“Historically, that’s been the case.” He leaned forward and spread his palms on the table. “But things are changing. Just think about it for a minute, Ally.”
She didn’t want to think about it. She wanted to concentrate on her job—a job she desperately needed to keep. And why was he calling her Ally? He’d used it this morning, and no-one apart from Martin had ever called her that.
He knew Martin, remember?
She glanced at the door. “Why would the Altar Boys scratch out my face, and how does that relate to Chris and the photographs?”
“It may not be related.” His eyes darkened to a slate grey, and she could see now he was more troubled than angry. “But the retaliatory strikes have grown more violent, and taking out the enemy’s lead counsel would be one hell of an effective strike.”
Allegra sat stunned, heartbeat echoing in her temples, a sudden nausea churning her stomach. Could he be right? Were the Altar Boys mounting a scare campaign, hoping she’d crack under the pressure and withdraw, leaving someone else to handle the case?
“It’s only a theory at this point,” Luke said quietly. “And a few things don’t add up, I’ll admit. I can see them defacing the photograph in the paper, but the message containing the Kanye lyrics doesn’t fit at all. In any case, you should be aware of it.”
Allegra swallowed and steadied herself, using every tool she possessed to hide how this new information rattled her. Were these incidents related? Or did she now have two separate problems?
“Okay, you’ve made me aware. What do you suggest we do about it?”
Oh shit, why did it sound like she was talking about something else?
Before he could answer, she pushed back her chair and stood up. “On second thoughts I don’t have the time. I’m an officer of this court with a job to do and a client in the cells. I should be down there with him now.”
He looked straight at her, and something passed between them, an undercurrent, a buzz, a goddamn awareness, just like before.
He leaned back in his chair, eyes narrowed to slits of chrome. “He’ll be there for a while yet. It takes time to organise half a million bucks.”
He was right, but she gathered up her files anyway. “I understand what you’re saying, but I swore to devote myself to my client’s legal needs. During work hours, that has to remain my first priority.”
“I appreciate that.” He got to his feet and came around the table to stand stiffly beside her.
The SAS commander.
Seriously pissed off.
To his credit, he didn’t say any more, just shoved his hands in his pockets and watched her leave.
Allegra closed the door with a quiet click, the beginnings of a headache behind her eyes. A coffee from the cart in the corner would help.
“Ms. Greenwood?”
Allegra heaved a deep sigh and turned, expecting one of her clients, or the grey-haired reporter who seemed to live at the court house. But it was the young clerk of the court.
“A delivery came for you.”
Allegra frowned. Josie hadn’t left a message telling her documents were coming. Why would her P.A. ignore standard procedure? She reached for the envelope and her hand froze in mid-air.
The envelope looked horribly familiar.
Her legs threatening to fold, she turned her back on the confused clerk, looking for Luke as he followed her out of the interview room.
“Luke.” She managed to push the sound past the contracted muscles in her throat. She didn’t care he’d been pissed off. She needed him. Despite the fact she’d just told him her client’s interests took precedence over her own, she needed him now.
“Luke.”
Chapter Five
Luke took one look at Allegra’s crestfallen face and cut his way through the busy foyer. Something was very wrong.
“What is it?” He pressed his hand into the small of her back to steady her.
She didn’t say anything, just tilted her head at the bemused clerk standing beside her. In his hand was an old envelope.
Luke stared at the familiar scrawl. Shit!
“Who gave you this?”
The clerk thrust the envelope at him if it might contain biological warfare. “A bike courier said it was for Ms. Greenwood.”
Tightening his hold on Allegra, Luke scanned the immediate vicinity. Delivering it to the court house was an overt display of arrogance—a message he could get to her even in a crowd of people. He scanned the foyer, searching for the high vis lycra uniforms synonymous with couriers.
“How long?” he demanded, glancing at Allegra’s ashen face.
Flustered, the clerk shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “A few minutes ago.”
Resisting the urge to stay with her, Luke eyeballed the young man and propelled Allegra towards him. “Accompany Ms. Greenwood to the cells. I’m taking a look around.”
Gripping the envelope, he turned and threaded his way through the sea of people. The crowd had swelled, and when he emerged at the top of the court house steps, it became apparent why. Mulvaney’s imminent release had tensions between the gangs running high, with an undermanned police force trying to disband a large contingent of bikies from both gangs.
Motorcycles revved, police lights flashed and media teams jostled for the best position to obtain footage. The traffic was at a standstill, all sensible members of the public having left the area or retreated inside the court house.
Luke scanned the congested street, hoping the courier had stuck around to witness the melee. He ran lightly down the steps, wishing he could peel off the Harley jacket. A bike enthusiast, it would be bad news to be mistaken for a gang member, but with the holster strapped on, he didn’t have a choice.
Desperate for a description of the guy sending the packets, Luke slipped through the crowd, searching for the courier and any suspicious bystanders. Was he here, hoping to witness Allegra’s reaction to whatever fucked up message he’d left this time?
Not if he were known to her.
He spent the next fifteen minutes mingling with the crowd, committing certain faces to memory, before ascending the steps to the court house. Halfway up, he passed O’Callaghan, the prosecutor eager to share lunch with Allegra, despite her trouncing him in Court. Was he one of the ‘learned colleagues’ she was occasionally seen with?
There was a loud cheer and he looked up to see a triumphant Mulvaney emerging from the court house. The chapter leader came to a halt about ten steps above him, watching the mayhem below.
And next to him was Allegra, fending off questions from the grey-haired reporter.
Luke watched, his mind scrolling through Mulvaney’s suspected links to organised crime. Someone must have wired in the half million for him to be out this quickly.
A motorcycle revved from the street, and he turned to see one of the Altar Boys mount the footpath, petrol fumes billowing from the bike’s exhaust. Those in close proximity scattered, while the remaining crowd pressed forward, craning their necks for a better view.
Was the rider drawing attention to himself?
Or creating a distraction?
Luke’s heart boomed in his chest and his gut clenched tightly as the police converged on the bikie. Unable to shake the feeling something big was going down, Luke turned in the other direction, searching for anyone not looking at the revving bike.
Then a glint of metal flashed in the sunlight—and he knew. All at once he was back in Afghanistan, only the decoy wasn’t some innocent child with a herd of goats used by the Taliban, but a bikie in a leather vest.
Adrenaline dumped into his system, and everything turned to slow motion. He charged up the steps to Allegra, roaring her name, anxiety cranked to the limit. She turned, took one look at his face and stepped towards him, the same instant a gunshot exploded in the air around them.
He yanked her against his chest, muffling her scream and turning his back on the shower of debris caused by the bullet hitting the sandstone wall.
She clutched at him, eyes wide with fear as he wrapped an arm around her slender waist and turned her back inside. Careful not to lose his grip on her, or the explosive contents concealed inside the envelope, Luke ploughed through a sea of stunned faces towards the small interview room in the back corner.
Mercifully, it was empty.
Heart drumming in his chest, ears ringing from the gun shot, he locked the door, switched off the fluorescents and pulled down the blinds.
Then he went to Allegra, dropping the envelope on the table and reaching out to take her chin in a gentle grasp. “You’ve been hit by debris.”
Angling her face towards the window for a better light, he brushed her silky hair away from the graze above her eyebrow.
She lifted shocked eyes to his. “It’s numb.”
He slid his other hand into her hair, holding it away from her face, a dark anger burning inside him. The area was already starting to bruise.
She flinched as he pressed the pad of his thumb around the wound. “Sorry. I’m checking for a fracture. There’s not a lot of flesh in this area.”
“How did you read that situation?” she asked, mouth trembling.
Luke fought the urge to slide his thumb over her full, pink lips. It was the same damn compulsion he’d suffered the night he’d kissed her, and it made him angry he couldn’t pass it off as a once off stuff up anymore.
“Years spent looking for an ambush.”
“Thank you.” Her voice was low, the gratitude genuine. “You probably saved my life.”
Her appreciation sent a rush of satisfaction through him. Hell. The endorphins from the near miss were playing havoc with his brain. “All part of the service, counsellor.”
Releasing her chin, he stepped back. “That’ll heal up. Are you hit anywhere else?”
She shook her head. “No—you?”
“No.” He took out his phone, punching in the quick code for his office. Nat picked up on the second ring.
“Luke, are you all right? It’s coming up all over the net.”
“We’re fine. Give me the low down.”
“Word is there’s a price on Mulvaney’s head.”
For the first time in hours, Luke breathed a little easier. “That’ll take the heat off Allegra.”
There was a moment’s silence before Nat replied. “You think the shot was meant for her?”
“I don’t know, but I’m not taking any chances.” He told her about the bike rider Allegra had seen in the early hours.
“No wonder you bolted from the meeting. They’re talking about closing the court.”
“Good.” He watched Allegra sink into a chair, worry turning the hue of her eyes a stormy shade of indigo. He’d feel a whole lot better if she was in her office. “Keep me updated.”
“Before you go, Tom’s got something big.”
Luke inhaled sharply, every nerve in his body jerking to attention. “Put him on.”
He listened as Nat handed over the phone.
“Luke? I found Noble.”
“Where?”
“Rockwood Cemetery, London.”
Agitated voices filtered in from the foyer, and out on the street someone was talking through a loud speaker. But Luke blocked it out, conscious only of Allegra’s gaze on him as he processed Tom’s words.
“Tell me.”
“His real surname was Bainbridge, Noble his mother’s maiden name. Second son of Earl Alistair Bainbridge, a member of the British House of Lords, Allegra met him when he was out here on a student visa. According to his brother, he wanted to fly under the radar at the time, wasn’t keen on his privileged upbringing following him around.”
Thrown by the unexpected development, Luke stroked a thumb across the scar on his cheek. “What happened?”
“He returned to Australia six weeks ago, around Anzac Day. Died in Papua New Guinea while walking the Kokoda Track.”
Luke frowned. The Kokoda Track. Strange how old battlefields and war sites always became tourist attractions. Pearl Harbour, Anzac Cove, Hiroshima’s A-bomb dome. Would tourists one day climb through caves in the Afghan hills the way they crawled through the Viet Cong tunnels near Saigon today? Most likely they would.
Pushing that disquieting thought aside, he pressed on. “What about his camera stuff?”
“His brother thinks he sold all the equipment years ago. But he’s looking into it again for me.”
“Good work. Keep me in the loop.”
Luke hit End Call and pocketed the phone. When he looked up, Allegra’s eyes were two huge pools in her ashen face.
“What?” she said.
Luke picked up the envelope. “First, we deal with this.”
Perching on a corner of the table, he pinched the wings of the butterfly clip together and opened the flap. Carefully, he shook out a single sheet of paper.
He heard Allegra’s sharp intake of breath as she shifted in her chair. It was another naked photograph. Underneath the picture, were the printed words ‘PAY ATTENTION…or kiss your career goodbye’.
Angry capitals.
No lyrics.
No demand for cash.
He looked up to see Allegra, elbow propped on the desk, a hand shielding her eyes.
Luke spun a chair around, straddled it and sat down so he was facing her. Reaching out, he closed a hand around her wrist, gently pulling it away from her eyes.
“Hey—look at me.”
He watched her skin flush a dusky pink as he turned the photograph face down. The last thing she needed was him staring at another naked image of her.
“There’s a price on Mulvaney’s head. The bullet could have been meant for him.”
She nodded, embarrassed eyes meeting his.
“There are people who want him dead, but you’re the one receiving the threats, and my only concern is you. After three communications, there’s still no demand for cash. I’m worried. It doesn’t fit the profile of an extortionist.”
She nodded again, her pulse fluttering beneath his fingers. “I trust your judgment. Do whatever’s necessary.”
Luke released her hand, his stomach clenching. His judgment had got her brother killed. And if she found out? What then?
Worried at the thought of discovery, he took a deep breath and pushed on, certain she wasn’t going to like this next bit. “From now on, we’re an item. When things settle down here, I’ll take you back to your office, and tonight you’ll meet me at six. Greet me as you would a lover. If he’s watching, he’ll realise you’re not alone, and he’ll be forced to change his game plan. It’ll buy us valuable time.”
He held his breath and watched her mouth fall open, dusky pink skin turning a dull shade of red. The urge to tease her, to see her smile again, was strong, but he pressed on before she had time to object.
“I know it’s awkward, but it’s logical to explain me away as your boyfriend, especially to neighbours and co-workers. Our ages match up. I’m thirty-six, you’re late twenties. It gives me a legitimate reason to be around you all the time.”
She gave a slow blink and got to her feet, wrapping her arms around her middle as she moved to the window and stood with her back to him, looking out.
“You want me to play a part?”
Did he? “Yes.”
She turned around, uncertainty clouding her eyes. “I’m not an actress, Luke.”
“Yes—you are.” He stood, swivelled the chair around and pushed it underneath the table. “I saw you in that courtroom today.”
She drew herself up to her full height, her eyes searching his face. He moved closer, taking a gamble, laying down the challenge. “That’s not the real you.”
His gamble paid off. Her eyes narrowed and she tossed her head and glared at him. “It’s one side of me.”
“So draw on that ability,” he said, pleased to see her inner spark revive. “Apart from when you’re in the office, everywhere you go, I go.” He inclined his head towards the door. “Court personnel won’t question my prese
nce now this has happened, but there will be times when I can’t be with you. Then you’ll have my back-up, Nat. Do you have spare blankets and pillows at the apartment?”
She looked totally thrown by the question, two lines creasing the middle of her forehead. “Yes. Why?”
“Because Chris Noble’s dead, and you need more than an investigator, you need a bodyguard.”
***
Late that afternoon Allegra sat at her desk, squinting at the affidavit she was attempting to read. She hadn’t eaten all day, and the bruise on her forehead was aching.
The print swam on the page, and she closed her eyes and rested her head against the back of the chair. In her mind’s eye, she saw the printed image slide from the envelope, its obscene message scrawled at the bottom of the page.
PAY ATTENTION…or kiss your career goodbye.
Pay attention to what—to whom?
Allegra opened her eyes and checked her watch for the umpteenth time. Almost six. She stood up and turned off the lights with a shaking hand.
Time to meet her ‘lover’.
“I’m heading home, Josie,” she said, walking into the general office area. Even at this time, Grace and Poole was a hive of activity. The corporate section never closed, the night shift aligning their workday with the Northern Hemisphere, and the constant need to prepare court documents meant the criminal division often worked late as well.
Her P.A. lifted the transcription plugs from underneath her curly brown hair. “Night Al, see you tomorrow.”
In the outer office the elevator doors sighed open, and she stepped inside. Jabbing the button for Ground, she closed her eyes against the descending numbers, a light show in red that compounded her headache.
The computerised voice announced, ‘Ground Level’ and she stepped into the modernistic steel and glass foyer, stilettos tapping out a staccato rhythm on the marble tiles. Housing the US Consulate, the building was considered a terrorist target, its top line security the only reason Luke was satisfied leaving her at work.
Her heartbeat changed rhythm as she caught sight of him across the lobby. He’d changed into black jeans and a long-sleeved black ribbed shirt. The fine knit clung to the outline of his body, a perfect contrast to his fair hair.
Hot Lawyers: The Lee Christine Collection Page 6
