Death by Trial and Error (A Legal Suspense Short) (4 page)

Instead, mindful they were somewhere where
noise could be easily heard, she managed barely more than a
whimper. While still holding his throbbing erection, Beverly looked
Grant ravenously in the eye. "Condom?"

He removed one from his pocket and placed it
in her palm, content to see her take the lead. She quickly removed
the foil and slid the latex over him and climbed atop Grant's
sturdy hips, wrapping her arms around his neck.

Beverly inserted him inside her. "Make love
to me," she demanded in a desperate voice, the sense of urgency
spreading across her body like a bolt of lightning.

"It would be my pleasure, baby," he husked,
and held onto her slender waist while plunging himself deep into
her as she absorbed the thrusts while slamming herself back against
him with equal zest.

Her orgasm came quickly and a second one
shortly thereafter at about the same time that Grant climaxed with
a rush of breath and a violent shudder. Both were breathing
heavily, and Beverly could feel Grant's heartbeat pounding as they
clung to one another till the experience had come to a mouths
smacking, bodies perspiring, satisfying conclusion.

"We need to win as a team more often," Grant
said contentedly, giving Beverly another long kiss.

She kissed him back and climbed off him.
"That may not be possible," she teased, "if you're a judge."

"True," he said, removing the condom and
zipping his pants. "But look at the bright side, baby. When and if
that day ever comes, just imagine what fun you and I could have in
the judge's chambers."

Beverly pushed him playfully. "You're
insatiable!" She put her clothes back into place; then brushed her
hair.

He laughed. "And you're not?"

She blushed. "Maybe it's the effect you have
on me, darling, that makes me crave your body."

He chuckled again. "I have been known to have
that effect on women."

"Oh, really?" Beverly met his eyes with a
touch of jealousy. As far as she knew they were exclusive. If they
weren't on the same page there, she wanted to find out before this
went any further.

Grant sensed that he'd used the wrong choice
of words and quickly sought to rectify that. The last thing he
wanted was to ruin this relationship, something he'd managed to do
too easily in the past. Only none of the previous women in his life
could hold a candle to Beverly Mendoza and he wouldn't have it any
other way.

"What's important is that this is the first
time it's really meant something to me," he said in earnest. "I
don't take that lightly, Bev, and I'm definitely not looking at
anyone else."

She smiled, feeling a sense of relief and
maybe a little left over insecurity. "But you will tell me if you
change your mind."

"I won't change my mind," he promised.
Not
as long as there's the possibility that we can really go somewhere
with this
.

"Neither will I," she added. She was enjoying
his company more than she had any man's company in some time. She
was in no hurry to ruin a good thing.

Grant straightened his tie. "So how about if
I take you out to dinner for a victory celebration? Sex always
leaves me famished."

"Can't," Beverly said apologetically, putting
fresh lipstick on after he had taken it all off. "I promised Jaime
pizza tonight." She couldn't help but think that though only
twelve, her son sometimes seemed like he was twenty-five with his
maturity and rapidly growing body.

Grant grinned wistfully. "Did I tell you that
I love pizza?"
And would love to get to know your son better, if
you'll let me.

Beverly squirmed guiltily, knowing he wanted
more than what they had. And so did she. But right now her son was
still her top priority. As were his feelings on the subject.

"Jaime just needs a little time adjusting to
someone else in my life," she offered contritely.

Grant looked like a wounded puppy. "How much
time does he need—the rest of
your
life?"

Beverly touched her nose thoughtfully. "Not
much longer, Grant," she hoped. "It's been just the two of us for
so long, he's trying to come to terms with the fact that someone
else is now in my life who's very important to me."

Beverly realized that along with wanting to
protect Jaime, she was also trying to protect herself, from being
hurt and abandoned, as they had been by his father.

Grant furrowed his brow while trying to be
understanding. "Seems to me it's time you let someone else take
down that wall you've built around the boy."

"Please be patient, Grant," Beverly implored
softly, not wanting to spoil what just happened by applying too
much pressure either way. "I just want what's best for everyone—you
included." She kissed him on the mouth. "Call me."

Even as she said that, Beverly knew that it
sounded like she was afraid of commitment. Was she? Not that Grant
had ever suggested he wanted a commitment in so many words. Or
maybe she was confused over the terms
commitment
and
exclusivity
. Didn't they mean the same thing in a
relationship? Like her, Grant had been married once before. He had
no children and didn't seem entirely comfortable at the prospect of
ever marrying again. But she was pretty sure he cared for her,
beyond their sexual compatibility.

Beverly wondered if that was that enough to
constitute a real and trusting relationship at the end of the day—a
relationship that included her son as an intricate part of the
team.

Would it ever be enough?

* * *

Grant showed Beverly out the door, waved
good-bye, and settled back into his office musingly. She was the
first woman he'd been with who gave as much as she took—both
sexually and as a prosecutor. He was damned glad to have her on his
side in both departments.

Should he be offered a judgeship, as
expected, it would be all the more reason for them to mesh, without
the competitive thing as trial lawyers that brought them together
and could potentially tear them apart.

Grant's focus shifted to other issues on his
mind. He picked up the phone and buzzed his secretary.

"Get the D.A. on the line," he ordered.

A moment later, the heavy voice said, "Yeah,
Grant, what's up?"

He sighed and glanced out the window
musingly. "We need to talk—"

Chapter Two

He watched from the bushes as she left the
office building, wearing an aqua jogging suit that looked a size
too large on her streamlined frame. He watched as she sucked in a
deep breath of the cool October air and then stretched her limbs in
preparation for what was a normal jog through the park across the
street. She always ran alone, almost as if she considered company
an invasion of her privacy.

That played right into his hands because he
liked to do his thing alone, too.

A slight rustle of the bushes off to the side
of the building drew her attention. For an instant in the waning
sunlight, he saw fear in her face and thought he'd been detected.
But that fear disappeared when she apparently decided it was
nothing but the wind.

He sighed and maintained his low position,
careful not to even twitch. He watched as she glanced up at a
window. The light was on and the blinds were closed. If she
expected someone to open them, she was disappointed. She seemed to
become deeply absorbed in thought for a moment or two, before
crossing the parking lot in a lazy jaunt.

He gave her a couple of minutes to enter the
park, and then emerged from his hideaway. Looking around, he saw no
one. Good. Now it was just him and her.

Like an addict needing a fix, he pursued her
eagerly, fully expecting to be relieved of his urge.

She was in excellent shape, he admitted to
himself, trailing her from a short distance as she moved at a brisk
pace. But so was he. He had been lifting weights and running for
years in his determination to stay fit and firm. It was the best
way to survive on the streets and in the joint, if it came down to
that.

For now fitness would serve him well in
tracking down someone who had become his sole obsession of
late.

The park was very quiet this evening. It was
almost as if others had decided to stay at home, so as not to get
in her way.

Or his.

Slowly, but surely, he began to close the
distance between them. When she realized he was behind her, she
instinctively increased her speed, determined to simply outrun him.
But he countered, moving even faster, his long legs giving him the
advantage. His blood was pumping like crazy and he loved the
feeling. It was like building up to a mind-blowing climax. The
climb was always more rewarding than the result, he knew.

Not that the result would be disappointing.
On the contrary, it would be very satisfying.

After all, she had been targeted for death.
And now it was time to wipe the slate clean.

Collect his just rewards.

She tried to dart in a different direction
amidst tall, old Douglas fir trees, as if he somehow would simply
bypass her altogether. Anticipating such, he had countered her move
with one of his own, taking a short cut to beat her to the clearing
on other side of the park.

She didn't realize it, but the dumb bitch had
run right into his trap like a rat.

They came face to face and he saw the stark
terror in her baby blue eyes. He even detected a hint of
recognition as she tried to make out his face. His eyes. His sly
grin. His taut, virile body.

He pulled out a switchblade, springing it
open and moving it from hand to hand with the ease of a
magician.

He might have pitied her, had he not
applauded himself for a job soon to be well done. They had reached
the point of no return. At least she had.

The fun this night was only beginning.

* * *

Sheldon Crawford huffed and puffed while atop
his wife, Maxine, feeling as if he had run out of breath. He was
getting too damned old for this. But at the same time, he was
determined to keep up with her. A daunting task indeed. She was
twenty years his junior and in her sexual prime. Meaning she wanted
to be satisfied constantly and had esoteric tastes that at times
tested his limits, ability, and stamina. Not his resolve, though.
The worst thing he could do was ignore his young wife's needs,
causing her to leave him for a younger man as his first wife had
done.

Sheldon gazed into Maxine's brown eyes
staring up at him from her beautiful butterscotch complexioned
face. He nibbled on one of her large breasts, as she loved him to
do. She winced and then murmured, taking his cheeks between her
hands and attacking his mouth with fervor in hard kisses.

He propelled himself deeper into her splayed
legs, feeling her constrict around him. She clawed at his back and
he grunted from the pain, even while their kissing intensified.

"I'm coming..." Maxine warned him, wrapping
her legs around his waist. "Don't stop, darling."

Sheldon couldn't even if he wanted to. He
heard a muffled cry as Maxine seemed to feed off his orgasm to
release her own. His chest heaved against her flattened breasts and
they climaxed together and loudly, as the sounds of sexual
gratification took center stage.

Afterwards Sheldon collapsed onto Maxine's
body, keeping most of his weight on his knees so as not to crush
her. He was exhausted, but gratified in the knowledge that he had
pleased her. As a judge, he wanted only to please himself and his
brand of justice. Sometimes he would bend the rules, if called for
in the name of law and order—or the preservation of his career and
satisfying certain obligations.

But as a man, he wanted to feel needed and
loved. Maxine gave that to him. More than anyone had before. So the
least he could do was provide her the financial and physical
comforts she deserved.

Sheldon had barely felt her warm breath upon
his cheek when a sharp pop rang through the air like a firecracker.
A millisecond later he experienced a dull pain in his back. There
was a piercing scream, which almost sounded as though it were
coming from a distant place. Then he realized that it had come from
the person beneath him.

Sheldon Crawford had been shot before, back
in Vietnam. It was an experience you never forgot. He had been
caught in an ambush and took two bullets in the chest. Both had
missed his heart by scant inches. He had considered it divine
intervention, and promised himself that he would make something out
of the second life he had been given.

That life had carried him to the judicial
bench, where he had presided over the scum who threatened to one
day become free to wreak havoc on the lives of other innocent
victims. Not if he could help it. He didn't believe violent
criminals could ever be rehabilitated. Not in his court. They
needed to be kept behind bars as long as possible to ensure public
safety. And be punished severely for their crimes.

But even with the best of intentions in his
heart, Sheldon knew that these desires sometimes came into conflict
with powerful forces beyond his control.

In the process of passing judgment over
others, Sheldon Crawford had come to believe he was somehow secure
from the very dangers he devoted his life to fighting.

He was wrong.

The second scream roared into his ear like a
siren gone out of control even as Sheldon felt another sharp pain
explode into his body. He kept a loaded .357 Magnum in the
nightstand, but had never had to use it before. And though now in
excruciating pain, he knew that it was the only chance he or Maxine
had to survive this night.

But his assailant, seemingly toying with him,
allowed the judge to crawl halfway out of bed and lunge for the
nightstand, before firing another bullet at point blank range. This
one hit Sheldon Crawford in the face, killing him instantly.