Hot Lawyers: The Lee Christine Collection

by Lee Christine

  ‘Don’t evade the question Laila. You’ve had pain, you’ve suffered.’ Evan zeroed in on her as if questioning a witness. ‘Will lost his life. They hung this on him. You lost your husband. You’re as entitled to compensation as anyone else.’

  ‘I know that.’ How had he managed to get so close to the heart of the matter so quickly? ‘I’m not interested in the money.’

  His eyebrows shot up. ‘Really?’

  Laila shook her head. ‘I don’t need it.’

  ‘You just said you did. You’re fighting for reasonable compensation for others, and yet you refuse it yourself. Why?’

  She didn’t have a legal answer to that. ‘Why does it matter? I told you this because I wanted your advice. As a sole practitioner, I don’t have a partner I can run these things by.’

  He lowered his voice a tone. ‘You don’t like the question.’

  Laila clenched her hands at her sides and said nothing.

  ‘Why Laila? I’m trying to understand why you are not a plaintiff in the action?’

  ‘Because I don’t deserve it.’ The words were out before she could stop them.

  He blinked, but he didn’t say anything, just waited for her to go on.

  ‘I was spared, Evan. My friend, Trudy…her husband, Eddie, is a shell of his former self. It’s the only way you can describe him. He’s totally dependent on her. Some nights, I dream Will survived. I see him, like Eddie, living every day wishing he was dead. When I wake up, the relief that he didn’t have to endure that — it makes me feel like a horrible person…’

  He came closer, and she breathed him in, his scent fresh and clean, like an ocean breeze.

  Laila stepped back. She’d been crawling around in blood and bone, or whatever fertilizer had been used in the park.

  ‘You’re not a horrible person.’ He reached out and rubbed the pad of his thumb across her cheek like he was wiping away a smudge of dirt. ‘None of us want to see a loved one suffer, and you knew him better than anyone. You know he would have hated living that way.’

  This was the understanding and support she’d never had from her parents. Coming from Evan, it gave her the courage to go on.

  ‘I’m thankful he doesn’t know the blame they’ve laid at his feet. I intend to fix this, Evan. I will not allow his memory to be tarnished — not if something else was the cause of that accident.’

  For the briefest moment Laila saw hurt in Evan’s grey eyes, and then just as quickly, it was gone. ‘You’re right. He doesn’t deserve it, and neither do his family.’

  His gaze shifted to the photograph on the mantelpiece. ‘I think Will would be very proud of his wife right now.’

  A lump rose in Laila’s throat. She loved this tall, dark, handsome man standing in front of her, just as she still loved her husband.

  It was that simple, and that complicated.

  ‘You’ve done a massive amount of work on this. Maybe it’s got to a stage where you need some help. Let me talk to a few people. We have extensive connections at Poole Greenwood.’

  Laila hesitated. The earliest she could lodge the class action was Monday. What harm would it do for Evan to make a few enquiries over the weekend? It would be silly to refuse his help because of a misplaced sense of pride.

  She nodded. ‘Okay.’

  Right then Dickson tapped on the door. ‘If you guys are finished, I’d like to take Laila down to the station.’

  Laila glanced at Evan. ‘I think we’re just about done.’

  ‘Anything show up at the park?’ Evan asked.

  ‘No sign of anyone. The boys will be there for a while yet.’ He pointed an index finger at Evan. ‘Are you staying over? If not, I was going to suggest she stay at a friend’s place tonight.’

  ‘Excuse me, I’m right here.’ Laila interjected, heat suffusing her face at the awkward position Dickson had put Evan in. She might look a mess, and she desperately needed a shower, but her brain still worked. ‘You can speak to me, detective.’

  Evan looked amused and Dickson had the good grace to look embarrassed. ‘Err, happily. I’m sorry, I thought…’

  ‘You thought right, detective.’ Without missing a beat, Evan’s arm came around her waist. ‘I’m taking Laila to my place tonight. She’ll feel more secure in my apartment.’

  Laila tried not to show her surprise as this time the detective looked squarely at her. ‘I don’t care where you go, as long as you’re with someone. I don’t want you on your own.’

  Feeling as if she had to make some kind of protest, Laila turned to Evan. Dickson had just sabotaged his weekend plans. ‘You don’t have to do this. I can stay with a girlfriend.’

  ‘No way.’ His arm tightened around her waist and his eyes flashed as if daring her to challenge him.

  ‘I’d prefer you stay with him.’ Dickson cocked his head in Evan’s direction, then held up his hands when she went to say something. ‘I have nothing against your girlfriends, but he’s a big unit. I know who I’d rather have beside me, if I were in your position.’

  ‘That’s settled then.’ Evan said with a finality that didn’t brook any argument. Not that Laila intended protesting further. He’d been great tonight, and she wouldn’t diminish him in front of Dickson by arguing. She’d made her point. And realistically, how much sleep would she get if she stayed in the house on her own?

  How much sleep will you get in his apartment?

  Shocked at the nervous excitement stirring in her belly at the possibility of spending another night with Evan, Laila swallowed hard. It had to be the euphoric high following her narrow escape that was making her feel this way. Or perhaps the adrenaline rush.

  Or the clarity that comes with having a gun rammed in your throat!

  Anticipation made Laila’s heart rate climb. She didn’t care, she loved him, and that was the most important thing. She’d come close to dying tonight, and in that wild rage she’d realised just how much she wanted to live.

  Now, cell by cell, her numb body stirred to life under Evan’s scrutiny. He was making her feel good, just as he always did, and as crazy as it was to be feeling this way after the horror attack, she wanted him, wanted more.

  Laila took a deep breath, drank in the sight of him as the flame inside her burned stronger. As far as she was concerned, the military, the Peytons — even the damn conflict of interest — could go to hell.

  Tonight was theirs.

  Chapter Twenty

  8.20 p.m. Thursday

  Evan shifted the Porsche down a gear, turned into Sussex Street and headed towards the King Street Wharf.

  Twenty minutes earlier, he’d left Laila with Dickson, with plans to meet back at the house in two hours. That left him about an hour to track down Allegra Greenwood. Understandably, she wasn’t answering her phone the Thursday night of a long weekend. But a quick call to her secretary, Josie, and he learned Allegra and Luke were at the Malaya Restaurant at the wharf.

  He pulled into a No Parking zone outside the restaurant, threw the car into park and killed the engine. On the curb, he did up his top button and straightened his tie. With luck, he wouldn’t need a jacket to get in. Laila still had his coat.

  For the first time since the fire, Evan remembered the jacket and sunglasses he’d left in her office. He smiled to himself. If he kept hanging out with Laila, he’d need to get fitted for some new suits.

  A blast of cool, filtered air greeted him as he opened the door and stepped inside. An elaborately designed black-and-white marble counter dwarfed the demure Asian woman standing behind it.

  ‘Good evening sir. Do you have a reservation?’

  ‘I don’t. My name’s Evan Barclay. I’m a lawyer at Poole Greenwood. There’s an urgent matter I need to discuss with my employer, Allegra Greenwood. I understand from her P.A. she’s dining here tonight.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I’m not at liberty…’

  ‘She’s not answering her phone,’ Evan continued on as if he hadn’t heard the objection. ‘She’s likely to be with he
r husband, Luke Neilson.’

  The woman hesitated, looked him up and down, then appeared to come to a decision. ‘Just a moment.’

  Evan held his breath as she consulted a leather-bound folder, running her index finger down the list of reservations. ‘There’s no booking for Greenwood. Was Neilson the other name you mentioned?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘There’s a booking for a Mr Neilson.’ The woman looked up. ‘May I have your business card?’

  ‘Certainly.’ Evan opened his wallet, pleased he’d left it in the console of his car and not in his jacket. He took out a card and handed it to the maître d’. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘I won’t be a moment.’

  The woman departed, and Evan looked around the impressive entrance. Wrought-iron wine racks reached to the ceiling and formed an attractive partition from the main dining area. Two enormous fish tanks stocked with lobsters and mud crabs, blissfully unaware of their imminent fate, graced another wall.

  Why hadn’t he brought Laila to places like this, been more open with her, more honest about his background? After all, he had a lot to be proud of. It was only his early life that shamed him. Even now, he could feel the hurtful stares, hear the callous comments of the town’s people.

  Look at the mother. What hope does the kid have?

  Evan dragged in a deep breath and cast aside the memories. Like an idiot, he’d convinced himself that keeping his relationship with Laila a secret would give her time to get to know him, the real him, before she had to learn about all the other stuff, like his mother abandoning him before he reached double figures.

  But he hadn’t used the time with Laila as he’d intended, and that was entirely his fault. He’d kept her at a distance, protecting himself, suspecting she was still in love with her husband, fearing he’d never measure up. One time, when she’d started telling him about her family, he’d changed the subject so quickly she’d never spoken of them again.

  Evan shoved his hands in his trouser pockets and shifted his weight impatiently. Across the restaurant, he could see the maître d’ speaking to Allegra.

  He blew out a relieved breath.

  One weekend.

  He had one weekend to fix everything, to bring Laila closer and come clean about those early years. Otherwise, she’d read about his background along with the rest of the country, when that bastard of a sports journalist released his biography.

  Not wanting to speculate on what juicy titbits the journo might have dug up, Evan watched the woman come towards him, Allegra’s taller figure behind her. He wished those people from that one-horse hole of a town could see him now, see the money he made, the apartment, the Porsche — the rewards of years of hard work.

  Still, none of that felt as good as knowing he’d proved them wrong. He hadn’t turned out to be the drain on society they all thought he’d grow up to be.

  And he didn’t thank God for that.

  He thanked George Peyton.

  Moments later, he was standing by a window table and shaking hands with Luke Neilson. At thirty-nine, the former SAS commander was of similar height to Evan, and still in serious shape. He was not the kind of guy you wanted to meet under the wrong circumstances, but the kind you wanted next to you in the trenches.

  ‘It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.’ Neilson smiled, the silver scar on his cheek moving a fraction. ‘I spent years admiring you from afar.’

  ‘Ah, thank you.’ Evan returned the smile, taking an instant liking to Allegra’s husband. ‘I can’t say working for your wife’s any easier than playing footy. She’s a hard task master.’

  Neilson laughed, and Evan winked at Allegra. Unlike many players, he wasn’t into reliving the glory days. He’d only ever played for the love of the game, and when the opportunity arose, he’d used it as a means of escape — a chance to use his brain instead of his brawn.

  ‘As you can see, Evan’s a bit of a charmer.’ Allegra smiled at both men, looking so relaxed she seemed like a different person. ‘It’s why I employed him. We need someone with a bit of savoire faire around the office.’

  Evan caught Allegra’s eye again. It seemed Poole Greenwood’s criminal partner wasn’t short on charm herself. They both knew she’d employed him because of his ability to pull a deal together. Plus, he had Duncan Peyton as a client. That guaranteed a certain number of billable hours per month.

  They sat, and Luke poured him a glass of red. Then he topped up Allegra’s glass, and finally his own.

  Evan lifted the large balloon glass in a toast, then took a sip of the smooth Shiraz. ‘Thank you for seeing me.’

  ‘What can I help you with?’ Luke asked.

  Evan broke the whole thing down, from Laila’s history with the military to how she’d established the Blackhawk Foundation and the work she did representing the army wives.

  ‘What an admirable woman,’ Allegra said when he paused to take another sip of wine. ‘No wonder you’re so proud of her.’

  Allegra’s comment took Evan by surprise, but then Luke was speaking and he had no time to dwell on it. ‘I remember the crash. I was out of the army by then.’

  ‘You still have ties with the military.’ Allegra put her hand on her husband’s leg and Evan’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. The perfumed steamroller was a different woman with her husband. Clearly, they were well matched.

  A long-forgotten emotion, which he recognised as envy, resurfaced and burned in Evan’s chest. Would Laila ever get over her husband? Would she ever be capable of loving another man the way she’d loved Will?

  Pushing the distracting thought aside, Evan told them everything he knew about the military’s finding in Will’s case, and the ongoing concerns of other pilots. He wrapped it up with the problems in Laila’s office, and the attack on her tonight.

  Allegra’s sharp intake of breath and Luke’s shocked expression told Evan they hadn’t been expecting anything as violent as what he’d just revealed.

  It was Allegra who spoke first. ‘Is she alright?’

  Evan nodded. ‘She’s at the police station looking through mug shots.’

  ‘She didn’t recognise the guy?’ asked Luke.

  ‘She thinks he could be the same guy they caught on CCTV the morning of the fire.’

  ‘And the second bloke?’

  ‘She might have seen him. She can’t remember where though.’

  Then, because he wanted them to know she was more than a friend, more than an associate, he added. ‘She’ll be staying with me until this is sorted.’

  Luke and Allegra glanced at each other, and some kind of silent exchange passed between them. According to office gossip, the couple had met when she’d engaged Neilson to track down a stalker.

  Allegra rotated her wine glass, the stem clasped between long, slender fingers. ‘Laila’s the lawyer on the other side of the Peyton case, isn’t she?’

  ‘Yes. We’re professional. We don’t speak about it.’

  To his surprise, Allegra seemed to accept what he said without reservation. ‘We have a similar problem. Luke took an oath of silence never to speak about the black ops he was involved in during his time with the SAS. Despite my late brother being under his command in Afghanistan, Luke can’t speak freely about anything that happened during that time.’

  ‘That must be difficult.’ Inwardly, Evan welcomed Allegra’s revelation. It reinforced what he’d believed all along. If he and Laila cared enough, they should be able to function as a couple despite the conflict of interest brought about by the Peyton case.

  ‘It’s difficult, but not impossible,’ added Luke. ‘Let’s just say, it requires a certain amount of — discipline.’

  Luke and Allegra exchanged amused glances, and right then Evan wondered if he’d ever be able to look at his ice-cool boss the same way.

  ‘I can take a trip out to the base tomorrow if you like.’ Luke offered. ‘I’ll ruffle a few feathers. See if anything comes of it.’

  Evan smiled. This is what he’d be
en hoping for. A plan of action he could take back to Laila.

  ‘I appreciate the offer, Luke. I’m trying to help, but I don’t want Laila to think I’m trying to take over.’ He’d already won the battle to get her to stay at his apartment. Maybe he shouldn’t be pushing his luck this far. ‘Can I run this past her and get back to you?’

  ‘Absolutely.’ Luke reached into his shirt pocket and slid a business card across the table. ‘If she wants me to get involved, you can reach me on that number.’

  Evan slipped the card into his shirt pocket, took one final sip of wine and got to his feet. ‘I’ll leave you to eat your dinner in peace.’

  ‘Thanks for everything.’ He shook hands with Allegra first, then Luke. ‘Thanks for the wine. I’ll be in touch.’

  Five minutes later, he was gunning the Porsche up the hill towards the Sydney Observatory, his mind racing faster than the car.

  If Laila lodged the suit on Monday, and Neilson put the military on notice, they’d have a good chance of keeping her safe.

  Dickson Cross didn’t want her alone tonight.

  That spoke volumes.

  Did Cross think there was a chance Holt would try again?

  The bikie had failed tonight, his attempt thwarted by a person unknown. What were his instructions? To go until the job was completed?

  And who did he work for?

  The Porsche’s engine growled as Evan shifted down the gears and stopped at a red light in York Street. Laila suspected the military, but he couldn’t see the military working with someone like John Holt. And who was the second guy — an innocent passer-by with his own reasons for avoiding the police?

  A nauseous feeling settled like a stone in the pit of Evan’s stomach.

  Who’s this lady lawyer?

  George Peyton might play hardball when it came to business, but attempted murder? That was an entirely different animal.

  No way! No way could the family he knew and loved be involved in something as sinister as this.

  The light turned green, and Evan threw the car into first and accelerated through the intersection.

  It had to be the military. It had to be.

  Because the only other explanation was too odious to even think about. That the threat on Laila’s life was linked to him.