by Jewel Geffen
There was no point arguing. Jesus Christ, of all the days.
“As for Bob Garrett and Armstrong,” Jack said, scooping the papers out of her arms, “I'll take care of that. Get me a memo on the offer before the end of the day and I'll handle it from there.”
She wanted to protest, but of course she couldn't. So, just like that, Jack Schilling was going to swoop in and take all the credit for brokering the deal she had been working on for weeks now. It stung, but there wasn't anything she could do.
It wasn't the first time Jack had pulled something like this. Ever since he'd joined Daddy's firm as a partner, he'd been making up for his deficiencies as a lawyer with his keenly honed ability to sweep the rug out from under his subordinates in a way that made him look good. It was the first time, however, that it had happened to Natalie.
“Thank you, Miss Kendall. Conference room B,” he said, pointing vaguely back along the hallway.
“It's Misses,” she gritted out.
“Oh yes,” he said, smiling that satisfied little smile of his, “I keep forgetting.” He drifted away, already absorbed in her papers.
She had no choice but to suck it up and head for conference room B. Little did she know that she was about to meet the man who was going to change her life forever.
Chapter Three
Natalie glanced at her watch. God, fifteen hours in the next day and a half? She'd fudge it, maybe. She didn't have time to waste on some charity case just so the firm would get its community service gold star.
It was all bullshit, anyway. They defended those who could pay, mostly corporate interests, and they were good at it. Schiller, Schiller and Mason wasn't ever likely to convince anybody that they were the good guys, so why bother even trying with pointless gestures like this?
For herself, Natalie didn't ever let herself get bogged down in the morality or immorality of it all. She showed up and she did the job to the best of her ability, that was all there was to it. Everyone in America was entitled to representation, even the slippery corporate types she defended. If they could afford it, they got better representation. She couldn't remake the system, nor was she interested in trying.
Others could fight for reform. In the meantime, she was just going to do her job. Sometimes she defended good companies, sometimes she defended bad ones. It wasn't her place to choice which ones deserved to be punished and which ones should go free, that was up to the judges and juries.
She slept just fine at night, and didn't particularly feel the need to cleanse her conscious with these little acts of forced selflessness.
Conference room B. She could see someone sitting inside through the window. A man, she thought, with his back to her. Best to get this over with as quickly as possible so that she could go back to her real work.
She opened the door and strode inside, not bothering with introductions or preamble, just heading directly for the seat at the head of the table, her briefcase under her arm. “I'm Natalie Kendall,” she said, not even looking at the man sitting opposite her as she snapped open the briefcase and took out her pen and paper, “I've been assigned by the firm as your counsel, if you so choose. I'll be helping you with your case, if that's what you want. I'm afraid I'm not up to speed, so I'll need you to fill me in on the particulars of the matter.”
“I don't think so.”
She froze. To be completely honest, she had been expecting servile gratitude, a stammering and mumbling of effusive thanks that she would deign to lend them her considerable talents. There was none of that in this man's tone. Quite the opposite. His voice was impossible dark and rich, a deep and confidant timbre that sent a shiver of something she couldn't quite identify running right down her spine.
She looked up and she found herself caught in the dark gaze of a singularly striking man.
He was dressed in a black suit and lavender tie. A large silver ring shone on his right thumb and a gold stud in his left ear. He had skin the color of Bavarian dark chocolate and calm dark eyes that held hers as if he'd hypnotized her.
He was stunningly gorgeous; she could see that from the first glance, even from all the way across the room. She'd never seem a man who looked quite so striking, at least not in the flesh. He looked quite impressive in the suit, but it couldn't disguise the fact that there was something not quite safe about him.
He had the coiled and patient energy of a panther or tiger, some great stalking jungle cat, a master of his domain. Rather than being cowed by his imposing surroundings, he had seemed to take over the conference room in the offices of Schiller, Schiller and Mason. She was the one who felt like an interloper; he'd taken command of the situation with nothing more than a look.
“I'm sorry,” she said, trying to take back some semblance of control, “you, um, you don't think so what?”
He leaned back slightly. “I'm not your boy, Natalie Kendall. This case is important to me. Damn important, you get me? If you're not gonna take it seriously, then I don't want you setting foot in that courtroom. My sister's life could be on the line here. If your head isn't gonna be in this, then I'll find somebody else.”
She cleared her throat, awkwardly shifting the papers in front of her. If she didn't take this case, she was just going to get stuck doing something else, or else risk getting censured by the partners. Probably cost her a bonus, at the very least. Besides... there was something about the man in front of her. She couldn't figure out what it was, but it was pulling at her on a level she didn't entirely understand.
“I'll, uh... I assure you, my head is in this. Entirely. You've got my undivided attention. I'm a professional. When I take on a case, I commit to it.”
He studied her for a long time. She tried her best not to squirm. Finally, he gave a slight nod. “Alright. I'm cool. Let's talk.”
She clicked her pen and held it poised over the page. Why did she feel so rattled? What was it about him that was throwing her off so much? “Tell me about your case,” she said, forcing herself to speak clearly and steadily.
“It's my sister,” he said, “she's in trouble.”
“What sort of trouble?”
He put his hands on the table, fingers laced together. “She got this boyfriend. I didn't know the guy myself too well. She's in college. Community college, getting her degree in nursing. Been living on campus for a while. I knew she was seeing him, but I never checked him out as well as I should. That's on me.”
She frowned. “I don't understand.”
He took a deep breath. “Drugs. She got pulled over on some bullshit charge. Signal bulb out or whatever. Total crap, but it is what it is. Driving in the white part of town while black, know what I'm saying?”
“I suppose so,” she said, keeping herself closely guarded in her answer, not wanting to make a misstep.
“The cop searches the car; he finds a packet of dope in the trunk. The real stuff. H.”
“Heroin?”
“Yeah. My sister never touched anything like that, I promise you. No question. So I talk to her. She says that her boyfriend borrowed her car the day before; he was using it for something. Making deliveries, maybe, I don't know. I asked about him. Turns out he's a Death-head.”
“Excuse me, a what?”
The man grinned, looking away and rubbing his chin like he couldn't quite believe her naivety. “Death-heads are the big game in town. They're a gang, into all sorts of shit. They've been selling dope for a long time, but it turns out they been stepping it up big time lately. This boyfriend of my sister's got caught up in it.”
“I see...”
“So, she's arrested, they think the stuff's hers, and her boyfriend's gone and vanished. Now they're trying to shove this thing through and pin it all on her so they can look like they're doing something about the gang problem. But Tasha is gonna lose everything over this. Go to prison for a long time, probably. I need somebody to work a miracle here.”
Natalie sat there, her pen poised over the page. She hadn't written a single word, she'd been s
o entranced by him. By his voice. “I think I can help,” she said.
He nodded slowly. “If you want in, then I'll take anything I can get. I'm not gonna let this happen to my sister. She deserves a lot better.”
“I understand, and I sympathize. Clearly it's a difficult situation, mister... I'm sorry,” she said, “I don't think I got your name.”
He smiled slightly. “Jordan,” he said, “it's Jordan Bishop.”
Chapter Four
Jordan and his sister dominated her thoughts for the rest of the day. She tried to focus on the case, on the matter at hand, but her thought kept drifting back to him.
His face, his voice... that demeanor of his. How could he exude such confidence and control in a situation like that? Most people crumbled when they found themselves up against the legal system; they folded under the immense weight of the system. It was a vast and terrifying machine, and it had broken stronger men in less dire circumstances.
Jordan, however, betrayed no signs of intimidation. There was only a steely confidence and a determination to protect his sister, no matter the odds or personal cost. She thought, and the thought gave her a shiver, that he would do anything if he thought it was necessary, and that he was a man capable of doing anything.
As she pored over the documents, and the case gradually came into focus, she began to wonder if that determination would be enough.
Tasha Bishop was in a tight spot, to say the least. She'd been caught dead-to-rights in possession of a felony quantity of class A narcotics. It had been found in her vehicle while she was driving it, and nothing but her word that she hadn't known it was there.
There really wasn't any way to legally prove that it wasn't hers or that she hadn't been aware of it. At best she'd go to prison for possession. If the prosecutor was going to play hardball, however, she'd go down for intent to distribute. If they really had it out for her, they could tie it into a whole host of other peripheral crimes, especially if there was the possibility of gang affiliation.
There had been a whole spree of gang-related crime in the city lately, and the DA would be pushing hard for anything they could get. This was an easy one, a freebie that had fallen right into their laps, and they wouldn't let it go. They'd take her down hard, just to show they were doing something.
It was a loser case. Legally, it looked like a waste of time. Tasha was going to prison, and nothing Natalie did was likely to make a difference. If she'd seen these documents before talking to Jordan, she'd have dismissed it outright, maybe even refused to take it on. Might be better to lose her bonus than get saddled with a humiliating defeat in open court. With this case, that defeat seemed guaranteed.
There was something about him, though... Looking into his eyes across the conference room table, Natalie had a feeling that this was not a man who would accept defeat. Even if only by sheer force of will, he would make sure his sister got justice. She felt herself strangely drawn to it.
He had spoken at length about his sister, about her character and the character of his family. About the injustice of the case and about his determination to protect her, and she had felt something stirring inside of her. She found herself wishing, strangely, that a man might protect her that way. That someone might stand up for her with that kind of strength.
Her father had died years ago, and she couldn't imagine Todd taking this kind of initiative to help her. She'd never had a man like Jordan in her own life, and meeting him had awakened in her a feeling of intense yearning.
She kept thinking of Jordan as she drove home, and not only in the context of the case. She was thinking also of the shape of his body, which had been only hinted at by his well-fitting suit. She'd found herself entranced by his hands, powerful and strong, the knuckles flexing and his jaw tightening when he seemed to be trying to contain his anger. What would those hands feel like on her? She couldn't help but wonder.
She was embarrassed by what seemed to her a failing of professionalism, though she was fairly sure that none of the things she'd been thinking had shown on her face or in her manner at any point. She was embarrassed also by how quickly and completely he had taken over her thoughts. She'd shielded herself from this sort of thinking for so long, and now she was going to pieces over the first halfway handsome man to walk in the door?
No. No, she wasn't going to let herself feel it. Anyway he was just... she didn't want to say it, even in the privacy of her own thoughts. He was a poor black man, his life touched by crime and deprivation and drugs. Her own experience was so totally separate from any aspect of his that she almost couldn't conceive of it.
Not even in her wildest fantasies could she imagine any possible future between them. Especially, she thought as she pulled into the driveway of her sizable house, given that she was married.
“Shit,” she said aloud, resting her forehead against the wheel and groaning. She'd forgotten Todd's stupid goddamn gift card. Her attention had been wandering to Jordan the whole way back, and it had completely driven all thoughts of Todd and his video game out of her head.
She supposed that she could drive back into town to get it, but it was twenty minutes there and twenty back, and it was already past eight o'clock. She'd just have to make it up to him later.
She already knew that she'd catch hell for it, though.
Time to face the music. She gathered her briefcase and papers and stepped out of the car. She found herself wondering to what sort of house Jordan Bishop had returned. Some anonymous little brick apartment building in the Bronx, she supposed. Drafty windows and leaky taps, hot in the summer and cold in the winter, a whole family and a half crammed inside.
But he would be there, and as she walked up the stone patio steps to her three story home with its spacious corners carefully cleaned and tended to by the maid service she employed, she thought that might be enough to make it the preferable option.
Todd was waiting for her the moment she came through the door. “About time!” he barked, “what kept you? I expected you home an hour ago.”
“Sorry. Late day at the office.” Would it kill him to manage a welcome home, sweetie, or a here, I made you dinner, or how about a thanks for supporting my lazy ass once in a while?
He just stood there, fidgeting and patting his pockets. He was still wearing the same pajama bottoms he'd had on when she'd left, she couldn't help but notice. “Well?”
“Well what?” she asked, feigning innocence.
“Did you get it? The raid's already happening, I need to get in there quick.”
“I, ah... I'm sorry hon. I meant to. There was just... something came up and I-”
“Are you kidding me? Natalie, I needed those points. I can't take on this quest-line without high level equipment. I can't believe you forgot!”
She shrugged. “What do you want me to say, hon? I'm sorry. It was an accident. Just... slipped my mind.”
He scoffed furiously. “Oh, I see. You just forgot.”
“Yeah, honey. I forgot.”
“This is such crap. Whenever it's something I care about, it doesn't really matter. It's like you think this is just some kind of joke!”
She couldn't help it. She laughed. Not a happy laugh either, there was more than a little bit of a nasty edge to it. “Are you for real, Todd? Just how seriously do you expect me to take your little game?”
He sneered and turned away. “Forget it. I wouldn't expect you to understand. This is so typical of you.”
She sighed heavily. “Hon, please. Can we just talk, maybe?”
“Forget it,” he said, “I gotta get on the raid. Might not be any point anymore, but my guild's waiting for me. I wouldn't want to let them down, at least they give a damn about me.”
“Todd, please. Todd!”
But it was too late; he was already storming back across the house to his office. She heard the door slam with a sharp bang.
Natalie slumped down into the chair beside the door. She looked around at her beautiful expensive house, and she felt a
sense of complete and total emptiness inside. She put her face in her hands, and she tried her best to block it all out.
When she shut her eyes, she saw once again the face of Jordan Bishop.
Chapter Five
Natalie ate leftover Chinese food by herself, sitting at the kitchen counter and looking out at her empty dining room. How long had it been since it had been properly used now? Years, probably.
She'd gradually stopped inviting people over as Todd's obsession had deepened. Her social life had fallen away, though she couldn't entirely blame Todd for that. She'd devoted herself to her work, prioritizing that over everything else. There wasn't room in her life for friends anymore.
But there was the big beautiful dining room, the table and chair set that she'd simply had to have, that she'd paid a fortune for. Every day the maid cleaned it, though it was almost never used. Todd would eat in his office, gazing at his computer screen, and she ate here at the counter – when she ate meals at home, which was a rarer occasion than one might think.
Her big beautiful pristine house... perfectly empty and perfectly unloved.
Why was she feeling so melancholic tonight? Sure, Jack Schiller had stolen her thunder on the Armstrong case, and sure things with Todd were far from good, but what did she really have to complain about? She was well-off and influential, respected in her field. Still young, with her whole life ahead of her.
She should, by all rights, be happy right now.
All she could think about, however, was how lonely she felt. It was a feeling she had numbed herself too over the years, and now it had somehow broken through full force.
She stood in front of the mirror and looked at herself, trying to assess what she saw there with a critical eye. She had a somewhat severe look, she thought, though that was calculated to some extent. She had shoulder-length copper-red hair, bangs across her forehead and curling ringlets around her ears. Clear blue eyes that looked out from beneath long lashes. She was on the short side, but with a slender and elegant figure, she thought.