DEFENDING TIERNY (Gray Wolf Security, Texas Book 1)

by Glenna Sinclair

  I glanced behind me, catching Alexander’s eye briefly. He was standing at the back of the courtroom as he had the first time I saw him.

  We hadn’t talked about last night. I woke late, rushing off to the shower before he woke and then rushing out the door, not really stopping to give him a chance to say anything. And then I didn’t know what to say. What do you say to the man who gave you—reluctantly—insight into the darkness in your life? To the man who relieved you of your virginity after such a long, almost painful, wait for that moment?

  I couldn’t help but wonder what he thought when he realized I hadn’t been with anyone else. I expected him to kick me out of his bed and tell me to grow up. But he was so gentle…so perfect. It was well worth the wait.

  I didn’t wait this long to have sex because I thought there was some magical ‘one’ out there waiting for me. I waited because I simply hadn’t found anyone I wanted enough to allow that moment to take place.

  Alexander was different. He made all that tension that came into my body when a man even looked sideways at me go away. My bones melted when he touched me, my muscles relaxing like his touch had some sort of magical property to it.

  I don’t know what it was, but it seemed like every time I got close to a man, I just stiffened up and couldn’t relax—no matter how hard I tried. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that my biological father was around only when he felt like it. Or maybe it had something to do with the string of men that came and went from my mother’s life. I don’t know. But it wasn’t like that with Alexander.

  I was as much grateful for that fact as I was puzzled by it.

  The air around me shifted as they began leading the accused into the room. Brendan was up first, so he was the last escorted in. I watched as he came toward me, his wrists in cuffs. His parents weren’t present. That was an issue I’d discussed with them before, but they still didn’t seem to get the importance of showing up to these things. I smiled at him to try to reassure him, but he noticed his parents’ absence, too, and a dark cloud settled over his face.

  “Stand up straight,” I murmured to him, as the judge came out of his chambers.

  “Your honor,” the prosecutor began, “Mr. Harmon was on bond for breaking and entering when he was pulled over by the police for a broken headlight—”

  “A headlight the cops claimed to see in middle of the afternoon,” I interjected.

  “And they found two ounces of marijuana in his pocket.”

  “Can I ask the prosecution why the cops felt the need to pull my client out of his car for a simple traffic stop?”

  The judge looked at the prosecutor. “That’s a good question.”

  “He was refusing to cooperate, your honor. And he was acting belligerent.”

  “I was not!” Brendan announced.

  The judge’s eyes immediately narrowed. “Ms. Michaels, keep your client under control.”

  I glanced at Brendan, making a gesture that I hoped he understood. “Sorry, your honor.”

  “It was a routine traffic stop, your honor,” the prosecutor continued. “The cops would have likely let Mr. Harmon go with a warning if he had not become so belligerent. They had no idea what they would find on his person when they searched him.”

  “My client insists that the cops had no reason to pull him over. The headlight could not have been visible in the afternoon sun, and he was less than three yards from his private driveway when they pulled him over.”

  “The cops were simply doing their job,” the prosecutor insisted.

  “Perhaps. But the search was unnecessary.”

  “But drugs were found on his person, correct?” the judge asked.

  “Yes, your honor,” I was forced to admit.

  “Then I can’t reinstate his bond. That’s the law, Ms. Michaels.”

  “Your honor—”

  “Let it go, Ms. Michaels. Your client is hereby remanded to the county for trial.”

  “Is that it?” Brendan demanded, as the guard came over to take him back to the holding cell.

  “I’m sorry. But I told you it was a long shot.”

  “I can’t go back there, Tierney,” Brendan said, trying to grab my wrist with his cuffed hands. “I can’t!”

  I didn’t know what to say. He reached for me again even as the guard pulled on his arm, directing him back toward the door that led to the cells. He grabbed my wrist, twisting it slightly. But then Alexander was there, stepping between us, knocking Brendan’s hand away.

  “I’ll come see you later this afternoon and we’ll talk strategy,” I assured the boy, as he was led from the courtroom. He didn’t look reassured.

  “Thanks,” I said softly to Alexander as I turned to pack my satchel.

  “No problem.”

  ***

  I was curled up on the loveseat in my tiny office later that afternoon, going over the police report the prosecutor had sent over in Brendan’s case. It was the first chance I’d gotten to look at it. There was nothing procedurally wrong with it, nothing I could point to and say the cops got wrong. It looked like Brendan was caught honestly.

  He didn’t see it that way. But most of my clients never did.

  Alexander was sitting on the other end of the loveseat, that ever-present laptop on his lap. I found myself watching him, watching his fingers move over the keyboard, the way he frowned a little whenever he stopped to read whatever it was he was writing.

  “What do you do on that thing all day long?”

  He looked up at me, those dark eyes making me feel appreciated without him having to say a word.

  “Right now I’m writing a report for my boss that I should have written weeks ago.”

  “Hmmm, you’re one of those?”

  “One of what?”

  “Those guys who put off the hard stuff until the last possible second.”

  “Yeah, I guess I’m one of those.”

  I wanted to say something clever, something that would make him laugh, or at least give me one of those charming smiles. We still hadn’t talked about last night, and I felt like it was this huge elephant sitting between us. But he didn’t seem too interested in a conversation along those lines, and I didn’t know how to start one.

  I turned my attention back to Brendan’s police report.

  “There’s something not right about that kid,” Alexander suddenly said.

  “He’s just a spoiled rich kid.”

  “No, there’s something more than that. I was in boot camp with a guy like him. They ended up sending him home.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he threatened to kill our CO.”

  I set the report down and sat up, rubbing my eyes as I did. “He’s not a psychopath. He’s just a scared kid.”

  “The cops really think he kidnapped that little girl?”

  I nodded, turning my head to rest it on my hands while I studied his face. “The little girl disappeared just a couple of hours before his supposed breaking and entering. The cops think that he burglarized the neighbor’s house to distract from his real crime.”

  “Then he must have an accomplice or two.”

  “If he has the little girl? He’d almost have to. But from what his parents told me when they hired me, he doesn’t have any friends. He’s spent the last two years at a military boarding school back East.”

  “Why’d they send him there?”

  “Disciplinary issues at his private high school.”

  Alexander’s eyebrows rose, but he didn’t comment.

  “I know it sounds like he’s the kind of kid you’d expect to find in jail at some point. But kidnapping? I really think it’s a bit of a stretch.”

  “Do you think he committed the breaking and entering?”

  “Probably. But the cops don’t have enough evidence to convict.”

  “What about the drugs?”

  “He thinks the cop planted the drugs on him, but I’ve worked with this cop before. He’s generally pretty honest.” I dragged
my fingers over my hair. “Things don’t look good for Brendan. But I think he’s too busy hurting himself to hurt a little girl.”

  Alexander turned back to his report. “I’m just glad I’m not the one who has to put my reputation out there to protect him.”

  “I’m not protecting him. I’m defending him. There’s a difference.”

  “It’s a very thin line.”

  I got up as he began to type furiously on his computer again. I went to my desk and woke up my computer. I glanced at Alexander before pulling up the internet browser. I typed in Vanessa’s name, not really expecting anything. And I didn’t get anything. Then I typed in Alexander’s name, but nothing came up there either. So I went to the courthouse records and put in Vanessa’s name was directed to a file from the prosecutor’s office.

  As I began to read, I found myself shocked in a way a case hadn’t shocked me since I was an intern.

  The things that were done to Vanessa—it was a miracle she survived.

  When I came to the end of the file—thoroughly disgusted by the things the defense attorney did and said to defend his client—I found the name of the prosecutor. Elizabeth Wallace. I knew Liz. We’d worked multiple cases against each other, but that didn’t prevent us from forging a sort of the-girls-playing-the-old-boys’-club relationship.

  I emailed her. I wanted to know what was being done on this case.

  If there was something I could do for Alexander and his sister, I wanted to do it.

  I turned my attention to other work, lost in due process, the sounds Alexander was making from the loveseat reassuring. I could get used to working this way. I was nearly done, already thinking about going home and maybe—just maybe—curling up with Alexander on my couch when he suddenly jumped off the couch.

  “We need to go.”

  I looked up. “I’ll be done in about twenty minutes.”

  “No, we have to go now.”

  It wasn’t until then that I noticed he had his phone in his hand. A sinking feeling settled in my chest. Something was wrong.

  “What is it?”

  “The perimeter alarm at your apartment.”

  He didn’t elaborate, and I didn’t ask him to. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

  He came around my desk and grabbed my arm, helping me to my feet. He didn’t let go as we walked out of the office. I could feel Jeri’s eyes on us as he escorted me through the maze of cubicles that stood between the elevator and us. His phone buzzed again, and I felt the tension as his grip on my arm tightened.

  “This way.”

  He turned, rerouting us to the stairs.

  “What’s happening?”

  He didn’t answer. Instead, he pulled me into the stairwell and dialed someone on his phone. As we walked down the first three floors of the eight we had to go, he spoke to some nameless person.

  “We have a situation. Can you meet us at Parkway?”

  I had no idea what he was talking about.

  When he ended the call, he pulled me out of the stairwell and onto the fifth floor. We made our way to the elevator. I wanted to ask what was happening, but there were other people in the car, and when we got to the lobby, there dozens of people going about their daily lives. We took a side door into the parking garage, nearly running as we approached the SUV.

  I was seriously starting to panic. I didn’t understand what was happening, and he wasn’t talking to me.

  He pulled the SUV out into traffic so quickly the cars around us squealed their tires in an attempt to avoid hitting us. I looked back at the building just as several police cars pulled to a stop in front of it.

  “What is that?”

  “Silent alarm.”

  “For what?”

  He looked at me, his hands wrapped tight around the wheel. “They’re going to find a couple of vandals in your office.”

  “My office?”

  “And there should be another set of cruisers at your apartment where they’ll find a young woman vandalizing your living room.”

  “What? What are you talking about?”

  He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and handed it to me. A touch of his finger revealed the camera footage from my living room. Sure enough, a young woman was using a switchblade to rip open the cushions of my couch. As I watched, a uniformed cop came into the room with his gun drawn.

  “Why would someone break into my place?”

  “I’m guessing it has something to do with the threats you’ve been getting.”

  I couldn’t wrap my head around it. I’d never been the victim of a crime, yet here there were two crimes happening all at the same time.

  “Why?”

  He didn’t have an answer for that. Neither did I.

  He turned into a residential area—not far from my office building—and pulled into the driveway of a small house. Another SUV was already in the driveway.

  “What is this?”

  “It’s a safe house GWS 2 owns. I need you to stay here for a while, until we can figure out what’s going on.”

  “Alexander—?”

  “Another operative from Gray Wolf will stay with you.”

  “Where are you going?”

  I hated that there was panic in my voice. I didn’t want Alexander to think I was weak, that I scared as easily as all this. But someone just broke into my house, and the guy who was supposed to keep me safe was bailing on me. I felt a little weak.

  He reached over and took my hand. “I need to go talk to the police, find out what’s going on. I need to make sure you’re not still in danger.”

  “Can’t you send someone else?”

  “You’re going to be okay, Tierney.”

  He squeezed my hand and walked around the SUV, wrenching my door open. He looked all around before he reached in and took my hand again, helping me out. We walked quickly to the front door, which was opened as we approached it by a very beautiful, very leggy redhead. She had big green eyes and looked more suited to the pages of a magazine than security work.

  “Hey, Alex,” she said, moving aside to allow us to enter the house. “Having one of those days?”

  “Looks like it. Did you talk to David?”

  “He’s up-to-date.”

  The woman closed the front door and followed us into the living room. It was a nice house, really, bigger on the inside than it looked on the outside. The living room was sunken, requiring a step or two to get down into it. And it was comfortably furnished, though it was obvious that the couch and chairs were castoffs from some other home. They were dated even though they were in good condition.

  “Tierney, this is Knox Adams. She works with me at Gray Wolf.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Knox said with a little bit of a southern drawl underscoring her words.

  “You too.”

  Alexander turned to me, resting his hands on my shoulders. “I’ll be back in an hour or two. I’m just going to talk to the cops who responded to the apartment and see if I can find out what’s going on. Okay?”

  I inclined my head slightly. I wanted him to kiss me; I wanted the reassurance of his touch. And I thought I could see his desire for the same thing, but I couldn’t really trust my own perception of the whole thing. I’d never wanted a man to want me as much as I did now. And I’d never been in a situation where I wasn’t completely sure what his feelings were. But Alexander was so hard to read.

  “I’ll be back,” he said, squeezing my shoulders lightly.

  He turned and nodded to Knox before climbing those two steps in one quick stride. Knox watched him go as intensely as I did, not looking at me again until the sound of the front door slamming was echoing through the house.

  “He’s hot, isn’t he?” Knox said with a wink. “If I didn’t have a rule against hooking up with a guy more than once, I’d definitely jump on that train again and again.”

  I suddenly felt hot and cold all over. Was she suggesting that she’d slept with Alexander? How was I supposed to take that? Was I allowed
to be jealous? Or was I supposed to pat her on the back and tell I totally understood?

  I didn’t do either. I brushed past her and found the master bedroom. I needed a little space from all this bullshit.

  Chapter 11

  Alexander

  I’d almost forgotten that I was hanging out with Tierney day in and day out because she was in danger. There hadn’t been any more death threats since I was assigned the case, so a part of me was pretty sure it all been just some creep working out his anger. I didn’t honestly think that we’d run into anything more than what had already arrived. Even David had called me a few days ago and suggested that if nothing happened in the next week or so, we’d end the case.

  But now…

  I walked up to the breezeway outside Tierney’s apartment. The front door was open, splintered wood on the frame where the young woman had broken it open, and uniform cops standing around the kitchen and living room. The woman in question was on the couch, her hands cuffed behind her back.

  “Who are you?” a cop dressed in a cheap suit asked, as I walked in, undeterred by the uniforms.

  “Alexander Garcia. I’m with Gray Wolf Security.”

  “Yeah, I’ve heard of you guys,” the man said, his gray, watery eyes looking me over. “You guys were involved in that stalker case last month, right?”

  “That’s us.” It wasn’t me, exactly. That was Tony’s case, but it was GWS 2. “The lady who rents this apartment is a client of ours.”

  “Yeah, some sort of attorney, right?”

  “Yes. She’s with Simon, McKinney, and James.”

  The cop nodded, his eyes moving to the girl sitting on the couch. She couldn’t have been more than fifteen or sixteen, but I’d guess she’d already seen enough shit to fill a lifetime. There were dark shadows under her eyes, and her hair was greasy, falling in clumps around her face. If I was allowed to guess further, I would think she was on some sort of narcotic. Pills, maybe.

  “This is Julia Rowe,” the cop said. “She claims that her drug dealer told her there was primo coke in this apartment. She swears up and down that that was all she was looking for.”

  “Who’s the drug dealer? Anyone you know?”

  The cop shrugged. “She won’t give us a name.”