The Pecker Briefs

by Sawyer Bennett

  She remains standing as she addresses the court, “Your Honor, I’d like to point you back to my original motion asking for an emergency injunction and the affidavit that was attached by Dr. Alton Granger, a practicing veterinarian here in Wake County and head of the nonprofit group, Justice for All Animals. He identified a nest and visually identified it was occupied by a family. Red-cockaded woodpeckers are non-migratory and cooperative breeding creatures. That means after the female lays eggs in the male’s roost, other group members who live there will help to incubate the eggs. While Dr. Granger could not visually confirm eggs, he could see multiple birds in the roost, which suggests there are eggs in there. We are at the beginning of the breeding season, so all of this means it’s likely there are going to be hatchlings soon. As such, you have more than sufficient evidence to uphold the continued injunction.”

  “And what do you propose, Miss Jones?” Judge Boyer clips out. “That Mr. Powell just walk away from the land he paid for and the money invested already?”

  “Not at all,” Viveka replies smoothly. “But I do think further study is warranted to come up with a solution. Perhaps a land swap with the federal government to compensate Mr. Powell—”

  “There is no law in place,” I say, standing from the table to interrupt Viveka, “that will compensate Mr. Powell if that land is sequestered from his use.”

  Viveka rolls right over me, her gaze never leaving Judge Boyers. “Despite Mr. Daniels pessimistic view of our federal government, the truth of the matter is there’s a confirmed sighting of an endangered species, and they are to be protected by the law.”

  “Fine,” I say, turning my eyes to Judge Boyer. “Then Mr. Powell can work around the tree. He can leave it in place and start construction—”

  “Have you even done any research on the red-cockaded woodpecker?” Viveka asks smoothly as she turns to me for a moment. Her eyes pin me in place, and it’s hot as hell to be honest. She then turns to Judge Boyer, not even wanting an answer to her question. “What Mr. Daniels fails to understand is that because this is a non-migratory, cooperative species, there will undoubtedly be other nests clustered around that tree. They bore cavities exclusively in living pine trees, unlike other woodpeckers that will use dead trees, which are easier to breach. It can take a red-cockaded woodpecker three years to bore out their roost. The average cluster will usually take up approximately ten acres, although clusters have been found to congregate in areas as large as sixty acres.”

  “That’s all fine and good,” I say to put in my two cents. “And I did do my research, contrary to what Miss Jones wants to believe. Your Honor, the red-cockaded woodpecker can have clusters as few as one nest in only one acre. As such, we have to consider the possibility this one tree is the only nest that could be in danger.”

  “And it could be upward of sixty acres or more,” Viveka reminds the judge. “And if you let them start tearing down those trees, a significant number of the species could be killed.”

  Judge Boyer holds up her hand, indicating she’s heard enough. “I appreciate that Mr. Powell is in a precarious financial position here, but I certainly can’t ignore a federally protected species that could be in danger. You’ve both made compelling arguments, and I think what we can all agree on is that we don’t know enough to make an informed decision. While I’m sure you both have argued the law in these briefs you’ve handed up, it would make a difference if I knew how many, or as the case may be, how few, birds are present on Mr. Powell’s land. As such, I’m going to order that the injunction remain in place for another ten days. In that time, I suggest the two of you hire whatever experts you need to evaluate the land and figure out exactly what we’re dealing with. I expect to have your findings presented to me within ten days, and we’ll go from there. This court’s adjourned.”

  Judge Boyer doesn’t bother rapping her gavel on the wooden top of her desk. Not many judges do that nowadays. Instead, she stands fluidly up from her chair and disappears through a door behind the bench.

  Since this is out of the way, my thoughts turn to dinner and another evening spent with Viveka.

  CHAPTER 10

  Viveka

  While I’m not exactly surprised by Judge Boyer’s ruling, I’m also not overly enthused about it. She has made this a battle of the expert witnesses. Unfortunately, experts cost money. I know if Justice for All Animals didn’t have the money to pay an attorney fee to represent them, they sure as hell don’t have it to hire an expert to determine the proliferation of clusters on the Swan’s Mill development.

  I pack up my stuff, intensely aware Ford is speaking to his client in hushed whispers. While I can’t hear the exact words, I can tell Powell is not happy about the ruling by the way his arms are gesticulating. I have no idea who those men are with him. If I had to take a guess, they are other developers who could potentially be impacted by this ruling. I felt their skeevy eyes on me, hot and oppressive as I walked into the courtroom. I spent part of my life strutting down runways in such a way as to make people notice me. I still have that strut as a matter of fact, and I like the confidence it portrays about me. I may not swing my hips with as much exaggeration, but I hold my shoulders back and my chin tilted up so there’s no doubt I’m a strong, confident woman. Unfortunately, I have to put up with men watching and thinking all kinds of nasty stuff, but I choose to ignore it.

  As I’m closing up my briefcase—which is quite old, battered, and needs to be replaced, but I won’t because it’s sentimental and the one I beat up that guy to rescue Stanley with—I note Drake Powell and his crew leave the courtroom. That leaves just Ford and me.

  He has his briefcase in hand, and motions toward the aisle that leads to the exit doors. “After you.”

  I smirk and mutter, “You just want me to walk in front of you so you can watch my ass.”

  “Yup,” is all he says.

  I can’t help the tiny laugh as we exit, Ford just half a step behind me. While I did not enjoy the other men watching me today, I certainly don’t mind Ford’s appreciative looks. When we exit the courtroom, I come to a halt when I see Drake Powell and the other men waiting for an elevator, their backs to us. I immediately turn right and head for the stairwell. Ford follows along behind me.

  We step into the stairwell and as soon as the door closes, Ford has me backed into the wall and is pressing the entire length of his body against mine. It feels really good, all warm and imposing at the same time.

  He’s the only man I’ve ever been with that made me actually feel small and vulnerable.

  He puts one palm against the wall near my head, the other still holding onto his briefcase. He leans his face in closer to me. “Can I take a moment to tell you how fucking sexy you were arguing your case to Judge Boyer?”

  My voice is husky and not my own. “You didn’t look so bad yourself.”

  Ford tilts his head slightly and grazes his lips along my jaw for a moment. “What I wouldn’t give to have taken you up to the judge’s bench, bent you over it, and fucked you there.”

  A shudder ripples through my body, leaving my legs weak and rubbery.

  “But that would be totally inappropriate,” he whispers into my ear. “Just like it would be absolutely inappropriate and scandalous to fuck you right here in the stairwell.”

  A tiny moan escapes me.

  Ford then pulls his head back slightly, so I can look into his eyes. I can tell he is beyond turned on from telling me his little fantasies. If he decided to be bold and adventurous and put his hand between my legs, he would see I feel the same.

  But he plays the voice of reason. “But neither one of us should ever risk that. Not while we’re on this case together. So how about I take you out to an early lunch?”

  My eyes round with surprise. “But I thought we were gonna have dinner tonight?”

  Ford winks and steps away. “You’re damn right we’re going to have dinner tonight. Then you and I are going to go back to your place and get all kinds of creative with
each other.”

  “Or,” I suggest with innuendo that is not put on in any way. “We could go to my house right now for ‘lunch’.”

  His face splits into a wide smile. He grabs my free hand in his, pulling me to the stairs that lead down. “As tempting as that offer is, I would rather wait. I think waiting can make things even better.”

  “I can see that,” I say with a laugh.

  “Besides,” Ford says as we trot down the stairs. “I’m starving.”

  ♦

  “Aren’t you worried about people seeing us?” I ask, perusing the busy interior of J. Franklins. It’s a popular downtown restaurant, and because it’s only two blocks from the courthouse, it’s frequented by a lot of the court personnel as well as the local bar.

  Ford shoots me a look from across the table that says, I can’t believe you seriously asked that.

  “What?” I say, completely offended. But not really. “Yes, to the casual observer we may be having a professional lunch, but you and I have chemical attraction. You can feel it swirling around us. In fact, I’m a little afraid if anybody gets too close to our table, they’re going to be overcome from the emotion of it. It could have disastrous effects to others.”

  Ford stares at me for a very blank moment before bursting out laughing from deep within his belly. I smile and let my eyes fall to the menu as I decide what I want to eat.

  After our waiter takes our orders, Ford asks how I think the hearing went.

  I give a slight shrug. “I guess it was the correct decision. I mean, how could Judge Boyer make a final decision without knowing the reach of the problem?”

  Ford nods with a grave expression on his face. His eyes lock onto mine. “My client has ordered me to use every available resource and to spend any amount of money necessary to hire the right experts for this.”

  Ford uses air quotations when he said the word right.

  His message is patently clear. I’m up against some big guns, and I’m going to be outspent no matter what.

  Ford continues. “Let’s have a brief hypothetical discussion to see if there’s anything we can do to resolve this case.”

  “Like what?” I ask, never having once considered there would be room to negotiate anything. In my mind, there’s an endangered species. They can’t build. End of story.

  Ford crosses his arms and leans them on the table. “Okay, let’s say hypothetically that the experts find out there’s only one nest. Would your clients be amenable to letting Drake build around it?”

  “But tearing the trees down around it would prevent other woodpeckers from coming in,” I point out.

  Ford’s gaze turns shrewd. I realize I’m not talking to the man who wrings out amazing orgasms from my body. I am talking to a top-notch litigator. “You know the law does not prohibit tearing down trees that are not currently occupied by the woodpecker. Many builders preemptively strike all the timber from their land just to prevent an endangered species from taking up residence.”

  My stomach flips because he’s right.

  I turn the tables back on him. “Okay, hypothetically… What if the experts find out there is a large cluster of nests within the acreage?”

  Ford doesn’t say anything for a moment. I can tell he is weighing how much he should reveal, and I have to imagine it’s somewhat of a conflict for him because part of the reason we are able to have this conversation right now is because we are actually fucking each other. With that comes a certain amount of leeway we’re willing to give each other in these discussions.

  Ford stalls a bit longer by taking a sip of his iced water. When he sets it down, he chooses his words very carefully. “You do understand, V, that the experts I hire are not going to find a large cluster of nests.”

  I push aside the wave of bitterness that sweeps through me. It’s not something I’m feeling because of Ford but rather because of my circumstances for the type of law I’ve chosen to practice. What he’s saying is Drake Powell’s money can buy an expert who will say whatever Drake Powell wants him to say. Hell, he could buy ten experts who will all testify under oath they have seen no other evidence of nests from the red cockaded woodpecker. It’s just the way the game is played.

  So I tell him the truth. “Then I will accept defeat, because in that scenario, Judge Boyer will rule against my clients. I’ll be disheartened and disappointed that several beautiful animals we are struggling to keep on our planet will be wiped out. But I will go on. It’s the nature of what I do, Ford. And I do understand I could very well lose this case.”

  “And how will that affect what’s between you and me?” he asks, and I’m absolutely stunned by the concern in his voice and that he’s even bothering to ask this question. I thought we had an understanding that this case had nothing to do with our personal relationship.

  What I would love to do is reach my arm across the table and take Ford’s hand. I would like to reassure him through touch that I understand he is doing what his client is asking him to do. That he has no choice in the matter.

  Instead, all I can offer him is a personal promise. “Unless you were to do something dirty, underhanded, or illegal to beat me in this case, I swear I will never hold the results of how this turns out against you. And I trust you will be ethical in everything that you do.”

  That clearly doesn’t satisfy him. “Even if I have to spend a lot of money at my client’s direction to find experts who will tell him what he wants?”

  On the face, this seems to be unethical. But it’s done all the time. Those experts won’t get up there and out and out lie, but they will manipulate and massage the facts to Drake Powell’s benefit. They are called jukebox witnesses. Put a quarter in them, and they will play whatever song the one with the money wants.

  In fact, if I had the money to hire such experts, I would be concentrating my efforts on those who are pro-wildlife and pro-saving endangered species. I know they would do whatever they could to manipulate and massage the facts to my benefit. That is just how our legal system works.

  But before I can answer, a woman slides into the booth across from me right next to Ford. In fact, she slides in so forcefully she actually bumps against him, forcing him to move to give her room.

  I gape, stunned, noticing several things at once.

  First, the woman is beautiful. Extremely so. Flowing chocolate-brown hair, a sculpted face, and a megawatt smile.

  When she leans into Ford and kisses him on his cheek, it causes an immense swelling of anger to rise within me, despite noting she’s quite pregnant. So much so, in fact, her belly barely fits in between the table and the booth seat.

  In the back of my rational mind, I realize this is Ford’s best friend he told me about. But still, I can’t get over her intimate familiarity with him, and one would have to say that’s pure jealousy.

  What does cause the anger to disappear, only to be replaced with an extreme surge of doubt in myself, is the way Ford regards this woman. Love, affection, respect, happiness, loyalty, and tenderness. So much more than what a typical best friend would look like while staring at their counterpart.

  I blink hard as I realize the woman is now staring at me and Ford is making introductions. She sticks her hand out across the table, and I automatically take it for a firm handshake.

  “I’m Leary. A really good friend of Ford’s. And he’s told me all about you. When I saw you two sitting here, I had to come over and introduce myself.”

  She beams a happy smile, and my eyes cut to Ford. He’s staring at me expectantly, almost as if he thinks I might bolt from the table.

  I don’t, though. Instead, I level a huge smile back and say, “Viveka Jones. But you can call me Viv or Veka. All my friends do.”

  Leary inclines her head. “I love Veka. Veka it is.”

  “Hold on a minute,” Ford butts in, leaning across the table toward me. He taps his finger on the wooden top and demands, “How come she gets to call you by your nickname right away, but I had to wait for it?”


  I give him an innocent look. “Any friend of yours is a friend of mine.”

  Leary laughs and shakes her head. “You two are absolutely adorable. In fact, we need to get together and go out on a double date soon.”

  I think this sounds kind of nice. Ford, however, can’t resist teasing. “What makes you think we’re even dating?”

  Leary cocks an eyebrow at him, and her eyes flash wickedly. “You borrowed our dog to go walk with her in the park. You’re dating.”

  To my immense surprise, Ford flushes with embarrassment. It is quite adorable.

  Leary scoots back out from the table and says, “I have to get going. I just wanted to pop over to say hello and introduce myself. But I really would love to get us all together.”

  “I’ll call you,” Ford says. His face softens with such genuine affection for Leary it makes my nose start to tingle.

  We both watch her walk across the restaurant. She sits at a table occupied by two other men in suits. I’m assuming she’s on a business meeting.

  “So that was my best friend Leary,” Ford says in a tone that suggests she’s an absolute embarrassment to him, but we both know that’s not true.

  I turn slowly from staring at her across the restaurant to study Ford. It’s not something I really intended to say, but the words sort of tumble out anyway. “She’s the one who got away from you.”

  Ford actually rears back in his seat, his mouth dropping open in surprise. “What do you mean? Why would you say that?”

  I give a tiny shake of my head. “No particular reason. Just the way you two looked at each other.”

  “It’s just affection, V.”

  That’s the truth. I can see it in his eyes, and I can hear it in the confidence of his words. It lightens the slight weight I hadn’t realized was pressing down on my chest.