The guard in the lobby looked up and when he saw it was her, relaxed and smiled. “Evening to you, Abbie. It’s awfully late for you to be at work. Then again, all that time you’ve been spending on the vids making people mad must keep you busy.” He winked.
She laughed. Long days were pretty common to barristers in general, even more so for ones who represented the accused. “Someone’s got to fight the good fight.”
“Well, don’t stay too late. A young woman like you should be home with her family.”
She waved at him as she stepped into the lift.
The building was old, the floor coverings frayed and tattered, but the ceilings still shone with hand-done mosaics, and donated art decorated the walls. The scent of papers and old books greeted her as she unlocked the front doors to the main area and made her way back through the narrow hall to her workspace.
Logan waited for her in her small office. “Abbie, Gretel Mortan has been taken to lockup.”
She stopped, pulled up short by the sight of Logan, still so pretty to look at even after she knew the less-than-pretty parts of him, and at the news her elderly client had been incarcerated.
“What for? Surely not the theft charge? That charge had nothing to back it up at all.”
“Come on, Abbie, you can’t be surprised by this. It’s not the first time the Kerrigan Family has done something like this. And the MRD has made them angry I expect. I just thought you should know.”
Heart heavy, she nearly fell into her chair. “Angry? Oh, I’ll show them angry. They have no idea what angry is. They’re the ones who betrayed the rest of us and they have the audacity to be like this?” She blew out a breath and began to twist her hair up and out of her way. “I’ll get started on the paperwork right away,” she said by way of dismissal.
“You look tired. Why don’t we leave? You can work on this later after I’ve relaxed you a bit.”
She flicked her glance up, knowing that tone. “I appreciate you coming by to tell me, Logan, but I’m not fucking you.”
White teeth flashed a perfect smile. The smile of a man who always got what he wanted, which only served to make her more frustrated, more angry. Couldn’t anyone have some sense of what was decent and right? When a man like Logan, a man who could make far more credits working for a large corporation, worked instead for the SDA, you’d think he’d be a good catch. But the man didn’t know how to say no. Not to other women while he was engaged to her, not to too much drink. He simply didn’t have any concept of moderation in anything. Which made him a great barrister but a failure as marriage material.
“Why not? You’re not seeing anyone.” He sent her the sexy head cock, the one he used over and over, she was quite sure, to stellar success.
“Which should make me unattractive in your eyes. Now go before I get mean.”
He laughed and sauntered out. She knew he’d be back another day. They had an attraction still. One she was sometimes weak enough to indulge. But not just then. Just then she was angry, and the fires of that stoked her passion far better than he would have. And at least she wouldn’t hate herself in the morning.
By the time she stumbled into her apartment long after the moons had set, she’d left the motion that needed to be filed on her assistant’s desk, and had placed several vid calls to the people who needed to hear the news.
Something needed to happen. The Families were abusing their rule, and had been for some time. Arresting an old woman because of sheer greed was just a prime example of their behavior. It had to be exposed and she would continue to call attention to it until Gretel was freed and someone from the Governance Council agreed to meet.
Chapter 2
Abbie adjusted the button on her suit jacket as she waited for her audience with Roman Lyons. She’d been waiting half an hour already and each second that passed angered her even more.
The opulence of the outer office was designed to soothe as well as impress. The couch she sat on was plush, the fabric covering it soft and luxurious. The colors were rich and sumptuous. Tasteful art hung on the walls.
There had been a reception area in the entry, an attendant on the lift, as if she were unable to push a button on her own, another reception area when she’d made it to the lofty floor where Roman Lyons’s personal office was located, and yet another desk in there with an assistant.
A handsome one though. At least she could look at him as well as the art while she waited. And then waited some more.
“I do apologize, Ms. Haws. Mr. Lyons is dealing with an unexpected problem. Are you sure I can’t get you something to drink?”
Abbie had to give it to the assistant: the man had been very professional and courteous. If she hadn’t dealt with this sort of situation repeatedly in her time as a barrister, hells, in her lifetime as an unranked person trying to succeed, she’d have believed Roman Lyons was truly dealing with something unexpected instead of sitting in his office having a snack and laughing to himself about how he was making her wait.
“No, thank you.” She glanced at the chrono on the wall near the impressively huge desk the assistant occupied. “I cannot wait much longer. I have my own appointments to attend to.” Which wasn’t a lie. She’d had to get coverage for all her afternoon cases so she could come to this meeting.
The man nodded and went back to the door and slipped inside. Just a few moments later he came back out. “Mr. Lyons is finishing up and he asks for you to stay just a bit longer.”
And so she waited nearly another half an hour and finally got up. Keeping her features bleak and severe, she addressed the assistant, “Tell Mr. Lyons when he’s decided to take meeting me seriously, he can contact my assistant. I do not appreciate having my time wasted.”
The assistant stood up quickly. He’d been sneaking peeks in the door and had been on the comm panel to what Abbie figured was Lyons’s desk on and off since she’d arrived well over an hour and a half before.
“I cannot apologize enough, Ms. Haws. Honestly, Mr. Lyons is not playing games. He’s very sorry, I am sure.”
She raised a brow but it wasn’t this guy’s fault. “He can make it up to me. He’d better make it up to me. But for now, I’m leaving. Thank you for your hospitality.”
She stormed out, anger coursing through her system, but she didn’t have the luxury of a good mad. She had to get back to work and that included a call back to the interviewer who had been handling the stories about Gretel’s case.
Roman finally disconnected the video conference and made sure to smooth down the front of his shirt before rushing out to the front office. The Haws woman had been waiting nearly two hours and Marcus had continually poked his head in and sent notes via comm that she was nearly out the door.
“She left twenty minutes ago, Roman. I told you she wasn’t going to wait around all day.” Marcus shook his head.
“Do you think I wanted to deal with this nonsense with House Turgev? Idiots.” House Turgev, the House controlling Perea, several slips through the portals away, had been using chemicals to treat their salt water to convert it to potable drinking water. A good thing for such an arid ’Verse. But as the scientists had warned, the chemicals were unstable and a warehouse housing them had exploded, killing several workers and spilling so much of the fluid it had rendered the water undrinkable. He’d had to arrange with neighboring ’Verses to get water to Perea. It wasn’t as if he was having a manicure and watching a vid.
“She said you should contact her when you’re ready to meet her. She was very angry and very frustrated.”
“I can’t stand any more tantrums, Marcus. I get enough from the Council. I don’t need it from her, too. Does she think I have free time running from my fingertips? She had an appointment with me. I made the time. I can’t simply drop everything to suit her schedule.”
Marcus pursed his lips. “My, aren’t we very important. Have you been associating with your brother again? You don’t think Ms. Haws has a busy schedule? She’s a senior barrister so she’s
got caseloads backed up for years. She waited nearly two hours past your appointment time and she showed up fifteen minutes early. She did come on time. She waited long after you would have if your positions were reversed. Accept it, Roman. You’re the one who needs to make amends. I can call her assistant now and reschedule if you like.”
“My brother? Marcus, that was low.” Roman hated it when his assistant was right. Still, it was a sharp blow to bring Alexander into the discussion to make his point.
“Yes, you’re acting like a spoiled prince. You are neither. You were born who you are. Do you want me to make the . . . Uh oh.” Marcus’s words trailed off once his attention snagged on the vid screen in the office.
Roman’s stomach sank as he looked over Marcus’s shoulder to see the screen. “Ms. Haws is a busy girl I see.”
Marcus shushed him and nodded.
Well, he’d have to give it to Abigail Haws—she wasn’t hard to look at, even if she was a bit severe with her hair pulled back so tight. He certainly didn’t like what she was saying about House Kerrigan though.
The unranked were terribly unhappy and part of him understood that. In the wake of the scandal where it had been discovered that members of House Walker and House Pela had been working with the Imperialists, along with several Associate Houses, overall trust in the ability of Family Rule had been on the decline.
But it hardly seemed fair to give up when it had just been the actions of a select few. Family Rule had been the way of things for millennia. All the trouble this Haws woman and her little group stirred with this sort of agitation only complicated matters and made Roman’s job harder.
It was easy to criticize. But she had a house and a job and he spent every waking moment leading people. He wished people understood what sacrifices the Ranked made instead of assuming they were all lazy, irresponsible fools.
Still, the stark idiocy of what Saul Kerrigan had done brought a flush of anger to his face.
“What in the seven hells? They had the Mortan woman arrested? I told Saul to back off. Get him in here immediately. He has less than half an hour and if he does not appear within that time frame have him arrested. Can you get Ms. Haws on the screen? I’d like to speak with her about this case.”
“I told you two days ago about the arrest, Roman. And the file Ms. Haws sent over is on your desk marked Information for Haws meeting . I’ll tell you right now, she’s not going to be available.”
Snapping his teeth together, Roman tried to take a calming breath but failed as he stomped from the reception area. Like he didn’t have enough to do already?
This is where Abigail Haws lives? Roman took in the building. Not bad at all. He’d expected shabby once he’d left the Family living blocks near the municipal complex. While still within the first circle, he rarely got out this far. Roman realized he’d lived a sheltered life. He did get out from time to time, but it was usually on some sort of mission to view how the unranked lived, a visit to a school, something of that sort.
Listening closely, he knocked once he heard movement on the other side of the door. It was very late but he hadn’t wanted to let the day end without trying to see the woman. Once he’d read the file and spoken to Saul Kerrigan he’d been livid. He wanted to hear Abigail Haws’s side of the story.
“Who is it?” A pause as he heard the viewport on the door slide open. “Oh, you. What in the seven hells are you doing here?” she snarled as her door flew open. A tiny sprite of a woman stood before him, long, dark hair hanging loose to her waist, big brown eyes flashing behind a pair of spectacles. He hadn’t seen spectacles very often. Most of the time surgical treatment repaired vision problems.
“I’m—”
She had the audacity to grab his arm and yank him into the apartment, slamming the door behind them both. “I know who you are. Why are you in my house?”
He looked around, again, surprised. The place was lovely. Plants exploded from pots hanging, draping, perched and placed on the windowsills. The furniture was nice, not expensive like his, but it fit the space.
He sniffed, trying to keep it to himself, but a redolent, heady scent hung in the air. It came from her kitchen where a pot sat on a cooktop. She cooked, too? Pictures sat in frames on shelves and on tables. Abigail Haws led a full life, and suddenly, he got a whole different perspective on her.
“Hello?” She snapped her fingers in front of his face, jolting him from his inner thoughts. She may have had a lovely apartment, but her manners left something to be desired.
“Please don’t do that.” He stepped back. “I’m here because you left before I could meet with you today. Marcus, my assistant, assured me you’d be home and that your assistant had told you to expect me. Apparently that did not happen.”
“I was before an administrator all afternoon. After you missed our appointment. I met with several of my clients at the lockup, did research at the library and came home. I haven’t even eaten yet.”
“You left out speaking with a vid crew.”
She had the audacity to laugh and he had the audacity to be charmed in a startled sort of way.
“Oh, that’s right. Yes. And I spoke with a vid crew about yet another instance of a Family using the system to harm the unranked. I nearly forgot that part. Thank you for reminding me.”
She turned, pushing that dark river of gleaming hair over her shoulder and headed to the kitchen. The scent of her soap wafting in her wake met his nose. Light, feminine, not much like her personality at all.
“Why are you using spectacles?”
“Why aren’t you using manners?” she countered, ladling the fabulously aromatic concoction into two bowls. “Would you like some stew? It’s nothing fancy but it’s good.”
He wanted to say no but he had to speak with her and he hadn’t eaten in hours. “Thank you.”
“Hmpf.” She placed the bowls on the table in the corner of her kitchen and turned again, returning with a pitcher of juice and some bread. “Sit.”
He did, surprised by how quickly he’d simply obeyed her order.
Good gods, Roman Lyons was ten kinds of delicious even as waves of privilege rolled from him as he sat at her table.
Still, she was going to have to beat Tasha for not forwarding notice of this little meeting to her home comm system. Here she was, keyed up and in need of quiet and some dinner and all of the sudden she had this at her table, eating her food and looking like a man who would most likely look even better without clothes. Inwardly, she sighed. She should have taken Logan up on his offer. If she went too long without sex, she got antsy. And sex with Roman Lyons fell under two categories: unrealistic and ridiculous. Unrealistic because he was not only Ranked but was the most powerful Ranked individual in the Known Universes. While she wasn’t. And ridiculous because, well, refer back to the first point.
“So now that you’re eating my food and drinking my juice, why don’t you fill me in on just exactly what motivated you to come out here at this late hour.”
“I wouldn’t be here at this late hour eating your food if you hadn’t run out on our appointment.”
She sighed. “Let me guess. You sit in your office and look out over the city and you wonder why-oh-why the unranked are so ungrateful for all the work you do for them. You did me a favor by letting me travel in the midst of my workday to your office high in the clouds and it was then my fault that I didn’t wait for you long past our appointed time. Because, you’re very busy and really, I should be grateful anyone from House Lyons would meet with me to begin with.”
“As it happens, I am very busy. I wasn’t having a beauty appointment while you were waiting. I was dealing with a life-or-death crisis. I apologize if that offends your sensibility.”
She smiled and tore a piece of bread from the loaf, using it to sop up the stew her sister had sent over. “Mr. Lyons, I expect you to do your job. But I also expect that if you should be two hours late for a meeting you’ll let me know so that I may get on with my own busy schedule and com
e back another time. Instead you left me out there as if I only existed in moments when your attention was on me. So your annoyance that I left after two hours offends me far more than you blowing me off for that time.”
“I did not blow you off. I explained that I was dealing with a life-or-death issue.”
It figured he’d look handsome even when a vein in his forehead started to visibly throb. He looked, well, sort of feral. Interesting. He seemed so very controlled. It made her curious as to what lay beneath that exterior of his. That’s it, she had to call Logan when Roman left.
“And I didn’t miss our appointment. I have people depending on me as well. Gretel Mortan being one of them, and she had a hearing I needed to attend.”
“This is very good. Thank you.” Long, pale-gold lashes fluttered down over pale green eyes a moment as he delivered the compliment.
“Oh. Well, thank you. It’s just a simple stew. My sister owns a café. She sent it over.”
“Ah, well, it’s still good. Tell me about Gretel Mortan.”
“Do you want to hear about that, or about what the MRD is after?” She sipped her juice and watched him carefully. He’d put aside his general agitation and had slid into a bureaucratic face. It was disconcerting how quickly he could assume a different role.
“Let’s start with Ms. Mortan since that’s the news of the day.”
So she laid it all out. She left the emotionalism of a life of service and the betrayal of a man Gretel had practically raised out of the discussion. It wasn’t the time and Roman Lyons wasn’t a soft touch anyway. He’d slipped on an impassive mask so she’d put on her own professional skin. Whatever it took to get Gretel Mortan out of lockup.