The Hot Lawyer (A Romance Love Story) (Hargrave Brothers - Book #4)

by Alexa Davis

  "I want to know who she is," I muttered as Mick pulled into the garage and parked the car.

  "You want me to go back to the coffee shop and ask around, boss?" I got out of the car.

  "Nah, let it go, Mick," I said. "I have a feeling she'd be pretty pissed if she knew I'd sent out spies."

  "Gotcha," Mick nodded with a smile. "Women are tricky, and with your record...well..."

  "Don't remind me, man," I laughed as I closed the car door and headed for the elevator. I punched the button, and as I waited for the car to take me to the top floor, I thought about the redhead. I knew I'd have to find a way to run into her, but in a city this size, it wasn't going to be easy. I sighed as I realized that I'd have to make Bean Bros a regular stop until I saw her again, but I was nothing if not patient.

  "Hey, Linc," Brant said as I exited the elevator. "We've got a situation. We need to talk."

  "What's up?" I asked as I stopped at the front desk and said good morning to Katy, the weekend receptionist. I didn't like leaving the office unattended on the weekends, so I'd hired enough staff to keep things moving and make it functional no matter when I came in.

  "Good morning, Mr. Redding," Katy smiled. "Your mail and messages are on your desk and you've got two confirmed appointments this afternoon. The first one is waiting," she said, looking at Brant.

  "Thank you, Katy," I said as I headed down the hall with Brant following. We entered my office and when Brant shut the door, I asked, "What's going on? Tell me."

  "Our suppliers in China are threatening to back out of the deal if we don't secure the votes needed to pass the legislation before we sign," he said. "It's not a crisis, yet. But where do we stand on those votes, Linc?"

  "I'm short six votes right now, but I've got a meeting with two senators this afternoon and a poker game scheduled for Tuesday night," I said as I picked up the stack of papers from my in-box and began scanning them. "Did they say what inspired this sudden shift in perspective?"

  "They did not, but I'm guessing that our buddy Russo had a hand in it, whatever it was," he said. "You know going on that morning show was not a good thing, don't you?"

  "What's wrong with stating my opinion and speaking openly about the issues?" I asked. "Last I checked, it's still a free country."

  "That's not the point and you know it, Linc," he gently scolded me. Brant knew how stubborn I could be and his job was to smooth out my rough edges when my stubbornness threatened the business. I usually pushed back, but only as far as he let me. "We can't afford to derail this deal when we're so close to signing the contracts. You know that, and I know you know that. Just tone it down until we get what we need, and then you can roast Russo in public, for all I care. Until then, you need to avoid being the instigator because he'll find a way to make you look like the problem."

  "He is such a sneaky, little weasel," I fumed as I gripped the papers in my hand tightly enough to crumple them. "I'm sick of his sleazy grin and his sanctimonious preaching! Why does he get to say everything he wants and I have to rein it in and hold back? He's an ass!"

  "Easy, buddy," Brant said as he sat down on one of the armchairs that flanked my desk. "I know he's an ass. Pretty much everyone knows he's an ass. The problem is that the ass has a lot of power and he's willing to use it to ruin you if you get in his way. Just ease up and avoid him until the bill passes, and then you can gloat as loudly as you want, anywhere you choose."

  "I know you're right, but that guy just gets under my skin and pisses me off," I grumbled as I sat down. "So what do we do now?"

  "Well, I've got the contracts ready and waiting, so I guess all I need you to do is ensure that we have enough votes to push the bill through," he replied. "After that, it's smooth sailing."

  "Right," I nodded as thoughts of the stubborn redhead floated through my brain. I shook my head to rid myself of them. Brant regarded me with concern.

  "What's going on?" he asked.

  "I'm tired of all of this," I told him. "I'm tired of constantly fighting and I'm tired of having to relive things I'd rather let go. I'm just tired."

  "Hey, look, we've talked about this before," he said cautiously. "We get the votes, sign the contract, pass the bill, and then get the wheels in motion for the grips to be manufactured so you can do whatever you like. We'll hire a CEO to run the company and you can step back, but for now, you have to do this, Linc. We need you to lead."

  "I know," I nodded as I listened to his words. "I'm tired of a life that revolves around guns twenty-four seven. I want more than this; don't you?"

  I looked up to find Brant grinning at me. "You met a woman, didn't you?" he asked.

  "What the…no!" I pulled out a drawer and began searching for something – anything. "Why the hell does every conversation with you end in a discussion about whether or not I met a woman? I did not. Why do you say that?"

  "Oh please, Linc," he rolled his eyes. "I've known you over half your life, I know when a woman has you turned upside down. Who is she?"

  "Dammit, Brant!" I shouted. "There's no woman! I'm stressing out about the bill and about Russo and you're talking about my insignificant social life? Drop it!"

  "Mmm hmm," he grinned as he stood up and walked to the door. "I thought so. Well, when you're ready to discuss her, you know where to find me. Meanwhile, get the votes."

  "Right, right," I growled as I waved him away. "Nosy bastard."

  #

  An hour later, as I was preparing for the arrival of Senators Norton and Gibbs, Brant came rushing into my office yelling, "Turn on the news! Turn on the news!" I quickly flicked the remote and tuned into a station where a reporter was standing at the far end of the Mall with the Capitol over her shoulder. I turned up the volume and Brant and I watched in horror as she detailed the shooting.

  "James, I'm told that the shooter was a middle-aged, white male wielding an unidentified gun. No one is quite sure how he made it as far as he did without being noticed, but what we do know is that he had very specific targets and that he succeeded in hitting them. He was shot by police officers responding to reports of a gunman and was rushed to Washington General a little while ago. We don't know his identity.

  “Police are telling us that as soon as they have contacted the families of the victims, they will release their identities to the media. There is some speculation that he was targeting the members of the Committee on Gun Safety, as they were scheduled to meet at the Capitol this morning to go over the bill they were preparing to put before Congress this week. That's all we know right now, but I'll be here at the Capitol and will bring you live updates as more details become available. This is Mandy Banks, live at the Capitol for Action News."

  "Jesus Fucking Christ," I swore. "What the hell just happened?"

  "It looks like some lunatic shot up the Capitol," Brant replied.

  "Yeah, thanks, Captain Obvious," I scoffed. "What is going on in this country? It's like we have a new nut job on the loose every few days!"

  "It's the battle over Second Amendment rights, my friend," he shrugged. "There's bound to be a few wackos out there who think the solution is to take matters into their own hands and eliminate the problem."

  "You know they're not thinking that up on their own," I said, giving him a pointed look. "They're being encouraged by the people who hold power and who have more to lose than their precious second amendment rights."

  "Let's not be hasty here, Linc," Brant warned. "I hate Russo as much as the next guy, but before we jump to conclusions and start hammering on the guy, let's find out what happened."

  "You know as well as I do that Russo is behind this," I said angrily. "If not directly, then definitely indirectly. You've seen the rhetoric the AWN spews – it's bullshit! They're whipping their followers into a frenzy and then turning them loose to pull the trigger!"

  "Easy, easy, big guy," Brant cautioned. "Like I said, let's get the facts and then figure out what to do."

  Just then, Katy buzzed and told me I had a call. "Put them throug
h, Katy," I said as I picked up the receiver. "Yeah, Redding here." I listened intently for a minute, then thanked the caller and slammed the phone down into the cradle so hard that it skidded off the desk and went crashing to the floor.

  "GODDAMNIT!" I yelled as I slammed my fists against the desk. "That son of a bitch! I swear I'm going to kill him, Brant. I'm going to find Russo and rip his lungs out of his body with my bare hands!"

  "What the hell is going on, Linc?"

  "The shooter killed Norton and Gibbs," I said as I exhaled and sunk down into my chair. "And, he seriously wounded three other members of the committee. Two are in surgery right now, and one is in serious condition, but out of danger. This is all that son-of-a-bitch Russo's fault."

  "Chill out, man," Brant said as he paced the room. I could tell he was formulating a plan. For as long as I'd known him, the only way he could focus under stress was to pace back and forth, thus earning him the nickname Pace. "Not to be cold, but we need to think about the next step now that we've lost two votes – possibly five. How are we going to recoup the loss and make sure we have enough support to push the bill through?"

  "Hell if I know, man," I said as I ran a hand through my hair and exhaled in frustration. It seemed like every step we took forward, Russo shoved us back three. I was tired of fighting the guy; I just wanted to win and prove that I was right. I stopped and thought about the loss of the senators and how their families would be feeling about now as a wave of nausea passed through me. I closed my eyes and tried not to think about the kids that this would effect.

  "You okay, Linc?" Brant asked as he stopped pacing. He held up a hand as if a light had gone off. "When's your next poker night?"

  "Yeah, fine. It's Tuesday, why?" I asked as I opened my eyes and offered a weak smile. He knew me well enough to know what was racing through my brain at the moment, and he also knew me well enough not to push the issue.

  "Who's coming?" Brant probed.

  "The usual: Walker, Mason, Bangor, and Graham," I listed the senators who regularly showed up at my hide-away once a month for poker and other activities. "And then, whoever they bring with them."

  "What about Thompson?" Brant asked.

  "What about him?"

  "Why isn't he coming?"

  "Give me a break, Pace," I laughed. "Thompson is the straightest arrow in Congress. Why would he come hang out with the bad boys? He probably has Bible class or a volunteer group meeting."

  "Now, don't go stereotyping," Brant warned as a smile spread across his face. "We all know that even the straightest guys have some kind of deep, dark, secret wish."

  "Yeah, and his is probably dark chocolate chips in his cookies instead of milk chocolate," I said rolling my eyes. "Fuck off, Pace. The guy is clean as a whistle, and I'm not going to waste time trying to court him."

  "All right, but don't put it on the impossible list quite yet," he said. "I've got some ideas about how to turn this around."

  "Nothing illegal or immoral," I warned him. "Well, illegal, anyway."

  "No, we'll do it on the up and up as much as possible," he said as he resumed pacing. "I'm not a fan of compromising myself for the sake of winning, but then again, as high as the stakes are this time, I'm willing to bend the rules a little."

  "Brant, do not tell me anything more," I warned. "Whatever it is you come up with in that brilliant mind of yours, keep it to yourself if it's going to incriminate anyone. I really do want to do this on the up and up. It matters, Pace. To me."

  "I know, I know," he said. "I'm not going to do anything radical. I promise."

  I nodded as he turned and walked out the door, then I picked up the phone and called my florist and ordered arrangements sent to each of the families of the victims. I told the florist to hold the flowers until I could get down there and tuck a note offering to help in any way I could into each of them. It would be a small gesture, but those were the ones that had made the most difference to me after my own parents had been shot and killed.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Olivia

  I waved down a cab just outside of the building and told the driver to take me to the Capitol. "You know there's been a shooting down there, don't you?" he asked. "We're supposed to steer clear of the area."

  "Yeah, I know, that's why I need to get there," I said flashing him my press credentials. "How close can you get me?"

  "I'll take you as far as Independence and New Jersey, but I'm not going to drive into the Capitol area," he said as he flipped on the meter and pulled away from the curb.

  I shrugged and looked out the window. The streets were covered in a light dusting of snow and combined with the Christmas music coming from the radio, it gave the city a holiday feel. I tried to enjoy it, but my mind was full of questions about the shooting. As the scenery rushed by, I focused on compiling a list of questions I needed to ask and people I wanted to talk to.

  I needed to find out who the shooter was and then figure out what he'd actually done. Ideally, I'd be able to trace his path from wherever he stared all the way to the Capitol steps, but I also knew that the police would be trying to do the exact same thing and would have the details locked down. I thought about all of my options and decided that the best way to go would be to wander down there and see what was going on, then figure out the best approach to take.

  "You ever wonder why people shoot each other?" the cab driver asked. "I mean, what makes a guy sit up on a Sunday afternoon and decide to grab his gun and go shoot people?"

  "That, my friend, is the million-dollar question," I said.

  "I'll bet he had a fight with his wife," he asserted. "I'll bet they had breakfast together and then she asked him to do some chore that he'd been putting off for weeks. When he said he'd get to it, she yelled at him for always putting off the things she asked him to do, and he yelled at her to stop nagging him. She told him it wasn't nagging to expect that he'd help around the house, and he told her that he was working day and night to maintain the house, so she should be grateful for all the things he did do, and then he grabbed his gun and headed down to the Capitol."

  "Sounds like a personal matter," I observed with an amused smile.

  "It is personal," he said. "He works hard, and she nags, nags, nags. It's understandable that he'd eventually go off the deep end."

  "Um, John?" I said as I looked at his hack's license affixed to the backseat. "I'm going to hazard a guess and say that things are not going well at your home, am I right?"

  "How did you know?"

  "Just a hunch," I replied. As a young reporter, I used to be amazed by what perfect strangers would tell me in the form of stories about "other people" in an attempt to give me information about themselves. As I'd gotten older, I'd come to expect that most of what anyone told me was really a personal story about their own situation as they attempted to make sense of their lives. I'd gotten good at listening and then sorting out the fact from the fiction.

  "Wow, you're good!" he observed as he pulled up to the curb and prepared to let me out.

  "Not really," I said as I fished a twenty out of my wallet and handed it over. "Keep the change."

  "But it's a five dollar fare," he protested as he dug in his pocket to get change.

  "Yeah, and it's the holidays," I said waving him off. "Go buy your wife some flowers and tell her you’re sorry for not getting whatever it was finished."

  "But it wasn't me!"

  "Whatever, dude," I laughed. "Buy your wife flowers, anyway; trust me, it'll go a long way."

  I got out and slammed the door shut, looking both ways before I crossed Independence and headed toward the Capitol on foot. I could see that the police had cordoned off the entrance to the Capitol throughway, so I walked past it and headed toward the reflecting pool. I figured I could probably make the rounds and talk to at least a few witnesses before someone asked for ID. As I approached the grassy area in front of the pool, I saw a couple of teenagers huddled together talking and passing a cigarette around the circle.


  "Hey, what happened?" I asked as I scanned the area, trying to determine if the cops were anywhere near.

  "Some wacko went postal and shot up the Capitol," a boy with a thin beard and olive wool cap said. "It was fucked up, man!"

  "Oh, really? Do tell," I said trying to act disinterested enough to get them to spill everything they knew – or thought they knew. "Got another cig?"

  "Yeah, sure," the boy said as he fished a crushed pack of American Spirits out of his jacket pocket and flicked one at me. "Lighter?"

  I nodded and took both from his hand, lighting the cigarette and inhaling deeply. I'd given up smoking after a run in with rebels in the Congo in which I'd nearly lost my life because my lungs were so weak I almost wasn't able to run. Since then, I'd only occasionally bummed a smoke, and this seemed an opportune moment to do so. I took another drag and as I exhaled, I said, "So, some wacko shot up the Capitol?"

  "Yeah! He went nuts, man!" the boy shouted as he passed the cigarette he was holding to the girl standing next to him. She was small and thin with a haircut that only teenagers could pull off: an inky black buzz cut on one side of her skull with shoulder-length waves on the other. Her exposed ear was pierced no less than ten times all the way up the curve and she had a small green stud in her nose. She was wearing a bomber jacket over what looked like several layers of t-shirts and a pair of jeans that looked about three sizes too big. On her feet was a pair of tightly-laced, wine-colored Doc Martens. She looked like the kind of girl I wished I'd been in high school: cool and totally unimpressed by anything. She took the smoke from the boy and rolled her eyes as he began recounting what had happened in an overly dramatic tone. I listened to him, but watched her out of the corner of my eye.

  "He just started shooting?" I asked.

  "Yeah, man, he grabbed his gun and just started spraying bullets everywhere!" the boy shouted. "It was fuckin' nuts! We dove to the ground and tried to belly crawl for cover!"

  "Blake, shut the fuck up," the girl said. "You are such a drama queen and a terrible liar."