I tensed, wondering if she would finally snap and slap me. Part of me even wished that she would, that I'd have something I could really use against her.
Surprisingly, she just studied me. After a moment, she spoke, but only to address Pierce. “Please finish getting your things together. You need to be out of here within the hour. I don’t know how long the investigation will take. Hopefully, you’ll be back to work once it’s complete.”
The smile she gave him made me want to roll my eyes, but I refrained. Pierce looked away, not looking very impressed.
She reached out and laid a hand on his arm. “I’ll put in my recommendation. I think you’ll just get a warning on your record. More than likely, you’ll be back to work within the next couple of weeks.”
“Gee, thanks.” The words were thick, bitter with irony. He didn't shake off her hand, however.
She pursed her lips and added softly, “That is assuming Dena doesn’t decide to press charges. They will talk to her about her claims.”
“I’m betting on it.” I gave her a hard look. “I'm looking forward to giving them my thoughts on how this all unfolded. From beginning to end.”
Her smile wobbled, then fell away entirely.
She made no other attempts to bait either of us over the next three minutes. That’s how long it took Pierce to vacate his office. Bethany followed him to the door and closed it behind him. When she turned to look at me, I could tell she was going to say something, but I was ready for her.
She saw the phone I’d pulled out of my pocket and blinked.
The outrage on her face smoothed away like it had never existed. Her eyes cleared, her mouth curved into a perfunctory smile.
“Please don’t tell me you feel the need to record everything you and I say. We’re coworkers.” She took a step toward me, as if she was trying to regain her footing. “Actually, I’m your supervisor. You’re supposed to be able to trust me with things.”
“Yeah. That'd be nice.” I glanced at my phone again, tapped the screen. It was on my email account, not that she knew. Just the possibility that I was keeping a visual record of her behavior had sucked the malicious wind out of her sails.
It wasn’t the ideal way to handle this, but I wouldn’t let her screw with my career any more than she already had. And since I wasn't actually recording, no one would be able to claim any sort of breach of privilege.
She flicked another look at the phone, and then walked past me. There was an expression of acute dislike on her features, but she kept her face turned away enough that if my phone had been recording, she couldn't have been seen. “As you can imagine, Pierce’s suspension came at an inopportune time. We’re trying to expedite the trial on Leayna Mance, and now I’ve lost my co-chair. You’ll be taking his place.”
Her words hit me like a punch in the chest. I gripped the phone tighter as I sucked in a breath.
I couldn't have heard her right.
“Second chair?” I said softly. A few weeks ago, I would have been delighted. Now...shit.
“Yes.” Her blue eyes for hard as she stared at me. “Welcome to the big times, Dena. You're going to trial.”
Continues in Unlawful Attraction Vol. 4
Unlawful Attraction Vol. 4
Chapter 1
Dena
Welcome to the big times, Bethany had said.
The big times could kiss my ass.
When my phone vibrated, signaling the arrival of yet another text, I closed my eyes. It wasn’t quite noon on a lazy, rainy Sunday and if life had been perfect, I could've maybe responded to one of those texts, asked him to come over. Maybe we could have taken the next step to see if whatever this was between us could be more.
But life wasn’t perfect.
Not even when I'd gotten the one thing I thought I wanted.
The autumn rain that had always seemed so comforting was now driving me crazy. I rubbed my hands over my arms. For some reason, I felt trapped inside my apartment. No matter how much I liked to go out, I'd never been the sort of person who got stir-crazy being in one place too long. At the moment, however, I was almost claustrophobic.
Staring out my window at the leaden gray skies, I made myself ignore my phone. Again. But every text, every call I didn't respond to, or that I let go to voicemail, made it that much harder to ignore the next one.
The sight of his name flashing on the screen was like a punch to the gut.
Not that Arik had said anything or done anything to upset me. On the contrary, his texts ranged from teasing to tempting to sly, and despite my miserable outlook on everything at the moment, each one managed to make me smile.
The phone calls that rolled over to voice mail? The same. He left me smiling...right up until the third call. That one had been laced with a bit of an edge. Nothing rude or even close to hurtful, but I knew I was pushing him further and further away with each passing moment.
Not that I could blame him for being annoyed at me. Here I was dodging his calls, and just a few days ago, I’d been giving him grief because he’d asked for my number but hadn't called back. I hadn't even considered that he might've lost it. Now, he was doing what I'd wanted him to do, and I was leaving him hanging without a word of explanation.
I owed him that.
Except I didn't know what to say.
Things had changed?
Things had really changed.
And that was simplifying it to the Nth degree.
Wandering back over to my desk, I looked at the case files Bethany had insisted I take home. She'd given me a snide you need to get up to speed, and it'd taken all my self-control not to point out that if she hadn’t kept me in the dark all this time, I wouldn’t have needed to get caught up.
But there hadn't been a point to saying any of it. She would've found a way to make it my fault and possibly take me back off the case. Dodge, blame, make excuses. It was her MO. Basically do everything except take responsibility for her own actions. She just wanted the win, no matter how she got there.
How in the hell she ended up a prosecutor, I wondered. She should have been an ambulance chaser. Not even a respectable defense attorney like Arik would stoop to the lengths I suspected Bethany had gone to ensure a victory. She was on par with those sleazy dickwads who used every trick in the book to get their own way.
Finally, I settled down on the couch with one of the files and my fourth cup of coffee. I already had notepads and pencils there from earlier. I'd gone through a couple things before needing to get up and stretch my legs. Now, it was time to focus on the report from the medical examiner.
Within just a few minutes of starting the report, I felt myself starting to get a headache. Considering this was supposed to be an open and shut case, the report from the ME was going to have the jury wondering what the hell was going on.
It sure as hell had me wondering.
I wasn't a medical examiner, and I didn't have a lot of experience reading these types of reports, but from where I sat, it cast plenty of doubt on Leayna Mance as the murderer.
Except I was supposed to help Bethany put Leayna behind bars.
If I'd seen this report earlier, I barely would've considered Leayna a suspect at all. Basically, just someone who needed to be talked to and then crossed off the list before we could get down to finding the real killer.
A killer who no one else seemed to be looking for.
I knew nothing I said would be listened to though, especially considering that a witness I wanted to talk to wasn't exactly around to interview about an alternate theory of the crime.
He was sort of, well, dead.
I’d called Dunne to see if he could help me track the guy down. It hadn't been too hard, as it turned out, because the guy had just been fished out of the river.
In pieces.
A couple of detectives were pissed about it, too, since it turned out he'd been a police informant. Dunne was supposed to let me know if it that investigation connected to my case at all. I wasn't holding m
y breath. Considering the cops had found fifty thousand in cash in the guy's apartment, finding that murderer wouldn't be pleasant.
I could already imagine what Bethany would say if I went to her with any of this. She'd probably theorize that Leayna Mance had paid the guy to kill Mr. Mance, even if I brought up the fact that the guy had been a possible witness to the late Mr. Mance having cheated on his wife. A tenacious prosecutor wasn't necessarily a bad thing, but one who got a theory in their head and never considered any other possibilities might go too far to protect what they thought of as the truth.
Bethany was definitely the latter.
It'd take a literal smoking gun to sway her opinion, and even then I wasn't sure she'd accept anything less than an actual recording of the crime, complete with authentication certification that the recording wasn't a fake. Maybe not even then...
My phone rang again, interrupting my thoughts. I glanced down at it, almost ready to answer it just so I could have one less thing to worry about. This wasn't really the sort of thing I wanted to discuss over the phone, but I couldn't keep avoiding him. And obsessing about it wasn't doing me any good either.
But it wasn't Arik.
Unknown number flashed across the screen. I would’ve preferred to ignore it, but considering all of the weird shit going on in this case, I didn't want to miss anything important. It could've been Officer Dunne calling from a payphone. There might be a handful of those still left in the city I supposed.
I answered, keeping my voice flat. "Dena Monroe."
On the other end of the line, I heard open-air, but no response.
I noted the time and gave my name again. "This is Dena Monroe. Can I help you?"
The call ended.
Even as a divorce lawyer, I'd had my fair share of this sort of thing. Yeah, my personal number was unlisted, but it didn’t take much to track down a number these days.
It also could've been a wrong number. That did happen.
Still, an uneasy feeling tripped its way down my spine, and I set my phone down on the desk. I didn't have any proof, but my gut told me that the call was about this case, that things were definitely not as cut-and-dry as Bethany wanted to make them appear.
Outside, the rain continued to batter my window, and it didn't stop until around mid-afternoon. The cessation of the white noise didn't really help me focus though. A little while later, the sun teased me with a few rays of sunshine, and that was the only sign I needed to get out of the apartment for a while.
As soon as I stepped outside, I saw that I wasn’t the only one who'd been going stir crazy. The streets were already bustling, and my destination, the little Indian place on the corner, was packed by the time I got there. The hostess recognized me, giving me a quick smile and pointing to a single table in the corner. Tucking myself into the minuscule space, I had barely sat down when my phone buzzed.
It was Arik.
Again.
I didn't like it, but it was the perfect time to respond. I had an excuse not to answer in any way other than a text. It might've been cowardly of me, but I was okay with that at the moment.
Decision made, I started drafting my text. I was still working on it when the server came by with my usual tea. “Do you want your usual, Dena?”
“Yes.” I gave her a distracted smile, my attention on the man I was texting.
As she left, I looked back down at the message, wondering if this was the right thing. He’d told me, made me believe we could have something. Then this mess happened with the case.
Was it over before we even had a chance to figure things out?
I read it again.
Hi, Arik. Sorry I haven’t been able to answer your calls. I’m eating right now. Things with the case have gotten a bit complicated, keeping me busy.
We need to talk, but I won't be able to until later this week.
I deliberated a moment and then added,
Thinking of you.
I sent it, then put the phone in my purse, telling myself that I needed to put this out of my head so I could focus on work. We would talk later, once I'd had some time to get my priorities sorted out and had a plan in place.
***
Monday was about as far away from Friday as it could be. It dawned sunny and bright, the sun’s light trying to scorch my corneas, teasing the headache that had been nagging me on and off most of the weekend.
I didn’t want to be here at all, but there wasn’t anything to be done for it. I had to go to work.
I hadn’t heard from Arik since a text he'd sent Sunday evening saying that he'd get back to me when he had a time he could talk.
He needed to hurry the hell up.
On the other hand, I needed time to think through what I wanted to say, because I still had absolutely no idea. No idea what to do or say. No idea of what I even really wanted.
Distracted by my thoughts, I didn’t even notice the commotion going on outside my office door until I almost ran into one of the maintenance guys on my way in. One who seemed to be carrying things out of my office.
What the hell?
“What is this?” I demanded.
He glanced over his shoulder at me. “Cleaning this old place out.” He paused, squinting at me. “Are you Ms. Monroe?”
“Yes.” Planting one hand on my hip, I stared at him and tried to look intimidating. It was hard to look tough though when you stood five foot nothing, and had a skinny vanilla latte with a double shot of espresso in your hand, but I did my best. “You want to tell me why you're cleaning it out? It happens to be my office.”
A part of me hoped that Bethany had just decided to fire me. If she had...I hated the thrill of happiness that went through me. I should've been devastated that I lost the job I'd wanted my whole life.
Before I could get too excited though, the guy spoke again.
“You got a new office.” He pointed down the hall and rattled off a number. “Down there.”
My heart sank as I realized the office was right next to Pierce. It'd be bigger, but I really didn't want to be any closer to the man than I had to be.
“Okay.” I waved a hand at him. “Sorry about getting snippy. I was just surprised. Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. Thank your boss.” He turned and ambled off, pushing a cart laden with boxes.
I stepped into my office and then looked back down the hall. “I’ll finish up in here, if it’s okay with you. Most of it’s my personal stuff.”
He glanced at me and shrugged as if to say it didn’t matter to him one way or the other. I ducked inside the tiny space I'd been using as an office and looked around. It looked like pretty much everything, save for the corkboard and a few other little odds and ends, had already been moved.
Blowing out a breath, I reached for the door behind me.
A hand shot out, and I didn’t have time to panic or even think.
Two seconds later, the door was shut and Arik Porter stood in front of me.
“Miss Monroe, I believe you wanted to talk.” His voice was calm, even professional.
“What’re you doing?” I demanded, gaping at him. “This is—”
That was all I managed to get out before his mouth slammed down over mine.
A hundred indignant questions and statements faded away, replaced by an insatiable, irrational sort of need clawing through me. Arik’s thigh pushed between mine, and the flirty, flippy skirt that I'd worn today was no barrier. He kept moving until his knee was pressed directly against me.
He tore his mouth away, nipping at my bottom lip. “Do you know how long it’s been since I had you wrapped around my dick, Dena?”
Things inside me twisted.
“I can tell you...far too long.”
Shit.
He wasn't kidding. It'd been too long.
I took a deep breath, trying to clear my head. It did no good though, because with it, came the scent of him. Soap and spice and whatever it was that was him.
Fuck.
When he p
ressed his lips to my neck, I swallowed a whimper, and then he kissed me again.
Greedy, I sucked his tongue into my mouth, and when his body drew tight in response, a primitive sort of victory welled up inside me. I loved that I could do this to this man. This dominant, powerful man.
Arik ran his hands through my hair.
We needed to stop, I thought hazily. This was crazy.
I couldn't bring the words to my lips yet. I wanted him so much.
Cool air caressed my chest, and I realized he’d let go of my hair at some point to start unbuttoning my blouse. If he touched his hands or mouth to my breasts, I'd be gone. There'd be no stopping.
“Stop,” I finally managed to say. “Arik, stop...we’re not doing this here.”
He reached down between us and cupped me, one finger rubbing against my panties. I was already aching and wet for him.
“Are you sure?” he asked, a hot, sweet teasing note in his voice.
I bit my lower lip to muffle my moan as his fingers pressed against me. He backed me up against the door and leaned into me, his body hard in all the right places.
In the sane, rational part of my mind that wasn’t already completely undone by him, a voice whispered, “You're in your office. You're supposed to be meeting with Bethany soon. You can't do this.”
Bethany.
Office.
Dammit all to hell.
I caught his wrist and dragged his hand away. “No, Arik."
They were the hardest two words I'd ever had to say.
Against my lips, he murmured, “No?”
Feeling the edges of my control fracturing, I forced my hands between us and shoved at his chest. “No.”
He took a step back, his expression wild for a single moment before he brought himself back under control.
Voice shaking, I gestured toward the hall. “Bethany McDermott might think it’s just fine to screw around on the job, but I don’t. I'm not doing this here.”
Arik held up his hands to show that he was backing off. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” He scraped his fingertips down his jaw, scratching at the stubble already darkening his chin. “I…Dena, you make me lose my mind a little. I’m sorry.”