“Give me a break,” said Dallas. “I’d be an unethical lawyer if I did try to hang my own client.”
“How can you work for a man who’d steal from his own company?”
“We don’t know he stole anything.”
“And we don’t want to find out, do we?”
“We want to do the job we were hired to do.”
Shelby’s emotions went flat. “I don’t know why I thought I’d be safe with you.”
“You are safe with me.”
She let out a dry laugh. “Only until I get between you and your money. That’s what it’s about, isn’t it? Perth-Abercrombie is a big, important client, and you don’t want to lose their business.”
He closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. “This is ridiculous.”
“Dallas, the last two men I worked for betrayed me because they lacked moral fiber. I thought you were different. I was wrong.”
“Shelby, until you pass the bar exam, I suggest you reserve judgment on my moral fiber in this instance.”
“I don’t need to be a lawyer to understand morality. You’re no better than Shuster.”
Anger flared in his eyes. “Shuster was out to hang you. I’d protect you. Always.”
“Yeah,” she scoffed. “As long as I was paying you. And then you’d protect me even if I was a criminal.”
“When I met you, you were a criminal.”
“I was innocent.”
He took a step closer to her, obviously warming up to his arguments. “I didn’t know that at the time. But I was your lawyer and it was my job to look out for your best interests. Now I’m Calvin Abercrombie’s lawyer—”
“It’s not the same thing.”
“It’s exactly the same thing.”
“I’m asking you to find out the truth.”
“You’re asking me to betray my client.”
Shelby shook her head and took a couple of steps back. “I may not be a lawyer, but I know that justice is about the truth. You’re turning a blind eye and making excuses to protect your business.”
“I’m making decisions that are within the law.”
“Then the law is at odds with morality.”
“I don’t want to lose you, Shelby.”
“I wasn’t that great a receptionist anyway.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“The affair was almost over.”
That seemed to take him aback. “Almost over…?”
“You know what we’re like, Dallas. We’d have come up with an excuse to make love every day this week.”
Something flared behind his eyes.
“We’d have squandered our six times, and that would be the end of it.”
“Shelby—”
“You should leave.”
“I can’t.”
“Goodbye, Dallas.” She marched across the room and flung open the door.
“Shelby.”
“Go.” She closed her eyes so she didn’t have to watch him leave, an excruciating pain knifing its way through her chest.
GREG CLICKED Dallas’s office door closed behind him on Monday morning. “What? I can’t leave you alone with Shelby for five minutes.”
Dallas tossed his pen down on the desk. “She decided she didn’t like the way we do business.”
He still bristled from having his ethics challenged by his receptionist. Who the hell did she think she was? Bad enough that his father insisted on muddying the waters with tangential, ethical issues at every freaking turn.
The law was the law was the law. That’s why they called it the law. That’s why they’d gone to so much trouble to write it down, discuss it, challenge it and set precedents on it.
It was his legal right, his legal obligation to protect his client’s interests. It wasn’t his job to persecute the very people who were paying him.
“She told me what happened,” said Greg.
“I’m sure she did.”
“She was pretty upset.”
Dallas stood up. He was pretty damned upset, too. “If the woman refuses to understand my perspective, I’m better off without her.”
“Don’t you mean we’re better off without her?”
“That’s what I said.”
“No. You said I.” Greg took a few steps into the office and dropped into a guest chair. “Is this about more than just the case?”
Dallas snarled, dropping back down into his chair. “Apparently it’s about my entire character and worth as a human being.”
“What went on between the two of you?”
“We had sex,” said Dallas. Though he inwardly recoiled at the crude term, he kept his face poker-straight.
“Nothing more?”
“Nothing more.” And that was the truth. There hadn’t been time for anything more. They’d been hot for each other’s bodies, and that was it.
“No sticky emotional involvement?”
“We’re talking about Shelby here. How far away from my type can you get?”
Greg cocked his head. “We call you the Iceman behind your back, you know.”
Dallas didn’t understand the relevance of that remark, so he waited for Greg to explain.
“I’ve never seen you this upset before. Not about work, not about a woman, not about anything.” Then a light suddenly dawned behind Greg’s eyes, his expression turning triumphant. “Except…” He pointed a finger in the air.
A sinking feeling formed in the pit of Dallas’s stomach. “What?”
“Except when you argue with your father.”
Dallas threw up his hands. “Exactly. Shelby uses the same underhanded techniques as he did.”
Greg paused. “Dallas, your father is a top litigator with thirty years’ experience. You mean to tell me Shelby can hold a candle to him?”
“Not that way. It’s the morality question, the your-principles-have-to-be-my-principles attitude—”
“Or maybe it’s the fact that you love them both.”
Dallas felt as though the floor had dropped right out from under him. He opened his mouth to rebut, but no sound came out.
“Come on, Dallas. You can’t even see straight around the woman. You think the entire world is lusting after her. You’ve moved her into your office. You’re sleeping with her. You let her get under your skin in a way that’s reserved for your family alone. Wake up and smell the mochaccino.”
Dallas found his voice. “You’re insane.”
Greg grinned broadly, like a man who’d just delivered the coup de grace in a supreme sourt proceeding. “Been there. Done that. Know what I’m talking about.”
“I am not, repeat not in love with Shelby Jacobs.” Greg had gone off the deep end on this one. The woman couldn’t even pick out a decent dress. They had nothing in common but mutual lust. Her aspirations were not his aspirations. Her values were not his values.
“You sure about that?” asked Greg quietly.
“I’m positive about that. You’re five days away from your wedding, and I think you have hearts and flowers on the brain.”
Greg stared at him in quizzical silence.
“If you don’t mind, I’ve got a case to win on Friday,” said Dallas.
Greg stood up. “Then I’ll get out of your way.”
EARLY WEDNESDAY MORNING, Shelby sat in the silence of Allison’s kitchen circling potential employment ads. The café waitress job was still up for grabs, though the evening janitorial openings were now limited.
She heard the shower shut off upstairs and the kettle whistle shrilly on the countertop. She stood up to make tea so that it would be ready when Allison got downstairs. Hopefully, breakfast would be over quickly. For some bizarre reason, this was the hardest time of the day.
Getting up with Allison, eating bagels, drinking tea and getting an early start to their respective, real, dignified jobs, had made her feel like a winner. She’d loved it at Turnball, Williams and Smith.
Her chest tightened, and she closed her eyes, gripping the lip of the
countertop. She never should have slept with Dallas. If she hadn’t slept with him, maybe she wouldn’t have felt so personally affronted by his decision on the Perth-Abercrombie case.
As a group, lawyers were hardly the most honorable people in the world. And she’d sure never given a second thought to the decisions Greg or Allan made on their cases. She hadn’t even known what their cases were. Didn’t expect to know what they were. Didn’t want to know what they were.
The problem started because she’d crossed the line with Dallas. A line she’d known was there. A line she’d known she wasn’t supposed to cross. It was all her own fault.
A single tear slipped between her lashes.
She was never going to get a proper job. Never going to have a successful life. Never going to argue with Dallas, joke with Dallas, laugh with Dallas again.
Another tear slipped through.
She was never going to lie in his arms in the early morning light, holding her breath so a new day wouldn’t start and separate them.
She inhaled on a shudder, and her fingertips went to her mouth. It was all mixed up. Her job, her affair with Dallas, her emotions…
“Shelby?” Allison touched her shoulder.
Her voice trembled. “I’m fine.”
Allison put an arm around her shoulders and squeezed. “No, you’re not.”
Shelby gave a jerky nod. “It’s no big deal.”
“Go back to the job. They haven’t filled it.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not? Dallas will be professional. It’ll all blow over.”
Shelby tried to imagine herself in the receptionist desk, with Dallas a few steps down the hall. Ironically, it wasn’t the thought of his legal ethics that bothered her, it was the knowledge that, in her heart, the affair had turned into a relationship.
Looking back, she didn’t blame him for being so angry. She was his receptionist, his good-time girl. She had no business judging his morals and principles, expecting that he’d care about her opinion. It wasn’t a relationship on his side, but somehow she’d turned it into one on her side.
She’d been wrong.
She’d fallen fast and hard for Dallas. And she couldn’t go into an office on a Monday morning and turn that off.
“Hey.” Allison squeezed tight, and Shelby realized there were tears running down her face.
“I’m fine,” she repeated, wiping them away. “Just a little bit tired.”
“What happened between the two of you?”
Shelby shrugged. “I told you. We slept together. We argued. We joked. We fought. And I quit.”
“I mean, emotionally.”
Shelby shrugged again. “That was it.”
Allison pulled back to look Shelby in the eyes. “You didn’t fall for him.”
“What’s to fall? He’s staid, conservative and judgmental.” Maybe if she told herself that often enough, she’d believe it.
“But not in bed.”
Despite herself, Shelby felt a warm glow invade the pit of her stomach. She gave a watery chuckle. “No, not in bed.” And sometimes not out of bed, either. Sometimes he was downright outrageous, and sometimes he was downright fun.
“Do you miss him?” Allison whispered.
Yes. Oh, God, yes! “I miss my paycheck.”
Allison patted her shoulder. “Then we’d better find you a new job.”
13
DALLAS ENTERED the courtroom on Friday morning, knowing the case was going to be a slam dunk. They had everything they needed to get a judgment against McQueen. Both Perth and Abercrombie were in the gallery watching, and they were going to see a capable, professional lawyer at work—a capable, professional lawyer they’d have no qualms about putting on retainer.
Dallas had banished both his father’s and Shelby’s voices from his brain last night. All of his self-doubts were put to rest, and he was carrying on in the best interest of his client. By the time the day was done, he’d have the Perth-Abercrombie account in the bag, and Greg could go on his honeymoon knowing they’d be able to leverage the win into a contract with Preston International.
Turnball, Williams and Smith were all but launched.
The judge entered the courtroom and the bailiff instructed the court to come to order. “The Honorable Judge Laurent presiding.”
The judge sat down. “Be seated,” she said, shuffling a few of the papers on the bench in front of her. “Okay, let’s hear from the plaintiff.”
Dallas stood. “Your Honor. We intend to prove that the defendant, Ralph McQueen, embezzled over three-hundred-thousand dollars from the firm of Perth-Abercrombie since he was hired as a broker in 1999. We have audited accounting records showing that commissions were miscalculated, that funds were funneled to the annual bonus checks for Mr. McQueen, and that subsequent deposits were made to his personal bank account.
“Mr. McQueen planned the crime, executed the crime, and reaped the profits of the crime, costing Perth-Abercrombie shareholders thousands of dollars and damaging the reputation of the firm.”
The judge turned her attention to Randy Calloway. “The defense?” she asked.
Randy Calloway stood on his feet. “Your Honor, my client had no knowledge of the embezzled funds. He is not a computer programmer, and had nothing to do with the development of the software which made the error. Further, there is no proof he thought his bonus checks were any different that those of his fellow employees. He neither printed nor issued nor signed those checks. My client is innocent.”
Randy sat down, and it was Dallas’s turn to call his first witness.
As the arguments progressed, the witnesses gave testimony and the evidence was introduced, it became obvious to everyone that Dallas was going to win. They had Ralph McQueen dead to rights, and his protestations of ignorance were not swaying the judge.
Randy Calloway was providing a competent defense, though definitely not a stellar one. At first Dallas thought Calloway was simply a mediocre lawyer, and McQueen hadn’t wanted to spend a whole lot of money on a lost cause.
But it was more than strange that Calloway hadn’t said word one about the other potential culprits. He had to know about them. Why else had he been grilling Shelby every day?
If McQueen was Dallas’s client, he’d be bringing up the others at every opportunity, even if the judge would throw it out.
It was almost as if…
Dallas glanced from Calloway’s expression to Abercrombie’s and back again. If Dallas was a conspiracy theorist he’d think Calloway was more interested in protecting the embezzlement ring than in protecting his own client.
He stilled.
What if Calloway was protecting Abercrombie?
As soon as it formed, Dallas shook that speculation right out of his head. He was Abercrombie and Perth’s attorney, not McQueen’s. This hearing had two sides, one going after McQueen and one protecting him. Dallas was going after him.
Defense was his father’s specialty.
Still, he couldn’t help another glance at Abercrombie. Did the man look smug?
Hell, even if he did look smug, it was probably because he was winning the case. Dallas was winning the case. Which was exactly what he needed to concentrate on doing.
The middle of a court case was not the place for a mental debate on the ethics of truth and justice. He’d had a thousand of those in law school, a thousand of them with his father. He was here to represent his client’s interest, and that was that.
He sure wished Shelby’s voice would get the hell out of his head. I may not be a lawyer, but I know that justice is about the truth. You’re turning a blind eye and making excuses to protect your business.
Was he turning a blind eye?
Dallas’s breathing rate increased. What if Abercrombie was guilty? What if Perth knew? What if they were hanging McQueen out to dry to protect themselves? If they’d bought both the prosecution and the defense, then the truth had been trampled beneath money and power.
Dallas snapped h
is head up as he realized he was mentally quoting his father. When the shock of that wore off, he realized he had about ten seconds to choose between his career and his father and Shelby’s principles.
The judge was about to call for closing arguments.
Dallas scrambled to make the right choice. If Abercrombie was guilty, he could prove it here and now. But the hit to his career would be enormous. Worse, if Dallas publicly accused Abercrombie, and the man turned out to be innocent, Dallas would be chasing ambulances in Mudville.
He weighed the merits of protecting his own financial future. After all, he didn’t know Abercrombie was guilty. All he had to do was stick to the game plan for ten more minutes and he was home free.
Then he weighed the merits of Shelby’s passion on truth and justice, and everything his father had ever tried to teach him. For the first time in his life, he thought he understood his father’s fervor. Didn’t mean he wanted to become an impoverished zealot, but he did understand the overwhelming emotional urge to fight injustice, even at a personal cost.
It was powerful.
It was seductive.
He stood up.
The judge looked at him quizzically. “Yes, Mr. Williams?”
“I’d like to call Calvin Abercrombie to the stand.”
There was a quick buzz of conversation before the judge brought her gavel down. “Very well. Mr. Abercrombie.”
Dallas stared down at the table, ostensibly organizing his notes while Calvin made his way to the stand. He tried to shake the knowledge that this might be the stupidest move he’d ever made. No matter which way it went, he’d have to dissolve his partnership with Greg and Allan. No corporation in the world would trust themselves to Dallas ever again.
Maybe he’d open a private practice.
He chuckled coldly to himself. He had a fair amount of money in his savings account. He wouldn’t have the lifestyle he’d planned, of course. But he supposed, in the end, you couldn’t fight genetics.
Looked like he was going down in a blaze of glory. He squared his shoulders and stared Calvin Abercrombie straight in the eyes. “Were you instrumental in the hiring of three brokers named Johnson, Larkin and Platt?”
Out Of Order Page 16