Hot Secrets (17 page)

“Remember, I have two men already in position here at the
building. You have both of their numbers in auto-dial. Be aware of
what’s going on but don’t let it consume you. You’re safe.” He
glanced down at the deep cleavage of the emerald blouse she wore
under a black suit. “From everyone but me.”

She tugged at the blouse. “Leave it to Julie to bring me the
most inappropriate clothes she owns. I’ll be pinning this
shut.”

“We can go get your clothes tonight on the way home.”

“Home?” she asked.

“I’ve got you with me,” he said, pulling her close and kissing
her. “Don’t expect me to let you go.”

She wiped his mouth. “Pink isn’t your color.”

He smiled and kissed her again. “Text me when you get to your
office so I know you’re safe.”

She nodded and reached for the door. “Be careful.”

“Careful is my middle name.”

She smiled. “Funny. I thought it was Luke’s.” She pushed open
the door and slung her briefcase over her shoulder, before heading
the short distance to the glass door before disappearing
inside.

He dialed Kyle. “I’m leaving.”

“I’m about to follow her onto the elevator. She’ll be fine.” He
hung up, no doubt already inside the car with Lauren.

Royce dropped his phone on the seat, his gut tight. Damn, this
was killing him. He was going to enjoy tracking down this bastard.
His first target, the ‘dude’ who’d been nasty to Lauren the day
before. Whether he was guilty of being a jerk or guilty of more,
he’d know not to bother Lauren again when Royce was done with
him.

Fifteen minutes later, Royce pulled into an apartment in the
east side, poverty stricken section of Brooklyn and made his way to
the door 4B. He knocked, and mumbled under his breath, “Come on,
you son of a bitch. Answer.”

The door swung revealing a man wearing jeans and nothing more.
“Yeah?”

A standoff ensued. They stared at each other, sizing each other
up. Cockiness, bred from Special Forces training, oozed from his
opponent. The man was a deadly weapon, but then, so was he.
“Jonathan Wilkins?”

“You’re looking at him,” Wilkins said. “Who are you and what do
you want?”

“The name’s Royce Walker. I’d like to talk about Lauren
Reynolds.”

No reaction. “What about her?”

“You tell me.”

“I hate the bitch. What’s it to you?”

“Everything.”

“She’s trying to kill my sister,” he said coldly.

“She’s doing her job.”

“Amazing how some people get paid to kill another while others
just get thrown in jail, now isn’t it?” There was no mistaking the
malice to the question. “Makes a person appreciate the laws of
another country. An eye for an eye. A life for a life.”

“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 to 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,”
Su
llivan 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?”