Lodging the phone between my shoulder and ear, I wrapped my arms around myself and tried to keep my teeth from chattering. “I left my headlights on. The battery’s nearly drained. After what happened in the bar, giving me a ride home would make us even.”
“What if he offers to jump you and the car starts?”
“Then I’ll show him how there’s a short in the wiring. Driving is a safety hazard.”
“Sounds a little too desperate.”
Pissed off and freezing, with the completion of the most difficult task on my list slipping away, I snapped. “Fine. Since you’re the expert. Short of kidnapping—”
“There’s a thought.”
“No.”
Andrea breathed deep on the other end of the line. I could almost hear the gears of her jaded-from-watching-way-too-many-cop-shows mind grind.
“Blackmail,” she said. “It’s sexy. And it’s perfect.”
My jaw dropped. “How? With what? And no.”
“Sorry, Peaches, you should’ve rolled him in a rug and carried him to the car while he was knocked out. You blew your only other option.”
“You have absolutely lost your mind.”
“If he doesn’t go with you to the cabin, threaten to call the cops.”
“He didn’t hurt me, Andrea. It was an honest mistake.”
She went on like she hadn’t even heard me. “Too bad there aren’t any marks on you. You sure you didn’t chip a nail?”
I looked down at my fingers. The tips practically gnawed to the bone.
“Ahh-hah!” Andrea said. “You said he did rip your shirt.”
It was weak, but I couldn’t deny it.
There’s your leverage.”
“He thought I was someone else.”
“Tell it to the judge, which in this case will be the one of public opinion.”
“How do I explain to the cops the fact that I patched Adam Holder’s wounds before I called them? That’s not something someone who’s afraid for their safety would do.”
“It’ll never come to that. The threat will scare him into submission and you’ll have one more box checked. You’ll do your final trek on the Inca Trail in the spring, release Rebecca’s ashes, then finish your last year of residency come August, before your parents lose patience and disinherit you.”
“It will never work. Why are we even talking about it?”
“Because your bright idea is to seduce him—a man who—” Keys clacked on the other end of the line. “Okay, wait. I’ve got some interesting info. Listen to this article. Adam Holder, thirty-two years old, graduate of Georgetown Law, non-equity partner at Mailor, Locke, LLC, blah, blah, blah, the oldest and most prestigious law firm in Washington, D.C.” Andrea mumbled off some more words I couldn’t make out then abruptly stopped reading. “Oh for fuck’s sake, Grayson, he dated a princess. Like, long-term. They broke up right before the LaKendrick Smith case went to trial.”
I rolled my eyes heavenward. I already knew.
She went on. “According to this write-up, Mailor, Locke is known for having a very stringent partnership process. One call to the cops and his name is all over the scanner. Reporters will take it from there. My guess is bad press could lead to a financial cock block for Barrister Holder. Can you smell leverage?”
Still not buying it, I countered, “He’s a lawyer. There’s no such thing as bad press,”
Andrea kept reading, mumbling as she did so that I couldn’t make out most of her words. When she finished, she said, “It appears Mailor, Locke is a firm from the old guard. They get enough negative pub in the liberal media for who they represent, i.e. the Bernie Madoff’s of the world.”
“And the world’s favorite NFL star, LaKendrick Smith,” I added.
“Doesn’t matter. They want their lawyers above reproach. A situation like this doesn’t make for positive sound bites.”
“You said he’s the white Johnny Cochran of the twenty-first century. Cochran reportedly beat his first wife. Didn’t put a chink in his armor.”
“You’re looking at this all wrong, Grayson. It’s the threat of embarrassment. Of what could happen if. Of tarnishing the glow of the LaKendrick Smith verdict on the eve of his agent, Michael Gold’s trial. Holder’s entire defense of LaKen pointed to Gold. Holder’s the reason Gold was even arrested.”
“And what if he calls my bluff?”
“What if he doesn’t?”
Despite my earlier misgivings and because I didn’t have any other ideas, Andrea’s case was becoming more appealing. But I still didn’t like it.
“Not to rub salt in, but if you’d stayed in your residency program, you’d be a doctor by now, with access to a wide variety of drugs that could then be used to kidnap him.”
“Good ‘ole hindsight,” I said and thanked Andrea for the reminder.
Deferring my final year of residency had become a major bone of contention between my parents and me. They thought I’d been overreacting in my grief. But they’d never gotten me the way Rebecca had. She knew I never really wanted to be a doctor in the first place.
But I also didn’t want to be shackled with this damn bucket list either and the sooner I finished it and my sister went into the light, the sooner I could get on with my life. Whatever ‘getting on’ meant. And compared to blackmail, drugging an innocent guy—or knocking him over the head and kidnapping him—didn’t feel so wrong. I looked over at his SUV, double parked beside me. The getaway car was probably still warm.
With my best friend still hanging on the line, I opened my Jeep door and ran to the entry of the bar. Adam was behind the counter now, a thin white undershirt straining across his chest. The muscles in his arms bunched as he scrubbed blood from his dress shirt.
He looked up, catching me off guard as our eyes made contact. Then he smiled and waved, just like he’d done in the story Rebecca had told. My heart stopped and for the first time I felt the way she probably had years ago. Just a little bit in love.
“I can’t do it, Andrea,” I said, making up my mind as I watched him. “Not the way you suggest. It feels dirty and wrong. I’ll have to figure something else out.”
“Fine,” she said. “It’s your dead sister’s soul.”
I closed my eyes. That one was really low. “Yeah, well, I can’t say with certainty that finishing Becca’s bucket list is going to allow her to cross over to God knows where people cross over to, but I do know it’s not going to bring her back. So unless my dead sister can send me some sort of definitive sign, proving this isn’t some sort of elaborate circle jerk, I’m not about to stoop to threatening a decent man’s reputation.”
Chapter Four
Adam
Girl-not-Madi locked the door behind her when she re-entered the bar. Then she pulled her flannel shirt tightly around her and came to check my progress.
Her teeth chattered when she spoke. “I think it’s a lost cause.”
“You’re freezing.” I shut off the water and dropped the scrubber I’d found in the sink. Then I looked around for something to wrap her up in—a towel, her coat, anything. Finding nothing, I turned to her and opened my arms. “Come here.”
I couldn’t say I blamed her when she hesitated. I had copped an unwanted feel after all. But surely we were way past all that, especially since she’d opted to patch me up rather than call the authorities. Finally, holding her arms across her chest for added warmth, she came in close.
“My name’s Adam, by the way,” I said, rubbing my hands over her back and arms. “Seems odd we’ve been through so much and we don’t even know each other’s names.” She snuggled in closer, compelling me to just hold her tight. Her head rested over my heart.
The shivers and chatters lessened. “Grayson Montgomery.”
Wind rattled the windows as we stood there, warming her up. Time somehow seemed to slow. Her body grew loose and pliant. My hands rubbing her back inched upward, onto her shoulders. Her arms wrapped around me, too. Chilled hands grew warm as they explored.
I said her name, “Grayson,” wondering why the feel of her syllables on my tongue left me so completely spellbound.
“Mmmm.” The sound was deep and low in her throat, vibrating against my chest, sending signals square between my legs.
My fingers wound through her hair. Pulled so that her face lifted to me. When her lips parted, I tipped to my breaking point. There was no going back.
I had to kiss her.
Without hesitation, her mouth opened to me. And God, did she taste good. Like the perfect pairing of wine with a five-star meal, I held the notes of her flavor against my tongue, finding perfection in every swirl.
Her hands moved to my waist. They slid up my rib cage, over my chest and gripped my shoulders as I lifted her onto the prep counter beside the sink. Glasses behind her wobbled and clinked as she scooted back, widened her legs, and allowed me to step between.
Something about Grayson, whether it was the way she moved, the confident way she spoke, or that don’t-give-a-damn aura that seemed to surround her, turned me on like nothing I’d experienced before. Everything in me wanted to not stop, to take this as far as she’d let me. And I sensed she’d see it through to the end.
But I’d been reckless too much, throwing around money like confetti, frequenting trendy clubs, always leaving with the most beautiful woman there. That’s when Allan Stovall, the man who’d been my supervising partner, at Mailor, Locke began to not so gently nudge me in the right direction. Reminding me that playing the part of good-time-guy might allow the wealthy elite clients I was trying to win to the firm live vicariously, it didn’t inspire their trust. Allan had hired me because he saw my potential. Saw that when focused, I could pull off the impossible. So he and the rest of the partners agreed to up the stakes and offered me a limited partnership, making sure I stayed motivated.
Allan showed me what security looked like. Of what my future could be if I traded in drinks at the bars for networking at sophisticated cocktail parties. If I dated this woman instead of that one. If my baby sister, who I’d been guardian of since my mother could no longer take care of her, went to the most prestigious of boarding schools. Allan had even made a call and gotten her in when her application was denied. Where I lived, the kind of car I drove, the suits I wore, they were all part of a Mailor, Locke image I was expected to uphold. In return, I was gaining connections and building wealth beyond anything I could’ve imagine. And for the first time in her life, my sister was happy and stable and at seventeen, looking forward to Ivy League college—something that never would’ve happened had it not been for the connections I’d made at the firm.
So here I stood, almost there. On the cusp of having a true stake in the Mailor, Locke game. Building a legacy. Only climbing that last rung and becoming a full equity partner would finally bring lasting security—all the things I hadn’t known existed until I’d been shown. The reigning MVP of the NFL might not have been the firm’s typical client, but after the successful conclusion of LaKendrick’s trial, becoming the youngest full-stakes partner in firm history was now only a matter of formality. I just had to hold on until next month’s retreat to make it official.
Grayson sighed and changed the angle of the kiss, making a damn good case for blowing it all. But even though Grayson Montgomery was every man’s dream, if the other partners saw me now it would put a dent in all my best laid plans.
Hooking up with a beautiful barmaid was a fine fantasy. But I’d been under constant media scrutiny for the better part of a year. The only end in sight being the conclusion of the Michael Gold trial, LaKendrick’s agent and business partner. After a national tabloid captured footage of me with LaKen at his private North Carolina compound, sitting in an artist’s chair getting inked, I’d learned the hard way that nowhere was sacred. Not even a vacant bar in my hometown during a snowstorm.
Reluctantly, I pulled away. My eyes opened. As if to confirm my gut was right, my gaze locked on the security cameras placed at various locations within my peripheral. At the same time, Grayson’s hands found their way under my shirt. Fingers traced their way up my rib cage then came around to play against my stomach.
Bending her over a dark storage room stool sincerely crossed my mind.
Her teeth nipped at my earlobe. “You’re wound tighter than an eight-day clock,” she said softly against my ear.
Lacing my fingers with hers, I stepped back just enough to regain some composure and look her in the eyes.
“What’s wrong?” she said.
Inadvertently, my gaze returned to one of the cameras.
Her eyes followed mine. “Oh. Yeah, those are kind of…” She stopped. Thoughts I couldn’t read crossed over her features. Then she said, “Come with me. I have a cabin we can go to. If we leave now—”
But it was too late. That little gut-kick thing happened. The one that told me when a witness was either covering something up or outright lying. As I watched her search my face, I knew the truth.
Our fingers unlaced. My eyes narrowed. “How long have you known who I am?”
Her chin slowly set. The fierce attitude from earlier returned. “Fight or flight pretty much blurred my vision at first.” Grayson slid from the counter and my brain nearly short-circuited at the intimate way her body skimmed against mine. “You didn’t lock your car doors. I saw the rental receipt with your name, sitting on the passenger seat.”
Though I couldn’t deny the attraction I felt for her, the way she’d gone from hot to cold left me wondering if I’d misjudged her intentions. Time to ferret out what she was really after.
I took another step away. “I don’t hook up with groupies. And I don’t play games.”
Her chin dropped. “You think I’m a…” she trailed, like she couldn’t bring herself to say such a vile word. “Look, you’re hot as all hell, but I hate to break it to you. You’re no Chris Hemsworth.”
Which had absolutely nothing to do with anything, except maybe whatever was happening in her mind.
My bullshit barometer threatened to explode.
I came in close this time and anchored my hands on the concrete counter on either side of her, putting us at eye level. “Cut it.”
Grayson chewed her bottom lip in a way that shouldn’t have been sexy, but it was. “Okay,” she said. “I’m going to be honest with you.”
Maybe now we would get somewhere. I straightened slowly.
“Look, I know what it looks like, but this isn’t about a hook-up.” She scrubbed her hands over her face and took a deep breath. “I need you to come to Swiss Mountain with me.”
No way was that happening. I was already in deep shit with my family—not being here for Rosie after her heart attack, at least for as long as everyone else thought I should’ve been. Blowing my cousin Blake off when he’d called last month, needing my advice in ferreting out whoever had been stealing from him and his company. And then there was my cousin Ty, who’d been shot for Christ’s sake. Thanks to a loaner jet I’d been able to fly in, laying eyes on him to make sure he was okay, then fly back to D.C. before the judge ended recess. Only Ty’s brother, Knox, understood the true depth of what I’d been dealing with. But that was because he and LaKen were friends and former teammates. So no, as much as I wanted to follow Grayson into the mountains, it wasn’t happening tonight.
“I know Swiss Mountain,” I said. “Once we get up there, we’ll be stuck until the roads are cleared.
“That’s kind of the point,” she said under her breath.
“Why?” I asked.
Her face flamed. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you why. But let’s just say that I need you to come with me. And I’ll do just about anything to make sure you do.”
My brows rose. Anything? Now that was an interesting proclamation. And one I wished I had time to explore. But it was my turn with the baton at the reconstruction project that was Grandma Rosie’s turn-of-the-century family home. And to clean up the mess I’d surely discover my jackass cousins had made. Heaven for
bid a single one of those fools measured twice and cut once. I’d offered to hire the best architect in Fort Collins to raze the property and build from scratch, but Grandma would have none of that either.
I reached around Grayson to grab my shirt, intent on getting to Grandma’s before the roads became dangerous. My arm nudged one of the already off-balanced glasses. It fell over on the counter, rolled, dropped, and then shattered on the floor.
“Dammit,” I hissed.
Grayson and I bent at the same time. “It’s okay,” she said.
I began picking up the larger chunks while she reached for a dustpan and sweeper. When I looked over at her, I noticed her face had turned ashen. Over what, I couldn’t see. Then she pulled out a stack of travel guides from under the counter. The top brochure was titled Backpacking Europe. When she lifted the brochure, flower petals scattered across the floor.
Her eyes welled. “Oh my God.”
One thing was becoming clear. Grayson Montgomery might be just a little bit nuts.
Chapter Five
Grayson
There it was.
The sign I’d been looking for.
The Backpacking Europe brochure could’ve been chalked up to coincidence if I were feeling stubborn, but the flower petals? They were Becca’s sign.
Game fucking on.
Though I still didn’t know exactly where Rebecca’s soul was, what I did know was that I was her lone get-out-of-jail-free card. No freaking pressure.
Adam placed a hand on my knee. “Grayson, you okay?”
The look in his eyes, the kindness I saw in his face, right here in this second he was the same Adam from her stories. Not the formidable, loose-cannon attorney I’d seen give interviews on CNN and Larry King Live. Not the same guy who’d basically accused me of being a groupie.
Gross.
Even when we’d kissed, I’d felt how tightly wound Adam was, loosening only as his control slipped. But he’d regained that soon enough, distancing himself from me. Shooting down my mission of seduction, causing me to fail my sister all over again.
Blackmail & Lace Page 3
