Once Upon a Friendship

by Tara Taylor Quinn

  He was glad he had—and wished he hadn’t—when he saw Gabi standing there in a long black coat covering most, but not all, of the beautiful long legs left exposed by her navy skirt and pumps to match. Her expression was dead serious.

  “Get your coat. We need to go,” she said.

  He was wearing jeans. A maroon-and-blue pullover sweater he’d had since college. And an old pair of shoes. “Go where?”

  Didn’t she get that they couldn’t be seen out together if they had half a hope of dispelling the rumors about them?

  Her eyes, when he finally allowed himself to focus on them, sent a shiver through him. She was upset. He grabbed his coat.

  “What’s up?”

  “I had a call from Gwen Menard,” she told him as they waited for the elevator.

  “And?”

  She watched the faded numbers as the old machine came down from the eighth floor. “They have some questions for you. I’ve already called Tanner. He’s outside waiting to follow us down there.”

  He glanced at her, his keys jangling by his side. “You’re taking me in for questioning?”

  Gabi turned then, reached out a hand and let it drop. “Liam...” She broke off and he had the idea that she might be going to cry. He’d only ever seen Gabi cry once. The night she’d exposed her reporter mistake to him.

  “Gwen said that if I bring you down now, we can avoid any kind of formal attempt to bring you in for questioning.”

  Every part of him stiffened. But he didn’t panic. Or even get angry.

  “Walter played his ace,” he guessed. He couldn’t think of the man as his father anymore.

  Funny how what was foremost in his mind was the way Gabi’s short black hair bounced when she shook her head. “They found the Schlotsky account papers on one of the hard drives they confiscated. They had to be kept to correlate with the voucher that stipulated a second signing.”

  He knew that last part. Of course. He was the one who’d told her.

  “And they brought Donaldson in for questioning.”

  He raised an eyebrow. She’d had his blanket permission to tell Gwen anything she discovered pertaining to the case that didn’t incriminate him. The Donaldson thing—naming Walter as a blackmailer, but also making Liam look like a forger—could have gone either way.

  The elevator doors slid open. He stepped on. So did she, a full foot away from him. They were the only two on board.

  “You know they’ve been investigating all five of the top-floor executives named by your father. They found the original Schlotsky forms on Donaldson’s computer. He told them what he told me.”

  “I’m sure Gwen ran straight to the grand jury with my father’s blackmail attempt. Which will slam-dunk his indictment. At which point he hands me up on a platter.”

  There was no point in thinking otherwise. The way to deal with the situation was to face it head-on.

  “Gabi...” He wanted to tell her he was innocent. To ask her to be his wife.

  No...wait. What was he thinking? He was panicked. Losing his mind.

  He wanted to kiss her and hope that he’d wake up in his bed with her beside him.

  To know that he had her heart and that she had his, for the rest of their lives.

  But he knew that when the case was over, when life returned to normal, the intensity of his feelings for her could change.

  Would change.

  Unless he was in jail...

  “Don’t, Liam. It’s not worth the risk,” she said. And he wasn’t sure if she was talking about the case or not.

  “Don’t what?”

  “Look at me like that. We’ll get through this. And then we’ll be normal again. You and me and Marie.” She pointed to the space around them in the elevator. “Remember how we felt when we decided to buy this place? Like three peas in a pod that couldn’t be broken?”

  He did remember. Marie had been the one to voice the feeling, but they’d all experienced it.

  Her calm calmed him.

  “We’ll get that back. As long as we don’t do something irrevocable in the meantime.”

  She was right. His mind knew she was, whether his heart was capable of believing or not.

  So he’d cooperate. Talk to Gwen Menard and anyone else who wanted to hear what he had to say. He’d keep his hands off Gabrielle.

  But he wasn’t going to kid himself. He was in deep trouble with this Connelly business. It would be his word against George’s, who represented his father. Who’d covered for Liam in the Schlotsky deal. They had proof. He didn’t. When Walter wanted them to, they’d find the correlation between every single one of the Grayson fraud deals and Liam as a communication liaison/delivery boy.

  He drove to the FBI office. Gabi tried to keep up conversation. He hung on every word.

  And when they were outside the glass door that would lead him to only God knew what, he couldn’t ignore the tug of Gabrielle’s hand on his. He stopped. Looked down at her looking up at him. She squeezed his hand.

  “What are my chances of sleeping at home tonight?”

  “Your chances are fine, Liam. They just want to talk to you.”

  Unfortunately, Liam didn’t trust Menard to have been straight with Gabrielle.

  Still, her words comforted him.

  SITTING NEXT TO Liam at a brown Formica-topped table in the interview room, facing Gwen Menard and another agent, a computer expert named Jason Higley, Gabrielle focused on every word that was said, listening for double entendre, for entrapment, for anything that violated Liam’s rights in any way. It was up to her to object to any and all of that kind of behavior. Though they continued to come up with questions, there was no new material on the table as far as Liam and Gabrielle were concerned. Nothing was exposed that they didn’t already know.

  Liam explained about his part in the Schlotsky dealings. Gabrielle already knew that Donaldson’s story would have corroborated his. Not from Gwen, of course, but from her own interview with Donaldson. Whether or not Gwen knew about that interview remained to be seen. And could prejudice Gwen’s faith in Liam’s testimony.

  She could have called Gwen, per their agreement, after speaking with Donaldson. She hadn’t been certain that the call wouldn’t also implicate Liam in some fashion due to the varying stories regarding those forged figures on the first documents.

  They’d been there an hour and already she was exhausted.

  But energized, too. Fifteen minutes into the interview Liam’s leg was touching hers. He was seeking comfort, she guessed.

  And giving her comfort, too.

  This thing between them...it might leave as soon as all of this was over. But in the meantime, it seemed to help.

  And they needed all the help they could get.

  * * *

  IF THE FBI AGENT thought she was leading him into a place of relaxation—to then go in for the kill—she was mistaken. Liam answered her questions honestly because he had nothing to hide.

  But everything to fear.

  “Do you have any feeling as to my father’s grand jury proceedings?” he asked when it seemed as though the agent had finally run out of steam. They’d been at it almost two hours.

  “We have reason to believe an indictment will be forthcoming.”

  Which told him nothing. Political gobbledygook. They’d had reason to believe there’d be an indictment from the beginning or they wouldn’t have taken the case to the grand jury to begin with.

  “I have one last question,” Menard said, both arms on the table as she leaned toward Liam.

  Setting the stage, he thought. Getting intimate and friendly with him so he’d trust her. Funny, as attractive as she was, she didn’t do a thing for him. For days he’d been checking himself, to see if other women attracted him.

 
There’d been some beauties walking below his window. One or two in the coffee shop. And...nothing. Not even the urge to say hello.

  “Mr. Connelly?”

  “Yes?”

  “I said I have one more question.”

  “I heard you. I’m waiting for you to ask it.”

  And drawing strength from the touch of my attorney’s thigh against mine.

  “Your father requested an interview with me the other day. One without his counsel present.”

  He no longer had a father. “You said you had a question.”

  “He intimated that he was covering for someone. When I asked him to identify his alleged perpetrator, he refused to say another word, other than that he wanted to inform me that in the event of an indictment, he would be forced to expose this person. I think his point was to make me doubt that I have the right person.”

  “Or to do himself as much of a favor as he can in light of an upcoming obstruction of justice charge,” Gabrielle said.

  Liam didn’t take his eyes away from his adversary. “Your question is?” Now he was being rude. And was sure he didn’t care.

  “Are you aware of anyone your father could be covering for?”

  Liam willed his hurt into anger. And felt Gabrielle’s leg press up against his more tightly. “No.”

  “And you can’t shed any light on what he might be referring to?”

  “In case you aren’t remembering,” Gabi broke in, “my client has been estranged from his father and is currently bound by a restraining order to stay away from him.”

  Gwen looked at both of them. Nodded. Gathered her papers into the manila folder she’d carried in.

  “We’re free to go, then?” Gabrielle asked.

  “Yes.” Menard stood. “But don’t leave town,” she told Liam. “We’re going to have some more questions.”

  Don’t leave town?

  He wasn’t under arrest. But his freedom had just been officially curtailed.

  One step closer to jail.

  * * *

  GABRIELLE WAS FURIOUS. She barely spoke to Liam on the ride back to their apartment building.

  She’d caught a glimpse of Elliott Tanner back at the FBI office. Had seen his eyebrow raised in question when they’d come out of the interview. But she’d ignored him.

  For now she trusted no one with Liam’s care but herself.

  The danger of that thought didn’t even bother her at the moment. She’d never been so angry in her life.

  “What’s got you all tied up in knots?”

  Liam’s sideways grin in her direction startled her so much she couldn’t breathe. She took a moment. Watched the traffic as he pulled out. Found their place among all the other cars.

  “Do you realize what your father’s done? Or is getting ready to do?”

  “Of course I do,” he told her, not sure why she was asking. “It’s what I’ve been telling you all along. The man is morally bankrupt.”

  “He’s going to serve you up to them. His own son. I mean, that first night I met you, back in college, when I heard him pulling every manipulative stunt in the book to get you to move out of the dorm, I thought he was despicable, but I also thought he was doing it for the right reasons. Because he loved you so much and wanted what he thought was best for you.”

  “Don’t feel bad. I thought so, too.”

  She was probably saying too much. Rubbing salt in a raw wound.

  She was his lawyer. She had to defend him. And in order to do that, she had to understand. “How does anyone do that? Serve up their own son? Especially someone as incredible and kind and talented as you are?”

  As soon as the words flew so passionately out of her mouth, Gabrielle knew she’d made a huge mistake.

  She might just as well have told Liam Connelly that she was in love with him.

  * * *

  LIAM PULLED TO a stop at a yellow light and turned to look at Gabrielle.

  She returned his stare as best she could.

  What did they do now?

  How did they pretend there was nothing going on between them? It was hard enough knowing that he’d never be the type of husband she needed, one who was all in with his wife for the rest of his life. He’d be faithful, she was sure of that. But his eye would wander. His mind. His desire for her would wane.

  But the thought of losing his friendship...

  He kept staring at her. Letting her see him, too. And she wanted nothing more than to give in to the powerful feelings between them.

  And let the future take care of itself.

  A horn honked behind him. The light had turned green.

  Liam looked away.

  She knew he’d let go of her.

  And that it was for the best.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  SHE DIDN’T CARE that it was a Friday night. Wouldn’t have cared if it was in the middle of the night. Gabrielle rode the elevator up with Liam. She got off at her floor. Waited for the doors to close, for him to reach his floor, and then she fled.

  Down the stairs.

  And out the back door, climbing into her car and tearing out of the drive before a security guard could alert Elliott Tanner—if he’d been instructed to do so—that she was on the loose.

  Driven by an anger so strong it was scaring her—and still not caring—she sped across town. Little things like gates and guards and security cameras, even the threat of jail, weren’t going to stop her.

  Or even concern her.

  Liam had given her the only access code she needed. He’d told her, the day she’d sprung him from jail, how he’d managed to get on his father’s property, only to find him not there. He’d related the obvious agitation of a housekeeper who’d helped raise him. Who loved him.

  Related, too, that his arrest had come for trespassing at Connelly headquarters, with no mention of an additional charge at the home of Walter Connelly.

  Betting on the fact that Walter didn’t know Liam had visited his home that day, she was expecting the spare key to the gatehouse to be right where Liam had returned it after using it.

  She parked far enough away to avoid security cameras. And kept to the brush as she half ran in the directions Liam had described when he’d told her about his breaking and entering escapade the last time he’d been to his boyhood home.

  Almost as validation that she was doing the right thing, she found the gatehouse while it was still light outside. Found the key, too.

  And made it to the front door just as Walter Connelly pulled up, driving himself, in a black Lincoln Town Car.

  Apparently her luck had just run out.

  * * *

  LIAM HAD TO talk to Marie. Without Gabi present. Or knowing. And he wasn’t comfortable with the idea.

  He had no other choice.

  Taking the stairs in case the elevator stopped on the second floor and Gabi happened to have her door open, he showed up at the coffeehouse just after Marie had closed for the night. He helped clean up. Something he’d done a time or two before. She didn’t ask him why he was there.

  Or act as though anything was amiss.

  They worked. She sent her employee home. Turned off the lights out front. And carried the cash drawer back to the office, where she’d count the day’s income, make a deposit slip, put it in a bag that would lock automatically and drop it into the safe under a brick behind her desk.

  Only a key at the bank would open the bag. Liam knew all the secrets.

  “Talk to me,” she said before she’d counted a cent.

  He nodded toward the cash on her desk. “Count.”

  “You take the twenties.” She pushed them in his direction.

  He counted. So did she. Fifteen minutes later even that work was done. And he was
still there.

  “Gabi doesn’t know I’m down here.”

  “Duh, Connelly. I wasn’t born yesterday. You’d be upstairs, snagging whatever she’s making for dinner if whatever you have to say was for both of us.”

  “You don’t seem shocked.”

  “By what?”

  “That I’m here to talk to you without Gabi knowing.”

  “I’ve got eyes.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “There’s something going on between the two of you. Gabi and I have already talked about it. It was only a matter of time before you came to me, too.”

  “This is serious, Marie.”

  Her smile fell away. “I know. I’m just trying to pretend I’m not scared to death.”

  “Listen.”

  She nodded, that compassion of hers—something he’d counted on more than she’d probably ever know—shining all over him.

  “It’s pretty much written on the wall that I’m going to jail.”

  She took a breath, as if she was going to object, but he held up his hand. Reminding her that she’d just agreed to listen. He needed to get this out.

  “I’m feeling things for Gabi.” He’d expected the announcement to sound cataclysmic. It didn’t.

  Marie hadn’t even blinked yet.

  “I realize that it’s just because of all that’s going on, and her helping me, me needing to rely on her, but...”

  “I don’t...” Marie looked at him and fell silent. “But she’s going to get hurt, Liam. We all know that.”

  He didn’t know it anymore. But he couldn’t tell her it wouldn’t happen. Because he didn’t feel as though he knew himself all that well. So much had changed. Outside of him. But inside, as well.

  “Anyway, I love you both, you know that.”

  She nodded. And didn’t say another word. He needed her to. He hadn’t told anyone he loved them since he’d held his mother as she’d died.

  “But Gabi... I’m falling in love with her.”

  In spite of how tightly Marie’s lips were pursed, he could still see them tremble.

  “She can’t know,” he said.