Trusting Danger: Romantic Suspense (Book Two of the Danger Series)

by Caila Jaynes

  Alvarez frowned at Ms. Jackson. “The charges against Mr. Gibson are serious. The information that your client has might be enough for us to offer him a sentence reduction, but not witness protection. Unless, of course, his higher-ups are mobsters,” he added with a skeptical smile.

  Ms. Jackson’s expression hardened. “My client reports directly to someone you know as the Iceman. He’s no mobster, but I believe we can all agree that his reach is wide. His capture and arrest would be a coup for your office.”

  Grayson sat up straighter in his seat and exchanged glances with Eli and Alvarez. Before they could speak, he caught Gibson’s eye. “And you know his real identity? Where we can find him?”

  Gibson’s gaze flicked to his attorney, who nodded. His nostrils flared and his face reddened as he turned back to Grayson, but he took a deep breath, staring down at the table for a moment as he seemed to collect himself. When he looked up again, his expression was resigned.

  “Yeah, I do. And I can prove it.”

  Grayson’s heartbeat pounded so hard, he could barely hear. Unmasking the Iceman would not only give them the chance to shut down a major drug ring, but it would also give them someone else to hold responsible for Jeremy’s murder, the murder plot against Camden and Autumn, and the kidnap plot against Claire. After all, it was the Iceman’s men who had been hired for each of these crimes.

  Eli folded his hands on the table and leaned forward, pinning Gibson with his ebony gaze. “What proof do you have?”

  Ms. Jackson lifted a hand in warning before her client could speak. “I can assure you that my client has the proof you need. If he can provide it, do we have a deal for witness protection, including a new identity?”

  Eli glanced at Alvarez, who raised his eyebrows. Eli dipped his chin in an almost imperceptible nod, which the AUSA returned.

  Alvarez rolled a hand toward Gibson and gave him a wolfish smile. “Then by all means, please enlighten us.”

  Chapter Sixty-Eight

  “That’s it for today,” Professor Moore told the class. “I’ll expect your progress reports on your capstone projects in class on Thursday.”

  Claire took her time gathering her things, allowing her classmates to filter out of the auditorium ahead of her. Although she and Grayson had enjoyed a wonderful weekend—the best she’d had since . . . well, ever—it was time to get back to the real world. And that meant she needed to get her future in order.

  When nearly everyone was gone, she picked up her tote and approached the front of the room. “Professor Moore, may I speak with you for a minute?”

  Her teacher paused from putting away her notes and nodded. “I have office hours next. We can chat here.” Indicating the front row of chairs, she said, “Let’s take a seat.”

  Claire closed her eyes for a second and took a calming breath before sitting next to Moore.

  The woman tilted her head, studying Claire for a moment. “Is there a problem, Miss Parker?”

  “Yes . . . I mean, no,” Claire stammered, not quite sure where to start. Digging deep for courage, she said, “Honestly, I’m not sure I’m cut out to be a lawyer. I’m thinking about not taking the bar.”

  Moore gave her an appraising look. “Your parents will be disappointed to hear that.”

  “I know.” Claire twisted her hands in her lap. “I don’t want to let them down, or you,” she added, “but corporate law isn’t how I picture spending my life.”

  “How do you picture spending it?”

  Without hesitation, Claire blurted, “I want to help people.”

  “Not soulless corporations?” Moore asked with a smirk.

  Claire laughed. “No. That would drain my soul, I think.”

  Professor Moore slipped off her reading glasses, tapping one arm of them against her lower lip. “What about criminal law? You seemed passionate when speaking on Chris’s behalf. What about working as a defense attorney?”

  Claire shook her head. “I know everyone is entitled to a vigorous defense, but representing mostly hardened criminals . . . I don’t think I’d be able to sleep at night after what I’ve been through lately.”

  “Do you think you could prosecute them?”

  “As an assistant US attorney?” Claire laughed. “I don’t think so.”

  Professor Moore smiled. “I get your point. Then I think you have a problem if you don’t want to waste the outstanding education we’ve been able to give you here.” She paused to consider. “There aren’t many other options left if you want to avoid corporate law or criminal litigation, unless you consider family law. But I’m sure if you put your mind to it, you’ll come up with a way you can use a law degree.”

  Professor Moore stood up and gave Claire an approving look.

  “You’ve surprised me, Miss Parker. I truly thought you didn’t have it in you to be a good lawyer.” When Claire stiffened, Moore reached out to tap her gently on the arm. “Don’t get me wrong, you have the intelligence. I just wasn’t convinced you had the tenacity or grit it takes to succeed in law. I see now that I was wrong. You may not be cut out for the courtroom or a large firm, but I do believe there’s a place in our justice system for you. You just need to find it.”

  Claire’s eyes widened as she stared at Moore, unable to believe what she’d just heard. The unexpected praise surprised her, and she wanted to linger in it like a warm bubble bath.

  “Take the bar, Miss Parker. And let me know what you decide to do with your future.”

  With that, Professor Moore picked up her portfolio and clacked out of the room on her high heels, leaving Claire staring after her.

  Chapter Sixty-Nine

  The Metro Police were staked out at dinnertime near a century-old renovated townhome in the Columbia Heights neighborhood in DC.

  Grayson stood down the block next to a lieutenant, glancing again at the photo on his phone of the man they sought. As he listened to the team’s preparations through the earbud he wore, he shook his head at the memory of how stunned he and the others were at the revelations Rex Gibson made that morning.

  Who would have thought the Iceman would be a defense attorney?

  Gibson had explained how he’d been assigned a court-appointed attorney named Dustin Abbott several years ago when he was picked up for dealing. Once Abbott had spoken with him at length and learned of Gibson’s background, he’d dropped hints about an opportunity for Gibson to increase his income. When Gibson took the bait, Abbott brought him into the drug empire he was building by recruiting from his client pool. Apparently, new small-time dealers who’d been arrested for the first time were eager to receive personalized free legal help 24/7 in exchange for a little leadership. Gibson’s chest had puffed out a little as he’d recounted how quickly he’d moved up the ranks in Abbott’s organization.

  As the team lead began a countdown, Grayson adjusted the earbud in his ear.

  “Three. Two. One. Go!”

  Two of the team members surged forward, wearing shields over their faces. They forced the home’s front door open with a battering ram.

  Apparently, Gibson had a healthy sense of self-preservation and had recorded many of his phone conversations with Abbott. He’d transferred the digital files to a flash drive and kept it in his safe deposit box, the very same box that fit the key that had been found during a sweep of Gibson’s home after his arrest. Gibson was only too happy to provide the name of the bank and his box number, and sign off on permission for the box to be accessed without a warrant. Being able to disappear without a trace was an awfully strong motivator.

  As the rest of the team rushed inside single-file, Grayson listened to the ensuing commotion.

  “Over there!”

  “Where?”

  “Son of a bitch . . . he’s gone out a side window! Go!”

  Several more seconds went by before, “We don’t have eyes on him!”

  The lieutenant standing beside Grayson cursed hard. As he picked up his radio and shouted out instructions, movement caught Gray
son’s attention from the corner of his eye.

  He turned and squinted at a figure running down Sherman Avenue.

  Can it be?

  Grayson thought quickly, comparing the fleeing figure to what he knew about Abbott. About six foot one, a hundred sixty pounds, African American, short-cropped black hair, thirty-eight years old. This guy looked pretty damn close, and he was wearing a business suit as he sprinted down the street like his ass was on fire.

  Bingo.

  Grayson took off running in that direction, shouting out his intention to pursue.

  “You wearing a vest?” the lieutenant yelled after him.

  “Yeah!”

  Grayson grabbed his Glock from his shoulder holster as he sprinted down the street. At the next corner, the entrance to an alley, he came to a halt and swung his head around, searching for Abbott. Which way?

  Taking a chance, he chose the alley. Halfway down it, he spotted his quarry and shouted out his location into the radio.

  Within seconds, he was gaining on Abbott when the man suddenly turned and fired off a shot. Grayson ducked behind a rolling trash can, wishing like hell it was a Dumpster so it would afford better protection. He resisted the urge to fire back. Here in a residential area, the last thing he wanted was to draw fire and risk a stray bullet killing an innocent.

  Three more gunshots sounded in rapid succession, and then everything went quiet. Grayson peered out from behind the trash can, the noise of the gunshots ringing in his ears.

  Was Abbott fleeing again or was he still in the alley? It was pitch dark already, courtesy of Daylight Savings Time, and Grayson didn’t have a flashlight. Streetlights in this area weren’t well maintained, and many were out.

  Grayson’s muscles bunched with tension as he looked around. He left the cover of the trash can, easing out to get a better look.

  The hair on the back of his neck stood up. He raised his weapon, sensing Abbott was nearby, but was taken by surprise when Abbott stepped out from behind a ramshackle backyard fence only ten feet away. Abbott pointed his gun at Grayson’s chest.

  Before Grayson could react, Abbott fired. Despite the vest he was wearing, Grayson doubled over at the impact of the close-range shot. His pistol fell from his hand and he staggered backward, tripping on household junk stacked next to the trash cans for pickup.

  Lying on his back, he clutched at his chest as he gasped for air. Although the force had stunned him in the same way King’s Taser had the week before, he couldn’t let it paralyze him.

  Grayson looked up at the set of bright white teeth gleaming in the darkness. The drug lord let out a laugh as he kicked Grayson’s gun aside.

  Making a split-second decision, Grayson looked past Abbott and shouted, “Over here!”

  As he’d hoped, the dealer spun around, thinking officers had come bursting into the alley.

  Grayson yanked his backup weapon from his ankle holster. “Drop your weapon!”

  Abbott jerked his head around but didn’t listen. He raised his weapon to fire, but this time Grayson beat him to it. The bullet hit Abbott’s shoulder, knocking him back.

  “Shit!” Abbott’s gun clattered to the pavement.

  “On your knees!” Stumbling to his feet, Grayson grabbed handcuffs from his belt. Abbott was writhing in pain as Grayson cuffed him, but Grayson had little sympathy.

  Flush with satisfaction, he radioed into the team. As he waited, he pressed a hand to his chest and winced.

  Damn. That’s gonna leave a mark.

  Hours later, after completing the necessary paperwork, Grayson finally made it to Claire’s condo near midnight. The smile she gave him at the door as she held back an excited Charlie brought back memories of the past few nights.

  Since they’d been reunited in Virginia, he and Claire had practically been living together. And each night, after the passion they shared, he’d enjoyed a restful night’s sleep.

  Being with Claire calmed him. When he was with her, he could relax.

  This afternoon, though, once he’d received the call from Eli saying the raid was a go, he’d called Claire and told her he might be late, giving her the vague excuse of having to work. It was strange, this unfamiliar urge he felt to account for his whereabouts to someone else. Not knowing how Claire might react, he’d been cautious.

  He stepped inside and closed the door behind him before he gave Claire a long kiss. Cupping her cheek, he said, “There was a drug bust.”

  Claire gestured toward the television that was playing a local news program in the living room. “Do you mean this one?”

  Grayson leaned over and tugged affectionately at one of Charlie’s ears. “Yes.”

  “How involved were you?”

  He stood back up and shrugged, not meeting her eyes as he resisted the urge to rub his chest. “Pretty involved.”

  “They said an agent was shot.”

  When he didn’t answer, her mouth dropped open and every drop of blood seemed to drain from her face. “My God.”

  Grayson let out a sigh. “I was wearing a vest.”

  He drew her into his arms, praying she wouldn’t fight him. She didn’t, although she pulled her head back and looked up at him.

  “You knew you’d be involved in this raid and chose not to tell me.”

  “I didn’t want you to worry.”

  When Claire moved her hands against his chest to push him away, Grayson winced but held her even tighter. They were going to deal with this, and they were going to deal with it now.

  “I didn’t plan to get involved. I thought I’d only be observing.”

  “Yet you did get involved.”

  “Because they needed my help.”

  Tears shimmered in Claire’s eyes as she shook her head. “I’m tired of learning about things after the fact.”

  “I’ll do better. That’s a promise. You need to trust me.” Relief filled him when she gave him a nod. The corners of his lips lifted in a smile. “You know, I’ve kind of missed you being pissed off at me.”

  Claire sniffled, her brown eyes luminous as she whispered, “Good thing the reprieve’s over.”

  Grayson grinned, then leaned forward to kiss her again.

  Chapter Seventy

  A few days after the election in early November, Claire dropped by her parents’ house once they’d returned from awaiting the returns and celebrating her father’s win in Boston. They were hosting a dinner that evening for Thomas’s DC staffers to celebrate his re-election win and to thank them for their work on his campaign. Claire had been invited to attend but had begged off.

  “You must miss Gabe,” Claire’s mother said, peering into her bedroom mirror as she fastened an earring.

  “A little.” Claire was grateful Gabe hadn’t been lying about not being involved in the kidnapping attempt against her. But while he hadn’t hurt her, he’d still caused harm to his investors. Some of them were ruined financially, a situation that would probably never be rectified. It was dismaying.

  Eva fluffed her hair, tugging a few wisps around her face. “I wish you could join us. What was it you said you had going on tonight?”

  Claire perched on the silk-covered bench at the foot of the antique poster bed. “A date.”

  “With whom?”

  “Grayson Matthews.”

  Her mother’s brow pinched into a frown. “Who?”

  “Matthews is the agent who was guarding Claire,” Claire’s father said as he entered the room, tugging on his suit coat.

  Eva whirled around from the mirror, her look of surprise morphing into annoyance.

  Before her mother could speak, Claire pulled her shoulders back and sat up straighter, preparing herself for the next revelation. “By the way, I’ve decided to move out of the condo.”

  Eva’s mouth dropped open. “But, Claire, we bought that condo for you.”

  “No, Mother, you bought the condo as an investment. It was never really mine. I appreciate your allowing me to stay there the last couple of years, but I t
hink it’s time I went out on my own.”

  Claire’s father eased onto the bench next to her. Resting his hand on her knee, he said, “Are you sure about this? How will you pay for another place to live? You’re not working yet, but once you take the bar and join a firm—”

  Maybe this wasn’t the best time for Claire to bring up her decision about not pursuing law, but she’d waited long enough.

  She cleared her throat. “There’s something else I need to tell you. I’m going to finish law school and take the bar, but I won’t be joining a firm. I’ll use my trust fund to support myself until I decide what exactly it is I want to do with my life.”

  Eva held a hand to her throat and gasped, but Thomas’s reaction wasn’t quite as dramatic.

  “I think you should at least stay in the condo until you graduate in May. After that,” he said with a resigned look, “perhaps it won’t be too long before you find your way.”

  Eva stepped closer and opened her mouth to voice her opinion on the matter, but snapped it shut when Thomas glared up at her in warning.

  Claire paused for a moment, then decided to give in a little in order to keep the peace. “Thank you, Daddy. That’s probably the smart thing to do. I’ll move out after graduation. But in the meantime . . .” She glanced at her mother. “I’d appreciate having some privacy.”

  Thomas suppressed a smile. “Perfectly understandable. We won’t be dropping in unannounced. Right, Eva?”

  Her lips pinched tight, Eva gave him a begrudging nod.

  Thomas turned back to Claire. “And why won’t you be joining a firm?”

  “My heart isn’t in it.”

  “What about working part-time?”

  Her mother recovered from her shock just in time to jump on that bandwagon. She nodded enthusiastically. “Yes. Just think of all the suitable people you’ll meet in a law firm.”

  Claire closed her eyes for a moment, summoning patience. She’d known Grayson wouldn’t be acceptable in her mother’s eyes, but Eva’s reaction still hurt.