From their worried expressions, Maisie gathered that this wasn’t about having a quickie foursome before sending her back to the salt mines.
Too bad.
“It seems—” Trent said at the same moment that Ethan said, “We’ve decided—”
“Go ahead,” Ethan said.
Trent pulled out a chair and motioned for Maisie to sit. The instant she did, her feet and aching back heaved a sigh of relief.
“Byron Ballystock is becoming a significant problem,” Trent said. “It hasn’t been easy to determine how he discovered we were at Norman’s home the night he disappeared.”
“What about your investigators?”
“Pointing them in the direction of our illegal acts would be foolish,” Raphael said.
Trent nodded. “However, after talking to Davina, it sounds like Norm was in the habit of keeping a nanny cam in his office because he was afraid of the cleaners snooping through his personal things.”
“She could have mentioned that sooner,” Maisie said.
“Davina knows very little,” Ethan said. “And given how much damage she’s done, we’re trying to keep it that way.”
“If he’s got video proof, then why hasn’t he dragged you down to the station for questioning?” Maisie asked. She licked her lips. Despite the sun coming through the windows, the room felt very cold.
“Originally, I believed there was external security footage, but now that we know it’s from the nanny cam, that means the entirety of our conversation was recorded. Remember that we went there to convince him to leave Davina alone.”
In other words, whatever they’d threatened Norm with must have been so bad that his brother was unwilling to officially use the tape in the investigation.
“So, you’re safe,” she said.
“Not exactly,” Raphael said. “Byron can’t use what he has directly, but he’s playing dirty.”
Ethan’s expression darkened. “Under the circumstances, I can’t completely fault him. If someone I cared about turned up dead, I’d do whatever it took to find out who killed them, and to punish that person.”
She wasn’t surprised to hear him say that. Her knight on a white horse, always saving the damsel in distress.
Unless the damsel was crying. Then, he was helpless.
“Thus far,” Trent said, “Byron has been circumspect in his official dealings with us. Davina is the suspect. He can’t compel a suspect’s lawyers to submit to an interview. However, now he’s insisting on meeting with us unofficially to discuss the matter.”
“If we can convince him that we had nothing to do with his brother’s disappearance, we might be able to settle the matter,” Ethan said. “That’s how he’s baiting the trap, in any event.”
Maisie took a deep breath and slowly released it. “He wants me to be there, too?”
Raphael nodded.
Trent let his head fall back. He stared up at the ceiling and said, “Yes, but you don’t have to go.”
“Yes, she does.” Raphael began to pace. “If we keep her from him, he’ll be suspicious.”
“But right now, she’s not implicated,” Ethan said. He turned to face her, his gray eyes solemn. “This isn’t without risk.”
“Do you want me there?” she asked.
“This has to be your decision,” Trent said. The others nodded in agreement.
She thought about it for a moment.
“I’ll go. If I don’t and the meeting turns into a disaster, he’ll harass me until he gets what he wants. Plus, I’d feel better facing him with you next to me.”
Besides, if she wasn’t at the meeting, she would never find out what was going on; her bosses never told her anything.
Raphael nodded. “We’ll change the meeting location at the last minute, and we’ll use you as the excuse. That will give us somewhat of an advantage.”
Maisie swallowed. “Ok. Is there any strategy, or… anything?”
“Yeah,” Ethan said. “You’re going to have to act like you despise us. Like you’re there against your will.”
“What happens if he brings up the affair thing again?”
“That.” Trent looked irritated. “It so happens that one of our other partners did take a room in that hotel. He was sleeping with his secretary. When Byron asked him about it, he said he was in the hotel because of Davina.”
“Oh.” So Byron hadn’t been intentionally lying, which meant she wasn’t a sucker for believing him. “When you tell Byron the truth, that might help him realize you had nothing to do with Norm’s murder.”
“We’ve already told him,” Ethan said. “And he’s already verified it. It was the only way to keep him from going after additional partners and squeezing them for information. We didn’t kill Norm Ballystock, but Byron is desperate for leads. And he’s correct—he could ruin our reputations and tear apart the firm.”
18
Thursday night, Maisie met Trent outside the skyscraper housing LB&B Law’s new condo.
She’d been there once before. The building wasn’t even finished, but the condo on the top floor had been completely furnished…
Right down to the BDSM dungeon that included medieval torture devices.
Like the rack. She shuddered.
Well, the men were unlikely to drag her there tonight. They’d probably want to have one of their private little meetings after Byron left.
An hour later, she was sitting at the enormous table. Beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city was a carpet of sparkling lights.
Ethan had gone downstairs to meet Byron. Maisie was sitting quietly, her hands folded. She couldn’t wait until this was over.
Byron entered the room. He was wearing an expensive suit and carrying a briefcase.
With Ethan beside him, he was a lot less intimidating, but his true danger wasn’t his size.
He ignored the men and stared Maisie down. “I’m impressed you were able to get here so quickly. The pool hall is closer to your apartment.”
She swallowed. It wasn’t surprising that he’d seen through their ploy.
Trent sat next to her, and a moment later, the side of his shoe touched hers.
She pressed her leg against him and wished she could sit in his lap. The few times she had, he’d made her feel protected and safe.
“Can I offer you a glass of water?” Raphael asked.
“I’ve seen what happens to people you share water with,” Byron said. He pulled a laptop and a couple of folders out of his briefcase.
Maisie glanced over at Trent, whose expression was troubled.
Byron opened a video clip. “So you know, I’ve got backups. In case you get any ideas.”
The image was in muted color. As far as Maisie could tell, she was looking at an upscale den, with a large TV and several hard-looking divans. Elephant statues stood on either side of the fireplace like sentinels.
Hadn’t someone said that Norm hadn’t fully moved in yet? Rich people really did live in an alternate reality. Though she supposed Norm wasn’t living anywhere at the moment.
A low hiss leaked from the speakers as Byron turned up the sound.
A man who could only have been Norman Ballystock entered the frame, followed by three men. Maisie recognized them immediately.
“Maisie, you don’t need to watch this,” Raphael said.
But she wasn’t going to leave, not unless they ordered her to.
Byron was watching her reaction. Watching and mentally taking notes.
“I’m fine,” she said.
“Yes, let her see what kind of men you really are,” Byron said with a sneer.
The four men on the screen took seats. Norm sat at the edge of the couch, his elbows resting on his knees. The angle of his body suggested that he wanted to take off running.
“Anyone thirsty?” He jerked to his feet and left the room, then quickly returned with four bottles of water that no one opened.
“You know why we’re here,” Ethan said on the video.
“I’m n
ot letting Davina go. She’s my wife. Do you understand what that means? She wants to come back, but you bloodsuckers are filling her head with nonsense.”
“You should be in prison,” Trent said.
“I never touched her.” But the way Norm hunched forward contradicted his denial. Then he looked up. “She wants to come back. If you continue to interfere, I’ll sue you for malpractice.”
“If she really wanted to come back,” Raphael said, “nothing we said or did could have stopped her. Face it, Norm. It’s over.”
“You came all the way out here to tell me that?”
“No.” Ethan held out his hand, and Raphael removed a folder from his briefcase and passed it over. “We came out here to show you this.”
Ethan opened the folder and spread the contents on the coffee table. “She was fifteen, Norman. A child.”
Norm looked at the pictures and glanced away quickly. “Never saw her before.”
“She got pregnant, you know.” He tapped another photo. “This girl was only twelve.”
“Where did you get these from?”
Ethan stood. Raphael collected the photos and returned them to his briefcase.
“We’re not asking nicely again, Norm,” Trent said. “You’re going to move far away from Davina, and you’re going to stay away from underage girls. Otherwise, these photos will end up on the desks of people who will make it their life’s mission to destroy you.”
Norm buried his head in his hands, then looked up. “I could have you all killed. No one will miss a bunch of scumbag lawyers.”
“You have twelve hours to sign the divorce papers and leave town. We’re not even asking you to give Davina your entire fortune.”
“No, we’re not,” Trent said. “We’re allowing you to keep your business, and you will make substantial and continued donations to charities that help children who’ve been raped. Or you can go to prison, if you prefer.”
“I never raped anyone,” Norm said, his voice full of indignation. “And the girls I did date were all of age.”
“I’m sure you know that statutory rape is a strict liability crime,” Ethan said. “If you think you haven’t done anything wrong, then you won’t mind if we release what we have.”
“I’ll kill you,” Norm said.
Ethan was on his way out of the room, but he turned back. “Keep threatening that, and your hours on this planet are numbered.”
Byron slammed the laptop closed.
He looked at Maisie. “Did you hear that?”
“I heard that your brother was a pedophile creep,” she said. “You should release this footage.” She couldn’t bring herself to say something disparaging about her bosses even though she was supposed to be acting like she hated them.
Blackmailing Norm was illegal, but she would never condemn them for it.
She took a deep breath. “I’m glad your brother is dead. My former bosses went too easy on him, if you ask me.”
“Maisie,” Trent said quietly, and touched her shoulder.
Byron sneered. “You should listen to the guy who used you and then threw you away. I knew you were fucking one of the bosses, honey, but I never thought you’d go for a dink.”
Maisie had no idea what a dink was, but apparently Trent did, because he went stiff, then slowly, very slowly, leaned toward Byron. “That’s your one and only strike, friend.”
“Or what? I’ll end up like my brother?” Byron asked.
“I don’t make threats,” Trent said, his voice low.
Raphael slapped the tabletop with an open hand. “No one is threatening anyone. Can we all take a time-out, please?”
“All right,” Ethan said. “You’ve got us on tape giving your brother a talking-to.”
“Let’s catalog the laws you broke. Blackmail. Extortion. Accessory after the fact—”
“We all saw the video,” Raphael said. “But you have to ask yourself why, if our plan was to kill your brother so our client would inherit the totality of the marriage assets, we would have bothered talking to him.”
“You entered the room calmly, but I saw high tempers and death threats as you were leaving.”
“Let’s say you enter that video into evidence,” Trent said. “We’ll get into trouble, sure. Your brother will be reviled. It will absolutely make national news. Your nephew will have to bear the shame.”
“As will you,” Ethan said. “Your job has a political aspect. In any event, less than thirty seconds after we left that room, we were in our cars, and we never saw him again.”
“Maybe you didn’t, but I know one of you killed him.” The gotcha grin spreading across his face made Maisie feel sick to her stomach, and when he reached into his bag and pulled out a few photos, she had a feeling she really didn’t want to see them.
“What’s this?” Ethan asked.
“I didn’t want to bring the phone. You can’t be too careful when you’re dealing with a murderer. You can keep those, by the way.”
Trent picked up one of the photos. Maisie stole a glance. It was a shot of a cell phone screen, a text conversation from the night of Norm’s disappearance.
Davina had written: Rot in hell, asshole. No one will miss you. I can’t wait to spend your money. Fuck you!!!!
Maisie didn’t bother looking at the other photos. She chewed on her lower lip.
Byron leaned forward to stare at her. “The truth will come out, Maisie. Is there anything you want to tell me?” The rigid set of his jaw did little to hide the grief trying to break through. “Anything at all?”
Maisie actually felt bad for him. She shook her head. “If I had evidence that they killed your brother, I would tell you. Like I said, I think he deserved to die.”
Trent touched her shoulder. “Maisie—”
“I’m just being honest. And I’m also being honest when I say that I wouldn’t cover for a murderer under any circumstances.”
She glanced over at her bosses.
“And I’m also not going to make things up to destroy my former bosses just because they fired me unfairly,” she said. “They’ve done some bad things, but so have you.”
Her final words hung in the air for a few seconds.
A cunning smile spread over Byron’s face. “Maybe you have, too.”
“Mr. Ballystock, my life has been a shambles ever since you showed up. I wish I’d never heard of your brother or Davina, and I especially wish I’d never met you. I honestly don’t know what you want. We can’t bring Norm back. As soon as this meeting is over, I’m leaving, and I hope to never see you again.”
She’d intended to be dispassionate, but anger was seeping into her voice, so she sat back and grew quiet.
Byron stood and began collecting the things he’d spread all over the table. Because he was looking down, Maisie could see the patch of thinning hair on the crown of his head. He’d tried to comb over it.
It humanized him, and she couldn’t help feeling sad. He’d probably thought his brother would be a continuing presence in his life. Now he’d been robbed of that, and despite all his power in the police department, justice likewise seemed far away.
Byron looked up and fixed Ethan with a steely stare. “Here’s the thing,” he said. “You can manipulate the law—”
“Who’s not manipulating the law?” Raphael asked.
It was a good question. There weren’t any saints in the room.
“Know this,” Byron said. “You can manipulate the law, but I can manipulate the evidence. A pound of cocaine might turn up during a routine traffic stop. You will bring your client in for questioning.”
Maisie gasped.
“If you don’t cooperate, expect war. I’ll show myself out.”
He shoved the rest of his things into his bag.
The room was very quiet as he left. Then Ethan stood. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t accidentally leave something behind.”
Like a recording device, Maisie assumed.
“What if Davina hired someone to kil
l Norm?” she asked. “You have to admit it’s looking like a real possibility.”
“It’s not your concern.” Raphael stood. “Tomorrow is a busy day for us, so we’ll have our date on Saturday. Go to Scoops-a-Lot at seven, and eat a light dinner beforehand.”
“But, what about Byron?”
“We’ll take care of it,” Trent said. “You handled yourself perfectly. Now, let it go.”
19
Maisie awaited Saturday night with a mix of anticipation and nervousness.
She changed her clothes four times, and finally settled on a dark blue cocktail dress that she usually reserved for weddings. If she’d been meeting Trent, she would have chosen something sexier, but this felt right for Raphael.
She was picked up near Scoops-A-Lot in a chauffeured sports car that the men had sent for her once before, and the driver took her out to Lattimore Meadows. He bypassed the main house and stables and came to a stop in front of a second, smaller house.
Maisie stepped out of the car, her nerves tingling. Her senses felt hyper-acute.
The night was filled with a chorus of chirping crickets. A mild breeze rustled through the grass and the trees, stirring up a fresh, clean fragrance.
She wrapped her arms around herself even though she wasn’t cold.
Raphael emerged from the house. She watched his approach, cataloging the breadth of his shoulders. He was wearing black pants and a short-sleeved, button-down blue shirt that was open at the neck.
Hot. She ached to trace her fingers over his hard chest, to lean in and inhale his familiar scent.
“Thanks for coming,” he said.
“Thanks for having me.” She smiled, feeling foolish.
“This way,” he said.
After glancing back toward the main house, which was now a lighted outline in the darkness, Maisie followed Raphael.
This house was only small in comparison to the newer mansion.
“Are these servants’ quarters?” she asked as they entered.
“Actually, this used to be the main house. About eight years ago, my grandfather decided he wanted something more accommodating, so he had the other house built.”
Willful Violation (Lawyers Behaving Badly Book 3) Page 9
