Midnight Run (14 page)

“Any idea how this disk was delivered to you?” he asked after a moment.

“There’s no return address.” She handed him the envelope. “It was probably dropped off at the courthouse.”

“Or delivered by someone who has access to the courthouse,” he said. “Security is relatively tight here. Not just anyone could waltz in and drop this in the mailroom.”

He saw the wheels begin to spin in her mind. “You think it was a cop?” she asked. “An officer of the court? Who?”

“Someone who wants me out the picture and thinks they can use you to help them.”

“I’m going to be honest with you, Jack. The disk is damning. You and I know Evan didn’t write it, but it will still need to be disproved officially. We’re going to have to deal with it.”

“Yeah, well, one disaster at a time, Red. Okay?”

“I don’t know what to do next,” she whispered.

Jack heard the fear and uncertainty in her voice. He felt the same two emotions coiling inside him. But he knew what they had to do next. What
he
had to do. Something he’d hoped he wouldn’t have to resort to, but now realized it was his last hope. A last hope that was dangerous as hell and probably wouldn’t garner him anything but a bullet for his trouble. That was the reason he couldn’t tell Landis, why he couldn’t take her with him. That presented another problem he wasn’t sure how to resolve. He didn’t know how to keep Landis safe. He couldn’t leave her here. He couldn’t take her back to Ian’s. It wasn’t safe for her to go back to her cabin. He didn’t want to endanger her mother by taking her there.

Turning to the window, he looked out at the parking lot beyond and wondered how much time he had before the police caught up with him. He knew the moment was inevitable, sensed the sand pouring through the timer at an alarming speed.

He turned to Landis. “I’m going check you into a hotel.”

“You mean us, don’t you?”

He nodded, telling himself lying to her now was the only way to play this. “We’ll be safe for a while. Maybe we can come up with a plan.” And once he was gone, he’d already decided to contact Ian himself and explain to him that Landis was in danger. Hopefully, her younger brother would be able to put his hatred for Jack aside long enough to do the right thing and keep his sister safe.

“Give me a dollar,” she said.

He laughed, but it was a hard, rough sound. “Not a chance.”

She crossed to him, put her hand on his arm. “If you retain me now, it will protect both of us from possible problems down the road.”

“You mean if we get busted and get a starring role in the trial of the century? No thanks.”

“I’m getting pretty tired of you fighting me every step of the way.” Never taking her eyes from his, she leaned close and slid her hand into the pocket of his jeans.

Jack met her gaze unflinchingly, keenly aware of her fumbling inside his pocket for the money Chandler had given him. She was so close he could smell the clean scent of her hair. See the sprinkling of freckles on her nose. The sheen of moisture on her full mouth. He wondered what it would be like to lean forward and touch his mouth to hers. He wondered if she would kiss him back.

He endured the contact with stoic silence, aware that his body was reacting, that he wanted her, that there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about either of those things.

Quickly, she fished out a roll of bills, pulled out a five and stuffed the rest back in his pocket. “You’ve now retained me as your legal counsel. As your lawyer, I’m protected by client-attorney confidentiality.”

“I know the law,” he growled. “If you think that’s going to protect you from an aiding and abetting charge, you’ve got another thing coming.”

“I know our criminal justice system isn’t perfect. But I still believe in it. I believe it is fair.”

“Unless someone tips her scales in the wrong direction.”

“We’re the good guys. That’s got to mean something or that law degree hanging on the wall is useless. Jack, I need for it to mean something.”

“Sometimes the good guys lose,” he said.

“Not this time.”

Staring into the emerald depths of her gaze, he wanted badly to believe her. But Jack knew firsthand just how fickle Lady Justice could be. He knew she could be a ruthless bitch with a cold heart and a twisted sense of fairness. He’d been on the receiving end of that fickleness too many times in the past year to trust her now.

He only hoped that when all was said and done, Landis received a hell of a lot more mercy than had been shown to him.

Landis felt almost human after a hot shower and Jack’s promise of Chinese takeout. Wrapping herself in the hotel’s complimentary robe, she stepped out of the tub and looked in the mirror, cringing at the sight of her pale complexion and the dark smudges of fatigue beneath her eyes.

But even more glaring than the physical traces left on her body was the knowledge that she was no longer the same person on the inside. She’d ceased to be the idealistic, ambitious young prosecutor she’d been before Jack had shown up at her cabin. Her life had been forever changed, and she would never again look at the world in quite the same light.

The criminal justice system upon which she’d based her career had failed her. She now stood squarely on the wrong side of the law. Like her brother. Like her father before her. The irony of that burned.

To make an already catastrophic situation infinitely worse, she could no longer deny her feelings for Jack. Feelings that were so tangled she feared she might never sort through them. Caring for Jack was like a wild ride on a roller coaster, the kind with hairpin curves and dangerous speeds and a very rickety track. And yet every time she looked into his eyes and saw the man beneath the tough facade—the man who had been hurt and betrayed—she felt herself sliding down a very slippery slope.

Too exhausted to ponder the questions burgeoning inside her, she wrapped her hair in a towel and stepped out of the bathroom. At the table, Jack unpacked their take-out food and soft drinks. In spite of the physical and emotional strain of the past two days, he looked calm and in control and undeniably handsome in his flannel shirt and snug-fitting jeans. His hands were steady as he arranged plastic utensils.

Glancing in her direction, he smiled. “Nothing fancy, but it’s hot. I hope you still like egg rolls and fried rice.”

She didn’t miss the concern in his eyes, and hoped she didn’t look as jittery as she felt. “Hot mustard?”

“You bet.”

Landis approached the table and took the chair across from him, aware that his eyes followed her every move. She wanted to talk to him, about the case, about what was going on between them, but didn’t have the slightest clue where to begin. She had absolutely no idea what the next twenty-four hours would bring. She didn’t even know if they would be alive that long. Cyrus Duke had made it abundantly clear that he wanted them dead. The manhunt would undoubtedly intensify in the coming hours….

“You’re pale as a sheet, Landis. You need to eat.” Jack shoved a plate heaped with food toward her.

“Yeah, well, flying bullets and cryptic messages from the dead wreak havoc on a girl’s appetite.” She wasn’t hungry, but because it had been nearly twenty-four hours since she’d taken in any food, she reached for her fork.

“What do we do now?” she asked.

“I’m going after Duke.”

She choked out a laugh of disbelief, but she had the terrible suspicion he wasn’t kidding. “Maybe we could just march up to Duke’s front door. When he comes out, you hold him while I punch him. We’ll coerce a confession out of him, and then hightail it out of there before his armed bodyguards blow us to pieces.”

His silence and deadpan expression raised the hairs at the back of her neck. “Jack, exactly how do you plan on going after Duke? He wants you dead. He’s brutal and wealthy and powerful as hell. He lives in a fortress and surrounds himself with bodyguards and corrupt politicians—”

“And corrupt cops,” he interjected.

“You’re not even armed.”

“Ah, Counselor, where’s that pit bull mindset I used to know and love?”

Setting her fork down, she glared at him, aware that her temper was heating. “Maybe I’m just smart enough to know when I’m outmanned and outgunned.”

“Outmanned and outgunned, maybe. But not outsmarted.” One side of his mouth curved. “Do you know who Pete Boyle is?”

“The computer hacker? Of course I do. Everyone knows—” She stopped. “Why are we talking about Pete Boyle?”

“Because he’s part of this.”

“You could have mentioned that sooner.”

Jack rolled his shoulder, and Landis got the distinct impression that he hadn’t told her about Pete Boyle for a specific reason. She wondered what it was. “I’m all ears,” she said.

“Two years ago Pete Boyle was convicted of writing corporate sabotage and sentenced to three years. He and I had the breakfast and lunch shift for a couple of months. Hell of a guy for a crook. Makes a mean parsnip and carrot soup.” Jack shrugged. “But Pete didn’t adjust to prison life very well. He’s scrawny. Wears glasses. Didn’t know how to protect himself from the thugs, you know?”

“I’m getting the picture.”

He broke an egg roll in half. “In any case, I helped him out of a couple of tight spots. Saved his ass once or twice. Kept the gangs off him.”

“So where are you going with this?”

“Pete liked to talk, Landis. He’s just a kid. Not even twenty-two years old. Throwing names around was his only power. He was always hoping it would be enough to keep the predators off him.” His eyes glittered when he looked at her. “I protected him, but I didn’t do it for free. And he told me all kinds of things about Cyrus Duke.”

Her pulse kicked as the repercussions of what he was saying registered in her brain. “What things?”

“When I was a cop, it was common knowledge that Duke is paranoid with sociopathic tendencies. I think one of the reasons we could never nail him for anything boiled down to the fact that he’s incredibly cautious in every aspect of his business. He pays top dollar for security and any other toys that help keep him on top of the game.”

“Tell me something I don’t already know,” she said dryly.

“So when it came time for Duke to get a new computer system, he didn’t trust the job to just anyone. No way. Only the best for Cyrus Duke. So he hires Pete Boyle, hacker extraordinaire.”

Her heart pinged against her ribs. “Bingo.”

Jack’s mouth curved. “Pete spent a month setting up a state-of-the-art computer network for Duke, about a month before his conviction. He linked Duke’s home to his downtown office to his restaurant. He installed e-mail, high-speed Internet access, Palm top connection, wireless for his notebook, the whole nine yards. No expense was spared.”

“Jack, do you know what’s on the network?”

“Some of it. For example, I know his tax and financial data are on there. Payroll for his restaurant.”

“Anything we can use?”

“I thought we might be able to do something with the list of government officials who are close personal friends.”

Landis’s heart began to pound in earnest. “Oh my God.”

Jack’s eyes sparked like black diamonds as he regarded her. “Pete gave me passwords and security codes. At the time, it was a personal security thing for him. I mean, he was scared spitless that Duke would murder him after he did all that work, so he walked away with a little insurance policy.”

“Master key login ID and password.” Landis had heard the term while reading about a case involving a hacker in another state. “It’s where a master login ID and password overrides any other password programmed in to the operating system.”

“Not bad for a lawyer.”

“Where are they? Do you have them written down? What?”

He tapped his temple. “I have them in a very safe place.”

“This could be the break we’ve been praying for.” For the first time in a long time, hope burgeoned in her chest. “Why didn’t you mention this sooner?”

Without answering, Jack went to the door and engaged the security lock. Landis waited, excited and impatient. When he didn’t answer, she tried again. “So? What do we do now?”

“We wait.”

“Wait?”
That wasn’t what she’d wanted to hear. “Why would we wait when, after all this time, we finally know his weak point?”

“I know patience has never been one of your virtues, Red.” He turned toward her. “But for my plan to work, I have to wait until after dark.”

She stared at him, an edgy anticipation building inside her. “You’re not suggesting we break into Duke’s mansion, are you?”

He cut her a dark look. “I’m not suggesting we do anything.”

“Jack, that’s insane. Suicidal—”

“You got a better idea?”

“Maybe we could play Russian Roulette out on the Interstate, for God’s sake! Our chances of surviving might be a little better.”

He leaned back in the chair, stretched his long legs in front of him and contemplated her in the most unnerving way. She endured his scrutiny in stoic silence, but she sensed the shift in his mood, felt the heady zing of nerves that followed. And for the first time since they’d arrived, she realized just how small the hotel room was.

“In any case,” he said, “it looks like we have a couple of hours on our hands. Any idea how we might spend them?”

Trying hard not to look as rattled as she felt, praying he didn’t notice that her legs were shaking, Landis rose and began stowing their used plates back into the bag with ridiculous neatness. “I thought we could discuss exactly how you plan to get us in and out of Duke’s mansion without our getting killed.”

“Or maybe we could use this time to clear the air,” he said quietly. “There are some things I’d like to get off my chest, Landis. Some things I don’t want to go unsaid.”

“Jack—”

“Damn it, Landis, if you’ve got the guts to break into Cyrus Duke’s mansion, why the hell don’t you have the guts to talk about us?”

Chapter 11

J
ack might have smiled if the situation hadn’t been so serious. He found it ironic—and so very like Landis—that the thought of breaking into a drug kingpin’s mansion didn’t scare her half as much as talking about what had happened between them one year ago, what was happening between them now. But he’d known how she would react. He’d been counting on it, in fact.

As much as he hated manipulating her, he knew it was the only way to keep her from making one demand he would not allow. He had no intention of letting her anywhere near Cyrus Duke or his mansion.

“This might be our last chance to clear the air,” he said after a moment. “I think it’s time we did.”

He didn’t miss the flash of panic in her eyes as she took the chair across from him. He’d seen that panicky look before—the day she’d walked out of his cell for the last time—and it gave him a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“This isn’t a good time to talk about…us,” she said with outward calm. “The last couple of days have been…intense. Emotions are high. I, for one, am not thinking straight.”

“You don’t have to be thinking straight to listen.” He could see the pulse point above the little mole on her throat quivering like a frightened bird. She might have everyone else fooled with that detached-lawyer facade, but he knew the woman hidden beneath the reserved exterior was shaking inside. He knew her heart was hammering. Knew if he took her hand her palm would be wet.

It would have been smarter for him to have slipped out the door while she was in the shower. But Jack had never claimed to have command of his better judgment when it came to Landis. She was his greatest weakness, his greatest strength. And at this moment he would sell his soul for just a few more hours with her.

He wasn’t even sure what he was going to say. While part of him wanted to breach the subject of their relationship, the more logical side of his brain warned him to steer clear. She’d hurt him badly the day she walked out of his cell. He’d bled for months, a dark bitter flow he hadn’t been able to stanch. And while he had no qualms about manipulating her to keep her out of harm’s way, he would never again let her get anywhere near his heart.

Jack had learned at a formative age to keep people out, to keep his emotions under lock and key, his heart off limits. As a lonely kid, he’d loved his foster families with the ease and purity of the innocent child he’d been. But every time his new family would send him back to the orphanage, his young heart had been ripped from his body. It hadn’t taken him long to equate love with pain, and he quickly learned to steer clear of it. He’d broken a cardinal rule when he fell for Landis. He’d let her get inside him. Into his mind. Into his heart. In the end he’d paid a very steep price.

So why was he setting himself up for the same thing all over again? Even if he beat the odds and cleared his name, he knew things would never work out between them. Not because she’d walked away from him all those months ago, he realized, but because deep down inside he knew she’d do it again.

Jack contemplated her, liking the way she looked wrapped in that robe. Soft and vulnerable and incredibly sexy. The ends of her hair were damp from her shower. Moistness glistened on her skin. But it was evident the last days had taken a heavy toll on her. Exhaustion darkened the delicate flesh beneath her eyes. Even her mouth was pale, giving her a soft look that made him remember what it was like to wake up with her in his arms.

Maybe that’s what this was all about, he thought. Hormones. Chemistry. The fundamental need for sex. Maybe he was tied up in little knots over her because he wanted sex. Maybe it was no more complicated than lust. Jack could handle lust. Lust was simple. Easy to identify; even easier to satisfy—if you had a willing partner.

But if lust were the culprit, why was the sensation centered around his heart and not another part of his anatomy that was a hell of a lot less emotionally involved?

“I did a lot of thinking when I was in prison,” he began. “A lot of thinking about us. About what happened.”

She looked like she’d rather be facing off with F. Lee Bailey than sitting in this hotel room about to discuss their past. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

Because he could still feel the ache—because that terrible, hollow ache had been a part of him every moment of every day he’d been locked away—he didn’t discount the apology. Instead, he tried to absorb it, used it to stanch the flow from a wound that had been bleeding him dry for far too long.

“Walking out…leaving you like that…” She looked down where her hands twisted in her lap, stilled them. “It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.”

“It took me a long time to realize why you did it. Once I did, I understood, at least.”

Her gaze turned wary. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I know about your father, Landis.”

“My father doesn’t have anything to do with what happened.”

“Your father has everything to do with the reason why you walked out on me,” he said.

He saw the walls go up in her eyes and swore he would break them down. “I walked out on you because I thought you killed my brother,” she said.

“That was part of it. But there was an underlying reason why you believed that, when deep down inside you knew I wasn’t capable of murdering Evan.”

“I’m a lawyer. I listened to the evidence.”

“You’re a woman and you remember all too well what it’s like to be betrayed by someone you love.”

Her eyes widened. “I don’t blame you for hating me,” she whispered.

The words exasperated him. The anguish in her eyes twisted his heart. “I don’t hate you,” he said. “I was angry and outraged, but I never hated you.”

“I saw it in your eyes, Jack. That day I told you I wouldn’t be back. You were furious. You hated me.”

Frustration swept through him when he realized he wasn’t getting through to her. He wanted to go to her, put his arms around her, if only to keep her from shaking. But he knew touching her now would only distract him from what he needed to say.

“In all the months we were together,” he began, “you never told me your father was sent to prison for accepting bribes. You told me Reece McAllister was a decorated beat cop who was killed in the line of duty.”

An unsteady hand went to the collar of the robe in a protective, unconscious gesture that told him plenty about her frame of mind. She was shutting herself off from him. Physically. Emotionally. Damn it, he wasn’t going to let her do it.

“My father is ancient history,” she said.

“And we all know history has a way of repeating itself.”

“I don’t want to talk about this.”

“It took me a while, but I finally put the pieces of the puzzle together, Landis. I know what kind of man Reece McAllister was.” Jack couldn’t keep the contempt from rolling off his tongue with the words. The thought of what the man had done to her sickened him. “I found out what he did to you, what he did to Evan. Ian. Your mother.”

“I don’t want to discuss my father.”

“The prison has a law library, Landis. And I had a lot of time on my hands. I was working on my defense, but you never left my mind. I was able to get the name of Reece’s ex-partner.”

“You were out of line.”

“I made some calls, asked him to visit me.” Jack had spent the better part of a year researching Reece McAllister, piecing the newspaper stories and court transcripts together until he’d had a picture. A very dark picture that explained a hell of a lot more than he’d ever imagined. “He agreed to talk to me.”

“He had no right.” Landis stared at him, her expression stricken. “And you have no right to dredge that up now.”

Jack stepped toward her. “He told me about the times your father came home drunk, bragging about the money. He told me about the kind of company he kept when he was off the clock. He told me about the time he put your mother in the hospital. The times he put his hands on you. About the times he used his fists on you and your brothers.”

“This doesn’t have anything to do with what happened between you and me.” Landis tried to turn away.

Jack snagged her arm and forced her to face him. “You were just a little kid. But you saw the scum that came to the back door in the middle of the night, didn’t you, Landis?”

“Stop it.”

“You worshipped the ground your father walked on, didn’t you? He was your hero. But he walked that thin line, didn’t he? A line you’ve learned to fear because you know a betrayal is right around the corner, don’t you?”

Wrenching free, she backed away, looking like a trapped animal. Jack tracked her, refusing to give her a respite. For the first time his temper stirred. He was furious with Reece McAllister for the terrible scars he’d left on this woman. Scars so terrible and deep, she would rather be alone than risk opening her heart to another human being. To a cop she thought walked the same dark line as her father.

“Reece McAllister was a dirty cop, wasn’t he, Landis? A dirty cop with a drinking problem and mean streak. He gave you a taste of that mean streak a time or two didn’t he?”

“My father is dead. He doesn’t matter anymore.”

“He broke your wrist when you were in third grade,” Jack said bluntly. “Because you got a bad grade in math. The scar on your knee is from the time he pushed you down the stairs for waking him from a nap. But he was still your hero, wasn’t he?”

Her eyes darkened, and Jack knew she was remembering. He saw the agony of it in her eyes. A child’s unconditional trust torn from an innocent heart.

“He called it discipline,” Jack continued, “but Reece McAllister stepped over a line. He took away your childhood. He took away your trust.”

“I don’t want to have this conversation.”

Staring into her shimmering eyes, Jack saw the injured girl she’d been. An innocent child desperately seeking her father’s love and approval only to find herself facing the kind of pain no child should ever have to bear. A little girl who’d been betrayed in the worst possible way a child could be betrayed.

“You were nine years old when the cops came for him in the middle of the night. When they handcuffed him and took him away. You were eleven when he hung himself in his prison cell.”

Her face had gone sheet white. She stared at him, her eyes stricken, her expression accusing. “How dare you dig into my past?”

“I needed to understand you, damn it.”

Tears spilled over her lashes and ran unchecked down her pale cheeks. For a moment, she stood vacillating, staring at him as if he’d just pulled the rug out from under her. “I’m sorry I hurt you,” she whispered. “But none of this changes anything.”

“It changes plenty for me.”

“I’m the same person I was before.”

“But at least now I understand.”

Hugging herself as if from a sudden chill, she turned from him and crossed to the opposite side of the room. “I couldn’t control any of the things that happened to me when I was a little girl. It’s like I was riding in a car that was barreling out of control and all I could do was hang on and hope the crash didn’t kill me. I couldn’t control my father or what he did. What he did to my mother and my brothers.”

She turned to him, her expression fierce. “I swore that when I grew up, no one was ever going to hurt me like that again. I swore I would be in charge of my own destiny. I didn’t even realize it at the time, but it boiled down to control. I controlled every aspect of my life. My education. My career. My relationships. Everything.” She searched his gaze as if looking for something vital, something that eluded her no matter how badly she wanted to find it. “I could control everything,” she said, “except you.”

She crossed to him, her steps halting, her expression uncertain. “I couldn’t control you, Jack. I couldn’t control my feelings for you. When I met you, it was as if you were a drug, and I was a junkie and I couldn’t get enough. I found myself willing to risk things that were important to me just to be with you. I lost control of my life.”

A fissure of tension went through him when she lifted her hand and touched his face. He endured the contact silently. But his heart raged in his chest, a beast anxious to be released from its cage. He could feel the sexual pull to her, an uncomfortable heaviness in his groin. The heady pound of blood. The clench of tension in his shoulders and neck. The need winding up inside him.

He looked down at her, keenly aware of her hand trembling against his cheek. He hadn’t expected her to touch him, and his resolve to do the right thing faltered. He wanted to say something that would snap both of them back to their senses, but his mouth was so dry he didn’t trust his voice.

“On the outside, you might walk a thin line, Jack. But on the inside I know where you stand. I know you’re nothing like my father. I just don’t know where that leaves us.”

“The same place we were before,” he said roughly. “On opposite sides of the fence. It has to stay that way.”

But he didn’t move away when she stepped close and put her arms around him. His world rocked when her body came gently against his. The contact shocked his system. Vaguely, he was aware of his arms going around her, the softness of her body against his. Her scent titillated his senses, and he closed his eyes against a rush of longing, a hot burst of lust.

“I’m sorry I hurt you,” she whispered.

Jack couldn’t remember a time when he’d been so overwhelmed with emotion—or felt so wrenchingly vulnerable. When he was a kid and had been lost in the foster home system, he hadn’t had any control. Over what had happened to him. Over what he’d felt deep inside. He felt that same lack of control now, and it was scaring the hell out of him. He knew they were tempting fate by getting this close. He might be a risk taker, but putting his heart on the chopping block for a fate that could be cruel was something he had no desire to partake in. If only she didn’t feel so damn good against him…

“No matter what happens, I’m going to keep working on your case,” she said. “I’m going to get you out of this. I’m going to help you. I’m going to keep digging until I find the evidence that will exonerate you.”