Tink snuggled beside him and he stroked her fur, wondering again who would take care of her if he ended up in prison. Another thing to add to his to-do list – find a home for the stray.
* * *
Jackie unlocked her law office door – so much for taking the day off – at 11:00 a.m. First Beck’s arraignment and now a stop here. She flipped the lights on, reached behind the potted tree that hid the security system panel and punched in the code. After the beep-beep indicated the system was off, she bypassed the receptionist’s desk and headed down the narrow hall to her office.
As office space went, this wasn’t a bad set-up. Three large offices, a conference room and a roomy waiting area. All painted an earthy brown her mother had insisted on. Mom had great taste, but before paint went on the walls Jackie couldn’t picture it. Too dark and gloomy, she’d thought. Eventually, she’d given in and had been forced to admit her mother was right.
Her mother wasn’t a litigator for nothing.
Jackie walked the last few feet to her office, taking in the silence she’d be forever thankful for. Normally, the office energy ran high. Between the phone’s ringing and Josh hollering to her from his office, it was a rare moment in stillness.
Giving everyone a day off had been the right call. She was so damned tired, she wasn’t sure she could deal with her mouthy crew today. Bad enough she’d summoned Chessie in for a quick meeting.
Him, she couldn’t avoid. Not when she’d just landed Beck’s high-profile case that would surely drag her client through the news cycle for the next few days. What she needed now was for the President to botch something, a famous actor to leave his wife, or a smallpox outbreak. Anything to lure DC reporters from the murder of the FBI director’s estranged wife.
And the man accused of said murder happened to be a hunky special agent the victim won in an auction. This thing had tabloid fodder and bad TV movie written all over it.
Sighing, Jackie kicked open her office door and smacked the wall switch. The desk lamp and the larger one in the corner flashed on, spraying the room in muted light. No industrial, overhead glare here. In the beginning, it had been yet another of her mother’s ideas. As the nights dragged on, and fatigue, more often than not, pressed in, Jackie had come to appreciate the soft lighting.
She tossed her briefcase on the corner of the desk and dropped into her chair to survey the stacks of folders, mail, and trade magazines smothering the top. That last trial had eaten up her time, and day after day, her desk became more of a war zone. Under her crystal paperweight, the one from her mother that was heavy enough to crack a skull, sat a stack of handwritten notes from her assistant. Yep, plenty to do.
“Jackie?” Chessie’s gravelly voice boomed from the reception area.
“My office,” she called.
A second later he appeared in the doorway. He wore a black suit with a pink pocket square. Now that he worked the private sector and could afford it, Chessie enjoyed a vast wardrobe. He also held a white envelope in his hand.
“Nice hanky,” she said.
He entered, giving the once-over to the roomy button-down top and ponytail she’d changed into after the arraignment. “Your hair is up. I like it.”
“Thanks. Too tired to do much else with it. Between the jeans and ponytail, it’s a good thing my mother isn’t here.”
The ultimate powersuit woman, Mom would kill her for wearing such casual attire to the office.
Chessie dropped the envelope on top of a stack of mail and sat in one of her upholstered guest chairs. “You look tired. More than usual anyway.”
Wonderful. A real charmer this one. “Thanks so much, Chess. What’s this envelope?”
“You must be tired since you missed it on the floor by the entrance. I thought you might have dropped it.”
“Not me.”
“Someone slid it under the door, maybe?”
Interesting. She picked it up, used it to point at Chessie. “Maybe Josh dropped it. Thanks for coming in. I wanted to get you started on this new case.”
“Annabelle Lockhart? You landed it?”
“Bet your butt I did. What are your buddies saying?”
“Not much. Which means, they don’t like Pearson for this. Too convenient.”
“That’s what I thought. Maybe he’s the patsy.”
Chessie shrugged. “What do you need from me?”
“The usual. Get into her closets. See what she’s into. Any enemies – aside from her very powerful husband. Maybe they have a fetish or two the good director doesn’t want exposed.” Jackie flicked the envelope again. “Do your thing.”
The investigator pushed out of his chair. “Will do. Anything else I can do for you?”
A wicked smile split Chessie’s face and Jackie rolled her eyes. Had to love her throwback of an investigator. She really shouldn’t encourage him, but she couldn’t help it. She loved the guy. Sue her.
“No,” she said. “I’m all set. Let me know what you find.”
Chessie left and once again the office fell into blissful silence. The stack of mail on her desk loomed large. Maybe she’d take an hour and sort through it. It had always relaxed her, sharpened her senses. Something, in her current condition, she desperately needed. She’d start with the white envelope in her hand. The front was blank so she flipped it over. No return address on the back either. Probably one of those introductory offer things the phone company constantly left for them.
She reached into her desk drawer, grabbed the letter opener and sliced away, finding a folded sheet of letter-sized paper. She slid it out and patience running short, flapped the page open.
A full color photo.
Printed right on the page and with no caption or note. What the heck?
Assuming the note could have fallen out, she held the envelope open again, finding nothing before checking the desktop and finally the floor.
And then it happened. That weird snaking feeling that curled up her neck, indicating that – oh, yes – something extremely fascinating was about to happen. Jackleen DelRay, defense attorney on the rise, could live her entire existence on that feeling.
Flattening the page on her desk, she studied the photo where three men in tuxedos, all toasting with amber-filled rock glasses, flashed costly smiles. They had a look about them. Privilege with more than a hint of cockiness.
Was that…? The man on the left possessed dark features indicative of Greek or maybe Italian descent, but the one next to him? He was all classic WASPy blond hair and fair skin.
Skin that she’d seen just hours ago.
Byron Lockhart.
A whoosh of air left her and Jackie sat back. Damn, she shouldn’t have touched that photo. If she hadn’t been so fatigued, so completely brain-fried, she’d have considered the possibility that an anonymous envelope might contain evidence. Clearly, this was a message. What that was, she didn’t know, yet.
But the questions, those babies fired like rockets from her brain. Who were the other men in the photo and what did they mean to Lockhart?
More than that, why was this photo on her desk, and who the hell shoved it under her door?
* * *
Beck’s phone blared, jarring him out of a dream about quicksand sucking him into an abyss.
What the…? He came up on an elbow and reached for the cell before his eyes were open.
Which only resulted in him knocking it to the floor.
Swearing, he almost let the call go to voicemail instead of chasing the phone, sleep already trying to drag him back down, but he’d put his do not disturb on for everyone but Jackie.
Pushing out of bed, he reached for the damn thing, knowing Jackie would only keep calling until he answered and it might be something important.
“’Lo?”
It was dark in the room, stripes of light squeaking through the edges of the blinds. Still daytime.
“I just got into my office.” Jackie said.
“Good for you.”
“And fou
nd a strange envelope.”
His voice was rough and he cleared his throat. “And that required calling me?”
“You need to get over here.”
Fighting a yawn, he pushed to his feet. “Why? What’s up with this envelope?”
“There was a picture inside. Three men at some black-tie event.”
Wow, fascinating. “What does that have to do with me?”
“One of the people in the photo is Byron Lockhart.”
“And? Is he holding a knife to his wife’s neck? Because I really don’t get why this is more important than my beauty rest.”
“That’s just it. I don’t either, but it is. My investigator found it by the front door of my office.”
“Okay.”
“So, Special Agent Pearson, I’d like to know who slid this photo under my door, presumably overnight. Or at least early this morning. Any ideas?”
Well, when she put it that way. “Are you safe? Doors locked?”
“Of course.”
“Anything stolen?”
“No. The alarm was on. No one entered. Quit worrying about my safety and get your butt over here. We need to figure this out.”
“Do you have a weapon?”
“Relax, Special Agent. I can take care of myself.”
His jaw tightened. “Are. You. Armed?”
“I’m sitting here with my Glock 19 pointed at the door. And trust me, I know how to load more than the dishwasher and washing machine. Anyone comes through it, they’ll get lead in their balls.”
“Good girl.” Damn. Brains, body, and that mouth.
“Don’t ever refer to me as girl again, unless you want me to return to calling you glamour boy.”
“Point taken. I’ll be there in twenty. Don’t shoot me, ’kay?”
She just laughed before hanging up.
Five
Overcast skies left a gray gloom blanketing the still wet streets as Beck found a parking spot a few blocks from DelRay & Associates. Construction across the street had turned the whole block into a mess.
His windshield wipers flapped annoyingly, the rain slowing to a soft mist. He turned them off, peering around to make sure no one had followed him. He’d had a reporter show up on his doorstep right after he’d gotten Jackie’s phone call. Another had been on the first’s heels. Word was out, and he’d be headline material on the eleven o’clock news, sure as shit.
Man, the world could sure go ass over apple cart in twenty-four hours.
It hadn’t been hard to ditch the press, but he felt sort of guilty leaving Tink. They weren’t supposed to trespass, but everyone knew reporters would do anything for a story.
Get to Jackie.
Shutting off the car, he glanced down the street. No one waited on the concrete steps to ambush him, so he locked up and jogged down the street. Who had left Jackie the photo of Byron Lockhart and what did it mean?
Lockhart wasn’t stupid. He wasn’t an emotional guy either. From his reaction at the station, Beck wondered if the show had been authentic or if the Director was a damn fine actor.
Because he wasn’t the only one thinking Byron made a better suspect. Jackie had immediately latched on to the idea.
Beck took the stairs two at a time and found the front door locked. Good. He knocked twice.
“DelRay,” he called, making sure she knew it was him.
A buzzer sounded followed by the clunk of a disengaging lock. He entered the office, locked the door behind him, and glanced around. The place was certainly more upscale than he’d expected, considering Jackie could barely dress herself. “I’m here.”
“Last office on the right,” she called.
The soft lighting and fancy paintings were a nice touch. She must have had a designer.
He had no trouble finding her door with the brass nameplate, Jackleen DelRay, Attorney.
The door was cracked an inch, and he pushed it all the way open, only to pull up short. Jackie stood at her desk with her shirt off, her generous breasts spilling over the edges of a sports bra and jiggling with abandon as she scrubbed at a shirt lying on the blotter.
She glanced up and didn’t even flinch, continuing to scrub furiously. “I spilled coffee. Figured you’d give me grief if I didn’t at least attempt to clean it up.”
Beck stood in the doorway, unable to blink or even look away. He remembered those luscious mounds, how they’d felt in his hands, how her skin had tasted under his tongue. Everything in him, including the not-so-small mini-Beck inside his pants, screamed for him to get her under him again.
Bam, right there on the desk. He’d brush the heaps of files and that girly Glock off to the side and free those puppies from the tight nylon bursting at the seams.
But this wasn’t Jackie DelRay, law student from the University of Pennsylvania, ready to go for broke on top of her big cherry desk. This was former Assistant United States Attorney DelRay, a mature, confident, successful woman who was now his lawyer.
So screwed.
Or not screwed, actually, he laughingly thought.
Knowing her, this little exhibition was payback. She wasn’t seriously flashing those ginormous boobs at him because she’d spilled coffee. She was reminding him of what they’d shared twelve years ago and all the regret that came with it.
Mission accomplished.
Mini-Beck pressed against his zipper, as hard and unforgiving as Jackie the pit bull. Digging deep for a shred of sensibility, he wheeled around and turned his back to her. “Please put your shirt on.”
He heard a soft laugh. “Oh, come on. My bathing suit has less material. Besides, it’s not like you haven’t seen this before.”
“I’m serious, Jackie. You’re my lawyer. I can’t be ogling you, no matter how much I want to.”
Another chuckle, then the sound of soft footsteps before something slapped against his back. “Here, put your eyes on this while I fix my shirt.”
He glanced back to where she held a photo and a pair of latex gloves. Too bad his gaze strayed to her breasts, because once more she was too much temptation for him after the past twenty-four hours had brought him so low. “You’re evil, but you know that, don’t you?”
She tried to appear innocent, but jutted out her chest anyway. “Me? What did I do?”
She knew exactly what she was doing. “I’m only a man, Jackie.”
“You are indeed. I’ve been known to bring a man to his knees if necessary. That doesn’t make me evil.”
“Keep talking like that and flaunting your rack at me and you’ll find yourself on your back begging me to make you come. You remember what that feels like, don’t you?”
Something changed in her eyes, like she might actually be considering it. Mini-Beck cheered.
He reached out and fingered a lock of hair that had pulled loose from her ponytail. His thumb brushed her clavicle and she sucked in a soft breath. “I don’t have much to lose at this point. Might as well enjoy myself.”
She didn’t pull away. “We had this conversation. I told you I’d get you off.”
“You better put your shirt on or you’ll be getting me off in more ways than one.”
Her chin came up, eyes sparking with challenge.
“Is that a threat or a promise, Agent Pearson?”
Was she really doing this right now?
Two could play that game.
He caressed the line of her throat, dropped his finger to run it down her cleavage. Another intake of breath made her chest rise. “You know from past experience, I don’t make threats, and I am a man of my word.”
The photo and gloves hit the floor and she launched herself at him, arms going around his neck as he caught her in his arms. Her legs fit perfectly around his waist and he carried her to the desk, ready to make his fantasy a reality.
Their lips met, the kiss as hot and feral as she was. Files flew off the desk, the gun skittered to the edge—and whoopsie daisy, Beck reached out and caught it before it went over. He wedged himself between Jack
ie’s legs and she moaned.
He kissed her long and deep, sucking at her tongue, then biting her bottom lip. Her hands were all over his back, his shoulders, pulling at his short hair as she bucked her hips under him.
His hands got their wish and he filled both with her glorious breasts. Dipping his head, he kissed, licked, and sucked at her skin, first the naked mounds above the cups of the bra, then her nipples through the thin fabric.
“God, yes,” Jackie said as if he’d asked for permission. “More. Harder.”
“Happy to accommodate.”
And then, from somewhere behind him, he heard a throat being cleared. “Um, Jackie?”
Jackie jerked and let out an “eep”, shoving at Beck to get him off her. His two-hundred and forty pounds kept her pinned, and he glanced over his shoulder, ready to kill whoever the asshole was in the doorway. “What the fuck do you want?”
“Hi, I’m Josh,” the kid said. “Is Jackie okay?”
Seriously?
The woman in question squirmed out from under him and slapped him on the shoulder as if he were in trouble. “Josh! What are you doing here?”
“I came to wrap up the paperwork on the Brengle case. I heard about”—he motioned at Beck, a confused frown creasing his face—“your new client. I was going to call and see if you needed any help, but it looks like you, um, have things under control. You do, right?”
“Of course,” Jackie said, quickly pulling on her shirt. Her fingers shook as she started buttoning it and she was breathing like she’d just run a mile sprint.
Beck chuckled, adjusting his pants and woody before picking up the fallen picture from the floor. “Jackie always has things under control.”
Jackie moved toward the door, motioning Josh away. Her shirt was askew from the uneven button job. “Everything’s good. We were just, uh, reviewing some details.”
Beck waved the photo, a wide grin splitting his face. “Yep. Details.”
She hustled Josh into the hallway and semi-closed the door behind her. Lowering her voice, she must have given the kid an earful before she blew back in and leaned on the door with a look of pure embarrassment on her face. “That’s my junior partner.”
Defending Justice Page 5
