by Jamie Craig
Scott took him by the shoulder and gently pushed him back until Ben had no choice but to break away. “I thought you weren’t going to call me again. Especially after you cancelled our dinner date the other night.”
“You really thought I wouldn’t call you again?”
Ben grinned. “No, not really. Do you have anything to drink around here?”
“I might. Take a load off.”
“Thanks.” Ben managed to steal another quick kiss before falling back on the couch, casually crossing one leg over the other. “Actually, I had hoped you would call last night.”
“Why?”
“The Jenkins verdict.”
“Did you want to gloat?”
Ben snorted. “I wouldn’t do that. I know how hard you were working on the case. I know how hard that battle was.”
“The battle isn’t over yet.”
“I know. But…despite the appeals process, you know how rare it is for a murder case to be overturned.”
“It’s rare, but it’s not impossible.” Scott took his best whiskey down from the cupboard. There were several ways to loosen Ben’s tongue. With the memory of waking up in Duke’s arms still so vivid, Scott decided to use his most expensive, most potent booze, rather than his own tongue.
“If anybody in this city can do it, I’m sure it’s you.”
“I appreciate the vote of confidence.” Scott very carefully poured the drink, then thoughtlessly licked a drop of liquid from his thumb. He glanced up and Ben was staring at him. Scott couldn’t help his small smile. Ben’s blue eyes were also highly expressive. He couldn’t keep his emotions to himself, especially when they were as powerful as desire.
“You deserve it. I can’t think of any other defense attorney in the city who gets Horan worked into such a tizzy.”
Scott’s pulse jumped, but he kept his features carefully schooled. Especially since Ben was still staring at him as he approached. He passed the tumbler over to the other man, and their fingers brushed together. It was not an accidental touch. There was nothing casual about it. And there was nothing friendly about the way Ben gazed at him.
“What does that mean?”
“What? You’re saying you don’t know?”
“That is what I’m saying.” Scott pointedly chose a chair just out of Ben’s touching distance. He wasn’t above flirting with the man, but he didn’t intend to be a cocktease.
“I don’t believe it.”
“Why not?”
“You know exactly the sort of effect you have on people. That’s why you’re so good in a courtroom. You can work the jury, the judge, the other attorneys, and every spectator in the room.”
“Knowing how to work the jury isn’t the same as putting the DA’s office in the tizzy.”
The corner of Ben’s mouth lifted. “They thought Sammy Jenkins would be open-and-shut, you know? The man had a shoot-out with the police.”
“Standoff.”
“What?”
“It was a standoff. Not a shoot-out. Nobody fired any shots.”
Ben waved his hand dismissively. “It doesn’t matter. They had the evidence, the means, the motive…and one hell of a shot on the six o’clock evening news. This was supposed to be open-and-shut.”
Scott hadn’t called Ben over to discuss Sammy Jenkins. When he woke that morning, the heavy cloud of despair had lifted. It was completely gone. He thought it had everything to do with Duke, but not just because they spent most of the night wrapped around each other, buried in each other. He’d still called Monica and said he’d be working from home, but his confidence wasn’t an act. The day before, he had thought he lost Jenkins completely. Now he was certain the conviction was only temporary.
“It looks like it was open-and-shut.”
Ben shook his head. “No, I mean, open-and-shut. Not dragging out for over two months. And I have the feeling that you could have made it go for three or four if you really put your mind to it.”
“You flatter me.”
“What are you doing all the way over there anyway?”
“Trying to have a conversation.”
“Since when are you interested in my mind?”
“Who says I am? I want to hear more about me.”
“So you like it when I flatter you?”
“Always have.”
“Then allow me to continue.” Ben sipped his drink and nodded at Scott, his eyes still sparkling. “The scuttlebutt around the office is that Horan is targeting you personally.”
“What? Targeting me for what?”
“He always wants to win, you know. He wouldn’t be so good if he didn’t have that…killer’s instinct. But the way he’s been talking…I just feel like the Young case is a lot more personal than it should be. Like he’s out to pay you back personally.”
“And I thought you were flattering me before.”
“I was hoping you could tell me what you’ve done to him.”
Scott shook his head. “I haven’t done anything. Just completely demolished whatever shaky case he was trying to build against Young.”
“But you’re still working his case now, right? Still pro bono?”
“Yes. Because he’s still in jail.”
“Except, he’s definitely guilty this time.”
Scott arched his brow. “And you definitely know this, how?”
“This is the classic locked door mystery. Except that it’s not too much of a mystery, and there aren’t any other suspects.”
“Another open-and-shut case, then?”
“If it’s not, it’s only because you have the ability to complicate matters.”
“If your bosses are so annoyed with me, why did you agree to come over?”
Ben set his empty glass aside and leaned forward. “Well, you’re forbidden now, aren’t you? Before if anybody found out about our little trysts, I’d get a slap on the wrist and a reminder that I need to behave.”
“But now the stakes are a little bit higher?”
“It’s more exciting.”
Scott sipped from his glass. He still had more than half of his drink left. He was taking it in slowly, savoring it. Keeping his wits about him. If Ben did start talking, Scott didn’t want to be too far gone to pay attention.
“Not to mention the fact that you can pump me for information. And maybe even make yourself the hero of the office.”
“There’s the chance you could be pumping me for information.” Ben shrugged and stood. “Not that I mind.”
“Because you’re not talking?”
“I’ll talk.” He straddled Scott’s thighs and settled on his lap. His erection pressed against Scott’s stomach in a silent invitation. “Just tell me what you want to know. As long as you make it worth my while.”
“You must think I fell off the turnip truck yesterday,” Scott said, gripping the arms of the chair. “Or maybe you don’t expect me to believe you.”
“It’s worth a shot.”
“Tell me how Horan knows Tana Mayfield.”
Ben frowned, his eyebrows coming together just above his nose. “What? He didn’t know Tana Mayfield.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“I have sources that tell me differently.”
“If he knew her, he wouldn’t be on the case,” Ben pointed out reasonably.
“It’s up to him to recuse himself. What if he didn’t want anybody to know that he knows her?”
“No…no…” Ben shook his head. “That doesn’t even…no.”
“Maybe he was dating her?” Scott tried.
“I already told you that he didn’t know her. I know Horan. He would not let himself be involved in a case where he has a personal investment.”
“Really?” It might have struck Scott strange that he was having this sort of conversation with a man on his lap. But after the week he had, nothing struck him as strange. In fact, weird little moments like this were becoming completely commonplace.
“Why do you say it
like that?”
“Like what?”
“Like you don’t believe me.”
“I don’t.”
“He doesn’t…didn’t…know her.”
“He took a personal interest in the case though, didn’t he?”
Ben shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal. “She was young, she was beautiful, and she came from a fairly prominent family. This is the sort of face that hits headlines and stays there. When the next election comes up, he’s going to want something like this on his record. Putting somebody like Sammy Jenkins and Hector Young away in the same year? That’s a hell of a record.”
“Except he didn’t try the Jenkins case, did he?”
“It still counts as a win for him.”
“Sure it does. But so would Young’s conviction if he had given the case to you.”
“No. This is ridiculous. I thought it was funny you had him in such a tizzy. I didn’t think you’d be freaking out, too.”
“I’m not. I’m just curious.”
“Curious. Right. Well, there’s nothing to be curious about. Because there’s nothing there.”
“If you say so,” Scott said mildly. He had no trouble believing that Ben was completely sincere. He doubted Ben knew about Horan’s regular visits to the jail to chat with Hector. And he was completely sure that Ben didn’t know about the tampered evidence, the blackmail, or the death threats.
“You’re talking about violating professional ethics…”
“I know what I’m talking about.”
“But you’re not going to…take it back? Apologize?”
“Take it back? What is this? Grade school?”
Ben scowled and pushed himself from Scott’s lap. He wasn’t looking at Scott with barely disguised hunger anymore. In fact, for the first time since Scott met the man, he looked genuinely agitated.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Did I hit a nerve?” Scott asked, standing as well. He didn’t want Ben to leave. Not yet. He wasn’t sure what he could do to make him stay, though. Short of distracting him.
“You can’t just insult my boss with very serious…serious…implications and act like I’m the one with the problem for being upset.”
“Insult your boss? All I asked is how he knew Tana Mayfield. And in fact, I know he knew her.”
“How?”
“He told my client.”
Ben stared at him. “Young? Hector Young told you that and you believe him?”
“Why shouldn’t I? He knew Tana. Knew who she associated with. Who she talked about.”
Ben rubbed the back of his neck. “Maybe this wasn’t a good idea.”
“You don’t have to go. I’m sorry if I upset you.”
“It’s just…”
“I did hit a nerve?” Scott asked softly.
Ben opened his mouth, and every instinct Scott possessed told him he was going to get the answer he was waiting for. Ben might not know the specifics of the Young case, but he knew something about Horan. Something that was bugging him. Something he knew he shouldn’t talk about but he couldn’t stop thinking about.
Before Ben could actually reveal that something, Scott’s phone rang. He would have ignored it but it was the number he had already assigned to Duke.
“I have to take this,” Scott said apologetically.
“Yeah. Fine.”
Scott hoped whatever Duke had to say was good. “Hey. Wasn’t expecting to hear from you so early.”
A voice cleared. “Um, Mr. Scott?”
Scott frowned. “Yes. Who is this?”
“My name is Garrett Finch. I’m a cadet at the academy. Detective Duke asked me to call you.”
“Why? Where is he?” Scott’s tone was sharper than it needed to be, but he wanted the young man to cut to the chase.
“We’re at Saint Francis Memorial. Detective Duke got shot late this morning.”
Scott’s heart thumped painfully in his chest. Shot. Shot. Shot late this morning. Shot. “Is he…is he okay? What happened?”
“He stopped a robbery attempt. He’s okay, but he asked me to call you to see if you could come down here. He wanted us to meet, and he said he had some things to discuss with you. He wouldn’t tell me what and, honestly, I wasn’t going to push it by asking.”
Duke wanted to talk to him. Duke had information to give him. Which meant that Duke wasn’t really hurt, right? Scott couldn’t be sure about that. Duke seemed like the sort of man who would have work on his mind even if he were barely holding on. That thought was not particularly comforting.
“Tell him I’ll be right there. Does he need anything?”
“Not that I know, but he wouldn’t ask for it anyway, I don’t think.”
“Tell him I’ll be right there,” Scott repeated before ending the call.
Ben looked at him curiously. “What’s going on?”
“A friend of mine is in the hospital. I’ve got to go.”
“What happened?”
“I don’t know. He was shot. That’s all I know.” Scott moved as he spoke, scooping up his keys and heading to the door.
“Do you want me to come with you?”
“No. You should probably just go home.”
“Oh.” A single syllable, but completely infused with disappointment. Scott was a little disappointed, too, but not for the same reason Ben obviously was.
“Look, I’ll call you, okay? I’ll make it up to you.”
“Maybe it’s best if you don’t.”
“No,” Scott said quickly. “I’ll call you. Come on, I’ll walk you down to your car.”
They didn’t speak on the elevator ride down—though it felt like they were trapped in the small car for an eternity. Scott repeated his promise to call Ben when they reached his car, but it felt more like an automatic promise. His mind was completely on Duke. Shot. Who shot him? Why? When? Where? How come this was the first he was hearing of it? How long would Duke be in the hospital? What did Duke want to talk about? The questions were like a tornado spinning through his mind, gale winds clearing everything else from his thoughts as he raced to Saint Francis Memorial.
When he saw the opera house, he knew it wasn’t an accident Duke had been brought to this particular emergency room. He had to have been checking out the ballet company, like he’d planned to. Was that what he wanted to discuss? Had he been interrupted? Finch had said Duke had stopped a robbery, but where? At the opera house?
That question, and more, fueled his steps as he raced from the parking garage to the Emergency Room entrance. He burst through the doors, but was brought almost to an immediate halt by a young man stepping in his path.
“Mr. Scott?”
“Yeah. Finch? Where’s Owen?”
He frowned for a moment before understanding dawned. “Oh, you mean Detective Duke. Come on. I’ve got clearance to take you back.”
He led the way to the security door separating those who were still waiting for treatment with the rest of the hospital. Knocking on the glass, he waited while the attending nurse released the lock, then pulled the door open. Fresh noises and smells assaulted Scott, but he ignored them to follow Finch through the corridors.
Finch stopped at another door. Before opening it, he turned back to Scott and said, “They’ve got him on painkillers right now. He was a little…out of it last time I talked to him.”
Scott didn’t care if Duke was stoned out of his gourd. His heart wasn’t going to slow to the proper rhythm until he confirmed with his own two eyes that he was actually safe and okay. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
He pushed open the door, half expecting to find Duke stretched out on the bed, eyes closed, face pale and wan. But he was sitting up, looking more annoyed than hurt, his eyes only slightly unfocused.
“Are you all right?” Scott blurted.
Duke glanced at the clock on the wall. “I will be once I get out of here. Feel like throwing around some of that legal weight of yours and getting them to hurry it u
p?”
“What’s the problem? Do they want you to stay overnight? What happened?”
His gaze swiveled back, overshooting a few inches before correcting itself and honing in on Scott’s eyes. “I’m not staying overnight. It’s just a graze. These doctors act like they’ve never seen a gunshot wound before.”
“If they want you to stay overnight, maybe you should. I mean, they have seen gunshot wounds before. They probably have a pretty good idea of what they’re talking about.”
“I’m fine.” As if to prove his point, he swung his legs over the side of the bed. He swayed slightly, but his grip was firm on the edge of the mattress. “It only needed six stitches, and they pumped enough morphine in me to keep me from feeling them for the next year. All I need is for you to give me a ride back to your place.”
Scott had no problem with taking Duke home at the first reasonable chance. But he wasn’t going to kidnap the man from the hospital in direct violation of his doctor’s orders. “I will. But tell me what happened first.”
“It was nothing. I had a meeting with Finch to talk about his tailing you, but before he showed up, three guys tried to rob the diner I was at. I subdued two of them without a problem, but the third had a gun I didn’t see until it was too late.” His frown smoothed out, his mouth slanting. “Really, James. It was nothing. It’s not like it was the first time I’ve ever been shot.”
“So…you went to the opera house, and then to the diner and there just happened to be three armed men there?”
The smile grew wider. “Well, technically, there was only one there when I arrived. The other two didn’t show up until after I sat down.”
Scott knew that a coincidence wasn’t evidence—he spent most of his professional career arguing that coincidences were just that. But this just seemed a little too convenient for Scott’s liking. But he didn’t want to bring up the possibility that it was an actual attempt on Duke’s life until they were out of the hospital.