Courting Disaster (12 page)

But the gleaming new locks pleased Jared. After giving me a bone-melting kiss that had left me breathless, he had taken a copy of the CD with him. I suspected warrants for bank account searches were flying fast and furious at the state attorney’s office.

Another boom of thunder exploded right over the house, rattling the glass. Already edgy, I jumped. Swallowing back my heart, I opened the drawer to the end table and pulled out a slender flashlight. This time of the year, Florida’s storms could be mean and nasty. I placed it next to my cell phone on the table. After last night, I planned on having a phone on or near me at all times.

I eased back onto the sofa.

The wind whooshed outside and moments later the rain struck the windows and roof like a spray of bullets.
Rat-a-tat-tat-tat.

Then I heard the sound. A rattle.

Grabbing the phone and flashlight, I crept into the hall and listened. The kitchen phone rang. No number on the display. My heart hammering, I lifted the receiver.

“Whore.” The harsh voice rasped. “I’m coming for you.”

I slammed the receiver down. I snuck down the hall to the bedroom. Outside, lightning flared. A dark form stood by the patio door.

Dammit, not again. I didn’t care if it was a false alarm. I hit the pre-coded number for 9-1-1 and yelled, “I’m calling the police, you moron. You just stand there and let the lightning fry your ass!”

Calling the perp a moron probably wasn’t the smartest thing to do, but I was mad.

“Hello?” Through the red haze of anger I realized the emergency operator was speaking to me. I explained the situation and she promised to send an officer right over.

I heard a crash that sounded as if one of my potted palms had been knocked over. Oh hell, he was going to throw one of those stupid plants through the glass. I hated gardening, but Kate had foisted several on me for my patio, claiming it made it homier. I was going to “homey” her if I lived through this night.

I ran into the bathroom where Jared had the locksmith install an industrial-strength deadbolt lock. Slamming the door and throwing the bolt, I crouched inside the tub. I then placed my second call.

“Jared, guess what? That bathroom lock is proving useful.”

When you’re sitting in a bathtub, time can really drag. Long minutes passed before someone knocked on the door, announcing he was the police. The past few days must have affected me more than I cared to admit, because I didn’t open the door. Even when the officer was nice enough to slide his badge under the door, I simply slid it back. Anyone could buy a fake.

I held firm in my place of last retreat until I heard the one voice I’d been waiting for: Jared’s.

I threw back the bolt, opened the door and flung myself into his arms.

“God, honey,” he murmured as he gathered me close. “We have to quit meeting like this.”

My jaw dropping, I lifted my head and met his burning gaze. “You can crack a joke at a time like this?”

He rubbed his cheek against mine. “It’s either that or punch a hole in the wall. Christ, Carling. I was so scared that I ran every red light on my way here.”

“Not to worry. I know an excellent traffic lawyer.” I burrowed closer. He gave a rueful chuckle and held me tighter. After a while the adrenaline rush faded and I became aware of other voices in the room. I raised my head. “Did that creep break my patio door?”

“Carling, don’t look.” Jared circled his arm around my shoulders and steered me toward the hall. “Let’s go into the living room.”

What had happened? “Don’t be ridiculous.” I twisted to face the bedroom. “Why…”

Then I saw the cluster of uniforms by my patio door. The outside light had been turned on. Sprawled on the pavers was the rain-drenched body of a man, his head turned at a garish angle. Despite the raging storm, Detective Sam Bowie knelt outside an already taped-off perimeter. Looking up, he spotted me and rose. He first shook off a spray of water before coming inside and sauntering over to me.

“Well, well, Counselor. I’ve heard of clients killing their attorneys or falling in love with them, but I’ve never seen one break his neck before.”

“What?” Slowly, I walked over to the door until I had a clear view of the body. Shock slammed into me, stealing my breath.

Even in death, Larry Clark’s pale eyes taunted me.

Jared moved me into his townhouse that night.

No argument had dissuaded him. In fact, he’d gotten so angry that he pulled out a suitcase and dumped the contents of my lingerie drawer into it, much to the amusement of Sam and the other policemen. Since he lived in the newer, young professional-populated section of West Palm Beach, I’d had a fair amount of stewing time during the ride over.

The moment he’d open the door and deposited my luggage in the foyer, I grabbed the bag which hopefully contained my toiletries and nightshirt and stalked toward the bedroom. Damned if I was going to talk to him.

With exquisite politeness frosting his tone, he called out, “There are extra towels in the closet. Feel free to take a shower.”

Over my shoulder I threw him a cool smile worthy of a queen and sailed into the bedroom. Once inside, though, I faltered at the sight of the king-sized bed covered with a sinful silk comforter in a rich shade of chocolate. I knew from past experience the sheets would be of the finest soft cotton. Humph. Jared could cool his butt on the sofa tonight. No way would he get hot and heavy with me.

Resolved, I entered the shower and turned the water on full blast. I braced my hands against the wall and let the spray beat away the tension. When I heard the door click and felt cool air fan my skin, I turned, blinking against the water dripping down my face.

Jared stepped inside, closing the shower door behind him.

“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?” I sputtered all the while trying not to stare at his thick erection. Oh man, I had forgotten what a work of art his penis was. “Get out of here.”

“There isn’t going to be a drop of hot water left by the time you’re done, and I could use a shower myself.” He picked up the bottle of liquid soap. “Here, let me get your back.”

I could have gotten out of the shower. I could have said no. But seeing the soap gleaming on those long fingers, I simply presented my back to him.

Slowly, he began to massage my shoulders. My skin tingled even as a delicious tension wound deep inside me. He then ran his hands slick with foam along my spine. I almost purred like a cat, arching into his touch. Jared worked his thumbs into knots I hadn’t known existed. As his fingers spread apart, I held my breath, wanting his touch on my breasts. Instead, he kneaded my buttocks. Who knew that could feel so erotic?

And all he had to do was reach one of those clever fingers between my legs…

He drew his hands upward along my back, almost lifting me off my feet with his strength. Then his hands were circling, covering my breasts.
Homerun.

My knees almost buckled as desire careened through me. Jared wrapped an arm around me, steadying me even as his other hand continued to play with my breast. First one, then the other, until my nipples ached.

He dipped his head to nuzzle my neck. “God, honey. Your skin. How I missed touching you.”

I wiggled my butt against his erection. “I can tell.”

He gave me a light playful slap on one buttock. “Stop that or it will be over too soon.”

“Tough.” I wiggled again and then gasped as he plunged two fingers into me. I was too close to the edge and everything tightened inside me before releasing into a mind-blowing orgasm.

Dimly, I was aware of being lifted. Instinctively, I wrapped my legs and arms around Jared as he drove into me. Instead of spiraling down, my orgasm fed on the sensation of Jared being inside me and built all over again. His mouth found mine and our cries merged under the driving shower.

Nicole caught me the moment I walked into the office Monday morning. It didn’t matter that I tried to sneak past my partners’ offices without being seen. She had a sixth sense when it came to opportunities to get on my case.

“Well, the prodigal partner has shown up.” With glee lighting her eyes, she leaned against her doorway.

“Morning, Nicole.” Maybe I could keep walking like I had a very important appointment.

She wrinkled her nose, sniffing. “Is that the smell of sexual contentment radiating from you?”

“What?” Kate shrieked from inside her office. A moment later she barreled into the hallway.

I glared at Nicole. I’d taken a shower this morning. Even though Jared had tried for a bit of hanky panky, I’d fended him off. A girl had her limits and spending all day Sunday in a sexual haze, breaking for only food, had left me sore but totally relaxed.

“It
is
true! You and Jared have done it,” gasped Kate, surveying me from top to bottom.

I didn’t get it. My hair was properly spiked; my moss-green knit shirt tucked in and my black linen pant suit fresh from the dry cleaners. I half lifted my hands in surrender. “How?”

“Your face, sweetie,” Nicole explained. “You have the look of a woman who has had a wild weekend of sex.”

“Yes, it was…great.” Mind-blowing, in fact. But the best part had been waking up Sunday morning wrapped in Jared’s arms. I’d felt safe for the first time in a long time.

“But I’m not going into any delicious detail with you. A lady simply doesn’t talk about such things.” I looked at Kate for help. “Right?”

Instead, she and Nicole stared at each other and burst out laughing and then high-fived.

They had lost it. I watched them doing what suspiciously appeared to be a victory dance. “What’s the joke?”

Nicole gave me a definite got-you smile. “We didn’t know whether you and Jared had made up or not. All we knew was that he had taken you to his place. And…” Her eyes narrowed as she studied me. “You do look more relaxed. But I made up the part about you obviously having sex.”

She buffed her nails against her jacket sleeve. “Worked like a charm.”

I peeled my lips back into a remote resemblance of a smile. “So it did. By the way, are you in the office today?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” I strolled away from them.

“Why?” Nicole called out. “Do you need help with a case?”

I shot her a dark look. “No, but Sam Bowie will be stopping by to take my statement.”

Stunned into silence behind me, Nicole bolted into her office. She re-emerged with her purse and briefcase.

“I just remembered I need to do research at the law library today. I’ll call in.”

I managed to make it all the way inside my office before pumping a fist in the air. “Yes!”

However, my satisfaction faded quickly, replaced by restlessness. Two consecutive break-ins. Drew’s death. All of the events had to stem from Borys’s murder. But why now? Why had the killer—or the people behind the killing—waited all this time to strike?

I tossed my Pete Rose autographed baseball from one hand to another.

Because they thought the information was safely lost to time, lost in the scrambled mess of my brain. If they only knew how little I did remember. But how they did know even a few fragments of memory had finally bobbed to the surface?

The only people who knew I’d recalled anything were my partners, my family and Jared. Had someone’s seemingly innocuous statement reached the wrong ears? What about the medical personnel at the hospital? Federal medical privacy laws might make disclosure more difficult, but payments to the right person…Certainly the people Borys had worked for weren’t above bribes.

I mentally ran down the initial list of names I had found on the disk. Maybe it was time to check the other companies out, beginning with Dudley Enterprises. I put the baseball back on its stand, stood up and went to Kate’s office.

“Where’s Gabe?” I asked. Perhaps, as a favor, he could look into the companies on the list. Even though Jared would be running his own official investigation, it didn’t mean I couldn’t do some discrete checking. Gabe was a master at blending in with his surroundings.

“He’s out of town until tomorrow. An uncle in Miami had a work accident and is hospitalized. Gabe went down to help the family out.”

“Oh. Thanks.” The investigation would have to wait…or would it?

Kate frowned. “Is it important? I can call him and he can be back in a few hours.”

“No. Don’t bother him on my account.” I’d do my own legwork.

“Carling?” Our receptionist stood in the door. “You have a visitor. She won’t give me her name.”

“Oh?” Going into the hall, I sidled up to the safety glass that divided the reception room from the main office and watched a young girl, probably in high school, pacing. She wore tight jeans and a T-shirt with high-top sneakers and her long dark hair slicked back in a ponytail. Multiple earrings and purple-painted fingernails completed the ensemble. If she was packing a weapon, it was well hidden.

Still, I exercised a modicum of caution. I hit the intercom button. “Can I help you?”

The girl sized me up and nodded. “You’re Carling Dent?” Her voice was slightly accented. Russian?

“Yes.” The girl’s features looked vaguely familiar.

“My father sent me.”

“Who’s that?”

She glanced over her shoulder as if she was afraid someone was behind her. “Mike Staminski.”

I hurried to the door and let her in. “How is he?”

Her lower lip quivered. “I need to get out of sight.”

“Sure.” I didn’t hesitate. “Let’s go into my office.” I let her pass inside before closing the door. I indicated for her to take a seat then sat behind the desk. “Ms. Staminski.”

“Galina.” She sat stiffly, her fingers plucking at a small bag she carried.

“Galina, you realize that I don’t represent your father anymore. I no longer handle work for his employer.”

She unzipped and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “He gave me this.” She extended her arm and I rose to take it.

Carefully, I smoothed out the creases. The note was short and to the point. In it the driver wrote that he was firing his new attorney and hiring me if I would represent him.

“Will you take his case? Please.”

“What’s going on? Why didn’t your father call or come see me himself? He hasn’t been arrested, has he?”

“He’s being watched.” At my lifted brow, she added, “I slipped away from school. I’m just a girl so they won’t pay any attention to me.”

“Who’s ‘they’?”

“The Hedeon. Powerful gang. If Papa doesn’t do what they want, they can hurt our family still in Russia. They said how easy it would be for an old woman like Grandmother to slip and fall.”

“Is Mike ready to testify against the gang?”

Galina studied her hands. “He wants out.”

“I probably can arrange for protection for your family.”

Her mouth twisted. So young to be so cynical. “Somehow I doubt that, but we have to try to free ourselves. But there can be no protection for our family members who remain in Russia.”

“That I don’t know. It’s going to depend on your father’s information and the nature of the Hedeon’s activities. I’ll have to speak with a state attorney I know.”

Fear glazed her dark eyes. “We were expecting that you’d go to the feds.”

“Is that because the Hedeon has people in the state attorney’s office?”

“They have people everywhere.”

“Then I’ll start with someone I trust and we’ll figure out who else we can approach. Can your father buy one of those cheap, throwaway phones?”

“I guess.”

“Good. Then have him call me tonight and I’ll set up a meet with the government.”

“All right.” Galina rose. “I have to get back to school.”

“Will you be all right? Do you need me to drive you?”

“No. I can’t take the chance that they see me with you. I switched buses to get here. I’ll cut across to another bus stop.”

“Then I’ll take you out the back entrance.”

She eyed the window in my office. “Does that open?”

“Knock yourself out.” I crossed to the window, unlocked and opened it. With a nimble move, she climbed through it.

“Galina.”

She paused.

“Be careful.”

She nodded and then disappeared around the corner of the building. I secured the window and hurried over to my phone. I dialed Jared’s number. As I listened to it ring, I realized that if a state attorney was paid off, the Hedeon could have phones bugged or access to the computer system.

“Jared Manning.” His brisk greeting sent a tingle through me.

“Can we meet?”

“Well, good morning to you as well, honey.”

Honey? He never used to call me that in public. While Jared had an office, there was always a constant flow of people and plenty of listening ears unless he had the door closed.

Cautiously, I answered. “I’ve already said ‘good morning’ to you.” Along with a long wake-up kiss.

“And how well I remember that greeting. But we also said goodbye.” I heard the sound of a distant chuckle. Someone was in his office but he was teasing me as if we were alone.

“Good morning, Jared.”

“That’s better.” His chair creaked as if he leaned back. “As it so happens, my calendar cleared so I can take a break.”

“Good. I need to talk to you but not over the phone. It’s about my former client.”

“Oh?” He paused. “Why don’t I meet you for an early lunch at Tony’s Bar and Grill, say about eleven-thirty?”

“I’ll be there.” Glancing at my watch, I calculated the time. Just enough for me to check out one of the companies on Borys’s list.

Grabbing my purse, I told Maria I would be back after lunch and sailed out of the office. Minutes later I was in downtown West Palm Beach. I pulled into the municipal parking garage, then walked the short distance to Clematis Street, heading west along the main drag.

I entered the Comeau Building, one of the few existing 1920s structures along Clematis, through a two-story atrium. While ten floors constituted a skyscraper in 1925, it was now merely a quaint historic landmark.

I crossed the tiled floor, past the row of shops with classical arched entries, to the bank of elevators at the rear. After riding to one of the upper floors, I stepped out into a large spacious room, the postcard of art deco chic from its aqua walls to its black fabrics and chrome furnishings. An eloquent sign on the wall announced to visitors that they had entered the offices of Dudley Enterprises.

A receptionist glanced up from a computer monitor behind a gleaming desk. “May I help you?”

“I hope so.” I had replaced my sunglasses with a pair of reading glasses. I didn’t need them—much—but hoped they would make me look more bookish. “I would like to speak with your financial officer.”