DEFENSE (7 page)

“Please,” I said. “I need you inside.”

Harrison stood, his lips slightly parted, his cheeks flushed and his pupils dilated. He took me gently in his arms and began to sink to the floor, tugging me with him. He laid me down like I was something precious, and his hands roved all over my flesh, as though he were trying to feel every goose bump.

Harrison positioned me carefully, stretching my arms above my head and hitching my knees up. He regarded me in that position for a moment.

“There are condoms in my purse,” I said.

He turned and rummaged inside, then pulled one out and slid it along his cock. I squeezed my knees together at the sight of him, at the thought of him entering me.

But this was Harrison, and nothing was happening quickly. He pressed the tip of his penis against my clit. I cried out, almost desperate, consumed with need.

“Please,” I said, begging him. “Please.”

But Harrison continued to tease me. He pressed himself to the entrance of my vagina, tracing the circle with the tip of his penis, putting just enough pressure to make me gasp and cry out, but not enough to push me over the edge. He was like a magician. It was as though he’d found some magic tightrope that only he could walk, and in doing so caused me to experience intense ripples of pleasure.

He seemed to be loving my expressions. Every time I gasped, his eyes would blaze with arousal.

“I’ve never wanted anyone in my life more than I want you right now,” I said, still pleading with him to enter me.

But I knew that what he was doing was building my pleasure, and that the moment he slid into me I would experience sex like I never had before. I trusted him with my body, completely and utterly.

Just as he was poised to enter me, my cell started ringing.

“Don’t stop!” I cried.

Harrison raised an eyebrow playfully and began tracing his thumb around my nipple.

My phone finally stopped, but as soon as silence fell, it started going again.

“I think you should get that…” Harrison said, drawing back onto his knees, his erection taunting me.

As I sat up, a sensation almost like an ache radiated from between my thighs. Harrison ran his fingers across my skin, making me shiver, and I had to fight the urge to turn around and straddle him.

I grabbed my phone. It was Tim’s name blinking on the screen. I answered.

“Yes?” I said, still annoyed with him from earlier, and now doubly annoyed with him for interrupting what was surely about to be the best moment of my life.

“It’s Jessica,” he said. I could hear the panic in his voice.

“What about her?”

“She’s in the hospital. She’s got alcohol poisoning. They’re pumping her stomach, but it’s touch and go. You need to get here, now.”

The phone went dead. I leapt up.

“What’s wrong?” Harrison said, staring at me with yearning eyes, his penis straining to enter me.

I collected my clothes quickly, wracked with guilt, all thoughts of copulation banished from my mind.

What if Jessica had done it on purpose? The last time I’d seen her she’d been walking to her bedroom with a full bottle of whisky. I should have done more to help her. What if it were my fault for pressing her again about speaking to the police? At the time I’d reasoned with myself that I needed to work, but what I’d been just doing with Harrison wasn’t work. It was pleasure. Pure, selfish pleasure. I’d put my own desires over my friend. I was a horrible person.

I dressed quickly.

“I have to go,” I said, unable to look him in the eye.

“Katie,” he began, reaching out and touching my waist.

I moved away from him. His hand fell to his side. I couldn’t hear what he was going to say, and I couldn’t risk him touching me. Harrison Wrexler did something to me. He had some kind of power. Being with him was dangerous. I’d crossed a line tonight, and this was Fate’s way of punishing me. I should have known better than to get involved with a client. I should have known not to mix pleasure and business.

“I’m sorry, Harrison,” I said, feeling tears creep into my eyes. “This was a mistake. Let’s pretend it never happened.”

I heard him exhale painfully. I knew I was leaving him in the lurch, but I should never have started it in the first place.

And with that, I turned on the spot and fled the office, leaving Harrison Wrexler behind, knowing full well I would have to represent him in court, stand by his side, and pretend I was a respectable lawyer rather than the desperate idiot he’d made me into.

I rushed out of Newland & Rook, my mind a swirl of emotion, hoping that I wouldn’t get to Jessica too late.

Katie

As I raced to the hospital, I could still smell Harrison’s scent on my skin. It was though every one of the kisses he’d bestowed on my flesh had left a permanent mark. My body ached for him, but my mind was somewhere else entirely. My mind was consumed with thoughts of Jessica lying in a hospital bed at death’s door.

It was only a thirteen-minute taxi ride from the Newland & Rook offices to MedStar Hospital, but the traffic was heavy, and each one of those minutes felt like an eternity.

I was huddled up in the back seat of the cab when my cell began to ring. I looked down at the screen, expecting to see Tim’s name calling with an update on Jessica, but instead I saw that the number calling me was work. But there was only one person left in the Newland & Rook offices right now, and that was Harrison Wrexler. He must have gotten my number from somewhere. But why would he be calling me?

After some deliberation, I finally answered the call.

“Harrison?” I said. “Is that you?”

“Yes,” he replied in his soft British accent. “Can you tell me what’s going on? Why did you run off like that?”

I definitely wasn’t ready for him to be my confidante.

“Life stuff,” I said noncommittally.

There was a pause on the other end of the line. Then, finally, Harrison replied, “Okay. Well I’m here for you if you need me.” Then he let out a small derisive laugh. “Of course I’m here, you know that. I can’t leave the premises.”

“I’m sorry about not being there to work on the case,” I said, remembering my professional duties to him and how I was failing spectacularly to do them. “I’ll be back later, and then I’m yours for the night.” I stopped talking abruptly, realizing how what I said must have sounded. “I mean, I’ll work through the night….”

“I know what you meant,” Harrison replied kindly. “Just do your life stuff. I’ll be waiting.”

The call ended, and I looked down at my cell phone in my palm. Though I knew in my heart that Harrison wasn’t the drug-taking party guy that the media had portrayed him as, or the prostitute-killing psychopath that the prosecutors were certainly going to paint him as, it was still a surprise to hear him speak so kindly and gently to me. It was almost as though he felt affection towards me. Deep down I knew he’d only wanted to make love to me because of the possibility of a life sentence in prison looming over him, but a little bit of me wanted to believe that perhaps there was something more going on.

I shook the thoughts from my head. There was no time to think of Harrison right now. Jessica had to be my priority.

Finally the taxi pulled up to the ER entrance of the MedStar building. I hopped out and raced inside, right up to the desk.

“I’m here to see Jessica Watson,” I said to the nurse behind the station.

But before she had a chance to reply, someone shouted my name. I turned. It was Tim.

I rushed over to my roommate and threw my arms around him.

“Tim, what’s happening?” I asked, letting the fear and anguish I’d been holding in flood out of me.

“It’s not looking good, babe,” he said into the crown of my head. “I’ll take you to her.”

Tim led me through the antiseptic-smelling corridors and into a room filled with beds. Jessica’s was surrounded by a white privacy curtain. He pulled it back, and there she was—deathly white, blue rimming her lips, a tube protruding from her mouth. There was a drip in her arm, and machines bleeped all around her.

“Oh God,” I cried. “Jessica!”

I ran forward, flinging myself onto the side of the bed. Her hand in mine was cold, the skin clammy.

“This is all my fault,” I wailed.

Tim came up behind me and rested a hand on my shoulder. “It’s not your fault, Katie.”

I whirled to face him, angry, hot tears spilling from my eyes. “Of course it is. You said so yourself. I was a shit friend in her time of need.”

An agonized look crossed Tim’s face. “I’m sorry I said those things to you, Katie. But this isn’t your fault. If anyone’s to blame, it’s that creep who raped her.”

I suddenly remembered Seb and how he’d been in the Newland & Rook offices earlier that morning. He was seeking representation from my boss, John Newland, who happened to be his uncle.

“Someone’s brought charges against him,” I said to Tim. “Against Seb.”

Tim looked at me with astonishment. “How do you know?”

“His uncle is my boss. He was in my office.” I clenched my hands into fists. “I’m going to do everything I can to make sure that bastard pays for this.”

Just then, the white curtain was pulled back, and Jonas, Jessica’s colleague at the bar where she worked and Tim’s occasional fuck buddy, appeared. He gasped and reached a hand out for Tim.

The two embraced, and I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of envy. There was a deeper connection between Tim and Jonas than either of the two men were willing to admit. Jessica had always been my other half, and now I desperately wanted someone to hold me. I realized with crushing disappointment that Harrison Wrexler was never going to be that person—that despite whatever amazing things he might be able to do to my body, he would never be the person I’d be able to lean on in a time of need.

I decided there and then not to pursue anything more with Harrison. It had been close to insanity how many lines I’d already crossed because of my infatuation with him. I’d been an idiot. But Jessica’s possible suicide attempt had refocused my mind. I was going to get justice for her. And that meant getting Harrison’s case out of the way as quickly as possible.

But I knew that wouldn’t happen. Harrison had some kind of hold on me. There was a magnetism about him that I just couldn’t resist. Expecting myself to get through the Harrison case without another slipup was ridiculous. I should never have gotten his ankle tag locked to our office. There was no way I’d be able to come face to face with Harrison every day and be able to stop myself from being distracted by things that should be way more important—like Jessica, like getting justice for her.

So that left me with one choice. Avoid Harrison at all costs.

I stood and turned to leave.

“Where are you going?” Tim demanded.

“I can’t sit around doing nothing,” I said. “I need to do something.”

“Katie,” Tim warned. “We’ve talked about this. Jessica doesn’t want you fixing her problems or treating her like a victim. She wants you to be her friend.”

“This
is
me being her friend,” I contested. “This is who I am, Tim. I’m a lawyer. I fight for justice rather than sitting around crying. It’s just who I am. Jessica knows that.”

Tim sighed heavily. “What if you’re not here when she wakes up?” Then he added more quietly, “What if she never wakes up?”

The words hit a heavy chord in my chest. “Then all the more reason to get justice for her.”

And with that, I turned and left, a woman on a mission.

Harrison

I dressed, wincing as the fabric of my clothing skimmed against the bruises and contusions I’d received at the hands of my fellow inmates. Katie was gone, and her absence was almost painful. I knew I felt a pull towards her, but I’d had no idea how much she was going to get in my head and under my skin. Touching her, tasting her, it was as good as it had been all those months ago with Catherine. In fact, it might have even been better.

I rubbed my hand over my face. How could I be thinking that? Catherine—my beautiful wife taken from me too soon—had been dead only five months. How could I even be thinking that I’d met a woman who could match her? During her life, I’d been convinced that her power, her beauty and intelligence, were unparalleled. But now there was Katie Scott…

Katie had no idea how sexy she was. She couldn’t see herself through others’ eyes at all. Despite her amazing abilities—ones I had seen firsthand in bond court—and her amazing career accomplishments, she didn’t have a hint of arrogance about her. Her presence was calming, like she were a solid oak tree with roots keeping her in place. Like Catherine had been, Katie was like an antidote to my own frantic mind.

I paced back and forth in Katie’s office, reeling from the abrupt way our sexual encounter had ended. I was worried for her, but she’d shut me out over the phone. She didn’t want to open up to me, and I could understand why. She was a lawyer—compartmentalizing her feelings was part of the job. But that didn’t stop me from worrying about her, or stop me from knowing that doing so was mentally exhausting. My months of therapy had taught me that much, at least.

I pondered what on earth could have happened to tear her away from the immense pleasure we’d both been experiencing. Just thinking back over it made my loins burn with need. How she’d been able to walk away from what was clearly going to be the most fulfilling sexual encounter she was ever to experience was beyond my comprehension.

Not knowing what to do with myself, I slumped into Katie’s office chair. Her computer was on. She’d left it open on Shantelle’s autopsy report. Curiosity got the better of me, and I began clicking through.

Everything was documented in stark, medical clarity. The young woman who’d helped me re-explore the sexual side of myself that had died along with Catherine was lying dead on a cold, metal table, her body mangled from the fall. The aggressive sex we’d had before her death would do nothing to help my case. The marks and bruises I’d left on her were listed with the same impassivity as a grocery list—the passion of the moment stripped away, leaving nothing but the black-and-white facts. I’d left fingermarks around her neck and rope marks on her wrists. She had handprints, scratches, and a bruise on her scalp from where I’d pulled her hair. If I were a jury looking at this, I’d think I were guilty. It was beyond incriminating; it was damning.

Just then, Katie’s phone began to ring. After two rings, the answering machine clicked on, and Katie’s sweet voice filled the office, reminding me of how much I longed for her.

After the beep, a voice I recognized sounded out.

“Miss Scott, it’s Brent Johnson.”

Brent was the manager of the basketball team I played for, the Washington Wizards. I picked up the phone.

“Brent, it’s Harrison,” I said.

“Harrison? I’ve been trying to get hold of your fucking lawyer all day. Doesn’t she ever answer her phone?”

Brent had never been one to mince words. He used cuss words whenever he got the opportunity.

“She’s had some kind of crisis,” I explained. “A family emergency, I think. She’s left.”

“She’s left?” Brent spat down the phone. “What the fuck am I paying that bitch for?”

“Hey, hey, hey,” I said, getting defensive. “Katie’s a good lawyer. If anyone can get me off, it will be her.”

“Good lawyer?” Brent scoffed. “Good lawyers do the fucking work you pay them to do. Do you know how much money I’m paying the paps to leave this case alone? How much I’m paying the courts to fast-track this? And now you tell me that that bitch has gone walkabout? Sometimes I think you’re more trouble than you’re worth, Wrexler.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I contested.

But I knew well enough. Ever since Catherine’s death, my game had been off the boil. I’d had my worst season yet. And Brent had poured thousands of dollars into my grief counseling (something that only happened once he realized sending hookers to my hotel rooms wasn’t going to help me). Then all this shit with Shantelle had happened. I could see where he was coming from, but it still sucked to hear him say it.

“You know I could pull the plug on you at any second,” Brent continued, his ranting voice growing increasingly aggressive. “You think without the best law firm in DC supporting your case you’d have any chance in hell of staying out of prison? I mean, fuck, Harrison, what the hell were you doing chucking that girl off the balcony?”

“Whoa, hold up,” I said. “You think I did it?”

“I don’t care. All I care about is getting crucified in the media and losing the league. So you find that fucking lawyer, or I’m dropping you. You hear me?”

“I hear you,” I replied tersely.

The phone went dead. I sat back, fuming, staring at the receiver in my hand. I was shocked that Brent could think for even a split second that I was actually capable of murder, and disgusted even more by the fact that he didn’t even care if I were. If my own manager thought I could be culpable, what the hell would a room full of strangers think? Katie had only told me the bare basics of the law process—of how she’d do everything in her power to get this settled out of court because juries could be unpredictable. I wasn’t an idiot. I could read between the lines. She meant that no sane person would hear the facts of my case and think me innocent. If we didn’t settle out of court, I was going to prison for the rest of my life.

“Where are you, Katie?” I said aloud.