Trouble With the Law (12 page)

He stuffed himself into the front seat and his knees were almost under his chin.  He fumbled with the release and slid the seat as far back as it would go, then patted his lap.  It took ten minutes or so for them to get settled.  Ronnie had to sit on his lap with her legs across Conner Lucas’s lap, and it was a close call on getting the door shut.

They managed, but
Trace felt like what he imagined those clowns felt like in the clown car at a circus.  The attorney wasn't a small man either.  He couldn’t figure out why a guy his size would pick such a small car.

After two hours of driving through Hill Country, Ronnie squirmed on his lap again, and Trace growled, "Are we almost there?" 
A few miles back, Conner had made a left turn onto a narrow road with a steep incline.  Now, Ronnie was plastered against him, and he was plastered against the seat. 

Surely they had to reach the top
of the hill soon, he thought.  Trace was tired.  He needed something to eat and some sleep.  But what he needed most of all was to get away from Ronnie Winters for a few minutes.  She hadn't said a word, done a damned thing, but every nerve ending in Trace's body was tuned into her frequency.

T
he car crested the hill a few minutes later, and Trace breathed a sigh of relief.  Conner turned right then stopped his car in front of a massive lodge-type cabin.  No lights were on inside, but what the moonlight revealed was pretty damned impressive.  "Where the hell are we?" he asked looking at the two-story structure, which was constructed of rough logs, or what was made to look like that.

"Family hunting l
odge," Conner replied as he opened his door.

"A hunting cabin?"  Was this guy a Rockefeller or something?  Shit, it looked more like a hotel to Trace. 
Evidently this family liked to rough it in style.

"His family has money," Ronnie
whispered as she held onto the dash and steering wheel to lift herself off of his lap.

"No shit?" Trace replied sarcastically
, sliding out from under her to stretch his cramped legs out the door.

"Yeah, Leland has nothing on these folks.  I told you
Conner's family is connected and can help us."

"
The only problem with that is they can't know I’m alive, or where you are.  How the hell can they help us?" Trace growled as he stood.  His muscles felt like rubber bands under his skin.  He needed to stretch, and wished like hell they had a workout room and sauna inside that lodge.  He was exhausted, but so wound up and stiff he needed some activity.

"You can trust Conner, Trace
.  And his family," Ronnie said as she gyrated her body to get out of the car.

"I don't trust anyone,"
Trace grumbled.  He shut the door, then turned to look at the cabin.  He was already trusting these two though by just coming here.  One of them he had enough reason to never trust again, but he was doing it anyway.  Trace hoped he didn't regret that later.

Lights came on inside the cabin and Trace sucked in a breath as the wide front porch lit up too. 
Heavy wooden rockers spread across the length of the massive front porch.  The damned thing was wide enough to hold a party for a hundred out there.  The second story was dark, but he could see tall windows lining the front from one end to the other. 

A
vacation mansion is what this was.  Not a hunting cabin.  Ronnie was right, Leland's wealth was nothing compared to this.  "I hope they have something other than caviar in there,” Trace grumbled snarkily, as he walked toward the porch.  “I'm starving."

He opened the heavy front door and
went inside.  The smell of cedar surrounded him, as he stepped into the gathering room.  Looking up at the high ceiling he expected to see clouds it was so high.  All he saw was rough wooden beams though, and a thick post railing lining the overlook on the second story.

Ronnie walked inside
behind him and shut the door.  "Pretty spectacular, huh?" she asked moving up beside him.

"You've been here before?" Trace asked looking at her. 

Probably with Pretty Boy, he thought and jealousy tried to surface, but he pushed it back down.  Pretty Boy could have her.  Trace was not going there with the woman who had put him in jail.  He would accept their help, because he needed it right now, and Ronnie Winters owed him.  But after this mess was over, he was getting the hell away from her.  He would use her, just like she’d used two years of his life to get that promotion, but after that he wasn’t coming within ten miles of her.  A hundred miles.  He was moving out to the country and forgetting all about Ronnie Winters.

Ronnie breezed by him, h
is eyes latched onto the curve of her round ass in the too short shorts and his dick got hard.  Maybe before this was over he’d use her in more ways than one.  She seemed to be on board with that at Sarah’s house.  But she’d been drugged then, so maybe not.  And Pretty Boy was in the picture now.  Trace had no idea what their relationship was, but he would bet they were more than friends.  They were too chummy.  The Shark Lady didn’t get chummy with anyone.  Especially men.

"Yeah, we
used to come out here to unwind when things got hairy in law school, or when we needed to study.  It's pretty quiet," she informed then laughed.  “Except during hunting season.”

Trace would bet they did a lot more than unwind out here.  Conner Lucas would be just Ronnie Winter's type.  Wealthy, connected, good looking and slick.  A city boy who fit into her world. 
Trace had been raised in the city too, trained in social graces and made to act like the perfect politician’s kid.  But he was more than rough around the edges still.  As much as Leland tried to groom him into the perfect son, the more he rebelled.  That got him sent to his grandfather’s ranch in the country.  His idea of heaven.  Out there he could find the peace he didn’t have in his father’s household.  His grandpa hated Leland too, so they had that in common.

Conner walked into the room
and plopped into a big overstuffed chair near the huge fireplace you could almost walk into.  Ronnie sat beside him.  "I checked and the pantry has been restocked, so we're good," he said dropping an arm over her shoulders cozily.

Trace growled, and headed toward the door Conner had entered the room through.  That had to be where the pantry was located. 
"That's good, because I'm starving."

“
There are sandwich fixings in the fridge," Conner yelled behind him, then looked at Ronnie.  "What's the plan here, Vee?"

"
I guess we'll have to hide out here, while you dig around for us.  I’ll call in sick to the office in the morning, and take an emergency leave.  If that man Ray Brown didn’t get picked up at Sarah Copeland’s house, he’ll be looking for us.  Dave Logan can help us find him. If anyone can find him, Dave can,” she replied.

“And what?  You’ll cool your heels out here until he finds that guy?”

“I won’t be cooling anything.  I’m going to go through the records from Trace’s trial and revisit his case.  He was wrongly accused, and falsely convicted and I’m going to prove that.  I want to figure out who set him up and why.  He either has no idea himself who did it, or he just won’t tell me, so I’m going to have to figure it out myself.”

“And how are you going to get those files?”

“You’re going to pull them for me,” she said with a smile.

“I have cases pending, Vee.  I can’t spend time on that.  I can get someone to pull them for me, though.”

“You need to make the time to pull them yourself.  Nobody can get wind of what we’re doing.  Especially the partners and Leland Rooks.  I think they were involved.”

"Anything else, boss?" Conner asked with a laugh.

"Am I being bossy?" Ronnie asked and batted her eyes a couple of times.

"Aren't you always?" he replied with a lifted eyebrow.  "But I like it.  The only thing missing is your black leather bustier and paddle
," he said with a wink.

Ronnie
felt eyes on her and glanced toward the kitchen door.  Heat rushed to her face when her eyes met Trace’s where he’d stopped in his footsteps halfway across the room.  His angry eyes said he heard what Conner said.  She and Conner always teased each other like that.  But Trace didn't know that.  "Shut up or I’ll break out the ball gag, so nobody hears your screams when I paddle your ass," she hissed under her breath, as she stood.

“Don’t make promises you’re not going to keep,
Mistress,”  Conner said letting his eyes track over her body insolently.  Ronnie rolled her eyes and walked toward Trace.  Conner’s laugh bounced across the huge room behind her. 

As she passed Trace, Ronnie
felt his icy glare on her back, but she didn’t stop.  She pushed through the swinging door and walked into the kitchen then went to the refrigerator to take out the lunch meat and cheese.  Dropping the packs on the counter, she walked to the phone hanging on the wall.  She dialed Dave Logan’s number, but his voice mail picked up, so she left a message.  After quickly slapping together a sandwich, she went back to the living room.  Sitting on the sofa beside Conner, Ronnie announced, "I called Dave Logan."

"You
did
what
?!?" Trace shouted, his face turning red.

"I called Dave Logan to help us
," she said taking a bite of her sandwich.  After she swallowed, she said, "He didn't answer so I left him a message."

"We don't need more people involved," Trace said
gruffly, as he sat his empty plate down on the table beside his chair.  "We can handle this on our own."

"We need help," Ronnie insisted.  "Dave
does this for a living.  He’s the best private investigator in Texas.  He will find Ray Brown, and he will help us get the evidence to convict Leland.  Besides, we’re friends and if I suddenly take a sick leave after calling him about that ranch, he’s going to know something is up.  He will hunt me down."

"
Tell him you’re okay, but don't tell him where you are," Trace said firmly.

"Too late, I already told him in the message I left," Ronnie replied taking a
nother bite of her sandwich.  If Trace Rooks thought he was going to dictate to her how this thing was going go, he had another think coming.  Just like she’d involved Conner, she was going to involve whoever she thought was necessary to get them all out of this mess.  Thank goodness her brain had cleared enough that she put Sarah’s name together with Copeland, because she was Seth’s sister.  That had given Conner all he needed to find the address to the house they were at.

"That was stupid."

"You can trust him," she said after she swallowed.

"According to you
, I can trust everyone!" Trace got up and started to pace in front of the fireplace.  He shoved a hand through his hair and his muscles bunched and flexed under his skin.  That man's muscles had baby muscles.  Her eyes bumped along the ridges in his abdomen all the way down to the waistband of his snug, low slung jeans. 

Trace Rooks
should never, ever wear a shirt.  Ronnie was tempted to break into his apartment and burn them all.  She shook her head and focused on the situation at hand.  Trace needed to get past his distrust of everyone.  And she needed his cooperation. 

"It's better than trusting no one
,” she said.  “You need help, Trace, and that's the only way you're going to get it."

"I don't even fucking trust
you
!" he shouted as he turned to face her.  "You sent me to jail, remember?"

They were back to that. 
Ronnie huffed out a breath and sat her sandwich plate down.  "I've apologized for that, and explained it.  There are no excuses for what I did, other than I was young, dumb and ambitious.  The partners put pressure on me, and I caved, because I wanted that promotion."

Trace's eyes
glittered dangerously, as he said, "And two years of my life were worth that, right?"  The steel edge under those words said he'd like to make a shiv out of them and slit her throat with it.  A little fear shot through her, but Ronnie wasn't going to apologize for that again.  But she was going to help him, if he let her. 

"No it wasn't.  But I'm trying to atone here if you'll give me the chance to do that."

"There is not one damned thing you can do to atone for it, Ronnie.  I could use your help, but don't expect forgiveness as a payment.  That won't be coming."

"I want to help
you to make myself feel better," she replied.  Dragging her eyes to her hands in her lap, she added, "I don't expect you to forgive me." 

If
Ronnie was in his shoes, she wouldn't be forgiving her either.  Trace Rooks had every reason to hate her.  She wasn't going to beg for his forgiveness either.  As long as Ronnie could appease her guilty conscience, that would be enough for her.

Conner huffed out a breath and Ronnie looked over at him.  He rolled his eyes and slapped a hand to his forehead, then stood. 
"Ya'll just stop with all the drama, please.  This isn't getting us anywhere." He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, and Trace’s eyes locked onto it.

"Who are
you
calling?" Trace demanded, pinning Conner with a glare.