He’s ordering me to look the other way, Beverly pondered. Or she would lose perhaps the most important case of her career thus far.
Which meant she would likely find her career in the D.A.’s office in serious jeopardy.
Who was pulling the strings here? The D.A.? The governor?
Or could it be Sheldon Crawford’s replacement on the bench, Judge Grant Nunez?
“I’m waiting for an answer, Beverly,” Dean said, impatiently drumming his fingers on the desk.
Beverly bit into her lower lip. “No, sir,” she snapped in acquiescence, “there is no problem.”
“Good.” He put a hand to his glasses. “Now update me on how things are going for the upcoming Santiago trial—”
She told him everything he wanted to know and nothing he didn’t.
By the time Beverly left Dean’s office, she had been bruised, but not broken. She would not step over the line officially and make it easy for him to destroy all she had worked so hard for.
But she did not intend to let Grant off the hook either. She was determined to find out what he was involved in and with whom.
If only for the sake of any future between them.
* * *
Beverly walked right past Grant when he opened the door. He had been shaving when she barged in, shaving cream still stuck to his chin like drool.
“Hello to you, too,” he said with an elevated brow.
She regarded him sternly. He was shirtless, had on tight jeans, and looked very sexy. Though this was intriguing, Beverly’s mind was elsewhere.
Was he crooked?
Or sexually involved with Maxine Crawford?
Maybe both?
“Did I do something wrong?” asked Grant, as if he hadn’t a clue. “Or did you just decide you couldn’t wait another moment to have my body?”
Beverly colored at the thought. It was quickly replaced by far more sinister thoughts.
“What the hell’s going on, Grant?” she asked without mincing words. “Why did Maxine Crawford phone you twice the night Judge Crawford was killed?”
Shock crossed Grant’s face like a shadow. Damn! I’m dead meat! “How did you find out about that?” He had a pretty good idea, but wanted to hear it anyway.
At least he didn’t insult her by denying it. Not that it made her feel any better.
“It isn’t important.” She glared at him. “Are you sleeping with her?”
Grant stepped forward uneasily. “Hell no,” he said unevenly. “It’s not what you think, Bev...”
“Then you must be involved in the bribes Judge Crawford was accepting,” she accused him. “Is that how you landed in his court? Is Dean part of this conspiracy, too?”
“You’re way out of line,” Grant said with snap. Can I blame her? I should have been up front about it from the start.
“Am I?” Her hands were folded in an angry pretzel. “Is that why I’ve been ordered to look the other way by you? Then Dean?”
“You don’t understand, Beverly.” Grant reached out to her, wanting to connect somehow.
She backpedaled. “Don’t touch me—!”
“All right,” he said on a sigh. “Calm down.” I’ll try to do the same and hope my explanation will smooth the waters.
“I believed in you, Grant.” Beverly’s heart raced. She hadn’t realized this would affect her so. But how could it not? Everything she thought Grant stood for in and out of the courtroom was suddenly in jeopardy.
Along with their romance and the possibilities thereof.
“Let me fix you a drink,” Grant proffered tremulously. I could certainly use one.
Beverly batted her lashes. “I don’t want a drink!” He wouldn’t worm his way out of this by getting her drunk.
“Well I do—”
He walked past Beverly to a wet bar in the corner of the living room. A moment later Grant was back in front of her, a scotch on the rocks in hand.
He regarded Beverly for a long moment. It shouldn’t have come to this. But now that is has, deal with it.
“Judge Crawford was under investigation for some time by the Justice Department,” Grant said evenly. “They believed he was involved in bribery, racketeering, pimping, and other criminal acts. The D.A.’s office was working closely in conjunction with the Feds in building a case against Sheldon Crawford and others he was involved with. Only Dean and I knew about it, along with the governor—”
“Why didn’t you say anything?” Beverly asked, holding his gaze in coming to terms with this, though the answer was obvious to her.
“I couldn’t,” Grant said miserably, putting the glass to his mouth, emptying its contents in one swallow. “Aside from being sworn to secrecy, it could have compromised the investigation and put you in danger. The less people who knew, the better.”
Beverly batted her lashes, musing. “What did Maxine Crawford have to do with it?” she ventured forth. “Or is that between you two?”
Grant mused. “She was working with us,” he explained quietly, “gathering evidence we would be able to use.”
“Against her own husband?” Beverly’s mouth went agape. “Or were they married in name only?”
“As far as we know, their marriage was the real thing,” Grant responded tonelessly. “Even if far from conventional. With regard to Maxine supplying information against the judge...well, it was either that or risk going down with him.”
“Obviously she chose to abandon a sinking ship,” deduced Beverly, thinking about how her knowledge of Maxine Crawford continued to evolve.
Grant nodded. “The night Judge Crawford was murdered, Maxine called once to give me information; the second time to tell me he was dead—”
Beverly thought back to being summoned to the hospital by Grant after Maxine Crawford was brought in. Why had he wanted to see Maxine?
She looked up at his eyes. “You were at the hospital that night to—”
“To make sure she kept her mouth shut!” Grant answered as Beverly had gathered. “Had Maxine said anything at all to the press or the police, it could have jeopardized the whole case we were building.”
“Does your case have anything to do with the case against Rafael Santiago?” Beverly asked, remembering that Walter had indicated otherwise. Could Santiago have been a hired killer meant to silence Sheldon Crawford once and for all?
“The two are completely separate,” Grant told her sincerely. “Santiago killed Judge Crawford and attacked Maxine Crawford all on his own. It hit everyone who was working on nailing the judge’s ass like a sledgehammer. Believe me, giving him the easy way out was the last thing anyone wanted. But there was nothing we could do about it after the fact.”
“Except treat Judge Crawford like a fallen hero,” surmised Beverly. “Above board as a law-abiding, honorable member of the judiciary.”
“Exactly,” Grant muttered sotto voce. “The investigation is still ongoing. To treat Judge Crawford as anything less than a saint might have caused others we’re targeting to make a run for it. Not to mention place our informants in danger, including Maxine Crawford.”
“Is she still working for you?” Beverly was curious. No, she was a little more than curious. The thought of Grant having to spend more time with her beautiful key witness than she did bothered Beverly more than she cared to admit.
Grant shook his head imperturbably. “As soon as Judge Crawford was killed, we no longer had any use for her, other than what she’d already given us.” He paused. “Except as the only one who could point the finger at the man who shot her husband and sexually assaulted her—”
Beverly felt relief and regret. She had thought the worst about Grant, when he, like she, was only doing his job. Even if it was inadvertently at odds with her own work. It was just by chance that Santiago happened to kill a man whose life was already about to be in ruins. Only in death, the judge had possibly forever escaped having his legacy ruined and reputation stained by malfeasance. She could well imagine the probe affecting other ca
ses for years to come.
“I think I could use that drink now,” Beverly told Grant, sucking in a deep breath.
“All right.” He gave her an understanding look.
He poured her a brandy and poured himself another scotch.
Beverly thought that Grant looked tired, as if carrying a great weight on his shoulders—one that had been further weighed down by having to divide his loyalties. She should never have confronted him like this, questioned his integrity, but she too had been on the hot seat. Without even a clue as to what was going on, it could have affected her ability to do her own job effectively.
“So what happens now?” she asked uneasily.
Grant gazed into her emerald eyes. “Business as usual,” he said. “For both of us. What you just heard never leaves these walls—”
“I understand.” Beverly stared knowingly at him over the rim of her glass. “I’m sorry, Grant, for going after you.”
“Don’t be. You had every right to, all things considered. I’m sorry I had to hold back things from you that you deserved to know. I wasn’t proud of it, especially when all I want is to share every part of my life with you.”
Beverly blinked back tears. “I feel the same way.”
Grant grinned broadly and brushed against her, causing an immediate reaction. “I’ve missed you, Bev.”
They had both been too busy lately to devote much time to them, causing Beverly hunger pangs as well.
“So now that we’ve managed to be in the same room together, what do you propose we do about it?” she challenged him, suppressing her own renewed desire that threatened to tear her apart.
Grant took away their glasses, then ran the back of his hand smoothly across Beverly’s cheek, and said openly, “For starters, I want to kiss you.”
The hairs on the back of Beverly’s neck stood up. “Who’s stopping you—?” she managed before her voice gave way to raw emotions.
Without a response, Grant leaned his face into hers so that their open mouths pressed together at one angle and then another of passionate kissing. Beverly put her tongue in Grant’s mouth, mingling with his own, enjoying the taste and moisture. She wrapped her hands around his head and put her all into the kiss, getting the same in return.
A gasp erupted from Beverly’s throat and she felt lightheaded. The long and deep kiss had become intoxicating. Suddenly her initial reason for coming there seemed like nothing more than a distant memory.
Grant felt the temperature quickly rise in the room. Kissing Beverly so succulently was causing him to lose all self-control. He wanted her now more than she could imagine.
And aimed to have her.
He forced himself to back away just inches from her swollen lips, and murmured, “What do you say we carry this to the bedroom?”
“I say yes, and hurry. Otherwise I’ll just have to continue attacking you here!” Beverly uttered boldly, encouraged by the kiss, cemented by her own unmet needs.
Grant laughed lasciviously and scooped her in his arms. “Say no more, baby...and neither will I.”
* * *
Beverly had Grant’s full erection in her mouth, teasing and stimulating him to the base of her throat. The next thing she knew, Grant had managed to shift his body on the bed and part her thighs, so that his head was now between her legs and pleasuring her simultaneously.
Sixty-nine left them both breathless and moaning at the same time in arousing sounds and actions.
Beverly reached her orgasm first, squeezing her thighs around Grant’s face as the moment came with a bang. Moments later he exploded in her mouth while she absorbed his throbbing climax.
Neither had any intentions of settling for oral gratification, wanting much more of one another.
Beverly kissed him afterwards, tasting her sex off his lips and vice versa. It turned her on even more. She grabbed Grant’s shoulders, wanting to feel his weight on her, his penis inside of her.
Grant put on the condom in the blink of an eye, not wanting to waste a moment before he could make love to Beverly. He climbed atop her, reined in her splayed legs so they hung on his hips, and thrust himself into her covetously.
Their mouths again interlocked and bodies swayed back and forth rhythmically with zest and determination. Both were drenched in sweat and stuck to each other like second skins.
Beverly’s contractions came in waves as Grant pounded her and she pounded back. Neither let up, not wanting this to end too soon.
Beverly opened her legs to allow Grant to move in deeper. He responded with fervor and they reached the point of no return, making them slaves to each other and their individual orgasmic needs. The sounds that came from their mouths were a language all their own, sounds of undulating lust and rip-roaring satisfaction.
It ended as it began with hot kisses and a feeling of belonging both ways.
Grant took a moment to catch his breath before cuddling Beverly and resting his lips against her ear. “You’ve really got a hold on me, baby. I can’t imagine feeling as I do about any other woman.”
Beverly got a warm sensation, ashamed that she had doubted him earlier and vowing never to do so again. She raised her eyes to his chin. “You’re a pretty hard act to follow, too, Mr. Nunez.”
Grant kissed the side of her head. “You think?”
“How could I not?” Her eyes batted flirtatiously. “It’s not every man who gets me into bed. Not to mention to fall in love with.”
“Ditto, baby.” He cracked a smile. “Guess that means we’re stuck with each other.
“Guess it does,” Beverly said. “Oh well, I suppose we’ll just have to get used to that. Are you sure you’re up to the task?”
A part of Beverly still feared rejection and being forced to start all over again. Even if neither of them had spoken of marriage as part of the deal. A steady, long-term relationship could be nearly every bit as rewarding for her and Jaime. Or heartbreaking.
Then there were still their careers to consider. Grant was a criminal court judge whose path she would have to cross on more than one occasion in the courtroom as an assistant district attorney. Including the Santiago trial. And even when he happened to be working in conjunction with the Department of Justice and not always in her best interests.
Could this stand in the way of their happiness as a couple?
Would it someday prove to be their undoing?
Grant imagined what Beverly might be thinking and wanted to squelch any notions she had that he would bolt at the first sign of trouble. Or allow her to without fighting to keep what they had.
He lifted on an arm so that their met, before saying with confidence, “I’m definitely up to the task, and then some, Beverly.”
Grant sealed the deal with a kiss.
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
As he did every Thanksgiving Day, Stone took over the kitchen. It was a tradition that he was proud of—using the cooking skills that had been passed down the generations of his family and too often ignored by him to give his wife a break from slaving over the stove. While Joyce always griped a little about it, being comfortable with her own cuisine, overall she seemed to appreciate Stone becoming a once a year chef.
The entire family was there for the holiday feast. Anna and Chad had come home from college and Joyce’s parents drove down from Oregon, where they had moved a few years ago.
Manuel Gonzalez was still on the loose, having managed to evade the dragnet across the city for more than a week. Stone considered that he might have left Northern California, if not the entire state. But something told him that the man was still there in the Eagles Landing area, waiting to be caught like a mountain lion.
It was only a matter of time.
Just as it was that Stone would be able to determine whether or not Chuck Murray had played any role in the death of his wife, Adrienne.
Stone was barely aware of the phone ringing as he poured the sweet potato batter into two pie crusts. When Joyce stepped into the kitchen doorway, a dour look cr
eased her face.
“It’s for you.”
“Can you take a message?” he asked on a sigh. “I have my hands pretty full right now.”
A moment later Joyce was back. “It’s Gordon,” she said sullenly. “He says it’s urgent.”
Stone frowned. He had made Joyce a promise that there would be no police business today. Not with the kids and her parents there.
Maybe it was not so urgent that his partner couldn’t delay whatever was on his mind till tomorrow.
“Yeah, Chang,” Stone grumbled into the phone. “What’s up?”
“Gonzalez was been spotted by one of our cruisers,” Chang spoke loudly. “He’s inside a Kelbow Supermarket not far from your place. Thought you might want to be there when we make the arrest.”
Stone moistened his lips. “You’re sure it’s Gonzalez?”
“He was seen leaving a car that matched the description of the last one he stole.” Chang sneezed nastily into the phone. “The license plate checked out.”
Stone thought about it for a moment. He wanted this bastard so badly he could almost taste it. Nothing would give him greater pleasure than to personally slap the cuffs on Manuel Gonzalez for the murder of Adrienne Murray and his girlfriend, Claudia Sosa, for starters. And, with any luck, he could be back home before they began to miss him too much.
“I’m on my way, man,” he told Chang.
Before Joyce could say anything—and she had been watching him all the while like a hawk—Stone kissed her regretfully on the mouth.
“I’m sorry, hon. Duty calls. Looks like we’ve got the bead on the man who’s likely killed at least three women that we know of. I have to go.”
“Where—?” One hand clung to Joyce’s hip like it was stuck there.
Stone told her, as he always did in a potentially dangerous situation. But they both knew it came with the territory. Didn’t mean he had to like it.
“You be careful, Stone,” she pleaded, fear dancing in her eyes. “If anything were to happen—especially on Thanksgiving Day.”
“Nothing will,” he told her comfortingly. Not if he could help it. “I won’t be long.” Stone handed her his apron, knowing she knew what to do with it. “I love you—”
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