A Twist of Betrayal (6 page)

Her deep voice struck the courtroom like the crack of a whip, demanding everyone’s attention.

But through it all, he noticed when it was his turn to be questioned, her eyes sparkled at him like dark, brown fire. And boy, did she ever have the ability to twist words around.

“And you continued your pursuit of the defendant on foot, is that correct, Officer Franklin?” she asked.

“Yes,” he replied evenly, looking straight at her.

“And did you at any time during that pursuit lose sight of the defendant?”

“Yes, but—”

“So he was out of your sight,” she interrupted. “For how long?”

“I don’t know,” he had to answer honestly.

“One second?” she quipped. “One minute? Longer?”

“One minute perhaps,” he replied.

“And when you caught him, did you search him?”

“After I had him subdued and handcuffed.”

“And did you find any illegal substances on his person?” she asked.

He found himself caught in the darkness of her eyes. “No,” he was forced to admit.

“But you’re convinced the substances you found in the trash dumpster en route of your pursuit are his?”

“Yes.”

“How many people do you think dump their trash in that dumpster?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Three businesses use that dumpster, with a total of twenty-four people working at those businesses,” she answered her own question. “And yet, you are utterly convinced that the drugs you found belong to the defendant.”

“Yes, I am,” Dan replied.

“Is there the possibility that one of the other twenty-four people who might throw trash into that dumpster could have put the drugs there?” she asked.

“Well, yes.”

“And is there the possibility that anyone driving by could have stopped and put it there?”

“Yes,” he admitted again.

“No further questions, your Honor.”

If Dan didn’t know better, she was going to get the scumbag off.

“Have you changed your mind about tonight?” he asked when he finally got a chance to talk to her after court.

“Why would I?” she asked instead of answering his question.

“The rain is freezing outside. I thought it might be enough to change your mind,” he said.

“You’ll find, Officer Franklin,” she said slowly, “there are very few things I let stop me. And weather isn’t one of them.”

“Good,” he said. It was easy to forget she was a lawyer, even when she sounded like one. All he wanted to do was touch her, and it took all his willpower to keep his hands at his side. He told himself wanting her and letting himself actually get close to her were two different things. And that he could let himself enjoy one and steer clear of the other. It was exactly what he planned to do. After all, it would be hard for them to have any kind of life together when he caught the scumbags and she set them free.

Still, her hair had that curl he wanted to reach out and touch.

“Have you changed your mind?” she asked, her question taking him by surprise.

“No, why?”

“After my inquisition, I was afraid you might have.”

He grinned at her. “Very little changes my mind, too,” he assured her.

That night, he met her at The Silver Goblet after he showered and changed at the end of his shift. The weather was horrible, the roads turning icy, the rain now changed to snow. But Dan wouldn’t have missed this dinner for anything. He found himself intrigued by Justine Albright, and couldn’t wait to get to know more about her, to see if she was always the same woman who waltzed around the courtroom as if she owned it.

She wasn’t, he found. At dinner, she was softer spoken. Gone was the professional suit she’d worn. In its place, she wore a skirt, long sweater and black boots. She waited for him at a table near a window where she looked out at the falling snow. He watched her from across the room for a moment, thinking she looked like a picture from a dream. Then she turned slowly and met his gaze.

He drew closer. “Hi,” he said, feeling suddenly as if he was on the first date of his life.

“Hi,” she replied. “I was afraid you wouldn’t be able to make it here.”

“I wouldn’t have let the weather keep me away,” he pointed out.

“I know that,” she said, as she looked into his eyes. “I was afraid you’d be caught at work. There are bound to be accidents on a night like this.”

He grinned. “I managed to slip away before there was anything major.”

Justine laughed softly at his choice of words.

“Besides,” he went on, “I couldn’t miss this celebration.”

Her eyes narrowed in question. “What celebration?”

“Your winning the case and letting that dopehead go free.”

“I haven’t won it yet,” she pointed out.

His grin grew. “But you will.”

“What makes you so certain?”

“That you’ll get him off?” he asked. “You’re very good. If I ever need a defense lawyer, I’m calling you.”

“Thank you,” she said. “But I meant that he was a dopehead.”

“I just do,” he said.

“That’s not good enough,” she said.

She suddenly sounded more like the lawyer he now knew. “Why do you defend creeps like him?”

“You sound like my father,” she put in. She looked away for a moment, and absently fingered the cloth napkin in front of her.

Dan wondered if she was embarrassed. He couldn’t imagine the woman he saw in court earlier ever being embarrassed. But this woman before him was entirely different. And he found himself liking both sides of Justine. He found himself wanting both. He took a sip of ice water, but it did nothing to cool the fire she’d set inside him. “Why?” he asked again.

“Because not all of them are guilty, that’s why. I know some of them are. Maybe most of them, but not all. And even creeps don’t deserve jail if they aren’t guilty.”

He shrugged. “I guess I can’t argue with your logic. But I don’t want to talk about creeps any more. Tell me about yourself.”

She did. Through a dinner of steak and potato, she told him about her parents, her three brothers, law school, how exciting it was to know that sometimes the wheels of justice did turn in the right direction. Dan could listen to her all night.

“What about you?” she asked suddenly. “With the way you handle yourself and the way you talk, I have the feeling you were a cop somewhere else before coming here. What made you come to a small town like Landston?”

“The same thing that attracts anyone to a small town—less crime.”

Justine said nothing. She merely looked at him and waited for more.

“I was a cop in Chicago for a little over three years,” Dan went on. “Then one day, everything changed. It started as a normal day. There were no major bank robberies, no shootings. I walked into the donut shop I’d walked into nearly every morning. The only difference that day was my partner, Adam.” He paused and grinned at a memory. “I used to tease him and call him Adam Twelve, like the old police TV show.”

Justine smiled but still said nothing.

“Anyway, Adam went in first, planning to just get his usual cream filled donut, and there was an incident. Suddenly we were face to face with a juvenile with a gun. He must have just shot Bernie, the owner, moments before we arrived. There he was with a gun, and before either of us could react, he shot Adam. The impact knocked him back into me and we both stumbled right out the door onto the sidewalk. I don’t think I’ll ever forget the look on Adam’s face. He must have been dead before—” Dan stopped suddenly, amazed that he had let so much slip out. He had never told anyone what he’d thought of the horrible, sudden look of death on his partner’s face.

“How’d you do that?” he asked.

She raised her brows at him innocently. “Do what?”

“Ask one simple question and get me to tell you my life story. Gee, that’s scary,” he tried to joke. In telling her about Adam, he allowed himself to get closer to her. And if Adam’s death had taught him anything, it was that closeness could only rip you apart. He didn’t need it.

She must have known he wasn’t joking, that his vulnerability really bothered him. “We can talk about something else,” she said. “Do you have family?”

“Yes,” he replied and suddenly found himself telling her a comical story of his childhood before he could stop to think.

“My younger brother, Dillon, always wanted to be a pilot when he grew up, and I once made wings out of cardboard and the feathers out of our mother’s feather pillows,” he explained.

“Oh, no,” she grinned. Her eyes sparkled. Dan got lost in them.

“Oh, yes,” he replied.

“What happened?” she asked.

And Dan couldn’t have stopped himself from telling her if his life depended on it. “Well, I was older and more knowledgeable at the ripe age of eight and chickened out when it came to jumping off the roof of the garage.”

“But?” she quipped. “I hear a ‘but’ coming.”

He laughed at her choice of words. “But,” he emphasized, “Dillon, being only two years younger, was faster. I wasn’t able to stop him from jumping.”

“Oh, my gosh!” She had her elbows on the table, her chin and cheeks in both hands as she held on to his every word. “What happened?”

“Both of Dillon’s wings were replaced by plaster.”

“How awful.”

“What was awful was that all Dillon worried about was what he needed to change on his wings to make them fly next time.”

Dan had no idea why that crazy story popped into his mind. He hadn’t thought of that incident in years, but Justine laughed at it. At one point during the story, Dan reached across the small table and took her hand. He didn’t even remember when.

She was warm and soft. Dan considered another long swallow of ice water, but knew it would do little good. If he wanted to cool the heat her hand sent into him, he would have to dump the glass of ice water down the front of his shirt, or better yet, down the front of his pants. Besides, he didn’t want to move. He told himself he was allowed to feel her heat, to even welcome it. It didn’t mean he had to get close to her. It didn’t mean he had to give anything of himself away.

The waiter took their finished plates and offered dessert. They both refused but asked for coffee.

“So is Dillon a pilot now?” she asked.

“For a major airline,” he replied. “I think he flies around the world every week or so.”

“What about your parents?” she asked.

“They died when I was a freshman in high school. Dillon and I lived with an aunt and uncle until I turned eighteen.”

“I’m sorry.”

He shrugged off her apology.

“So what made you want to be a cop?” she asked.

He shrugged lightly again. “Oh, I wasn’t always a law-abiding citizen growing up. I guess I felt the need to redeem my sins.”

She offered him a small smile. “And do you?”

Dan was quiet for a long time, lost in the dark fire of her eyes. “I guess I do. I try. Little by little. Take you for example,” he explained. “I stopped you from speeding. I suppose I’ll never know for certain, but I might have saved you from hitting something or perhaps a carload full of kids.”

“I see,” she said.

“And I guess I do help put the bad guys where they belong as long as you public defenders don’t come along and get them off,” he teased.

“That was a low blow,” she reminded him, but her eyes sparkled more.

“I’m only teasing.”

The waiter chose that moment to bring their coffee. And Dan reluctantly let go of her hand. She tore her gaze from his to stir her coffee.

He helped her with her coat later. “Let me walk you to your car.”

“You don’t have to, really,” she argued. “I’ll be perfectly safe. It’s too cold to get mugged. Besides things like that don’t happen here.”

“Just the same, I’d feel better since things like that can happen anywhere,” Dan said. “And if I’d picked you up instead of meeting you here, I’d be walking you to your door.”

“It’s nice to know chivalry isn’t dead, after all.”

He didn’t know about chivalry. He did know he didn’t want the night with her to end.

The snow was still falling, and flakes of white landed in her dark hair. Dan wanted to brush it away for her. “Can I see you again?” he asked instead.

“Yes,” she replied without hesitation.

“Tomorrow?”

Justine laughed softly. “Tomorrow?”

“I really want—” Dan stopped. How could he tell her he wanted to get to know her more without sounding as if the knowing would be only physical? Because the truth was he did want her physically. But there was more to it than that. His desire went deeper, touching everything about her and sending it to his soul. It was like a need, a need to explore her total aspect of being—spiritually, physically, emotionally, and sexually. All of her. And he couldn’t deny the fact that if she invited him home with her right now, he wasn’t sure if he could refuse. “I just want to see you again,” he said and smiled. He told himself there was nothing wrong with that.

“I want to see you, too,” she said, suddenly sounding for the first time like the sharp lawyer in the courtroom he’d watched that morning. For a long moment, neither spoke, and Dan was certain there was something more she wanted to say but didn’t.

Instead, she reached out and took his hand. Her touch was like an electrical current trying to reach in and shock his soul. He couldn’t let go of her.

“Tomorrow then?” he asked.

“I don’t know. It looks as though the case in court will probably be wrapped up tomorrow. If that’s true, I’ll need to spend tomorrow night writing my closing argument,” she explained.

A snowflake landed on her cheek, and Dan watched it melt against the warmth of her face. “Well, can I call you then? Maybe I could bring you a sandwich or a pizza or something. You still have to eat.”

She reached into her purse and pulled out one of her cards. “I’d like that. Here’s my office number.” She suddenly sounded more like the lawyer he’d seen earlier.

Dan took her in his arms before she had the chance to do what lawyers do—protest—and he kissed her.

Her lips were soft and warm against the cold of the night.

Her lips were wonderful. She tasted of cream and coffee and an underlying womanly taste all her own. A taste, he wanted to sample again and again.