom he had to set up for his next lecture “—you’re not going to get it through me.”

  “Actually, I cleared coming here with Kate first. I didn’t want to add to the tension between you.” Creighton watched without reaction as Martin set the crutch against the wall and eased into a chair.

  “My sister sent you?” Martin asked.

  “No.” The lawyer leaned against one of the desks. “But she said it was okay if I asked you a few questions.”

  “About this client you’re so determined to find? I figured that was just an angle to get in to her pants.”

  Creighton grinned.

  “Actually, working your sister started out as an angle to get me what I need from you.”

  “And?”

  “And things have changed.” A just-the-facts lawyer met Martin’s stare. “Kate thinks she’s the reason my client and his son are on the run.”

  “Why would she think that?”

  “Because she is, at least in part. My client’s son presented all the symptoms of an abused child. He was hurt at her shelter, and Kate alerted the police about the father’s likely responsibility for his injuries. There was no abuse, but now my client’s citizenship is in question. Maybe more. The father ran with the boy, the INS is on their tail and APD has been called off by someone who doesn’t want to openly play their hand yet. Meanwhile, a missing kid isn’t getting the medical care he needs.”

  “And you’re blaming Katie?”

  “No, but your sister’s feeling guilty as hell, all the same. I’d very much like to help her let herself off the hook. To do that, I need information that my local contacts can’t get me. Fast.” The lawyer nodded Martin’s way. “Do you have anyone back in that sheriff’s department you left that could help me?”

  “I NEED A ROOMMATE,” announced the small-town beauty waiting outside Kate’s condominium later that evening.

  Lissa Carter was perched on the first of two suitcases. Her expression hinted strongly of mischief and desperation.

  Kate sighed and handed the woman the overflowing grocery bags she’d lugged from her car. She unlocked the door, reclaimed the bags and motioned for the love of her brother’s life to precede her inside.

  “Does Martin know you’re here?” she asked, not that she didn’t welcome the diversion.

  There was still no news on the Digarros. No word from Stephen since that morning. She’d just rolled off a double shift at the hospital, and she’d known she wouldn’t be able to sleep. So she’d planned to get a jump-start on the lasagna for tomorrow night’s dinner.

  “I saw Martin earlier today.” Lissa picked up her luggage and trudged to the couch to sit. “I might have forgotten to mention that I planned to mooch a room from you.”

  “You’re not mooching.” Kate sat beside her. “You’re worried about someone I care for deeply. You can stay as long as you want.”

  Kate deserved the other woman’s shocked expression.

  It felt good to finally be doing the right thing.

  Martin didn’t want the people who loved him to keep fighting for him, but it was what he needed. Sweet, gentle Lissa Carter had accepted that from the start. Kate envied the woman her ability to fearlessly follow her heart.

  After only a few meaningless kisses, Kate was questioning if she could handle seeing Stephen Creighton again.

  Suddenly, a plan to harness some of Lissa’s tough love began formulating in Kate’s mind.

  She returned to where she’d set down the shopping bags. “How good are you at infiltrating enemy territory—” she pulled out a box of lasagna noodles and shook it “—while wielding homemade Italian casserole?”

  CHAPTER NINE

  “LOOKS LIKE YOUR MAN has good reason to stay one step ahead of the authorities,” Martin said over Stephen’s cell Saturday morning.

  “How bad is it?” Stephen pushed himself out of bed and padded to the kitchen to kick-start the coffeemaker a full hour before he’d programmed it to fire up.

  “From what little I’ve heard from my DEA contacts, returning to Colombia would be a death sentence.”

  “DEA? So, it’s drugs.” Stephen double-checked the stove’s digital clock, calculating how early would be too early to call Neal on the first day of his vacation. “Manny Digarro doesn’t seem the type.”

  “Word is, Manuel worked for some drug lord living on a mountain outside Bogotá. He’s some financial wizard with accounting and investments and did the books for the head guy himself. I’ve got nothing yet on whether or not your client’s last name’s legit, by the way. He dropped out of sight something like a year ago. There’s a price on his head. No clear read on why.”

  Stephen sighed. “So his kid being admitted to the hospital, and the APD nosing around asking questions put him on more than the INS radar?”

  “There’s no way to tell for sure, but it sounds like there were some rumblings on the street before my guy started inquiring. Someone’s been tailing your client for a while.”

  “You have a contact high enough in the DEA to get this kind of information overnight?”

  “It’s not my contact, but it’s solid. My chief from back home put out a few feelers. I doubt the APD or INS is going to get wind of it right away, but they’re not who you should be worried about. In fact, you might want them involved by the time this all plays out.”

  Stephen’s opinion of Kate’s brother notched up even higher. It hadn’t sounded like Martin wanted anything more to do with “back home” than Manny—Manuel—Digarro did. Except Kate had needed him to call in an old marker. And so he had.

  Martin’s last statement registered.

  “You’re thinking the Digarros might have to turn themselves in for their own protection,” Stephen summed up.

  “The Vargas cartel Digarro worked for has strong ties in the States. People don’t leave an organization like that, not people in as deep as it seems your guy was. They’re going to want him—or something he to
ok—back. Or they’re going to want him dead. Neither one sounds like a good situation for a sick kid.”

  “Does Kate know any of this yet?”

  She’d be even more desperate to find the family now.

  “She’s bringing dinner over tonight.” What Martin didn’t quite achieve in enthusiasm for the visit, he made up for by sounding worried about his sister. “It’ll keep until then, unless you’re going to speak with her first.”

  “I hadn’t planned to.” Stephen had a buttload of work piling up at the office, as well as trying to find a precedent that would give the Digarros some protection under current immigration statutes. Not to mention that he needed more time to figure out what his and Kate’s kiss had meant…or not meant. “What are you going to suggest she do?”

  There was only silence on the other end of the phone.

  “We’ll have to be careful how we approach the man,” Rhodes finally said.

  “We?”

  “You have to talk the guy in. Find him some place safe to perch, so Kate can get his kid the help he needs, and the father can consider his options. Then you’re going to have to do some of that fancy legal shit I hear you’re so good at, and get the INS or whoever else in the mood to deal. You got somewhere to take the family once you find them?”

  “I have a few contacts.” Stephen added Curt Jenkins to his call list. For someone who didn’t do teamwork, Stephen was amassing quite a posse. “I should be able to work something out. Are you in this for the duration?”

  “I’m not sure how much good I’ll do you, but, yeah, I’m in.”

  Kate’s brother sounded committed, the way Stephen suspected the man had been as a sheriff’s deputy. As determined as his sister was when Kate had her sights set on something she wanted.

  Stephen closed his eyes against the memory of her reaching for him.

  Of him being what she’d wanted.

  “You want to tell Katie, instead of me?” Martin asked.

  It was a leading question if Stephen had ever heard one. The man wanted to know just how much Stephen already figured in his sister’s life. Or maybe how much Stephen wanted to figure.

  Was he focused on what Kate needed, or was he still working his own agenda?