by RJ Blain
Contents
Copyright
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Titles by RJ Blain
Pack Justice
Nature of the Beast Book One
by R.J. Blain
Sean’s guardian angel is a feline, but his spirit cheetah prefers rival attorney, Andrea Morgan, over him. Trapped in a failing, dangerous marriage and stalked by an accomplice of one of the most dangerous criminals he’s ever prosecuted, Sean’s troubles are just beginning.
A vacation should have offered him a chance to save his relationship with his wife, Idette. Instead, Sean learns he isn’t the only one with a secret, and his discovery of his wife’s true nature should have killed him.
To ensure Sean’s survival, his cheetah strikes a bargain with a wolf. Faced with life-long enslavement to his wife, becoming an instrument of pack justice seems like the far better alternative.
Unfortunately, pack justice is as brutal as it is swift, and should Sean fail to put an end to Idette’s machinations, everything he values will be targeted and destroyed, including his chance to be with the one woman who might be able to help him salvage the ruins of his life.
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher or author excluding the use of brief quotations in a book review.
© 2016 R.J. Blain / Pen & Page Publishing
For more information or to contact the author, please visit rjblain.com.
Cover design by Holly Heisey (hollyheisey.com)
Chapter One
Some men had guardian angels. I, unfortunately, had a cat, and he liked Andrea Morgan far more than he liked me.
My spirit cheetah lounged at Andrea’s feet, and when he noticed my attention on him, he showed me his sharp, pointy teeth. His desire to hunt heated my blood, which cooled as soon as his attention returned to the lawyer he adored.
In a way, I couldn’t blame him. Out of all the female attorneys I had faced in court, she was the one who got under my skin, the one who always managed to piss me off by the end of a trial, and the one who made me lose sleep wondering how I’d finally best her.
I had won the case, but as always when I faced her and proved the victor, it was bittersweet. Normally, there was nothing quite as satisfying as listening to a judge sentence a cop killer to life in prison without chance of parole. The ‘without parole’ part of the judgment caught me by surprise; after Miller v. Alabama, few judges were willing to go so far.
The death sentence was more likely, and California hadn’t executed anyone since 2006.
There would be appeals, and I’d probably have to face Andrea Morgan in court again, which robbed me of my satisfaction and gave me a less-than-healthy dose of anxiety. I forced myself to focus on the good; three women had justice and a chance to get on with their lives. Justice wouldn’t help Officer Andrews, but I thought he’d rest easier with the conviction.
Andrews had been one of the good guys.
Douglass Roberts would lose all future appeals. I’d see to that, even if I had to face Andrea in court again.
All I could do was hope a different defense attorney was assigned the case. Andrea was good—one of the best. But, if my guess was right, the case had been as hard on her as it had been on me. I glanced at the woman out of the corner of my eye.
No one wanted to defend a cop killer and rapist, not in such an open-and-shut case, but she had done her job well. She had fought hard for the man even though he didn’t deserve a single moment of the woman’s time. The way she scowled at her papers made me uneasy. Her blue eyes were dark and clouded, and I wondered if she believed in her client—or if she, like me, despised cop killers and rapists more than other criminals.
I had become an attorney to put men like Douglass Roberts behind bars.
Andrea lifted her chin, and judging from the way her cheek twitched, she was gritting her teeth and preparing herself for the inevitable handshake.
Andrea Morgan was a lot of things; polite and ethical fought to be her best quality with her beauty coming a very close third. She had a willowy, delicate frame and a face best suited for smiling, although she only had scowls for me. It was her vivid, dark blue eyes, however, that drew my attention and held it. Several locks of her chestnut hair had escaped her ponytail, falling into her face. My fingers itched to tuck the wayward strands behind her ear.
The instant the thought crossed my mind, the ghostly cheetah sitting at Andrea’s feet stared at me, his approval manifesting as a warmth in the back of my head. I sighed, forcing my attention to my briefcase.
The manila envelope at the bottom darkened my mood. With the case truly closed, I lacked a substantial excuse to avoid the weekend getaway with my wife that was my final attempt to salvage our marriage.
Maybe if I had the balls to serve the divorce papers gathering dust in my briefcase, I wouldn’t have to worry about what—and who—waited for me at home. I had filed them with the court the week before in a covert move Judge O’Mallory had been more than willing to aid me with.
I was one step closer to being a single man again, but I couldn’t let it go, not without making one last effort. I doubted it would work; Idette had changed too much over the years and not for the better.
I had changed, too, but I couldn’t tell if I was a better man for the passage of time or not. Sighing, I dumped my files over the envelope and shut my briefcase. I rose to my feet and prepared myself to face Andrea, waiting for the defendant to be taken out of court for incarceration until he pushed for his appeal. Once Roberts was gone, the woman my cheetah loved turned to face me.
Her eyes narrowed as she took me in, and she crossed to me, thrusting out her tiny hand. I clasped it, careful to keep my grip firm but gentle.
It never ceased to amaze me how warm she was, so unlike Idette, who chilled my blood every time she touched me. Maybe some lawyers smiled when they won a long, hard case, but I kept my expression neutral.
Andrea and I had an unspoken rule: we never, ever smiled at each other.
My cheetah slinked around Andrea’s legs and purred. It unnerved me, knowing I was the only one who could hear the animal’s noises or feel his presence, but I did my best to ignore my spirit beast.
“Well fought, Miss Morgan,” I said, tightening my grip before releasing her. “You put up a strong defense.”
“Not strong enough,” she muttered before sighing. “I, for one, am glad this one is over.”
“That makes two of us.”
At least I wouldn’t have to go home and toss and turn, wondering if I had sent an innocent man to prison; the evidence against Roberts was solid. Andrews’s partner and two other cops had witnessed his murder, as did their body cams. At least I wouldn’t be in Andrea’s shoes, having to live with defending a guilty man.
She had wisely focused on the rape convicti
ons, although she had found some interesting ways of presenting Roberts’s case to the jury.
It hadn’t done her client any good, but I wouldn’t lose sleep over his imprisonment. I would, however, spend a lot of sleepless nights wondering how the attorney would handle her defeat.
I loved winning, but I hated making her lose in the process.
“Mr. Scott, Miss Morgan, please come with me,” Judge O’Mallory ordered, rising from his seat to step to the door behind the witness stand.
Torn from my thoughts, I blinked at the judge. Picking up my briefcase with one hand, I gestured towards the door. “After you, Miss Morgan.”
“You’re so old-fashioned, Mr. Scott,” Andrea grumbled, grabbing her own briefcase before following O’Mallory. “My name is Andrea.”
I knew her name far too well; I spent an inappropriate amount of time thinking about her, especially when we were working the same case. The cold gaps left in my life by my wife were too often filled by Andrea, which amused and pleased my cheetah each and every day.
My spirit cat’s purrs intensified. When Andrea stepped through the door, the animal weaved his way around my legs. His presence was a soothing warmth, and I wished I could spare a moment to run my fingers through his short fur.
I’d have to wait to scratch the cheetah’s chin until I was in the safety of my home. Once Idette fell asleep, I could slip away to pay him the attention he deserved. While my wife was also high maintenance, at least my spirit beast enjoyed my company.
His bites hurt a hell of a lot less than hers. Under the guise of scratching the back of my neck, I prodded the bruise on my shoulder. At least Idette hadn’t latched onto my throat again. Wearing makeup to cover bruising during a high profile case left me uneasy even on the best of days.
On the worst of them, I considered quitting my job and becoming a hermit for the rest of my life.
Maybe some men thought it was kinky when their wives bit them, but it wasn’t my thing. It was a miracle no one had discovered her marks and asked about them. Grumbling under my breath about my misfortunes, I trailed after Andrea, plodding along as my cheetah abandoned me for his favored human.
The back door out of the courtroom led to a hallway, and O’Mallory led us to his office. When Andrea paused in the doorway, staring at me quizzically, I shrugged my ignorance. It wasn’t uncommon for a judge to pull one or both attorneys aside to discuss the case, but it was less common after the sentencing.
“Sit, both of you,” O’Mallory ordered.
I beat Andrea to the chairs and held one out for her, which earned me a glare. I sat beside her, and because my guardian angel was a cat, he decided my lap was the only suitable place for him to sit.
Spirit beast or not, he weighed a lot, and unless I wanted Judge O’Mallory and Andrea suspecting I wasn’t quite right in the head, I had to pretend he didn’t exist.
“I really dislike men like Douglass Roberts. He knows he’s guilty, he had no intention of hiding his guilt, and he enjoyed all the attention his case got,” the Honorable Judge Steven O’Mallory announced, sinking into his chair with a heavy sigh. “Despicable bastard. He wasted your time, he wasted my time, and he wasted the time of the entire jury. He cost the state a great deal of money, too. He cost a good man his life.”
“Anything for his fifteen minutes of fame,” Andrea agreed, shrugging.
“More like eight weeks and national television coverage,” O’Mallory corrected.
I grimaced at the thought of being on the news again. “The reporters are going to want interviews.”
Snorting, O’Mallory picked up a file and tossed it across his desk. It landed in front of Andrea. “Reporters always want to ask questions. Reporters are incapable of sitting quietly when the sentencing of a particularly juicy case is handed down. You might be interested in this, Miss Morgan. It arrived anonymously this morning.”
No matter what expression she had, Andrea Morgan was a beautiful woman, but when she frowned or scowled, she reminded me of a sword, freshly sharpened and ready for battle. She flipped open the file and sucked in a breath. “What the hell!”
My eyes widened, and when I straightened, my cheetah hopped off my lap and stood beside Andrea, placed his paws on the arm of her chair, and peered at the contents of the file. “What’s going on?”
Andrea thrust the folder at me.
While I had suspected Douglass Roberts of being guilty of more than three rapes, I hated when the truly sick and twisted criminals provided mocking evidence of their crimes. I didn’t recognize the woman, but I had no doubt she was dead, and the picture Roberts had taken with her showed him smiling for the camera, probably a cell phone, judging from the quality of the photograph.
“Sick,” I snarled, tossing the file on O’Mallory’s desk. “You’re showing this to us for a reason. Why?”
“Roberts has an accomplice. The file was addressed to me—and to you, Sean.”
I lifted my hand, slid my index finger and thumb under my glasses, and pinched the bridge of my nose. “Joy.”
“While you were not mentioned, Andrea, I think you should also be cautious, especially considering the nature of the case.”
“I’m always careful,” Andrea replied. The way she glanced at me out of the corner of her eye with a hint of a frown betrayed her worry. “Prosecutors are the ones usually targeted.”
“No one can claim you didn’t provide Mr. Roberts with a good defense,” O’Mallory stated.
“I agree, Andrea,” I said, using her first name to appease my fellow attorney. “You did a hell of a good job. It was a challenge, which says a lot about your skill.”
Andrea sucked in a breath, gawking at me before she recovered, shaking her head. “I was just doing my job.”
My cheetah flattened his ears at the disgust in Andrea’s tone.
O’Mallory glanced at me before shaking his head. “I know too many lawyers who would have thrown the case. Still. This is a concern.” Picking up the file, the judge slapped it against his desk. “You both need to be careful.”
Being careful was a way of life for me; I enjoyed bringing cop killers to justice, which had earned me a reputation among the police and among the criminals I helped lock behind bars. “Are the police aware of the situation?”
“Of course. The culprit’s knowledgeable, which worries me. He even wrote on the file that we wouldn’t find anything. Newspaper clippings,” O’Mallory grumbled, shaking his head. “The letter is with the police, but you’ll see it soon enough. I thought showing you a photocopy of the image would be sufficient to warn you. The originals were checked for prints during the sentencing. Clean, unfortunately.”
“I’m supposed to leave town for the weekend,” I said, hoping O’Mallory would suggest against taking a trip.
“A moving target is harder to hit. Leave your itinerary with the police so we can check on you, just in case.”
“Yes, Your Honor,” I replied, swallowing back my sigh.
My cheetah indulged for both of us, loud, long, and gusty.
“There are a few police officers who want to see you on your way out,” O’Mallory said, rising from his chair to shake our hands. “Good job, both of you. Please be careful.”
Andrews’s former partner, Marcello, and five other cops from their division were waiting for me and Andrea outside the courthouse. Little deterred reporters, but the six cops swarming around us did a pretty good job. I recognized Marcello’s brother, but the other four men were new faces.
The youngest of the lot looked like a freshly minted officer but wore sergeant's stripes, and he scowled at Andrea.
My cheetah bared his fangs and hissed at him, and I was tempted to do the same. Instead, I turned my attention to Marcello.
“I wish I had six uniformed, armed cops keeping the vermin at bay every day,” I muttered, shaking my friend’s hand. As always, the Italian-Mexican had a strong grip, crunching my fingers together despite my best efforts to hold my own. When he let me go, I shook o
ut my hand, muttering a few choice curses at my inability to compete with his physical strength. “Has Dan been a pain in your ass yet?”
“Every day,” Dan’s brother groused.
While Andrews wouldn’t be coming back, Dan had joined the force. I still hadn’t decided if the division’s decision to partner the brothers had been a stroke of brilliance or insanity.
My cheetah huffed and sat beside me, his ears cocked back, ignoring the young sergeant and focusing all of his attention on Andrea.
I caught him sneaking peeks at the sergeant when he thought I wasn’t looking, which intrigued me. The young officer’s tan pegged him as a beach goer, possibly a surfer.
I didn’t like the way he kept watching Andrea, and once again, I found myself wishing I could echo my cheetah’s vocal dislike of the man.
Maybe one day I’d learn how to hold actual conversations with the cat—and learn his name. Did cheetah spirits even have names? I made a point of thanking him each day for sticking around, which the cheetah answered with a purr.
All Andrea had to do to make my cheetah purr was look at me. In a way, it made me jealous. I had to work for the cat’s approval.
She just had to smile.
I wanted to purr, too, when she smiled. Unfortunately, she had smiled at me only once since I’d met the woman almost a decade ago, so I had to wait for someone else to make her happy to enjoy how radiant she became.
My first real mistake as an adult was marrying Idette Hulda Richter instead of waiting to find a woman like Andrea Morgan. I had lived with my regret for years and would continue to do so unless I found the courage to serve the papers burning a hole in my briefcase.
I had given Idette my vow and the best years of my life. I had even enjoyed my life with her, right up until she had changed. I couldn’t remember if it had been six, seven, or even eight years ago, but I’d never forget the first time her normally mild temper frayed and snapped, shocking both of us with her violence.
