Imperfect Justice

by Cara Putman

  “You don’t know who he is?” Humor tinted Ciara’s words.

  “Oh yeah, I do. He was at the Haven yesterday, and I met him at a fund-raiser before that. Jordan Westfall, the uber-wealthy former CEO of Interlntell. How does David know him?”

  “Jordan’s not a core part of the group, but David grew up near his family.”

  As she watched the men team up, Emilie’s gaze kept returning to Reid. “Do they play often?”

  “It depends. Jordan is a new addition, but the other three try based on their schedules.”

  Brandon and Reid were paired, while David and Jordan hustled back and forth as a team. Jordan was awkward as he moved around the court. Reid kept a steady stream of talk going as they moved. He did a spin move as he went up, and Jordan groaned as the ball danced around the rim before bouncing out.

  “You don’t get extra points for style.” David chuckled as he leaned over with his hands on his thighs. “Especially when it doesn’t go in.”

  “Let’s take a quick break.” Before waiting to hear what the others said, Jordan stalked to his male bodyguard and returned with bottles of a sports drink for the guys. He sat on the bottom seat of the bleachers, back ramrod straight.

  “He doesn’t know how to relax.” Reid’s voice pulled Emilie around. He stood a couple feet away and put up a hand. “I didn’t want to get too close.”

  The faint odor emanating from him suggested he was still a little too close, but she didn’t say so. He pulled a hand towel from a navy duffel at his feet and wiped his face and neck. Emilie couldn’t tear her gaze from him and he seemed to know it.

  “I didn’t expect to see you here tonight,” he said.

  “Would it have changed anything?” The words popped out.

  “Quite possibly.” He grinned at her. “I would have worn stronger deodorant.”

  The words surprised a laugh from her. “I’m not sure it would matter.”

  Brandon walked by and moved toward the court. “Come on, you softies. We ain’t got all night.”

  Reid lurched to his feet, then turned toward her. “Go out with me tonight?”

  She wrinkled her nose, knowing she should say no but wanting to say yes. “Not without a shower.”

  He pulled his sweaty T-shirt from his chest and grinned. “What? This isn’t good enough for you?”

  “Umm . . . no.”

  “You’re on. One shower in exchange for one date.”

  “Coffee.”

  “Sure, Em.” He saluted her as he trotted backward to the court.

  As she watched him go she couldn’t help wondering what he thought she’d agreed to.

  Jordan stopped a few feet from her and waited.

  “Hi, Jordan. Nice to see you again.”

  “Good to see you. Join me after the game?”

  “She just agreed to coffee with Reid.” Ciara jiggled Amber as she watched the two.

  “She can speak for herself.”

  Emilie puffed out a breath. “I’m sorry, Jordan, but Ciara’s right.”

  “Maybe this weekend.”

  “Maybe.” She watched him stalk to the court and then turned to Ciara. “What was that?”

  “I’m not sure.” She slipped the pacifier into Amber’s mouth and then handed the little bundle to Emilie. “Jordan’s sometimes a little awkward.”

  Emilie snuggled the baby closer, suddenly wishing she was anywhere but there. Still, her gaze strayed to the man pulling his sweaty shirt out, revealing carefully sculpted muscles. She could lose herself in that heart-stopping grin of his if she allowed herself.

  CHAPTER 34

  As the boys moved up and down the court sweating and throwing insults at each other, Emilie and Ciara talked, but Emilie was grateful her friend didn’t press for details about her relationship with Reid. The elephant might linger in the room, but apparently Ciara was comfortable letting it be . . . for the moment.

  But Emilie couldn’t help herself. “What do you know about Reid?” The question popped out before she could stop it.

  Ciara paused in the middle of changing Amber’s diaper. How she got the tiny thing to go around right, Emilie hadn’t a clue. Ciara fastened the Velcro and then snapped the baby’s onesie in place. She gave Emilie a smug smile. “Why do you ask?”

  Emilie glanced at the court and saw Reid and Jordan collide. Jordan ricocheted off Reid, sliding across the floor a few feet as his bodyguards stood, ready to intervene. What had them worked up? Jordan waved them back, and they eased to their positions as Reid helped Jordan up.

  Emilie reached for little Amber, enjoying the warmth of the tiny girl and feeling the smallest hesitation at the idea that she could one day have children. She didn’t want to risk having any child of her own experiencing even a sliver of what she’d seen and heard. There were stories that haunted her dreams and shadowed her days.

  She tried to gather her thoughts. “He intrigues me, that’s all.”

  “You like him.” Ciara leaned forward, propping her elbows on her knees and her chin in a palm. “Someone has finally piqued your interest.”

  Emilie felt that darned heat that came with fair skin begin to burn up her neck. “Yes, but I have to know more before I trust myself.”

  “You mean trust him.”

  “No, trust me.” Emilie sighed and shifted the baby in her arms. “Ciara, the stories I’ve heard.”

  “And things you’ve seen.” Ciara cocked her head and studied Emilie. “You have to trust God’s story for you.”

  Emilie breathed in Amber’s sweetness and innocence and contrasted it with what she had seen. “Someone has to help these women, and right now that’s me.”

  Sometimes she wondered if she could keep it up, or if she would reach a point where her mind filled with so many stories and clients she would cease sleeping in exchange for worrying. She had to find a way to release that need to fix it all herself, but even with the circumstances surrounding Kaylene’s death, Emilie felt the struggle to hold on tightly. She knew this wasn’t God’s best for her, but how did she balance that with the way He’d created her to see a need and address it?

  Ciara reached over and touched her knee. “I’ll pray God gives you strength.”

  Should she tell her friend about the notes? That someone was shadowing her? Had possibly done that since her accident in April? Before she could decide, Ciara continued.

  “Reid is complicated. He’s a financial whiz who doesn’t trust how good he really is. If you give him a hundred dollars, he’ll give you back a hundred twenty. His clients give him much more. He sees patterns others don’t and uses that for his clients. He doesn’t come from wealth, but he moves among the wealthy with ease.” She leaned back and placed her elbows on the seat behind her. “He takes a while to get to know. I was engaged to David before I peeled back his layers. He helps Brandon with his foster home, a weight he’s voluntarily taken—like someone else I know.” She gave Emilie a meaningful look.

  Amber gave a little sigh, and when Emilie glanced down, the little thing was asleep. She’d curled right in and trusted Emilie to keep her safe. It felt like both a burden and a benediction. “He sounds interesting.”

  Ciara grinned at her. “We’ve already established that.” She opened her mouth to say more, but closed it as the men came off the court.

  Whatever the women had talked about looked serious, based on Emilie’s expression. What had brought that concerned hint of wrinkles to her face? He wanted to know so he could smooth them away. He thought about asking, then caught a whiff of his scent as he pulled his Dri-FIT shirt collar up to wipe his forehead. “Wait for me?”

  She glanced at him and then nodded. At least she hadn’t changed her mind.

  Reid hurried through good-byes with the guys, then grabbed his duffel and ran to the locker room. He hadn’t planned to go anywhere but home at the end of the game, but he had a fresh change of clothes in his locker. Ten minutes later he toweled his hair and then pulled on street shoes.

  Whe
n he got back to the basketball court, Ciara and David had left, but Jordan sat there with Emilie, his entourage lurking behind, while Brandon shot a few more hoops. His buddy pulled the ball in, then jogged toward Reid. “I stayed to chaperone.”

  Jordan said something to Emilie that made her laugh. Her cheeks were flushed, and she looked at Jordan in a way that made a fist tighten in Reid’s chest. She hadn’t ever looked at him that way. What would it take—other than a few million dollars—to get that same attention? He swallowed back the thought. He needed to get a grip, especially when Brandon stood there watching him with a knowing grin.

  “I’m sure he’s keeping her company for me.”

  Brandon raised his eyebrows and dipped his chin in a disbelieving look. “Are you seeing the same thing I am? ’Cause right now I think you’re delusional.”

  “Thanks.” Reid rubbed a hand over the stubble that dotted his face. He hadn’t taken the time to shave, and now it looked like it would have been wasted anyway. He couldn’t compete with a multimillionaire. He pushed his shoulders back. “Good game tonight. You should ask Jordan for a donation for Almost Home.”

  Brandon frowned and fisted his hands on his hips. “I don’t take advantage of people I’ve played basketball with.”

  “Almost Home is a good investment for him. We’ll get him to see that.” He thumped Brandon on the shoulder. “I’m rescuing the woman over there. See you later.” He forced a cocky grin in place and strutted toward the duo. “Ready, Emilie?”

  She looked up at him, and her eyes sparkled like the softest emeralds, true green but not cold. “Sure.” She turned to Jordan and extended her hand. “I enjoyed chatting, Mr. Westfall. I’ll be in touch.” Her chin came around in a little circle that looked like flirting as she stood.

  Jordan met his gaze with a challenge embedded. What was Reid going to do about him moving in on Reid’s territory? At least Em had called him Mr. Westfall. That was formal . . . and distant.

  How did the guy instinctively know Reid wanted to claim her? Jordan had Spidey senses like no one Reid knew. It was enough to make the guy unlikeable, but David kept bringing him, and Reid valued David’s friendship too much to let one guy who let him manage millions of dollars get in the way of that.

  Reid extended his elbow for Emilie. “Did you drive yourself?”

  “No, I caught a ride with David and Ciara, but they left. They assured me you’d be a gentleman.” Her eyes sparkled as she gazed at him.

  “Absolutely. What would you like?”

  “Coffee.”

  “Coffee,” he acknowledged. “I thought we could hit Common Grounds, since it’s close to your home.”

  “Of course.” She nodded, but he felt her fingers tremble as she placed them on his arm.

  Interesting. He tried to help her relax by chatting as he led her to his Lexus, but she remained curiously tense. He’d have to ask about that, because it hadn’t been present the other night.

  “Thanks again for the roses. They were extravagant, but beautiful. My office smelled wonderful.”

  “Roses?”

  “The ones I texted you about.”

  “I wish I could take the credit.” Wished he’d had the thought.

  The tremble intensified. “They weren’t from you?”

  “Unfortunately, no.”

  “Hmm.”

  He glanced at her and noticed her cheeks had colored as bright as a pink rose. Great, now he’d embarrassed her, but he couldn’t take credit for someone else’s great idea. “No card?”

  “Not signed.”

  “Too bad I didn’t know that when you asked.”

  She stopped and looked at him with her mouth open. “You mean you’d take credit for someone else’s idea?”

  He met her gaze, noting the laughter in her eyes. “Only when it’s one I wish I’d had.”

  “Oh.” Her gaze dropped, but he could see she was pleased.

  After a few minutes’ drive and another five of circling for a parking place, he opened the car door and tried not to notice her legs as she slid out. She was slender, yet had curves that were rather distracting. She had been quiet on the way, seemingly content in the silence, which was probably a relief after the pounding balls and squeaking shoes at the court.

  He opened the door to Common Grounds, and a moment later they stood in front of the menu board. All he wanted was a black decaf, but she ordered something that would taste impossibly sweet, just like last time. At least she was consistent. She added a slice of lemon pound cake, and he decided on an M&M cookie.

  A small table in the corner was the perfect spot to talk without the distraction of people coming in and out to satisfy their caffeine addictions. He set his mug and cookie on the table, then pulled out a chair for her. She eased onto it with a ballerina’s grace.

  “That move amazes me.”

  She glanced at him, startled. “What move?”

  “The one where you slide onto the chair so elegantly. There must be a secret class teenage girls take that men are excluded from.”

  “Oh, it’s top secret. If I told you . . . ”

  She winked, and Reid almost spit out his sip of coffee. She was surprising in her silence and in her words. About the moment he thought he understood her, she would do something that left him convinced he was deluding himself.

  There were depths to Emilie Wesley that were unexplainable, but depths he was determined to plumb. She would be worth the effort.

  CHAPTER 35

  Thursday morning images from the basketball game and coffee date warred for attention with the latest stack of legal motions Emilie needed to review. She’d worked her way through half of the stack when a distraction came in a call from Jordan Westfall. She sent it to voicemail, a remarkably easy way to avoid someone. There was no reason for him to call her.

  At eleven Taylor entered Emilie’s office overloaded with a mug of coffee for each of them and a stack of folders under her arm. She sidled up to Emilie’s desk, and Emilie grabbed a mug as Taylor edged the folders onto the desk. “I’ve got a stack of filings you can take with you when we’re done.”

  “Great.” Taylor sank onto a chair and then reached for the files. “Do you care how we go through these?”

  “Not at all.”

  “Okay.” Taylor took a sip from her mug, then set it on the edge of Emilie’s desk. “Let’s start with Benson.”

  The first five old client files contained no surprises. Taylor had noticed the same things Emilie had that might make a client want to take action against Emilie. A comment here, a disgruntled phone call there, but nothing that seemed to rise to the standard necessary to cause someone to move to harassment. Especially when some of the cases had ended more than two years earlier.

  While Emilie had full custody hearings or divorce trials for some clients, the majority were a contested protective order. Relatively quick and to the point. Evidence presented, a decision rendered, police enforcement to follow. There wasn’t much about the process that Emilie controlled in a way that a client could blame her.

  “Do you want to continue?” There was an upswing in Taylor’s voice, and the pencil ceased moving around her fingers as if she hoped Emilie would stop the waste of time.

  “There has to be something.” The last files might have something she could track to her shadow.

  “All right.” Taylor sighed. “Then let’s look at Raleigh Hardin. Her boyfriend was the one who showed up at her job, the daycare, everywhere. We got her the protective order, but it didn’t accomplish much. The man didn’t care that he had an order to stay clear. He reminded Raleigh she was his every chance he could.”

  “I remember. Why do you think Raleigh would blame me?”

  “I don’t.” Taylor frowned, and the pen took up motion again. “I think more likely it’s him. The police finally got it across that the PO was serious by putting him in jail the fifth time he violated. And . . .” She paused. “He was released on parole at the end of March.”

 
“Where’s Raleigh?”

  “Left the state. Moved home to Georgia, so if he can’t go to her because of the conditions of parole, maybe he’d shift focus to you.”

  Emilie nodded, then jotted a note. “Reasonable assumption. Any indication of violence?”

  “Other than hounding Raleigh? An assault and battery in college. Got a slap on the wrist. That’s it.”

  “Okay. The timing fits. It would take him a while to figure out Raleigh was out of reach.”

  “Exactly. Then he’d turn to someone he could touch.”

  Emilie steepled her fingers. “Remind me of his name.”

  “Marcus Wilcott.”

  “Right.” His image and behavior flooded her mind. He never bothered to charm the judge. His demeanor was hard enough to make someone step across the street if he approached. Some people couldn’t be convinced they were wrong. Stubbornness was a trait they valued.

  “I’ll see if I can find his parole officer, learn more about where he is and what he’s up to.” Emilie jotted a note. A quick call would take care of him.

  Taylor nodded, then shuffled that file to the bottom. “The best bet for a client is Maddy Shift. She called several times after her case was resolved.”

  Emilie scanned her notes and frowned. “Why didn’t I know?”

  “There was no point. I thought she just needed to vent.” She leaned forward and met Emilie’s gaze.

  “What bothered her?”

  “She was convinced the dream she had would never come true.”

  “What dream was that?”

  “That’s why I didn’t mention it, it sounded so crazy.” She grimaced and shifted against the seat. “I was sure she would come to her senses. She didn’t do anything while we worked with her that indicated she would suddenly dream about you and think you were behind her current woes.”

  “Which were?”

  “She lost her job and ended up in transitional housing while she struggled to find work. It wasn’t good, but there wasn’t anything you could do about it.”

  “Unless she was wrongfully discharged.”

  Taylor nodded. “But that’s not the kind of law we do. I told her Legal Aid was her best bet, even though they don’t like run-of-the-mill discharges.”