THE DEFENDER

by Adrienne Giordano

  “I like cookies,” Brent said. “So what?”

  Russ held his hands up. “I was just making a statement.”

  “You were throwing shade, man. I’m not ashamed that I like cookies.”

  “Relax, boys. I’ll make a pot of coffee to go with our cookies. I hope it’s not those disgusting processed cookies. We need bakery cookies.”

  “Bakery cookies?” Russ shot back.

  “Hey. If you’re going to eat cookies, they might as well be worth the calories.” Penny squatted in front of Elizabeth. “You holding up okay? Can I get you anything?”

  She stared at the window frame, where sunshine slipped through the edge of the blind that blocked the spectacular lake view. Maybe what they all needed was air. “Russell, Elizabeth and I are going outside for a few minutes.”

  “Why?”

  Uh, my client is tired.

  “I need to confer with my client.”

  He stood. “Do it here. I’ll give you privacy.”

  “No. We’ll go outside. How do I know if this place is bugged?”

  His head dipped forward. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “Last I checked? No.”

  A muscle in his jaw flexed and those dark eyes turned hard, unyielding. Even with the camaraderie they’d built, she couldn’t resist reminding the FBI agent she had a responsibility to her client.

  “Fine,” he said. “Go. Ten minutes. Keep her out of sight.”

  Penny led Elizabeth through the kitchen to the back door, where she waited for a frowning Brent to exit ahead of them. The men didn’t seem to like her idea of going outside. They’d have to suck it up.

  Brent checked the perimeter, then waved them through. “Stay close to the house.”

  “Will do. And thank you.”

  Elizabeth followed Penny down the curving brick steps to the patio, where Penny stopped and stared out at the lake. Hot today, but the sun and the lake made her think of family outings from her childhood. Even back then, before her father had made his name, before they could afford a vacation home, her parents had loved visiting the lake. Someday, she’d do just as her father had done and buy herself a lake home. Something small. A cottage she could add on to. Maybe put a growing family in.

  Beside her, Elizabeth waggled her fingers in front of Penny. “What is it?”

  “What?”

  “What do you need to talk to me about?”

  “Nothing. I thought you could use some air. The questions are tough.”

  Elizabeth gave her a small but grateful smile. “Thank you. But I knew what I was getting into.”

  “Penny?” Russ called from the porch doorway.

  It hadn’t been a minute and a half and he was bothering them already? He’d promised privacy. “Russell, it’s barely been two minutes.”

  He held out his phone. “It’s your secretary.”

  Her phone was still off and currently in her purse—minus the battery—so any important calls were being funneled through Russ. She supposed she couldn’t be irritated with him, since he obviously didn’t mind playing messenger boy.

  “Thank you. Sorry to bug you with my calls.”

  She grabbed the phone, but he held it a second while her fingers brushed his and that same spark snapped between them. She lingered for the shortest time measurable, but it could have been an hour. He knew his power. Which made it all the more fun for her.

  “It’s not a problem,” he said, grinning like a madman.

  She rolled her eyes and laughed. The man irritated her, but he also made her smile. She snatched the phone from him and shooed him away. “Hi, Margaret.”

  “Hi. I hate to tell you this, but your building manager just called. You left your tub running this morning.”

  Ridiculous. “I didn’t.”

  “He said you did. Water poured through your downstairs neighbor’s ceiling.”

  Suddenly, Russ poked his head out the door again, but she focused on Margaret. “Well, I’m sure that is, but it’s not from my place. I haven’t taken a bath in ten years.”

  Silence. Maybe her hot-water heater burst? What a mess that would be.

  Penny shook it off. “I’ll call the building manager. Did he leave a number? I can’t get to it on my phone.”

  Margaret rattled off the number and Penny repeated it to herself. “Thanks.”

  Russ came back onto the porch. “What’s up?”

  “Hang on. I don’t want to forget this number.”

  Before hitting Send, she looked up at Russ on the steps, the afternoon sun drenching him in bright light. She wanted to be here with him, enjoying the sunshine without a case sitting between them.

  “My building manager called. They think my tub overflowed. Which—hello?—is impossible because I don’t take baths. Why would anyone enjoy sitting in dirty water? Ick.”

  She hit Send and waited for the building manager, a cranky guy named Morton who was older than God.

  “Hello?”

  “Hello, Morton. This is Penny Hennings.”

  “Hi, Penny. Listen. Big problem. Your tub overflowed and went through the floor. Made a hell of a mess.”

  “Have you checked my apartment?”

  “We did. Had to go in to shut the water off. We tried your cell but it went to voice mail.”

  She glanced up at Russ. Not that he could be blamed, but she needed her phone. The thing was like oxygen and Russ was stepping on the tube. “How bad is the damage?” she asked the building manager.

  “Your bathroom and outer hall are soaked. Carpet will have to come up and you’ll probably need to replace drywall. Helluva mess.”

  “Morton, I don’t see how that’s possible. I don’t use the tub and I certainly wouldn’t have forgotten to turn the shower off.”

  “Saw it myself. The water was on full blast and the tub stopper was in. If you didn’t leave it on, someone did.”

  Chapter Eight

  By the time they’d arrived at Penny’s building, a team of FBI agents had cleared the premises in case her intruder was idiot enough to hide in one of her closets.

  Intruder. Right. She knew who it was. Even before she’d stepped through the front door, she knew.

  Now she stood in the elevator, flanked by Russ and Brent, impatiently waiting to reach her floor. The elevator doors slid open and Russ blocked her with his arm before sticking his head out. “We clear?”

  “You’re good,” a female voice said from down the hall.

  A female FBI agent. Very cool. Penny shoved around Russ, who grunted at her. “Russell, she just said it’s clear. I should be allowed to see my own house.”

  The female agent standing in the hallway dipped her head in greeting. “Ma’am.”

  The woman was too darned close to Penny’s age to be calling her ma’am. On a good day, she’d have made a smart-mouthed comment. On a good day. “May I go in?”

  “Hey, Cathy,” Russ said from behind her.

  A sudden burst of heat shot up Penny’s neck. Something in the way he said the woman’s name—slow, familiar—caught her attention and she angled back to Russ. His eyes were on the apartment door. Not the woman. She swung back to Cathy, who met her gaze for a split second before turning front. Russ kept his eyes glued to the door.

  Are you kidding me?

  He’d slept with this woman. How she knew it, she had no idea, but the guilt—or discomfort—was evident by the way Russ refused to make eye contact with either one of them.

  Penny shoved open the door. “Russell Voight, you are totally killing me.”

  “What?”

  “Oh, please.” But damn him. She didn’t want to think about him in bed with the pretty, busty brunette at the door. Penny didn’t have boobs. Well, she had them, of co
urse, but they weren’t enough to fill a man’s hand. They were barely enough to fill her padded A cup.

  Men. Pigs.

  “Booties,” Cathy said.

  Penny shot her a look. “Pardon?”

  “We’re treating this as a crime scene. You need booties and gloves.”

  She pointed at the two boxes on the floor. One contained those silly paper shoe coverings servicemen slipped on to avoid getting the carpet dirty when they came to the house. The other held gloves.

  “I’ll wait out here,” Brent said. “No sense trampling a crime scene. Holler if you need me.”

  Penny kicked off her shoes and slipped on the booties. Joke, that. They barely stayed on her miniscule feet. Story of her life. Too small for just about everything.

  The gloves came next. Behind her, Russ went through the same routine and she tried not to act like an ice queen, but found it irrationally hard. He and Cathy had slept together. Big deal. People did it all the time. Workplace shenanigans. It happened.

  Only, she was never jealous before and that was what this was. It might have been tough to admit, but she’d never been accused of being in denial. Nope. Penny Hennings called it as she saw it. Even when she wished she hadn’t seen whatever she supposedly saw.

  Inside the apartment, two male agents dressed in suits—the standard FBI look—stood in her kitchen, probably to avoid the soaked carpet.

  “ERT is still in the bathroom,” one of the agents said to Russ.

  “Thanks.” He held Penny’s arm to keep her from marching toward the bathroom. “What’s with the attitude?”

  What did he expect? First her home was invaded and now she had to deal with the pretty FBI agent that Russ, a man she’d allowed herself the luxury of lusting after, most likely slept with.

  “Forget it. None of my business. I need to see what I’m dealing with here.”

  Russ twisted his lips and his gaze shot over her face, checking her features for any tell. He retreated a few steps to the kitchen opening. “Guys, give us a second.”

  “Sure thing, Russ.”

  The two men filed out and Russ locked the door behind them. He met her in the hallway, glanced over her shoulder toward the closed bathroom door, then folded his arms. “Spill it.”

  Heat flooded her cheeks. How the heck could she say this without embarrassing herself? I can’t. She had no right to be jealous. Not even a smidge of a right. They were nothing to each other. They’d shared a steamy kiss, sure, but they weren’t an item.

  Water from the soaked carpet sloshed under her feet and she stared down at it. Colin Heath—or someone he’d sent—had to have done this. Somehow, they’d gotten past the doorman or her gated garage and entered her apartment.

  “I slept with her,” Russ said.

  Penny closed her eyes and heaved out a breath. Somehow, she didn’t need that confirmation. Oh, but she’d known. “It’s not my business.”

  “Well, you’re royally ticked at me for whatever it is I did in the hallway.”

  “You didn’t do anything. That’s the problem. It was your voice, and then you wouldn’t make eye contact.”

  “It was one night two years ago. She wasn’t even assigned to my office at the time. We had fun, and that was it. I swear to you.”

  She stared up at him, watched his eyes. No movement. Just a steady focus on hers. He’s not lying. He could have been lying. Some people were that good at it. When he chose to lie, Russ was probably one of those people. Right now, looking into his eyes, she didn’t think this was the case now.

  “You don’t owe me explanations.”

  “Yeah, I do. I don’t want you thinking I make a habit of sleeping with coworkers.”

  “Now I know.” It still hurt, though, and she smacked him on the chest. “Damn you.”

  “I told the truth!”

  “And what am I supposed to do with that? I don’t want to feel this way about you.” She flapped her arms. “You’re like a giant white gummy bear. All sweet and sugary and satisfying.”

  At that, he grinned and she could have cracked him again. This time harder. Just one punch that he wouldn’t expect from Miss Puny but that Zac had taught her how to deliver. A punch from her would knock that grin off his face.

  “You’re jealous.”

  “Oh, stop it, Russell. I’ve had a rotten few days.” She threw her hands out. “Now this. Someone bypassed all the supposed security precautions and marched right in. Why? Because I agreed to his terms. I did everything he wanted and he’s still at it.”

  “He wants you to know he’s still watching.”

  “That he can get to me, right?”

  Russ scratched the back of his neck and ran his hand into his hair. “Yeah. That’s my guess.”

  “So, if I double-cross him, this is my way of knowing he can to do to me what he did to Sam Brooks.” She slapped her hands on her head. “I can’t believe this. I’m an attorney. This shouldn’t happen to me.”

  Russ held his hands up. “Hang on. Let’s deal with one thing at a time. The evidence guys need to finish up in here.”

  She stared at the powder smudges on the entry door. “I see that. You can’t believe Heath would have left fingerprints. This place is probably spotless. And it’s contaminated anyway because the building manager came in.”

  No response. He knew she was right.

  “You need to make sure nothing is missing.”

  She poked him in the chest. “I’ll bet you a hundred dollars there’s not one thing out of place. He came in here for the purpose of letting me know he was here. And you know what really infuriates me?”

  He grabbed her poking finger and gently squeezed. “Aside from all of it?”

  “Yes. What really makes me crazy is how the hell this man knew I didn’t take baths.” A sob caught in her throat—What is that? She swallowed, forcing it down, beating it into submission.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I haven’t taken a bath in ten years. Either this guy got seriously lucky by coming in here and randomly running a bath or—”

  “Or he knows you don’t take baths and therefore you would know that someone who had that information got into your house.”

  “Exactly.”

  Russ walked to the front door, opened it and checked the lock.

  “No forced entry,” one of the agents outside said.

  Russ stepped into the hallway, glanced in all directions, then came back in. “Are there security cameras in the hallway?”

  “No. Only at the street level. Check the gate. That thing is so slow anyone can scoot under it. I’ve complained a thousand times.”

  “We’re on it already. Trust me, we’ll see how this guy got in here.”

  Russ stood, shoulders back, hands on hips, his fingers twitching against the fabric of his pants. From three feet away she felt it. All that contained energy he fought to control. That need to do something and do it now.

  Nothing like a man who knew how to take charge of a situation.

  Having put the battery back into her phone the second they’d hit the city limits, Penny’s cell rang. She checked the number—blocked—then snapped her gaze to Russ. “It’s blocked. Heath always calls from a blocked number.”

  “Answer it.”

  Gladly. Time to put this guy in his place. Stop being the victim. “Hello, Mr. Heath.”

  “Ah, you know it’s me?”

  “Don’t let it go to your head. So, now that you’ve flooded my apartment, I’m guessing you’ll pay for the damage?”

  Heath laughed and it was one of those soft, only slightly amused chuckles that got on her nerves. “Something funny?”

  “Nothing at all, actually. I see you’re spending time with the FBI.”

  Penny glanced at
Russ. They’d been so careful about smuggling her in and out of alleys and having her slide down in her seat until Russ had been sure they weren’t followed.

  Someone’s inside.

  “I’m a defense lawyer, Mr. Heath. I have a lot of cases. Plenty of them involve the FBI.”

  “Coincidence that it’s Special Agent Voight. The one handling Elizabeth Brooks.”

  “Agent Voight has multiple cases, as well. How’d you get into my home?”

  Heath sighed. “With the right resources, it’s easy enough.”

  Through the phone, a siren sounded. Penny cocked her head. In stereo. She walked to the window, pulled the phone from her ear and heard a siren from the street below.

  He’s here.

  A million tiny tingles zapped her arms. Here. Here. Here. She charged to the desk, where she scribbled a note to Russ. “Oh, I’ll figure it out,” she said into the phone.

  Maybe sooner than you think.

  Russ read the note, glanced up at her and mouthed, Keep him talking.

  He sprinted to the door and threw it open. He’d better hurry, because there was only so much small talk she could muster with a man who wanted nothing more than to terrorize her. To bend her to his will. As if she’d ever allow that.

  “So, is this a social call? Just enough for you to let me know you’re watching me.”

  “I know every step you make, lovely Penny. The tub was your first warning. Stop talking to the FBI.”

  A horn sounded and then there were only voices. Moved inside. She resisted peering out the window. If he was that close, he might see her. Where the hell was he? And then the singing started and her head nearly exploded from the raging blood rush. I know that song.

  Gotcha.

  The idiot had stepped into the ice-cream shop across the street. Little did Mr. Heath know that the employees, upon receiving a tip, broke into song.

  Penny scribbled another note, rushed to the door as she spoke. “Mr. Heath, I’ve told you, I have other business with the FBI. I made a deal with you. I won’t go back on that deal.”

  The man was right across the street. She’d give him credit for one thing and that was having a spine. He threatened her, broke into her home, flooded the place and then stood on the street outside watching the action.