Hot Lawyers: The Lee Christine Collection

by Lee Christine

  “Yes.” There was sentimental value attached to those photos, and she hadn’t wanted to destroy them. It had been Chris’s way of trying to help her.

  “Have you had a break-in recently?”

  She sucked in a breath, his question taking her by surprise. “No.”

  He swivelled around to face her. “But you haven’t been home today?”

  Allegra’s heart stuttered in her chest at the thought of someone breaking into her apartment. “No. I came straight from work. I bluffed my way in, hoping you’d think I wanted to discuss the contract.”

  “I did think that.”

  Allegra’s mouth went dry. “Will you help me, despite everything?”

  It was as near as she could bring herself to plead with Luke Neilson. “I’ll pay good money. I want the best man you’ve got.”

  “I’m the best man I’ve got.”

  “Oh.” She jumped, nerves jangling. “I assumed you’d be too busy for such a small job. I thought you’d hand it on.”

  He studied her through narrowed eyes, knuckles pressed against his mouth, an expensive dive watch strapped to his powerful wrist. “Never assume anything, Allegra. I fail to see what’s in it for me though, other than the money.”

  She raised her eyebrows, not bothering to hide her surprise. “You normally get fringe benefits with the job?”

  He gave an amused laugh, the corners of his mouth curling up, the smile softening his strong features. “Not the kind you’re implying, no. It’s just that I’m in a position to be selective about the work I take on.”

  So her visit had been a waste of time. He only accepted clients where a mutual benefit was involved. Well, she couldn’t promise him the contract next time in exchange for taking her case. It would be unethical.

  “I see,” she said finally. “You scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours.”

  “No. I select clients I believe I can work with. And we don’t have a good track record.”

  She bit back a retort and trailed a forefinger along the edge of the desk. She’d apologised for her knee jerk reaction to that kiss, but what about the part he’d played in the whole fiasco?

  “Then why didn’t you put in a complaint about my decision?” She lifted her gaze to his. “I half expected you to.”

  A smile played at the corners of his mouth. “Because I was equally to blame, and I’ll tender next time. I’m surprised to see you here though, asking for my help.”

  His surprise could hardly match her humiliation. Having to front up here was one of the hardest things she’d had to do. But she was drowning in a sea of debt, with no time to waste on a second-rate investigator. If the photographs surfaced, she’d never work for a reputable law firm again.

  She drew in a jagged breath. “So where does that leave us?”

  His eyes narrowed to slits of silver. “I haven’t decided yet.”

  From the expression on her face she didn’t much like the sound of that. Too bad, he needed to get his head around what he’d just learned.

  She was Martin Greenwood’s sister. How had he not made the connection?

  Winning the contract next time was hardly a priority. Allegra was in serious trouble, her career on the line.

  And his conscience left him no choice.

  Luke studied her symmetrical face, the halo of golden blonde hair, the now obvious resemblance to her brother. The corporate suit she wore was well cut, clinging to her slim figure and showcasing a set of killer legs. She wore tasteful jewellery, nothing too blingy, and natural make-up. The impression was sexy ice maiden wearing a ‘don’t mess with me attitude.’

  But the woman the press dubbed the ‘perfumed steamroller’ had a skeleton in her closet. Who knew?

  She clicked her tongue, looking irritated all of a sudden. “Look, do you want the case or not?”

  He dragged his thoughts away from her physical attributes and concentrated on the job at hand. “Here’s what we’re going to do.”

  “We?”

  Luke sighed at the interruption. Sharp, she missed nothing.

  “It feels good to have an ally, that’s all.” She smiled, her body almost sagging with relief. “And thank you.”

  He ignored the way his heart shifted up a gear. “We, we’re a team until we catch this loser.”

  He pushed a notepad and pen across the table. “Write down Chris Noble’s full name and his last known address in Melbourne. It’s logical to start there.”

  As she scribbled down the details he noticed her absence of rings. He hadn’t got around to asking about partners and such, but it appeared from her bare hands she hadn’t succumbed to the last legal form of slavery.

  She slid the notebook back to him.

  “Go home and make sure the original photographs are where they should be. Phone me immediately if they’ve been disturbed. I want a list of every person who’s had access to your home since breaking up with Noble.”

  “Okay.”

  Strange, she didn’t seem at all phased by his request. Most people groaned and objected, daunted by the task. “I mean everyone you can think of Allegra. Family, friends, boyfriends, girlfriends, work colleagues, tradesmen, landlords, cleaning staff, anyone who could conceivably have gained access to those photographs.”

  “In Melbourne they were locked in a safety deposit box, but since moving to Sydney I’ve kept them hidden in my apartment.”

  “Then I only need a list of people who’ve visited your Sydney residence.”

  She nodded. “When do you want it?”

  “Is seven in the morning too early?”

  She shook her head, blonde highlights shining under the fluorescents. “I’m used to deadlines.”

  “Then I’ll come by and pick it up, check out your security,” he said in an offhand manner, trying to give the impression it was standard procedure. It wasn’t. From cases he’d worked, extortionists were predictable, demanding money straight up. No demand for cash pointed to something more sinister.

  He watched the colour drain from her face, his nonchalance not fooling her for a second.

  “You think they could come to my home?”

  Nothing to be gained by sugar coating it. “A photograph without a demand for cash smacks of a stalker or a psychological blackmailer.”

  Her eyes widened, and for the briefest moment she looked truly frightened. He waited, letting his words sink in. She needed time to accept the ugly truth. A hidden enemy intended doing her harm.

  “I hoped it might be a prank,” she said finally, her voice thick and shaken.

  “Could be, but I doubt it. Having it delivered by bicycle courier shows it’s well thought out.”

  She stared at him, a bemused expression on her face. “It doesn’t sound like Chris at all.”

  A spurt of anger surfaced at her stoic defence of the photographer. Despite her position, she didn’t appear all that street smart, or men smart.

  “Not the Chris you remember, but people change.”

  Luke shifted in his seat, longing to undo the top button of his shirt but unwilling to draw another comment from the body language expert. Would he ever feel comfortable in business attire? Probably not, too many years spent in camouflage gear and paratrooper pants.

  She blinked, drawing his attention to the amazing blue of her eyes. Not that he needed reminding. They were seared into his memory.

  “So, what’s your take on it, Luke?”

  An unexpected charge jolted through him at her use of his name. “There’s been no demand for cash or threats to expose you.”

  “So they aren’t motivated by money?”

  “I doubt it. They know you understand the harm they can do. They could be getting kicks from causing you mental anguish. But we won’t know for sure, until we get the next one.”

  She swallowed, and in her eyes he saw helplessness and resignation. “That was my next question. You think we will?”

  “I’m fairly certain. We know they have one photograph. If they’re in posse
ssion of the others, it’s more a matter of when.”

  She nodded, then reached down with unsteady hands and slung the satchel diagonally across her body. “If we’re finished, I might go home and check the apartment.”

  Luke pushed himself out of his chair. “That’s it for now.”

  He strode to the door and held it open for her.

  “Thank you for seeing me,” she murmured, brushing past him.

  “No problem.”

  He watched her walk towards the elevator, paying attention to the hip satchel slung across her body and the skyscraper heels she wore. Yes, if you looked hard enough, there were signs Allegra Greenwood had a non-conformist streak in her.

  As she pushed the elevator button, she turned to look back at him, and he hurriedly closed his office door. He didn’t want to be caught spying. He slid the lock and moved back to his desk. Feeling a little guilty, he picked up the tweezers and shook out the folded sheet of paper still lying there. He felt his heartbeat crank up and the breath catch in his throat at the glorious image staring back at him.

  Much as he hated to admit it, Noble had done a fine job. Allegra lay reclined on plush velvet, one long leg bent at the knee and crossed with the other in a manner that revealed nothing, though an arm thrown languidly above her head exposed the sloping outside curves of her breasts. Her blonde hair, so much longer then, swept over one shoulder and cleverly covered a nipple, while the other lay hidden behind a strand of expensive looking white pearls looped numerous times around her neck.

  Stunning. Enough to make any red blooded man salivate.

  Pushing it aside, he shoved his hands deep in his pockets and stared through the window at the Opera House, its pearly sails poised on the water’s edge a masterpiece of human creativity.

  He’d often thought about their first meeting, the day fresh in his mind for all the wrong reasons. A horror case involving children. A couple of drinks to ease the pain of the gruesome images he couldn’t wipe from his mind. Not the smartest move when trying to make a good impression. Then, as he stood on the terrace, wishing with all his heart he could just go home and avoid the Meet and Greet, a vision in blue walked up and introduced herself. They’d talked, and at some point he’d suffered an overwhelming urge to kiss her.

  It was inappropriate, out of character, and far from his finest hour.

  Still, he’d been angry when she’d blackballed him.

  Luke sighed. His job required an extensive assortment of intuitive skills, and it wasn’t often someone left him astonished. But she had. Smart and alluring, never in a million years would he have put her name, together with the word centrefold, in the same sentence.

  He shook his head in disbelief. Nude photos. Who would have guessed?

  With another heavy sigh, he closed his eyes, blanking out the memories of a mission gone wrong. There was no way he could let anything bad happen to Allegra Greenwood.

  He owed her brother that much.

  He’d been Trooper Martin Greenwood’s Commanding Officer in Afghanistan, and as such, the man ultimately responsible for his death.

  Chapter Two

  An hour later, Allegra drove into the garage of her Bondi Beach apartment building, uneasiness stirring her stomach as the sensor light failed to come on. She shifted the Golf into reverse and backed into her allocated spot next to the wire storage lockers, apprehension growing as the sweep of headlights revealed an unfamiliar utility parked across the lot.

  The roller door ground to a close, shutting out the glow of street lights as she killed the engine and frowned at the battered, brown ute. The couple who owned that bay were overseas, their vehicle parked in the long term car park at Sydney airport.

  Fighting the urge to drive back out and leave the car in the visitor’s parking bay, Allegra clamped her teeth together.

  Since when have you been a wimp? Don’t let one blown light and a strange car freak you out?

  She dragged the strap of her satchel onto her shoulder and took her phone from the centre console. Turning on the torch app, she pulled the keys from the ignition and killed the headlights, Luke’s words playing on a loop in her mind. ‘You haven’t had a break in recently? Go home—call me immediately if the photographs have been disturbed.’

  Clutching the bunch of keys, Allegra opened the door and climbed out into the cool, dank atmosphere. What the hell was she thinking? The sensor light probably just corroded in the sea air.

  Still, she directed the phone’s thin beam of light into the dark corners as she slammed the driver’s door and pressed lock on the remote key fob.

  It was then that she saw it.

  Illuminated in the momentary flash of lights.

  A wash of rubbish, spewing from the mouth of an upturned bin.

  Allegra backed up a step, jumping as her shoulder hit the wire cage of a storage locker. Shit! In all the time she’d lived here, she’d never seen that. The residents of the small apartment block took pride keeping the common areas tidy.

  A slow creep, like icy spiders, crawled up her spine as she swung the light back towards the ute, trying to remember whether the gardener had been today. He tended to leave the roller door up while he mowed. It wouldn’t be hard for someone to slip by him and rifle through the rubbish.

  Heart pounding, she turned on her heel and followed the beam of light towards the stairwell. Identity theft was on the rise, and easy enough to accomplish. It probably had nothing to do with the photograph.

  For God’s sake calm down! Check the apartment before you freak out. Twenty paces and you’re out of here.

  She pressed on, cursing the garage. The damn place never failed to creep her out, even when the light was working.

  Suddenly, an unfamiliar ring tone blared out, and her heart stuttered, legs turning wooden. Cheery, electronic notes surrounded her, bouncing off the concrete walls so she couldn’t tell what part of the garage it was coming from.

  Allegra swung around, hands trembling so badly the beam from her phone wavered in the coal-like blackness. Down the end, close to the overturned bin, was an insipid light.

  Then the music cut, the light extinguished.

  Allegra’s heart thundered, her body one pulsating beat as she forced her frozen legs to move. Turning, she zeroed in on the strip of light beneath the stairwell door, moving as silently as she could while listening for the beginnings of a conversation.

  Please, please be a tenant cleaning out a storage locker.

  But there was only ominous silence.

  She killed the torch app on her phone and slipped the device into her pocket, plunging the garage into a cave-like blackness. She had the advantage, knew every gloomy concrete column and mesh storage cage in this hellhole they called a garage.

  Imagining all kinds of horrors at her back, she quickened her step.

  Don’t look back. Four more paces— three—two.

  She faltered as someone behind her stumbled, and swore.

  The voice was male, coarse.

  Terror forced her limbs into action, and she acted on instinct, careful not to make a sound as she changed direction… Three long strides had her blindly reaching for the building’s air conditioning motor she knew to be there. As her fingertips grazed the metal surface, she wedged her body between the large container and the system of pipes, hardly daring to breathe.

  Blood roared in her ears as she stood stock still, peering through the pipes, eyes focussed on the stairwell door a few feet away. The side wall of the garage was at her back, his only option to come this way, or go straight into the stairwell. If he chose this way, one hard whack with the keys and she’d bolt for the stairs.

  She could hear him now, shuffling forward in the dark. Every so often he’d pause, as if checking out the wire storage cages interspersed between the cars. But he didn’t use his phone for light, and he hadn’t accepted that call.

  Panic welled inside Allegra, and she prayed her phone wouldn’t ring and reveal her hiding place. She strained to listen over
the pounding beat in her temples, overstretched nerves tingling all the way to her extremities. Yes, the shuffling was closer now, louder, and almost level with the metal container. Tempted to shut her eyes, she stared instead at the shadowy shapes surrounding her, her eyes adjusting to the dark.

  Which meant his would be too.

  Then suddenly he was in front of her, a dark shape on the other side of the pipes, moving slowly towards the door. Medium height, medium build.

  Allegra froze, breath suspended as he hesitated. Then just as she feared he would turn in her direction, he carried on towards the stairwell and opened the door.

  From her hiding place in the dark, Allegra could see him illuminated in the shaft of light from the stairwell. Dark pants, dark sweatshirt with the hood pulled up, obscuring his face and hair. Then everything went black again as the door shut behind him.

  Allegra closed her eyes, body sagging with relief as she dragged in some long, deep breaths. Even if he were responsible for the mess, it didn’t automatically translate to him sending the photograph. She opened her eyes. Either way, he wasn’t the sort of person she wanted to encounter, here or in the stairwell. What kind of man didn’t make themselves known to the only woman in a blacked out car park?

  Someone up to no good.

  And certainly, none of the tenants she knew.

  Eyes on the exit door, Allegra slipped off her shoes and ran to her car in her stockinged feet, satchel slipping from her shoulder as she hit the remote key fob. A high pitched beep accompanied the flash of lights as she wrenched open the driver’s door, jumped inside and hit the central locking button. She switched on the headlights, flooding the garage in a welcome light, slipped the key into the ignition and gunned the engine.

  Reaction set in, and her legs began to shake as she threw the car into gear and pressed the roller door remote. Before the door was completely open, she accelerated up the ramp and out into the relative safety of the street.

  At the end of the driveway, she turned right into Old South Head Road and headed towards Bondi Beach. Traffic was light, the footpath crowded with people heading out to dinner, exercising, or walking their dogs. No-one resembled the person in the garage.