Hot Lawyers: The Lee Christine Collection

by Lee Christine

  “What do you have on Allegra?” he asked Nat, relieved the investigation proper was finally under way. He glanced at his most trusted confidantes. Together, their track record for solving cases sat on the ninety-fifth percentile.

  “There’s a ton of information on the net, even a fan based website devoted to her,” replied Nat, a rough diamond ex-cop, grateful to be off the force now she had kids to worry about. “The blog gets a lot of traffic, mainly from students and academics.”

  “An obsessed fan?” asked Tom.

  Luke snapped on a pair of latex gloves and spread the evidence on the table. “Could be. I didn’t know her celebrity status had reached such heights.”

  “It’s not of her making,” Nat pointed out, consulting her iPad while Tom turned his attention to the evidence. “She’s single, private, doesn’t partake in any social media, which is unusual for someone twenty-nine. If she’s spotted out, it’s at a work function, or having drinks with her—,” Nat made the quote marks sign with her fingers, “learned colleagues.”

  “What’s the chat?” Luke asked, sitting down and combining this new information with what he knew of Allegra. She might come across all businesslike, but underneath the persona was a woman who’d suffered loss, and now betrayal. And thankfully, her cute dog wasn’t one of those handbag varieties usually favoured by celebrities.

  Nat stroked her index finger down the iPad screen. “Her cases and judgments are analysed at length, and occasionally the women discuss her wardrobe and how she’s broken through the glass ceiling.”

  “And the men?” Luke stared over Nat’s head at the flat screen tuned to a twenty-four hour news channel. He could guess the answer to this one.

  “The sculptured legs, how hot she is.” Nat rolled her eyes. “These are law students remember.”

  Keeping one eye on the news, Luke picked up the plastic tweezers and turned the naked photograph of Allegra face down, deliberately ignoring Nat’s inquiring look. “Go on.”

  “The general consensus is, she’s a brilliant lawyer, but standoffish. There’s almost a— mystique about her.”

  Luke mulled over Nat’s words. Intense curiosity could lead to obsessive behaviour. “Tom, check out the stats, numbers and locations of the people following her career on the net, particularly the lurkers.”

  The tall young man with shoulder length black hair grinned and rubbed his hands together. “Nothing better than a good cyber stalk.”

  Nat rolled her eyes. “Geek.” She bent over the iPad again. “The HR departments of all the big firms keep an eye on young achievers like her.”

  “To head hunt them?”

  “Yes.”

  Luke thought about Allegra’s loyalty to Simon Poole, the guilt she’d suffered for merely mentioning his name. Somehow, she didn’t seem the type to jump ship because another firm waved dollars in her face.

  “One partner, Henry Grace, is getting close to retirement,” Nat continued. “If the grapevine proves accurate, the next partner will be female. Two other female lawyers are her only real competitors, but they practice in family and commercial law, while she handles criminal cases that put the firm on the nightly news.”

  Luke helped himself to coffee from the plunger on the table.. “She has the edge.”

  Nat looked up. “You think it could be a competitor?”

  He gave her the same answer he’d given Allegra. “I’m not discounting anyone. It’s logical to suspect Noble, but it would be a mistake to confine our investigations to him.”

  “The size of the firm, the client base, the web fans…” Nat leaned back in her chair. “We’re going to need more manpower, Luke.”

  “No.” It was a stubborn answer, and it came a little too quickly for his liking. “If this gets leaked, her career’s dead in the water. We’ll get the creep with hard new evidence, a print, a camera shot, or we’ll track him on the net until we find him. I’ll even draw him out; make her a target if I have to.”

  A chill radiated through him as he said the words, but he shoved it aside and turned to Tom. “Any word on Noble?”

  “Nothing yet.” Tom pointed to the photograph he’d turned face down. “Does Allegra have a digital copy of that photo?”

  Luke shook his head. “Hard. Why?”

  Tom tapped his pen on the desk. “I can scan it, try and do a reverse image search, see if the photograph is already up on the web.”

  Luke shook his head a second time. “I’m not keen on that. If the photo’s not on there, the last thing we want is to upload it ourselves. And there are fifteen of these pictures in total. If our man has the storage device, we have no idea which photograph he’ll choose.”

  Tom pointed to the rapper lyrics. “What about this?”

  Luke left his coffee and went to stand at the window. From here he could see a corner of the office tower where Grace and Poole were housed on the other side of Martin Place. If Allegra had a problem, he wasn’t far away.

  Resting his hands on the window sill, he caught his grim reflection in the glass, as somewhere below sulphur crested cockatoos screeched from inside the botanical gardens.

  He straightened up. “West sings about anarchy and mayhem, something that could resonate with our perpetrator. That’s all. We don’t waste time trying to analyse that.”

  “So, do you think she’s in real danger, or is someone just trying to scare the crap out of her?” asked Nat.

  Luke turned and came back to the table. “Someone was game enough to break into her garage last night and walk right up to her front door. She was lucky. She thinks he was in the garage when she arrived home.”

  Tom and Nat exchanged worried glances, which only served to validate his own concern. He’d feel a whole lot better if Allegra checked into a hotel in the city, preferably one with secure access to the floors.

  But he was guessing she wouldn’t leave the dog.

  Astro.

  Martin’s codename.

  Pushing aside that disquieting thought, he pointed to the evidence. “Re-bag this and get it to the lab. See if they can lift some prints. And join in that blog Nat, ask questions, find out everything you can. Pay particular attention to any high profile cases she’s got coming up.”

  Nat pursed her lips and bent over her iPad again. “Speaking of that, she has a monster appearance this morning. God, this girl takes on some heavy shit.”

  Luke’s heartbeat cranked up, and not in a good way. “What’s on the list?”

  Nat looked up. “Lizard Mulvaney’s bail hearing.”

  Luke froze, Allegra’s words from this morning replaying in his head.

  “There was a guy on a motorbike a while ago. He stopped to look at the place across the street.”

  Tom sat straighter in his chair. “What?”

  But Luke didn’t have time to explain. He grabbed his jacket off the wooden coat stand and headed for the door. “I need to get up there.”

  Tom glanced at his watch. “Court doesn’t sit for another hour and a half.”

  But Luke didn’t stop. “I’ll try and catch her before she goes in.”

  If Allegra was successful, Mulvaney’s release could piss off some very nasty people.

  Jesus!

  ***

  Her sixth sense tuning into the female stirrings in the room, Allegra knew, just knew Luke had entered Courtroom No. 3.

  Halting mid-sentence, her eyes scanned the gallery. Sure enough, he’d slipped into a seat five rows from the front, his stony expression giving her no clue why he’d come.

  “Ms. Greenwood, I thought women could multi-task.” The Judge’s sarcastic voice boomed from behind, making her jump. “Do you plan continuing this plea for bail?”

  Allegra turned to address the bench, glancing at police prosecutor, Jim O’Callaghan, who stood watching her with interest. O’Callaghan was an experienced prosecutor, and away from the Courtroom, a mate.

  “Your Honour, my client isn’t a flight risk,” she began, struggling to reboot her brain. Luke
wouldn’t be here without good reason. “He resides with his wife and children in the family home, which they own. He will surrender his passport if required.”

  “Your Honour!” O’Callaghan interrupted. “Whether Ms. Greenwood’s client owns property in this country is irrelevant. He is the president of a notorious Sydney bikie gang, the Southern Cross. It’s in the community’s interest to have him off the streets.”

  A contingent of Southern Cross members jeered from the upper left hand corner of the gallery while members of the Altar Boys, the rival bikie gang nodded and clapped.

  Allegra turned towards the heckling bikies, watching as two policemen from the increased contingent of duty officers, moved towards them.

  “Order!” The judge banged his gavel, took off his glasses and glared at the gallery. “I will have you removed from this court.”

  An uneasy silence fell over the crowd as Allegra turned towards the bench.

  “You can proceed, Ms. Greenwood,” ordered the Judge, voice laden with authority, eyes still on the gallery.

  “My client poses no threat whatsoever to the community, Your Honour.” Allegra raised her own voice in an effort to refocus the Judge’s attention on her. “He intends pleading not guilty to this charge.”

  O’Callaghan threw his hands in the air. “He’s been charged with serious assault and affray.”

  Allegra gave O’Callaghan a withering stare. His fake look of outrage was getting a little old.

  “Your Honour,” she went on, “we will prove my client acted in self-defence. In the meantime, he should be allowed to reside with his family. He’s been in custody for three days; nothing further can be gained by incarcerating him until the hearing.”

  “Your Honour,” argued O’Callaghan, “the turf war between these two gangs has escalated to the point where innocent members of the public could be caught in the crossfire.”

  For a few seconds the Judge wavered as he considered O’Callaghan’s argument. Then he turned and looked at her again.

  “This is a serious charge, Ms. Greenwood.”

  Allegra glanced at Mulvaney in the dock. Black handlebar moustache, greasy hair pulled back in a ratty ponytail, muscular arms sporting two full sleeves of tattoos, he wasn’t the sort of the person who harmed the general public. She knew, from past representations, that he loved his family, and was one hundred percent dedicated to his gang. He operated outside the law, and his beef was with the rival gang.

  “I respectfully agree, Your Honour, but I have no reason to believe my client will abscond. And he will require access to his legal advisers for the preparation of his defence.”

  O’Callaghan started to protest, but she cut him off. “And I’m sure I wouldn’t have to remind the Court, but with all due respect, Your Honour, my client is innocent until proven guilty, and there is a presumption in favour of granting him bail.”

  “I’m well aware of the law, Ms. Greenwood,” the judge said dryly, leaning back in his chair, “but thank you for the reminder.”

  Allegra’s heart pounded in her chest as the judge paused.

  “I’m going to grant bail under strict conditions.”

  There were stirrings amongst the crowd, murmurings and scuffling movements as the gallery shifted in their seats.

  “Bail is set at five hundred thousand dollars with the accused to report daily to the police station at Parramatta, at ten am. Also, the accused is to reside at 27 Cumberland Street, Harris Park, and must surrender his passport within twenty-four hours.”

  Allegra glanced at O’Callaghan, but he turned towards the prosecution table, lips drawn in a straight line, shaking his head with disapproval.

  The judge then addressed the two police officers standing either side of Mulvaney.

  “The accused is to be returned to the cells until the bail conditions have been met. Next matter.”

  Allegra gathered her files together and looked around for Luke, but his seat was vacant, and she couldn’t see him among the brotherhood of menacing bikies exiting the room. Perhaps he was waiting in the foyer.

  Eager to know what had brought him here, she slung her satchel over her shoulder and joined the throng of people filing out. Sliding her phone from her jacket pocket, she glanced at her messages. Three missed calls. All from Luke.

  Crap.

  “Got time for a sandwich, Allegra?” O’Callaghan asked from somewhere in the crowd of people behind her.

  Before she could reply, strong fingers wrapped around her upper arm and a deep voice spoke over the top of her head. “No she hasn’t.”

  Allegra looked up to see Luke towering over her, a ‘don’t argue with me’ expression on his face.

  She gave O’Callaghan an apologetic wave, and he waved back, eyes flickering over Luke.

  Pleased O’Callaghan hadn’t taken his defeat too hard, Allegra glanced at Luke as more people joined the throng and packed in around them. “I missed your calls. I was down in the cells. Is something wrong?”

  His fingers tightened on her arm and he didn’t answer her question. “You act for the Southern Cross?”

  Allegra glanced at the people around them. It was noisy and crowded, but the angry looking bikies behind them seemed more interested in what was happening up ahead.

  She leaned closer, taking advantage of the unexpected opportunity to study his profile from a different angle. Even with the scar, a tattoo life had given him without his consent, he really didn’t have a bad side.

  “Yes, they’re a major client.”

  He didn’t comment further, just shook his head, his face impassive.

  Narrowing her eyes, she bit back her annoyance at his silent judgment. “You don’t approve of my area of law, do you, Commander?”

  “Keep it real,” he muttered, a dark stain suffusing his neck. “I catch the bad guys and you go to Court and get them off.”

  Allegra sighed with frustration. Law students always asked why she chose defence law, and she always gave them the same answer. It was better that four guilty people go free, than for one innocent person to be imprisoned for a crime they didn’t commit.

  “I don’t see it that way,” she said, wondering why he was here and why they were arguing about their respective professions. “Justice is served when the prosecution proves, beyond reasonable doubt, the defendant is guilty. Overcoming and discrediting a strong defence, is still the best way of achieving that. This system saves innocent people going to prison, a thought I find abhorrent.”

  He turned and gave her an annoyed look. “Are you finished?”

  She arched an eyebrow at him. “Yes.”

  “Good.”

  The room tapered towards the double exit doors, and they were crushed closer together, her elbow pressing into the solid warmth of his torso, the outside of her leg rubbing against his thigh.

  “Sorry,” she muttered, going hot all over and wondering whether the proximity was having the same effect on him. She doubted it. He was still giving off one giant vibe of disapproval.

  Up this close, she caught a trace of his cologne, fresh, tropical, like sandalwood and cardamom. He might have gone all dominant male on her, but damn he smelled good.

  Then someone pushed her in the back and she almost dropped her files.

  “Take it easy,” Luke snarled at the people behind, grasping her shoulders and shifting her in front of him so she was shielded by his body.

  Taken aback, Allegra hugged the files to her chest. There was no denying it. Luke Neilson had a nice way with him, when he tried.

  “The police will be lucky to disperse this crowd before something erupts,” he muttered in her ear. “The bikies behind us are pushing their way forward. Check out this crowd, will you?”

  Allegra looked around, but it was impossible to concentrate with his hands warming her shoulders and his breath in her hair. He was so tall, his knees brushed against the backs of her thighs as the crowd moved forward, and she had to fight a sudden urge to press her bottom up against him, the musc
les in her lower body clenching deliciously.

  And you haven’t had sex in like—forever.

  He stayed like that, creating a buffer with his body, until eventually they filed out through the double doors and into the comparatively less crowded foyer.

  Suddenly there was space around her, and Allegra could breathe. It was safer if he didn’t touch her, because he was temptation, just like the night on the terrace. Yes, Luke Neilson was like dessert to someone on a calorie-controlled diet.

  “Ms. Greenwood?” A reporter with grey hair thrust a microphone in her face. “About Mulvaney’s bail?”

  “Not now.” Luke brushed the reporter aside, his hand in the small of her back as he steered her into an interview room, muting the drone of numerous conversations as he closed the door behind them.

  Allegra put the files on the table and took a seat, watching as he pulled out a chair with an impatient scrape. “What’s happened, Luke?”

  He rested one elbow on the table, knuckles of his clenched hand barely touching his pursed lips, in a gesture she recognised. “You should have told me you act for the Southern Cross.”

  Allegra blinked, taken aback. “I didn’t think it was relevant.”

  Oh crap, that’s right. He decides what’s relevant.

  “So the rider outside your place at four thirty didn’t raise a red flag, even with Mulvaney’s bail hearing this morning?”

  Allegra considered the question. “No. Why would it? All my cases are bad, this one no more than the others.”

  “Mulvaney allegedly assaulted a member of the Altar Boys at Sydney Airport.”

  “I know that. It’s my case.”

  He continued as if she’d never spoken. “Between them, these gangs have bombed a clubhouse, shot up a tattoo parlour and even murdered a rival gang member up in Newcastle.”

  Allegra pressed her lips together, bristling at his high handed manner. Honestly, the man needed knocking down a peg or two. “What are you getting at?”

  “I think one of the Altar Boys put that newspaper in your mailbox.”

  Allegra caught her breath. She’d been expecting news of Chris Noble, not this. “No. You know the bikies’ beef is with each other. They don’t involve the general public.”