“I do.”
“You made me spaghetti sauce?”
“I did.” He pulled out the chair. “Now sit while I finish.” He handed her the glass of wine. “Salute,” he said.
Max sipped her wine and watched in amazement as Cory made his way around the kitchen, a skill she totally lacked.
“Can I help?” she asked.
“Nope. You just sit and relax,” he said as he ladled sauce over the spaghetti and set it down in front of her. Max leaned forward and smelled the food.
“Cory Rossini, you are full of surprises. You absolutely amaze me.”
“That’s a good thing, isn’t it?” he asked, amusement curling the corners of his mouth.
“Uh-huh. You are a man of many talents, and I’m in awe.”
“Thank you,” he said with pride. “That’s some endorsement.”
Max chewed the spaghetti. “Oh man, if you ever need someone to cook for, I’m your girl.”
“I was hoping you were my girl, but then you placed that hold on our relationship until after the case is done.”
Max laughed. “Yeah, and you see how well that’s going, don’t you?”
“What? The case or the hold?”
“The hold.” She blew him a kiss.
“So what’s on your agenda for this weekend?” he asked.
“Sleep in late, then get up and lounge around the house all day. Maybe go out in the evenings.” She grinned. “Do you want to hang out with me?”
“Starting when?” he asked with a curious tone.
“Starting right now.”
Cory’s gaze narrowed as her meaning sunk in. He shoved off his chair, walked over to where she sat, and pulled her upright.
“Who can refuse an invitation like that?” he whispered in a heady voice, and moved in close, his mouth crushing down on hers with unyielding passion, sending delicious shivers through her body that had unleashed a reckless side she never knew existed.
Max took a step back. “I think it’s time for dessert?” she said in a breathy voice. Curling her finger in a come-hither gesture, she walked toward the living room, stopping only to remove her clothing one piece at a time in a slow, sensual motion exposing her body, one length at a time. Cory’s eyes hooded as he watched her, his breath coming in quick succession until he could no longer wait.
“Oh God” was all that he could say before he moved in and devoured her body.
The smell of coffee brewing stirred Max from a sound sleep. She smiled, thinking back to an unforgettable night. She sat up in bed when she heard the shuffle of Cory’s feet across the floor, and smiled when he entered with an erection, knowing the next two days promised to be even better.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Riley was already fast at work when Max walked into the precinct on Monday morning. “How was your weekend?” he asked.
“Absolutely amazing.”
“Mine was great too. It was nice being able to spend time with the family. What did you do?”
“Stayed in bed all day, and hung out at the apartment. It was just nice to stay in my pajamas the entire weekend.” That wasn’t exactly true, but she wasn’t about to tell Riley that.
On the ride to the Midtown senate office, Max keyed in Cory’s number. Being away from him for a few hours seemed like an eternity, and she just wanted to hear his voice.
Cory’s cheerful voice pulled her from her trance of reliving their weekend of lovemaking. Max smiled. Record searching by day, lovemaking by night was definitely a nice bonus for a boring search that had proved to be a waste of time. Apparently Bensonhurst felt the same way, as stated on a note he’d left. Regardless, it was something they had to do, and now that it was done, they could move on to the next task: the property searches.
“Good morning,” she said and felt her heart pick up its pace. “Just wanted to give you a heads-up that we have our warrants in hand and four teams will all be doing their searches simultaneously. Needless to say, we won’t be at the hospital today.”
“I knew that, silly,” Cory exclaimed.
“I know.”
“Oh, I get it. You wanted to hear my voice.”
“I did.” She released an embarrassed laugh.
“Hearing your voice under any circumstance is wonderful,” Cory said. “You know, technically speaking, I hate Monday mornings, but after the weekend I just spent with the most amazing woman in the world, I’m still feeling the glow. How about you?”
“I’d say you’ve got that right.”
“Oh, good.” She could hear him sigh. “Okay, darn it, it’s back to business. So listen, since you guys are going to be busy today, and neither Barrett nor the senator can hang out while you’re searching, they have to go somewhere, so I think I’ll put a tail on him to see where he goes. I doubt he’ll be hanging out in a hotel room watching television.”
“Be careful,” she said.
“Thank you. I will.”
Now, more than ever, Cory was convinced she really did care about him, and this weekend proved it. There was no way she was faking her feelings, because if she was, then she needed to be on Broadway. He released a sigh. Being in love felt good. His thoughts stalled when those words rang through his mind a second time. Yes, he was in love with Max Turner, and it felt damn good to think those words and even better to say them, but he’d keep it to himself for now for fear she wasn’t ready to hear them. Cory pulled his gray fedora off the rack, plopped it on his head, exited his house and walked out to the sidewalk. After stopping at the corner, he crossed the street when the light changed, and he walked the last block to the garage where his cars were parked. He pressed his remote button, and the old wooden garage door creaked when it lifted outward.
He contemplated using the Mercedes but remembered Barrett would most likely recognize the car from his days at the club. He unlocked the door, got behind the wheel of his beat-up old Honda, and backed out of the driveway.
Hearing Peter Bradley Adams’s voice singing his favorite song, “I May Not Let Go,” Cory cranked up the volume and crooned right along. He wasn’t letting Max go, no matter how long it took to cultivate this relationship. They were off to a good start, but taking anything for granted was not a good idea.
A long list of items needing his attention buzzed around in his head, one of which was finding an office for his PI firm or whatever he would decide to do with his career. There was no question he missed practicing law, but he wasn’t sure what kind of clientele he’d have if anyone researched his name.
Jonathan Spencer, his former boss and partner, came to mind, and a sense of sadness swept over him, knowing how his suspension had affected Jon. Cory knew he needed to put his embarrassment aside and call the man, especially since Jonathon was the one who’d rallied the troops in support of Cory’s return after his suspension. That day would forever be emblazoned in his mind as the worst day of his life. He remembered Jonathan’s face when the partners voted against Cory, and after the vote, security, who’d been waiting on the sidelines, escorted him out of the office for the last time. Cory understood their position, because his actions were unconscionable.
A Pharrell Williams song blasted through the speakers and had him tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. The song helped him ignore the heavy morning congestion now moving at a snail’s pace. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of a new billboard on the Bank of America building advertising his old law firm, Spencer, Burton and Blackwell, Attorneys at Law. He took that as a sign it was time to call Jonathan, and he automatically hit speed dial. His call went to voice mail. Just as he was about to leave a message, he heard the beep and Jonathan’s number appeared on the screen.
“Hey, Jon, how are you?”
“Other than the usual colds, I’m doing well,” Jonathan said. “Good to hear your voice. How are you?”
Nervous tension bubbled through Cory’s veins, and awkwardness had him scrambling for something to say just to get through the conversation. Thankfully
he saw a billboard with a couple on it, and Max came to mind. “I’m doing okay. I met a real nice woman whom I’m dating,” Cory blurted out to fill the empty pause.
“I hope she’s better than the last one.”
“Oh yeah. She’s a detective in the NYPD.”
“That ought to keep you in line.” He chuckled. “How’s your niece doing?”
“She’s doing okay. Losing a limb took its toll on her, but she’s looking on the brighter side of things. It took a lot of work to get to that point, though.”
“I’m sure. I miss seeing you, buddy.”
“I miss you too, Jon. I hope we can get together some time soon.”
“I do too. We’re crazy busy right now.”
“Who did you get to replace me?” Cory asked.
“No one. I wouldn’t let them hire anyone after they voted you out.” Cory heard him sigh. “I still wish you’d asked to borrow the money from me.”
“In hindsight, Jon, so do I, but I can’t take it back, and wishing is fruitless on my part. Knowing I saved my niece’s life, though, has helped me to swallow the guilt a little easier. Nevertheless, it was a foolish mistake on my part.”
“So what are you doing these days?”
Cory told him about his new profession, and Jon promised to send clients his way. After they’d disconnected, their conversation left him with a warm feeling inside, and he promised himself he wouldn’t let so much time pass until his next call. Jon always made him feel better. He was just one of those feel-good guys.
Ducking his head under the edge of the windshield, Cory peered up at a specific building, wondering if the office space he’d seen last week was still available. He was disappointed when he noticed signage for an attorney painted on the glass. “Too late,” he heaved out with a breath. Office space and apartments went quickly in the city. He’d known better and should have put down a deposit on the office, but he still wasn’t sure about what he wanted to do going into the future. He shrugged and continued to scan the office windows when he noticed the name of the New York Foundation of Heart Transplants. He grinned because it was as though some higher power had hit him over the head with a perfect way to obtain Barrett’s weekly schedule. Sure, he could follow him every night after he left the hospital, but doing an arbitrary tail was a waste of time. While in the gridlock, he used his phone and queried the names of cardiologists in the area and decided to impersonate one. Choosing a name, he hit *67 first before keying in Barrett’s office number, which would prevent the scheduler from seeing his number.
“Mount Sinai Cardiology, this is Sara.”
“Hi, Sara, this is Dr. Contis from Brooklyn Cardiovascular Care. Are you Dr. Barrett’s secretary?” he asked.
“No, But I’m filling in for her. How can I help you?”
“I’d like to schedule an appointment with Dr. Barrett to discuss a patient of mine. I know this is a long shot, but would he have any free time today, like maybe an hour?”
“I don’t think so, but let me check the schedule.” Cory heard her typing. “Let’s see,” she said. “It’s not looking good for today, Dr. Contis. He’s only doing rounds this morning, and he’ll be out of here by noon. That has been written in bold letters, so I don’t dare try to squeeze you in. I’m sorry. We have other cardiologists available to talk with you.”
“Thanks, but I really need to speak with Dr. Barrett about this case. I have no doubt he needs the time to unwind. This is a tough business. Hmm, okay, when is his next available appointment—I only need about an hour,”
“He’ll be out of the office all week. I can schedule you for Tuesday, November 11, and . . . it looks like he has an opening at three o’clock. Will that work for you?”
“I’ll make it work.”
“Can I have your phone number, Doctor, just in case something unforeseen happens?”
“Sure. I’m at 929-995-6743, extension 24.” Cory’s mouth broke into a smug grin, pleased he’d remembered the times he’d had his secretary at the law firm call witnesses who played the catch-me-if-you-can card ducking a subpoena to testify. “Thank you, Sara. You have a good week.” Cory disconnected the call and punched his fist in the air, pleased with himself.
Noticing it was only nine o’clock, he had a few hours to kill before Barrett would be heading out. He decided to put the time to good use by continuing his search for an office. He parked his car and walked out of the public parking garage to the street level and called the rental agency he’d used before.
“Mrs. Bellarsaro, please,” he told the receptionist at Realty One. “This is Cory Rossini, and I was wondering if she had any free time to show me some more office space.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Rossini, she’s out of the office today, but the good news is I have one of our top sales representatives here who can help you. You’ve actually caught us at a good time, because she just walked in and her calendar is clear this morning. Let me transfer your call.”
“Outstanding,” he said, feeling the adrenaline pumping through his veins. He hoped he’d find the right place today. He was feeling especially confident after hearing Jonathan’s promise to send clients his way.
Ninety minutes later and Cory was signing a lease for his new office space on Broadway and eager to start his practice, even though the office was located on the fifth floor without an elevator. He shook hands with the rental agent and headed back to his car. Barrett would be heading out in another ninety minutes.
Luckily, he’d timed the traffic just right. The worst times to drive in Manhattan were before ten in the morning and after three. The ride over to Mount Sinai was typically a twenty- to thirty-minute drive. Barring no catastrophes, it would give him plenty of time to wait outside the parking garage for Barrett’s exit.
Cory double-parked by the exit door of the physicians’ underground parking garage and waited for Barrett to make an appearance. Time seemed to pass by quickly. He noted it was already a little after eleven. Several cars exited, but Barrett’s yellow Lamborghini wasn’t one of them.
A few seconds later, he groaned when he saw the driver of the vehicle he was blocking get into his car and kick over the engine.
“Dammit,” Cory mumbled. “Ah, buddy, please don’t make me move my car,” he said, looking in the rearview mirror. There was nowhere for him to go except around an entire city block to return to where he was, which was way too risky because chances were Barrett would be long gone and all his effort would have been in vain.
Nope. He wasn’t going anywhere until he saw Barrett. He continued to pretend he didn’t hear the guy leaning on his horn. Instead, he increased the volume of his radio, knowing full well it wasn’t going to take long before the guy pitched a hissy fit. A sudden loud thud to the rear of his vehicle had Cory turning around to see the guy’s patience completely gone. He was ready to swing his bat right through Cory’s back window. Panicked, Cory stepped on the gas and almost crashed into a Mercedes coming out of the garage. He slammed on his brakes, and swerved to the left, trying to avoid an accident. The standstill caused a symphony of horn blasting, even inspiring the driver of the Mercedes to roll down his window and spit out a few choice words that brought a smile to Cory’s face. The angry driver was none other than Jeffrey Barrett.
“Lucky break!” he said, pulling the fedora down lower on his forehead and adjusting his sunglasses. He waved an apology to the menace behind him as Barrett pulled out onto the roadway. Cars raced in front of Cory, not allowing him to get behind the Mercedes, but with this much traffic, there was no way he could lose Barrett.
Max and Riley walked into the lobby of the senator’s office with their team and approached the secretary.
“Is something wrong?” the young woman asked when she saw their shields.
“We’re here to search Senator Stansbury’s office,” Max said, handing her the warrant.
“I’m sorry, but the senator is not here. You’ll have to wait until she returns.”
Riley spread his palms
on the surface of her desk and leaned in closer. “That’s not the way this works, ma’am. The federal warrant gives us the right to search at any time.”
“Well, let me at least call her so she knows what’s going on.”
“You can do whatever you’d like after you unlock her office door,” Max said.
“Now, you just wait a damn minute,” the secretary said, cocking her head and slapping her hands on her hips defiantly.
“What is your name?”
“Beth Carson,” she snipped.
“Well, Beth Carson, the answer is no, I can’t wait,” Max spit out, every bit as surly. “But if you’d prefer, I can kick the door down, and you know what, I’d really rather not have to burden the taxpayers’ bank accounts with more taxes.”
“Are you sure this is legal, ma’am?”
“It’s detective, and please, be my guest and check with my boss at the 51st Precinct of the NYPD to verify if what we’re doing is legal.” She scribbled the phone number on a sheet of paper and passed it over to her.
“Fine!” Beth angrily pulled the keys from her pants pocket and unlocked the door, then walked to her desk, using deliberate steps, punched in a phone number, and waited for whomever she called to answer. Neither detective paid any attention to her and entered the office to begin their search.
Once inside the plush office, Max checked the drawers of the senator’s desk, wondering if the photographs had been replenished. The drawer was neat and tidy, with no sign of any evidence. “Looks like she did a housecleaning job,” she said.
“Are you surprised?” Riley asked.
“No, not really.” Max’s head jerked to the right while she scanned the room. “I suppose I would have done the same thing.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll find something. Her kind always forgets and leaves something behind,” Riley said, walking over to the bookshelf. He removed several books and leafed through the pages, trying to find hidden items, while Max searched through Stansbury’s desk, “We’ll find something incriminating.”
Blind Retribution Page 22
