"Oh, Lucas has hidden assets," William said. "About five million of them, and that's just the guarantee. Hold out for the big gamble, and he has a half-billion more."
Carlos laughed. "No shit. That kind of dough, any loser can get laid, huh? A few blow jobs is a small price to pay for a shot at Cortez cash."
"Not necessarily," I said. "From what I hear, it can be too high a price." I met Carlos's gaze and smiled. "At least with some of the Cortezes."
His eyes hardened. "Like hell."
"If you say so."
I let Lucas lead me away. We'd gone about five steps when he leaned down.
"Dare I ask?" he whispered.
"Jaime."
He started to laugh, but choked it back. "Jaime and Carlos?"
"No," I said. "Jaime and not Carlos. She decided five million wasn't enough."
His laugh escaped then, a burst of laughter that made me grin and squeeze his hand. I glanced back to see Carlos glaring after us. Guess I hadn't made a new friend. Too bad.
"To be honest, I suspect it's far less than five million by now," Lucas said as we walked. "At the rate he goes through money, I'd say Carlos is down to about five dollars. He'll have to hold out for the inheritance."
"I thought five million was the inheritance."
"No, the trust fund." His lips curved. "Silence falls, as she refrains from stating the obvious, namely that her impoverished boyfriend is not as impoverished as she believed. Remember that next time you challenge me for paying cab fare."
Lucas pulled open the back door to the warehouse, and we stepped through into a lobby that would be the envy of any small-town courthouse. A few people milled about, but Lucas looked neither left nor right, just led me toward a set of interior double doors.
"Somehow I suspect you're no more able to pay the cab fare now than you were ten minutes ago," I said. "No trust-fund-dipping from this Cortez. You could be kidnapped by demon guerillas and still refuse to use any of it for the ransom."
"True." He smiled down at me. "But if you're ever kidnapped, I'll make an exception."
A swarthy young man in a suit and cap appeared at Lucas's side. "Mr. Cortez, sir?"
"Yes?" Lucas said.
"I work for the St. Clouds. Mr. St. Cloud's driver."
"Rick, isn't it?"
The man smiled. "Yes, thank you, sir. I just wanted to say we appreciate it, what you did, catching this guy. Griffin's inside. He'll speak to you himself, but I wanted to add my thanks. And, uh--" His gaze flicked to the double doors. "To say there's a back way in there, if you'd rather take that."
"Back way?" I said.
"Uh, yes, miss. Past the others. The Nasts and a few of the St. Clouds are in the waiting area. There's another way into the courtroom. You and Mr. Cortez might be more comfortable using it."
"Thank you," Lucas said. "But we'll be fine."
"Yes, sir."
The man backed away and slipped into a side hall. I glanced up at Lucas's taut face. All the tension he'd expelled on our walk into the building had returned double-strength. Once we walked through those doors, it was only going to get worse.
Lucas needed a distraction. As I glanced down the two side halls, I had an idea. Highly inappropriate but, sometimes, a little impropriety is exactly what you need.
"Nearly forty-five minutes left," I said. "We'll be sitting all day. No need to rush in there."
"Do you feel well enough to take a short walk?"
"Not what I had in mind."
I tugged him toward the nearest side hallway. His brows lifted, but when I didn't answer, he followed. I turned at the first branch, walked to the third door and opened it. An office. I tried the fourth. Locked. A quick unlock spell and the door opened into a large storage closet.
I flicked on the light. "Perfect."
"Dare I ask?"
"If you have to ask, you really are tired this morning."
He hesitated, then smiled.
"Well?" I said, backing into the closet.
He strode through the door, kicked it shut behind him, and cast a lock spell. I stepped back, but he grabbed me and pulled me to him in a deep kiss.
"Damn," I said, gasping as I pulled back. "I've missed that, Cortez. Last night I was wondering how much weight my hospital bed held. Should've conducted a test."
"Perhaps tonight."
"Uh-uh. Tonight we're springing for a hotel and a bed for two."
"Are you sure you feel up to it?"
I showed him how up to it I felt. After a few minutes of kissing, I slid my hands between us, unbuttoned his shirt, and ran my hands down his bare chest.
"You know, Carlos got me thinking," I said. "If I'm going to be become a CEO wife--"
"Co-CEO, wasn't it?"
"Sorry. Co-CEO. It's going to cost me a lot of blow jobs, isn't it?"
Lucas laughed. "Yes, a lot, I'm afraid."
"Then these few days in the hospital have put me behind on my quota. I have some serious catching up to do." I traced a finger down his chest and slipped it under his waistband. "The doctor said no bending, but he didn't say anything about kneeling."
Lucas's breath caught.
I grinned up at him. "Well?"
"As loath as I am to refuse, you are still recovering." He reached down and hiked my skirt up to my hips, lips going to my ear. "May I suggest something less taxing for now?"
I pushed my skirt down. "Uh-uh. It's a blow job or nothing." I stepped backward toward the door. "Of course if you're not interested..."
He pulled me to him, then pressed my hand to his crotch. "Interested enough?"
"I'm not sure," I said, tracing my fingertips across the bulge in his pants. "It's a bit hard--"
"A bit?"
"--a bit difficult to tell." I undid his belt, then his slacks, and slid my hand inside. "Umm, let's see. Yes, I'd say that's interested enough."
I lowered myself to my knees and set about distracting him.
Afterward, we talked quietly, delaying our exit from the room. At 7:45, I pulled away.
"Fifteen minutes," I said. "We should get inside."
"In a moment." He kissed me. "I love you."
"Of course you do. You have to. It's the law."
A smile. "Law?"
"Any girl who gives a guy a blow job in a broom closet is entitled to at least one 'I love you.' Whether you mean it or not, you're morally and legally obligated to say it."
He laughed, then kissed the top of my head. "Well, I do mean it. You know that."
"I do. And I also know that if we don't get into that courtroom before the session starts, they'll have an excuse to not let us in at all."
Signed, Sealed, Delivered
AS LUCAS PUSHED OPEN THE DOOR INTO THE WAITING area, a wave of appropriately somber conversation rolled out. Then it stopped and every head turned to watch us enter. There were at least a dozen men, ranging in age from mid-teens to postretirement, all in suits that would have paid our rent for three months, and all of them sorcerers. It reminded me of the day I'd joined the previously all-male computer club in high school. One step through that door and the icy stares nearly froze me in my tracks.
Lucas, now feeling more himself, simply gazed about the room, nodded once or twice, then put his hand against the small of my back and propelled me through the crowd.
A straight-backed, silver-haired man in his seventies stepped into our path. My gaze snagged on the black band around his suit jacket arm.
"What do you think you're doing?" he hissed. "How dare you bring her here?"
"Paige, this is Thomas Nast, CEO of the Nast Cabal. Thomas, this is Paige Winterbourne."
Thomas Nast. My eyes returned to the black band on his arm. For his son, Kristof. This was Savannah's grandfather.
"I know perfectly well who she is, you--" He bit the word off with an audible click of his teeth. "This is a slap in the face to my family and I won't stand for it."
Lucas met the old man's glare with a level gaze. "If you are referring to the e
vents leading to your son's demise, may I point out that your family was the instigator in the matter. By pursuing custody in such an unconventional manner, Kristof contravened intra-Cabal policy."
"My son is dead. Don't you dare imply--"
"I'm not implying anything. I'm stating fact. The escalation of events leading to Kristof's death was entirely of his own devising. As for his death itself, Paige played no role in it. If there had been any evidence to the contrary, you would have brought it forward at the inquiry this summer. Now, if you'll excuse us..."
"She is not going to sit in our courtroom--"
"If it weren't for her, none of us would be sitting in that courtroom. Good day, sir."
Lucas led me around Nast and through the next set of doors.
The courtroom seated maybe fifty people, tops, and was half-full when we entered. As Lucas looked around for good seats, a door at the front of the room opened and Benicio walked through. His timing was too perfect to be coincidental. He'd been waiting for us. Why, then, wouldn't he meet us in the other room and escort us past the Cabal gauntlet? Because he knew better. Lucas would not have appreciated his father protecting him from Thomas Nast and the others, for the same reason that Lucas refused to slip in the back door. Luca his path, quite literally, and accepted the consequences of it.
Benicio caught Lucas's eye and waved him to an empty row right behind the prosecution bench. When Lucas nodded, a glimmer of surprise crossed Benicio's face. He hovered at the end of the aisle, as if not quite sure Lucas really intended to join him. We walked to the front and I slid in first, letting Lucas follow so he could sit beside his father.
"Good to see you, Paige," Benicio said, leaning over Lucas as we sat. "I'm glad you could join us. You seem to be making a speedy recovery."
"Not as speedy as she'd like," Lucas said. "But she's doing well."
"It may be a long day," Benicio said, and I steeled myself for a considerate "suggestion" that I forgo the trial. "If you need anything--a cushion, a cold drink--just let me know."
As I nodded my thanks, the front doors opened again and Griffin walked in, accompanied by Troy and a man I didn't recognize but could guess, by his size, was a fellow guard. Troy led Griffin to our row, where Benicio stood and ushered him in to sit with us. Troy and the other guard took seats on opposite ends of our row.
While Lucas and I talked to Griffin, both front doors opened almost simultaneously. Through one, Weber stumbled in, blinking at the sight of the crowded courtroom. He was dressed in a regular shirt and trousers. Although he wasn't handcuffed or chained, there was a gag across his mouth. That might seem cruel, but a druid's power is the ability to call upon his deities, so the gag was an understandable precaution.
As the guards led Weber to his seat, three sixtyish men walked through the other front door. The judges. Last night Lucas had explained the basics of the Cabal justice system. Cases are presented not to a single judge or a jury, but to a panel of three judges, and the majority vote carries. The judges work a five-year term and the same three are used by all four Cabals, in a circuit-court arrangement. The men--always sorcerers, therefore always male--are selected by an intra-Cabal committee. They are lawyers nearing the end of their careers, and are paid very handsomely for their term, meaning they can retire at the end of it, so they are not beholden to the Cabals for later employment. Fifty percent of their payment is withheld until after the term is completed, and any judge found guilty of accepting bribes or otherwise compromising his position forfeits that portion. All this is intended to make the judges as impartial as possible. Is it perfect? Of course not. But to give the Cabals their due, they'd taken reasonable steps to ensure a fair justice system.
To keep the trials short, they are a bare-bones affair in every respect. Opening and closing arguments are limited to ten minutes each. The lack of a jury means there's less need to explain every step in detail. Expert witnesses are allowed only when necessary--no Ph.D.-whores being paid to claim that DNA identification is a faulty science. Even regular witnesses don't always need to take the stand. Noncritical ones, like Jaime, have their statements taken beforehand and answer questions posed by each side.
Breaks were as basic as the session itself, with a single fifteen-minute morning recess. By then I was already feeling the effects of my rushed recuperation. Lucas insisted I take painkillers, and I had to agree. Without them, I'd have been done by lunch. As it was, let's just say it wasn't the most comfortable morning I'd everspent. To get through it, I concentrated on paying attention and taking copious notes. Lucas and I shared a steno pad, which we passed back and forth, marking down pertinent points, elaborating on one another's notes, and exchanging written comments on the progress of the trial.
For lunch, a caterer delivered sandwich trays and we had thirty minutes to eat while standing in the lobby. Benicio ate with us, and the three of us managed to carry on a reasonably normal conversation. Benicio only slipped up once, suggesting that we join him for dinner the next night...a dinner that would also include three prominent foreign shareholders who just happened to be in town. Lucas handled it with a gentle reminder that, with the way the trial was progressing, we'd likely be busy preparing Weber's appeal.
After lunch, Lucas called the hotel where we'd stayed earlier. Our former room was still unoccupied and the manager offered it to us at the same rate. When Benicio heard our plans, he phoned the Marsh Clinic and arranged to have all our belongings moved to the hotel, so I could go directly there and rest after the trial. A considerate move, and only the latest of many, which prompted me to admit that perhaps Lucas had inherited more from Benicio than his "natural talent for lying."
The trial did not go well. Weber had retained his own counsel. When I'd first learned this, I'd been relieved. As the trial progressed, though, I found myself wishing he'd let the Cabals assign him a lawyer. As much as I hated to give them credit, I saw nothing grievously unjust in their system and, had they provided Weber's counsel, I'm sure he would have had competent representation, which was more than he had now.
There were two ways to play this cas. One: stress the circumstantial nature of the evidence. Two: plead insanity. Weber's lawyer chose both. And that presented a problem. The first says Weber didn't do it. The second says he did, but he can't be held responsible. Using both says he did kill those teens, but you can't prove it and anyway, he was crazy, but not crazy enough to leave any hard evidence.
At six o'clock, the lawyers presented their closing arguments. At six-twenty, the judges retired to council. At six-thirty they returned with a verdict.
Guilty.
The sentence: death.
Weber, not surprisingly, panicked, and had to be forcibly escorted from the room, screaming muffled invocations from behind his gag.
As one of the judges said some final words, I took the notepad and drew a question mark, to which Lucas wrote "no change." We'd heard no further evidence to damn or acquit Weber, and none of our concerns had even been raised. So we would proceed with his appeal.
The judge thanked the witnesses and counsel, and court was adjourned. Benicio leaned over and whispered that he'd be right back, and asked us to wait. Then he escorted Griffin to the front of the courtroom. The other guard followed, but Troy stayed at his post in our row. Benicio, Griffin, and the other guard walked to the door through which Weber had just been taken. Before Griffin stepped through, he turned, caught our attention, and mouthed a thank-you. Then they were gone.
"You must be exhausted," Lucas said, handing me my purse from the floor.
"I'm okay," I said. "Do we need to launch the appeal today?"
Lucas shook his head. "I'll tell my father that we plan to go ahead and he'll relay the message to the Cabals. Tonight we rest and try to put it out of our minds."
I glanced up to see Benicio slip back into the courtroom, accompanied by his new guard.
"There he is," I said. "That was fast."
"Good," Lucas said. "Earlier, he offered to drive us to the
hotel and, if you don't mind, I'd like to accept. Then we can tell him our appeal plans on the way, rather than delay our departure by doing so now."
"If it gets me to a bed sooner, I'm not arguing."
Lucas looked up as Benicio eased into our aisle. "Paige and I would like--" He stopped. "What's wrong, Papa?"
Benicio shook his head. "Nothing. You were saying?"
Lucas studied his father's face. At first, I could see no sign of anything wrong. Then I noticed it, the slightest tilt to Benicio's head, not quite meeting Lucas's eyes as he spoke to him.
"I'm sure Paige can't wait to get out of here," Benicio said. "Why don't we--"
A cough. We looked up to see William and Carlos standing on my other side.
"Thomas Nast wants to speak to you, Father," William said.
Benicio waved him away. William's lips tightened.
"We'll wait for you in the car, Papa," Lucas said. "We can discuss the appeal on the drive."
"Appeal?" Carlos said. "For who?"
"Everett Weber, of course."
Carlos laughed. "Hell, little brother, I didn't know you'd taken up necromancy."
Lucas's eyes cut to his father. Benicio rubbed his hand across his mouth.
"He doesn't know, does he?" William said, lips twitching in a smug smile.
"Know what?" Lucas said, gaze never leaving Benicio's.
"That execution sentence?" Carlos said. "Signed, sealed, and delivered."
I blinked. "You mean...?"
"Everett Weber is dead," William said. "If justice was done, it would be done swiftly. Father and the other CEOs agreed on that before the trial began."
Lucas turned to Benicio. "Before the trial began...?"
"Of course," William said. "Do you think he'd let you embarrass us by trying to set a child murderer free? Can't ever leave well enough alone, can you, Lucas? Saving the innocent, saving the guilty, it doesn't really matter, as long as you stick it to the Cabals. Thank God Father didn't tell them you wanted an audience before the trial or who knows what kind of hornet's nest you'd have stirred up."
Lucas stared at his father, waiting for him to deny any of this. Benicio only dropped his gaze. I stood. Lucas looked at Benicio one last time, then followed me into the aisle.
We weaved around clusters of sorcerers and headed into the parking lot. More Cabal clusters out here, having a smoke or getting a dose of Miami sun before jetting home. As we passed one group, a young man caught my gaze. I glanced into a pair of big blue eyes and felt a jolt of recognition. I paused, but Lucas didn't, his attention elsewhere, and I hurried to keep up.