Black and white.
Allegra sighed and rubbed at her eyes, wondering if Luke had known Martin. It was possible, even likely, despite their difference in rank.
Still, wouldn’t Luke have told her if their paths had crossed?
A faint noise came from somewhere below, and she stilled, watching as Astro pricked up his ears and turned his head in the direction of the front door.
She threw off the rug and sat up, stiff limbs protesting as she groped on the floor for the metal dumbbell. She took a firm hold on it, tested its weight in her right hand, and for the third time that night crept down the darkened hallway.
The prettiest people do the ugliest things. Pay attention…or else!
Well, come on in arsehole! I’m paying attention.
Holding her breath, she pressed her eye to the peephole.
But all was quiet, the landing deserted.
She pulled back, listening for the noise to come again as she tested the chain and made sure the small C.D. cabinet she’d dragged against the door was still in position. If the intruder planned on coming back, she wanted a warning.
And she’d be ready.
Tightening her grip on the dumbbell, she retraced her steps to the living room, navigating her way around the dark shapes of furniture and over to the French doors. She opened the curtains a crack and peered down at the street. Across the road, in front of a partially constructed two storey home, sat a motorcycle rider, lights off, engine idling.
Allegra sighed with relief. For months now, people had been stopping at all times of the day and night to look at the huge house being built. It was probably a shift worker, with his lights turned off, so he wouldn’t wake the residents.
She continued to watch, and after a few minutes the rider slowly pulled away, only turning on his headlight when he was half way up the street.
Fully awake now, Allegra straightened the curtain and decided to make a cup of tea. She had no wish to go back to sleep, where only fitful dreams in black and white awaited her.
She wanted to finish that list for Luke.
It was an hour and a half til daybreak.
Chapter Three
“Astro, quieten down.”
Caught out by the earlier than expected rap on the door, Allegra jogged down the hallway and pressed her eye to the peephole.
Sure enough, Luke stood on the landing outside.
Damn! His definition of daybreak differed from hers. He was half an hour early by her calculation.
“Won’t be a minute,” she called, trying to kick start her caffeine deprived brain as she grasped hold of the C.D cabinet and dragged it back to its spot in the living room.
Relieved she’d thrown on leggings and a tee-shirt, she pushed the dumbbell under a pillow and scooped Astro into her arms so he wouldn’t bolt at the first opportunity.
Expecting to find Luke cooling his heels on the landing, she ran back to the front door and took another look. But he was standing with his back to her, casually checking out the interior of the building. Trying not to puff, she slid the chain off its catch and opened the door, her heart kicking against her ribs as he turned to face her. Close fitting jeans hugged muscular thighs, while a Led Zeppelin tee-shirt, Harley Davidson jacket and designer stubble completed the picture. Mouth wateringly attractive, Luke Neilson could pull off hardcore without even trying.
And just like that a latent desire unfurled inside her. She’d snuffed it out that night on the terrace, locking it away in her most powerful sexual organ, her brain.
“Morning.” He greeted her with a polite smile.
“Hi.”
He brushed past her, filling the small space, shoulders massive in the casual, battle style jacket. “I’ve installed cameras front and back.”
“Already?” Allegra closed the door and glanced at the gym bag he carried. “What did you use, night vision goggles—it’s still dark.”
He grinned at her quip, the smile transforming his warrior face into something dazzling. She recognised that grin too, couldn’t help the buzz she caught at making him smile.
“It’s light enough.” He reached out and scratched Astro under the chin. “I’ll be checking the cameras twice a day. If our visitor returns, we’ll know about it.”
Allegra bent over and set the little dog on the floor. She knew it to be rude, but she couldn’t keep from staring. He’d morphed from a businessman to a tough guy overnight, and seemed more at ease in today’s skin. In a moment of clarity, she realised she preferred him that way. The morning stubble and facial scar lent him a raw masculinity she found reassuring. This is how he would have looked as a member of the elite SAS. If she were a criminal, she’d fear him.
“I’ll grab those names you asked for,” she rushed on, eager to put some distance between them. Luke Neilson’s physicality made her breathless, and no way would she go there. He worked in dangerous situations, and though men like him were good to fantasise about, in reality, she wanted a partner with a safe desk job.
Ducking into the living room, she retrieved the list from the coffee table, starting in surprise when she turned to find him standing right behind her.
He put down the gym bag and raised both hands in a silent apology. “Sorry, I never meant to startle you. Years of stealth training.”
She nodded and handed him the sheet.
He didn’t look at it, just folded it over a few times and shoved it into his hip pocket, eyes shifting to the blanket and pillow lying in a crumpled heap on the lounge. “Rough night, counsellor?”
Allegra nodded, thinking of the free weight buried under the pillow. “I—didn’t sleep that well.”
He squatted and scratched Astro under the chin again, an aroma of leather wafting towards her on a cloud of air. “Anything happen?”
Allegra hesitated, uneasiness stirring her stomach even as she formed the words. “Simon Poole rang after you left. He’s never phoned me at home before.”
She pressed a hand to her throat, guilty for even mentioning the name of Grace and Poole’s widely respected senior partner.
Luke straightened, the movement fluid and effortless. “What did he want?”
“To talk about an inauguration dinner on Friday for a new judge.” Before he could say anything, she was besieged by second thoughts. “Oh, I’m not even sure I should have mentioned this.”
His eyes softened a fraction. “You’re right to tell me. No-one is above suspicion.”
He was trying to make her feel better, reassure her it was okay to suspect those closest to her. But she could never be comfortable suspecting Simon Poole.
“Anything else?”
“There was a guy on a motorbike a while ago. He stopped to look at the place across the street.”
She watched him digest the information, but like yesterday, he didn’t supply any feedback. He wanted her to ‘give him everything’, to trust him to do what he did best. But asking her not to reason, not to filter information, was akin to asking her not to think.
Still, it felt nice to have someone care, even if she were paying him to do it.
“You have to be vigilant with your security, more so here than at work,” he was saying. “The swipe cards at the office make it impossible for anyone to directly approach you there. Here, it’s a different story.”
He angled his head towards the French doors. “I’d like to put a camera on the balcony.”
She nodded. “Do whatever you feel is necessary. The key’s still on the coffee table.”
Suddenly awkward, she hooked a thumb in the direction of the bedroom. “If that’s all, I’ll get ready for work while you’re at it.”
“Sure.” He turned away to unlock the door, speaking over his shoulder. “One thing, find out which courier company delivered the photograph to the office.”
He swung around, and for the barest second his eyes raked over her. “I’ll attract attention if I question the receptionist.”
He’d attract attention just by walking in
to the room.
Allegra’s cheeks grew warm, and she tried not to think about the fact he’d seen her naked, if only in a photograph. “Sure. I’ll find out first thing.”
Fifteen minutes later, Luke was finished.
Unable to curtail his interest, he surveyed Allegra’s living space with a critical eye. If she was the hard-arse lawyer he believed her to be, there wasn’t any evidence of it here. There was an oversupply of greenery, books and flowers and the place had a nice feel to it, calm—very feminine.
Would the real Allegra Greenwood please stand up?
The apartment reminded him of his sister’s place in London, a bolt hole he’d used for years. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d crashed there, seeking respite after a dangerous mission, the softness a soothing contrast to the regimented starkness of his military lifestyle.
Checking his watch, he decided to ring Tom Randall. What his software engineer didn’t know about computers wasn’t worth knowing.
He listened for Allegra, heard the water running in the bathroom, and jabbed at Tom’s quick dial number on his phone.
The IT encryption expert picked up on the third ring. “Luke? What’s up?”
“New case.” He kept his voice low. “Get Nat in for a seven am meeting.”
“Just us three?”
“Yep. This one needs to be kept quiet.”
“Who is it?”
Luke hesitated, listening. The water was still running. “Allegra Greenwood.”
“The lawyer?” Luke heard the surprise in Tom’s voice.
“That’s the one. She’s had some correspondence.”
“What can I start on? I’m almost at the office.”
“I want a 24/7 search on her name. If anything is uploaded to YouTube, or the net, if her name shows up anywhere delete it ASAP, and track the source. And search for a Christopher Noble, working as a photographer in Melbourne, about seven eight years ago.”
Luke recited the address Allegra had given him yesterday. “I want everything, the state of his financial affairs, whether he has a police record, what he eats for breakfast.”
“I’m on it.”
Luke looked up as the bathroom door opened. “Nat can start on the client.”
He killed the call and pocketed the phone, took another look around as he heard Allegra go into the bedroom. Two framed portraits hanging on the wall caught his attention and he wandered over. One was of an older man with glasses and dark hair, the other, a much younger man.
Trooper Martin Greenwood.
Luke sucked in a breath, his heart beating out a heavy baseline. From where he stood he could have been looking at a photograph of himself, geared up the way he was in camouflage.
“My father.”
He turned to see Allegra wearing a snug fitting knee length black dress, sheer stockings of the same colour and heels high enough to give most women a nose bleed. She came towards him, shrugging on a bright orange jacket.
The perfumed steamroller.
She moved closer and touched the frame with reverent fingers. “A homicide detective killed in a sting when I was five. After losing him, Mum was forced to sell the house.”
Luke stalled, inhaling, as a cloud of exotic air enveloped him. The unexpected luxury of a woman’s fragrance should never go unappreciated. There were times in his life where he’d gone for months smelling nothing but dust, mud and death.
She touched the other portrait, pain evident in her eyes. “My brother Martin was a brilliant engineer. He only joined the army as a way to earn his degree.”
Somehow Luke found his voice. “Why didn’t he get out once he qualified?”
“They started giving him special assignments. High paying ones.”
Luke held his breath, anticipating her next question as she turned and looked straight at him. “I read in your tender document you were in Afghanistan. Did you ever meet him?”
Fuck.
His jaw clenched until his teeth ached. What was he supposed to do now, spin her some bullshit story? He couldn’t do that, but he couldn’t tell her the truth either.
“I can see it in your face.” She laid a hand on his arm. “You knew him, didn’t you?”
Luke barely managed a nod, wishing himself anywhere but facing Greenwood’s sister and those blue eyes shining with hope. “Yes, I knew him.”
Her fingers dug into his wrist. “What happened? How did he die? I’ve spent years trying to get information, but the military keep stonewalling me.”
There were times when he cursed the SAS code of silence, longing to share his burden. This wasn’t one of those times.
Luke curled his hand around her wrist, her pulse erratic beneath his fingertips as he loosened her grip. “I can’t tell you anything.”
She stepped back as if he’d struck her.
“You know,” she whispered.
Luke’s heart contracted in his chest. “I took an oath of silence. You’d understand that.”
“The Black Ops code of silence?” She spat angry words at him. “The secret operations that never happened?”
“That’s it.”
He looked into stormy eyes as she backed away from him. “I have to take Astro outside before I lock him in for the day. Can you pack up and leave?”
Her clipped tone sent a buzz of awareness along his nerve pathways, sparking something in his brain he hadn’t felt for a long time. Allegra Greenwood was one feisty woman, and he was going to need balls the size of melons to deal with her. Well, that was okay, he wasn’t afraid of an arm wrestle. She might be accustomed to getting her own way—but so was he.
He watched her go, irritated at his body’s response. It was an unwelcome distraction from his primary focus. And the need to help her was clawing at his insides.
Maybe then, his conscience would ease a little.
Maybe then, Martin’s ghost would stop haunting him.
Luke stared into the eyes of Allegra’s brother and all at once he was back there, shrouded in the dust of the latest IED blast, choking on a mouthful of dirt. Numb from the waist down, he turned his head and stared at the streaks of camouflage paint on Martin’s face, cursing the complexity of a war with no front line and no neutral space. The combat forces had responded to the intelligence alert, rushing the location of a master bomb maker holed up in a compound.
As usual, he’d sent his best search dog in first.
Martin.
A familiar anger coursed through him as he turned away and threw his stuff into the gym bag. A mechatronics engineer, Greenwood had planned a post army career developing machines for use in surgery. As it was, the talented bomb disposal expert died two days after being flown to the International Military Hospital in Kandahar.
A biting guilt ate at Luke’s gut. His decision had robbed the Greenwood family of a much loved son and brother, the wider community of a future leader.
What a bloody waste.
A rattling sound drew his attention to the doorway, and he glanced up as the white puppy rounded the corner, dragging the lead across the floor behind him.
“Allegra?” he called, his voice hoarse.
No answer.
Slowly he drew the pistol from inside his jacket, carefully releasing the safety catch as he stuck his head into the hallway.
“Ally?” he called again, louder this time, surprised at his automatic shortening of her name. Where the hell was she?
Nothing.
From his position, he could see the front door standing ajar. Gun raised, he stepped into the hallway, back against the wall. She wouldn’t be impressed if he charged into the lobby and she was speaking to one of the neighbours. Probably send his sorry arse packing for good.
He covered the remainder of the hallway in two strides, checking the landing before slipping through the door. Heart booming, he ran lightly down the stairs, blew out a breath as he caught sight of her standing in the lobby holding a newspaper.
She looked up, and her shiny mouth fell open.
In that one unguarded moment he saw naked fear in her eyes.
“Relax.”
Sounding calmer than he felt, he moved past her to where the lobby door stood open. He pushed it closed, stowed the pistol inside his jacket and went back to her.
“The space dog ran in dragging the lead, and you were nowhere in sight. I was coming as a precaution.”
But she didn’t seem to register what he was saying, just gave him the newspaper with hands that trembled slightly. “Someone stuck this in my letterbox,” she whispered. “Page six.”
Luke took one look at her white face and thumbed through the tabloid until he found the article that had robbed her of her feistiness. Her name, centred in a large, bold faced font, headlined a detailed report of a recent court case.
Anger boiled in his veins.
Christ Almighty. What kind of a fucked-up person were they dealing with here?
Laden with files, Allegra was ascending the court house steps, flanked on either side by her client and what looked to be a junior associate. But she was unrecognisable, her face scratched out with angry slashes of blood red ink.
***
The everyday man stepped inside the Internet Cafe, his commonplace features creating not a ripple of interest among the rowdy mix of students and backpackers inside. They were too busy emailing people and checking Facebook messages for him to register on their radar.
He wore a cheap green cap with the outline of a kangaroo on the side, and the word ‘Australia’ embroidered across the brim. With a bit of luck the cap and sunglasses made him look like a middle aged tourist.
He moved past the congregation of young people and chose a computer with a printer attached, away from the front counter. Taking a seat, he inserted a flash drive into the USB port and checked the room again. No-one seemed remotely interested in him. Good. He couldn’t go back to the George Street Cafe. The guy there had nodded in recognition this morning, and he needed to print another photo.
Chapter Four
Tom Randall and Natalie Slater were deep in conversation at the large, circular table when Luke entered the conference room just after seven.
Hot Lawyers: The Lee Christine Collection Page 4
