“That’s called the death penalty,” Royce reminded him. “And here we get a jury and we’re innocent until proven guilty.”
“She’s already convicted my sister, and we both know it.”
“Her opinion doesn’t matter. The jury’s does.”
“And she tells them what she wants them to hear.”
He started to shut the door and Royce shoved his foot in the door. “Touch her and you’ll regret it.”
“I’m shaking in my bare feet, man. Absolutely quivering. I’m put in my place.”
They glared at one another and Royce wanted to yank the asshole into the hallway and beat him to a pulp, but he wouldn’t do Lauren any good in jail. However, if this guy meant her harm, he needed him to know that she wasn’t alone, that she was protected. “I’m going to be watching you,” he said, and stepped back.
His lips lifted in an evil smile. “Enjoy the show.” And he shut the door.
***
Royce was halfway back to the city, heading to Sullivan’s offices, the attorney who’d defended Sheridan, when it hit him that he’d never told Wilkins who he was, beyond a name, and Wilkins had never asked. Something about that rubbed him wrong, but then, everything about Wilkins rubbed him wrong.
He sent a text to Lauren and made sure she was okay, then called Julie. “Law offices.”
“I need to speak to Julie Morrison.”
“She’s not available,” the prim voice on the other line informed him.
He held his tone in check with effort, but his words still held a sharp edge. “Make her available. Tell her Royce Walker needs to speak to her urgently.”
“Sir”
“Just do it,” he demanded. Rude and he knew it, but damn it, he didn’t have niceties in him right now. Instantly he heard office music in his ear.
“Royce?” Julie said, concern in her voice. “Is Lauren okay?”
“Yes,” he said reassuring her, feeling a bit of guilt for scaring her. “I just need you to take her lunch and check on her.”
A sigh of relief escaped Julie’s lips. “That’s an order I’ll happily take. You really are a bossy bear, Royce.”
“Yeah, I know. I’m trying to work on that. Have her call me when you get there. I mean, please have her call me when you get there.”
She laughed. “Since you asked, I absolutely will.” She paused. “Don’t hurt her, Royce. She deserves to be happy.”
His gut knotted. “I know. Believe me, I know.”
By the time Royce parked his truck and fed a parking meter, he knew he would be hard pressed to make his meeting with Luke after this trip. Sullivan’s street level office was small and rather humble in decor, at least from the exterior. A doorbell chimed as he entered. The lobby hosted a light assortment of furnishings including a well-worn desk and several mix and match pictures. It was a far cry from the elite law firm Sullivan had worked for during the Sheridan trial.
A tall man with curly blond hair, a lanky build, and a suspicious gaze appeared in a corner doorway. With sleeves a hint too long, and pants the same, his suit fit him about as well as the furnishing. It didn’t. There was an air about this man that said money. A complete contradiction to his surroundings.
“Can I help you?”
“I’m looking for Sullivan. David Sullivan.”
“I’m Sullivan. Who are you?”
Royce sensed nervousness in the man. “Royce Walker. I handle security issues for individuals as well as businesses. I’m here to discuss Marvin Sheridan.” It wasn’t a request, nor was it meant to be.
“What of him?” he questioned with narrowed eyes.
“There is suspicion that he could be involved in some threats one of my clients has been receiving.”
Sullivan studied Royce for several long moments as if he was deciding if he should talk to him. Finally, with a nod, he said, “Come this way,” turned and started walking.
Odd man, he thought, following him, noting the man’s jerky movements, almost like a machine fighting a mechanism.
Inside the corner office, Sullivan sat behind a bigger version of the scuffed piece of wood in the center of the lobby. Royce settled into a worn blue cloth visitor’s chair. He would have preferred to stand but he sensed Sullivan’s unease and didn’t want to intimidate him by hovering. He wanted the man to talk.
Leaning back, Sullivan rocked in a squeaky leather chair. Like nails on a chalkboard, the sound raked on Royce’s nerves. “Sheridan is scheduled to be executed,” he said. ”What harm is he to your client?”
Royce narrowed his gaze on the man. “Kept up with him, I see?”
“Wouldn’t you if you were the attorney who defended a man being put to death?”
Royce shrugged. “He’s a killer.”
“He was temporarily insane.”
“The jury said differently.”
Tapping the fingers of one hand on his desk, Sullivan studied Royce. “What are you after here, Mr. Walker?”
“How do you feel about Lauren Reynolds?”
“Is Lauren your client?”
“My client’s identity is confidential. Again, how do you feel about Lauren Reynolds?”
“How does anyone feel about the opponent that brings them to their knees?” His tone was hostile.
“You tell me,” Royce challenged.
“It doesn’t really matter. It’s past history.”
“What does that mean?”
Sullivan snorted. “What do you think it means? The man is going to die, end of story. He’s out of appeals.”
“How’s Sheridan handling that?”
Sullivan raked a hand through his hair. “He’s accepting. He met a woman who helped him find God. He says he’s been forgiven and ready to face his maker.”
“Should you have won the case?”
A frown dipped his brows. “Should have, yes.”
“Why didn’t you?” Royce pressed.
His fist balled on top of the desk. “I had some bumps during the trial, and Lauren Reynolds milked each and every one of them. Surely you read the press I got over the ordeal. I lost my job, my wife, everything.”
“And you blame her?”
He grimaced and seemed to stiffen. “I did, but not anymore. I stumbled. She did what any good attorney would do and took advantage of opportunity. There’s no room in the courtroom to screw up. You just can’t do it.”
Royce stood to leave. “One more thing,” he said. “Is there anyone around Sheridan who might want revenge on his behalf?”
“Other than me and the ten partners in the law firm I worked for, no one.”
Ten partners who had suffered the bad press of losing the trail. Damn, the list of possibilities just got longer and longer. Royce turned to leave. “There is one more person who hates Lauren,” Sullivan said. Royce turned and arched a brow.
“My ex-wife. She lost all the prestige and money she thought I was about to give her. The bitch married me for money and power, and nothing more.”
Chapter Sixteen
In a few short hours, Lauren had negotiated plea bargains on four cases. She was zapped and she still had hours of work to do. It was taking every ounce of concentration she had to keep focused on the words she was reading as she clicked through her e-mail. She had forty new items in her inbox since she cleared it two hours before.
“Lauren.”
Lauren jumped at the unexpected, familiar voice of her ex-fiancée, Roger. “You scared the heck out of me. How did you get past the front desk?”
He leaned against the door frame, looking every bit like Tom Cruise in ‘The Firm’, one leg crossed over the other, his thousand dollar suit fitted, his hair and nails perfectly groomed. “She was on the phone and I waved and walked by.”
So easily. Too easily. She was fooling herself to think she was safely nestled in her office. “What are you doing here, Roger?”
“What kind of way is that to greet your ex-fiancé? I am, after all, the man you almost pleaded never ending love
to.”
“I’m tired. I have a big trial starting, and I don’t have time for this.” She refocused on her computer screen intent on dismissing him.
“I worry about you.”
The sincerity in his voice surprised her. She gave him a curious look. Suddenly, the past came back in a rush of memories, but none of them were good. She couldn’t remember why she’d ever said ‘yes’ to marrying him.
“We weren’t meant to be, Roger. We were a business arrangement and neither of us would have been happy long term.”
Lauren’s buzzer went off. She punched the button. “Yes.”
“Pick up.”
Lauren frowned, but reached for the receiver. “Yes?”
Alice whispered urgently, “There is a very large, very grouchy man here who insists on seeing you.”
Lauren couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s Royce. Tell him I’ll be right out.” Lauren pushed to her feet. “I have a visitor I need to attend.”
Abruptly Roger closed the distance between them, and was behind her desk, his hands on her shoulders, right over the bandage and her burn. “I made a mistake. I had cold feet. We can make it work. I’ll make it up to you.”
Lauren grabbed his hand. “You're hurting me.”
“And you’re destroying me. I miss you. I”
“Let her go.”
Roger released her and turned to the door, where Royce stood, tall and broad, in jeans and a T-shirt, that might as well have been leather and knives, for the look on his face.
“Who are you?” Roger demanded.
“The only man who gets to touch her.”
Lauren gaped at the caveman-like statement. “Royce,” she ground out between her teeth.
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“I was just leaving,” Roger said, but Royce still blocked the doorway and made no effort to move.
“Don’t leave on my account,” Royce said in a hard voice Lauren was starting to worry about.
Roger, who was used to being under fire in the courtroom appeared to recover from his initial shock. Offering a cool glare, he said, “I’m not. I simply came by to check on Lauren.” He glanced at Lauren, “I’ll call you,” and then stepped forward as if daring Royce to block his way.
For several tense seconds, Lauren thought Royce wasn’t going to move, but finally he backed up to let Roger pass. She was at the door when Royce stepped inside her office, shutting the door. “You’re the only man who gets to touch me? I’m not your property, Royce.”
“No. But we’re either exclusive or we aren’t anything.”
At any other time, she’d have reveled in what he was saying, what he was offering, but not now, not like this. “You don’t get to tell me we’re exclusive. You don’t get to demand it. That’s not how this works.”
He grabbed her and picked her up, setting her on the desk, shoving her skirt up and pressing her legs apart to stand between them. His hands framed her body, pressed to the wooden surface beside her hips. “Do you want Roger?”
Heat sizzled down her spine. This damnable alpha side of him pissed her off, but it turned her on too, and she didn’t understand why. She pressed on his hard, unmoving chest. “Don’t bully me or push me around. Let me up.”
“Do you want Roger?”
“You know I don’t.”
“Apparently you want to keep you options open,” he said, his hands skimming up her thighs. “You don’t want to say we’re exclusive. So maybe this is just a good time ride for you?”
“You’re being an asshole,” she said. “Demanding and demanding. You don’t get to demand. You ask, Royce.”
His eyes darkened, glinting dangerously. “You want me to ask?” He skimmed his thumb over her panties. “How about this? Will you come for me, Lauren? Right here, in your office?” He slid his fingers under her panties and she gasped at the pleasure. “Does he make you wet like this?”
“Stop it, Royce,” she gasped as his fingers pushed inside her. “Stop.”
He reached up and tugged down her blouse, exposing her bra and then her nipple, before leaning down and licking it. “Not until you say you’re mine.”
“I’m not saying that. I won’t ever be yours if you’re this big of an asshole.”
“I’m just making sure you know who is supposed to be fucking you.”
She arched against his fingers, unable to stop herself. “I hate how you’re acting.” She buried her face in his shoulder. “I hate that you’re doing... this.” Her body clenched around his fingers, pleasure rushing through her, defying her words.
The fingers of his other hand tangled into her hair, forcing her gaze to his, her mouth a breath from his. He stroked her clit with his thumb, pumping inside her. “I hate the idea of him doing this to you.”
“He can’t do this to me.”
“Why?” he all but growled.
There was something in his voice, in his words, a vulnerability that defied his demands, that reached into her and drew a response. “Because he’s not you, Royce.”
He kissed her, hard and demanding, a fierce claiming that had her moaning and giving into her need for him. Everything blurred then turning to shades of pleasure. She couldn’t get enough of him, she couldn’t even remember where she was. Only that she helped him shove his pants down, welcomed him ripping away her panties, and whimpered when his cock pressed into her.
He thrust into her, lifted her off the desk, and pulled her down on him. She clung to him, hungered for him like she had never another man, and yes, she came for him, just like he wanted her to.
He shook with his release and then set her on the desk, burying his face in her neck. Emotions rolled over Lauren and she didn’t know what she was feeling. “Let me up,” she said, shoving on his shoulders. “I need up. Someone could walk in.”
He lifted his head and looked like he would refuse, a moment before he pulled a tissue from the box on her desk, handed it to her, and pulled out of her.
Lauren quickly gave him her back to clean up. She snatched her panties, shoved them in her desk drawer and fixed her shirt. She turned to find him standing close, hands pressed in his pockets.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I don’t know what the hell came over me. I don’t want anyone else to touch you and I’m pretty sure I just screwed this up in every possible way.”
The raw vulnerability in him she’d sensed minutes before reached out to her, “I don’t want Roger. I don’t want anyone else, but if you act like that again,” she hesitated, “I might come but I won’t like it.”
His lips turned up slowly. ”You won’t like it?”
“Okay, I might like it, but I won’t be happy I liked it.”
He bit back a broader smile. “Do I dare believe that comment means you forgive me?”
“Yes but”
He was holding her before she could add “Don’t go caveman on me again.”
“Never?” he teased.
She brushed her fingers over his. “Maybe later tonight, but not after that.”
He chuckled. “I can’t wait.”
And neither could she. It was time to face the very real possibility that she’d gone and exposed herself to more than a dangerous monster trying to kill her. She’d exposed her heart. Lauren was falling in love with Royce.
Chapter Seventeen
It was near midnight and Royce lay in his bed, Lauren snuggled to his side sleeping, something he couldn’t seem to manage. Three days had passed, and despite his caveman behavior at her office, as Lauren often called it, or perhaps because of it, she’d changed, let down her guard with him. She finally seemed to get how much he was invested in what was going on with them. Any happiness he might have arrived at from that was diminished by the torment of knowing that he was failing to protect her, proven by the fact that every day came with another calendar sheet delivered by what seemingly was a damn ghost. One had been stuffed in a lunch bag from a delivery to her office, but no one at the restaurant claimed to have put it there
. One had been on his truck window despite the video footage that showed nothing. The final one had been left with the security desk at her building, delivered by a little old lady who disappeared, and was never seen again. And every single delivery was a taunt that said “I can get to her whenever I want to” and Royce knew it.
His cell phone started to vibrate on the bedside table and he grabbed it, certain a call at this hour wasn’t good. Lauren’s head popped up. ”What time is it?”
“Late,” he said, answering the call that the ID identified as Bill Smith, the Senator’s staff security person.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, not bothering with ‘hello.’ He untwined himself from Lauren to sit up, anticipating trouble and heading to his closet.
“Senator Reynolds’ house is on fire.”
Royce stopped in his tracks. “How?”
“I’m not there yet but I’m being told it’s obvious arson.”
Holy hell. “Is everyone okay?”
“The senator certainly is, enough so that he’s yelling at me and telling me I need to get my ass over here and start doing my job. He wants you there. That’s an order.”
An order. Right. He didn’t even work for the man. “I’ll be there in a few minutes.” He ended the call and dialed Luke, managing to get his pants on while it rang. “Get over here, dressed, and ready to leave. And get Blake down here to stay with Lauren.” He didn’t wait for a reply, ending the call and reaching for a shirt and pulling it over his head.
“What’s happening?” Lauren asked, on her knees now and clutching the blanket. “What’s wrong? Is everyone okay?”
Damn, he didn’t want to tell her this. He grabbed his boots and headed for the bed. “No one is hurt.” He sat down next to her. “Everyone is completely fine.” He quickly put on his boots and ran his hands down his pants.
“But? I hear the ‘but’. What is going on?”
“I’m going to repeat this to make sure I’m making myself clear. Everyone is okay but there has been a fire at your father’s house.”
“What? How? Oh, God. I have to get over there.” She shoved away the blanket and he shackled her arm.