Objection Overruled

by O'Hanlon, J. K.

  This should not be happening.

  Jackie took deep breaths through her nose to steady herself. Nothing helped. Her breasts tingled and hardened at the thought of his hands touching her again. Between her legs, the slippery wetness built between swelling lips.

  Determined, she looked him sternly in the eyes. “Brandon, not in public. Actually, not anywhere, at least not during this case. This is too important to me.”

  She had to get away from him before she did something she’d regret. “I need to go.” She picked up her briefcase and turned to hit the women’s room before going to her meeting.

  He pulled her back to face him. “What if I wasn’t the expert in this case?”

  “But you are, so this conversation has to end.” She pulled her arm from his grip, although her body begged her to throw herself into his arms. With fast steps, she strode away from him, beating a path to the bathroom down the hall.

  After using the toilet, Jackie suspected that all the gawking she attracted this morning was not about emanations of power. She turned around to look over her shoulder at the mirror. Turquoise polka-dot underpants were visible under the skintight cream pants. What did Brandon think about her outfit? And when did it matter so much what a man thought about her clothes? She steeled herself. It was time to go back to being hard as oak, not some flimsy imitation susceptible to the world’s forces. Or her heart’s forces, either.

  * * * *

  Brandon rubbed his finger and thumb together. Once again, he’d found himself acting impulsively with Jackie North. He considered himself a carefree kind of guy for the most part. It wasn’t that what he’d done with her was out of character. The troubling part was that he found himself doing it against his better judgment. Being carefree was different than being careless.

  He looked at the directory on the wall. He’d gotten off the elevator too early. Could his compulsion to be connected to Jackie have somehow drawn him off the elevator three floors too soon? No, it was coincidence. He’d had no idea she was going to be there.

  He got back onto the elevator and went to the fifth floor where the Fraud and Public Corruption Unit was located. He pushed through the frosted glass door and informed the receptionist he had an appointment with FBI Agent Jeff Weaver and Matt Erickson, the Assistant US Attorney for Fraud. After checking her computer, the receptionist made a call to announce Brandon’s presence.

  Before he could settle into a chair and check his e-mail on his phone, two men came into the reception area. One was tall, even taller than himself, but lanky. The other was short and although not exactly physically intimidating, his icy stare gave Brandon the message that this guy could kick his ass in a heartbeat. The tall one introduced himself as Matt Erickson, the lawyer. That left the shorter guy to be the FBI agent. They shuffled Brandon through a maze of cubicles into a glass-walled conference room where they all took places at one end of a mile-long conference table.

  Brandon looked down the shiny table and tried to lighten the mood. “Are we expecting company?”

  The government men shifted their eyes at each other and then to Brandon. The FBI guy replied in a deep monotone, “No, why do you ask?”

  Tough crowd. Better just stick to business. “Never mind. It’s just quite a big room for three people.”

  Erickson shrugged. “It’s all we have. Did you bring the documents we discussed this morning?”

  Brandon prided himself on his intensity, but these guys took the cake. Brandon opened his briefcase and pulled out the Boyers Report. After the meeting with Jackie, he’d met with Ashe and his father. It had been a distasteful way to finish the evening. He’d even taken an extra-long shower when he got home in the early morning to wash off the lingering sense of filth and corruption, which emanated from the younger Ashe like the stench of sewage from the gutter after a hard rain.

  At least he’d been able to convince Ashe to let him have the Boyers Report and a good part of its supporting documentation in order to prepare for the trial. Brandon pulled the documents from his briefcase and stacked them tidily on the table in front of him. He rested his hands protectively on the reams of paper. “Gentlemen, I think you are going to be pleased with this information. But, before we continue, I need your assurances on a few matters.”

  The government men shot sly glances at each other but leaned in over the table, practically salivating over the stacks of paper.

  Erickson spoke. “What are we talking about? That little matter in Charlottesville from your college days?”

  Brandon clenched his jaw, and the hair on the back of his neck bristled. Since when was the death of an innocent young woman a “little matter”? The memory of Brynn’s shy smile through her long, black hair that always fell over her face burned in his mind. He concentrated on keeping his hands still and tried to force the blood back from his neck, which he suspected was visibly red even through his summer tan.

  Weaver leaned in closer. “Mr. Marshfield, we have been investigating Robert Ashe for two years. There’s not much we don’t know about his life and the lives of those around him. The situation in Charlottesville seemed to be”—he paused and tapped his fingers together while he held his hands in a prayerful position—“only the first in a series of mishaps surrounding Ashe and his friends. When he approached you to serve as the expert in the Kovel case, our interest was piqued. That’s why we contacted you last week. We suspect Ashe threatened you with some sort of exposure of the Brynn Rouvalis incident. We are prepared to offer you immunity from any future action relating to your role in her death.”

  The attorney reached into a case sitting next to him and extracted several sheets of paper. He slid them across the table to Brandon. “Here’s our formal agreement. You obviously have the right to have counsel review it. However, time is of the essence here, Mr. Marshfield. We’ll need an answer within twenty-four hours.”

  Brandon glanced through the document and frowned. “I don’t want to involve any more people. I’m ready to sign and to turn these documents over, but I have one other concern.”

  Weaver wet his lips and looked at Erickson, who nodded.

  “Ms. North?” Weaver prompted.

  Brandon twitched. How much did these people know? He began to wonder whether there was anyone he could trust.

  Weaver continued, “We know just about everyone Ashe is in contact with, including Ms. North. You’ve had a fair amount of contact with her too, recently, haven’t you?”

  Brandon sat back in his chair. “I don’t appreciate being spied on. I thought we had civil liberties in this country.”

  Weaver rolled his eyes. “Spare us the lecture on abiding by the law. Are we going to cut a deal or what?”

  Being up against the wall wasn’t a position Brandon was used to. He contemplated getting up and leaving. Screw these guys. Then the picture of Jackie nestled in his sails filled his thoughts. He remembered the way she played with her hair when she worked. The fiery intensity that showed in her eyes both when she made love and when she kicked ass as a lawyer held him in his place.

  Brandon took a deep breath. “She has these documents, and she’s smart. It’s only a matter of time before she figures out the extent of Ashe’s dealings with the less than upstanding part of our society. I know Ashe and what he’s capable of. She’s in danger. She needs to be protected.”

  Erickson fidgeted. “Mr. Marshfield, I don’t know Jackie North personally, but I know her reputation in the legal community. You’re right; she is smart, one of the best, in fact. I doubt she realizes how good she is or what she’s sitting on right now. She’s also savvy and goddamned independent. Frankly, we don’t have enough FBI agents on this case to assign a tail to her. And I suspect that even if I tried, she’d find out and shove my briefcase up my ass. I’ve been ordered not to piss her off. I would suggest you do the same.”

  Brandon couldn’t suppress a grin. “She does seem pretty intense.” His smile disappeared when the consequences crossed his mind. “This is serious shit
, gentlemen. She deserves someone looking over her shoulder. If you guys don’t have the balls to do it, then I will.”

  A vein bulged in Weaver’s neck. He stood up and casually set his left hand on his hip to expose his holstered gun where his jacket was pulled back. “We’ll do what we can, but right now, our focus is on Ashe. Matt’s right, though; you cannot, under any circumstances, let her know you are working with us. If all goes as planned, we’ll have Ashe in jail before she goes to trial. If she gets spooked, though, and Ashe thinks she knows something, it could blow our entire operation. You need to steer clear of her from now on. You fuck up, we’re back to square one, and our deal is off.” He leaned over the table toward Brandon and splayed his hands on the surface. “Are we clear, Mr. Marshfield?”

  Brandon returned his steely glare. “Crystal, Mr. Weaver.”

  Weaver sat down. “Tell us what you have.”

  Brandon paged through the papers in front of him. He pulled out a page covered in columns of numbers. “When I reviewed Ashe’s documentation in preparation for my deposition, I found the Boyers Report, which at first glance exonerates Ashe from any wrongdoing.”

  Weaver said, “How so?”

  “It’s the report of an independent investigator. He’d been sniffing around Ashe Financial Services but couldn’t prove any illegal activity.”

  Erickson held up a page showing columns of numbers. “What are all of these numbers and alpha-numeric codes?” he asked.

  “They show transfers of money. The straight numeric codes are routing numbers for US banks like you see on a personal check. The other codes are international bank codes.”

  “You mean offshore accounts?” Weaver pulled the paper closer to him.

  “Exactly. Sophisticated clients have offshore accounts all the time, so initially, this didn’t cause me concern. But, when I realized Ashe was faking trades in Italy, something clicked. The forth transaction down shows the code for Andorra, a tiny principality between France and Spain. Andorran bankers say their accounts are known only to the holder and God. It’s the most secret place in the world to hide money. This shows money going into Andorra, then some coming back into the Ashe funds, some staying in Europe and the rest swept into accounts in Dubai, the Caymans, and Switzerland. No one moves money around like that unless they are hiding something.”

  Weaver and Erickson leaned back in their chairs and smiled knowingly.

  Brandon tensed. “What?”

  Erickson gathered the papers and tapped them into a neat pile. “We have a good idea what Ashe is hiding, and this might be the proverbial nail in the coffin.”

  Erickson’s gloating grin irritated Brandon. “Are you going to share your theory with me?”

  “Not yet,” said Weaver. “But, I’ve reconsidered my position on watching North. If she puts two and two together, and if Ashe knows she has, she might end up in worse shape than the previous expert in this case.”

  Brandon’s gut clenched. The previous expert lay in an unexplainable coma. He had to find Jackie and warn her. The FBI may have said they’d watch her, but he couldn’t trust them to keep her safe the way he could. He wasn’t going to lose another woman because of Ashe. He got up to leave, but before he could get out the conference-room door, Weaver moved in front of him.

  As if reading his mind, Weaver warned, “If you’re thinking about flying to Jackie North right now, think again. No unusual moves or our deal is off.”

  Chapter Ten

  Jackie tapped into her dwindling inner core of determination and shored herself up like solid oak. Her meeting with her friend at the US Attorney’s office flew by, and she sailed through the motion in the local court, doing her best to camouflage her wardrobe malfunction.

  Maybe she still had her mojo. One day, the underpants debacle would be a source of laughter, but for now, the humiliation stung. Even worse, she despised herself for caring so much what one man might think.

  On a mission to get the offending panties into the garbage, Jackie hurried out of the courthouse to head back to her loft to change her clothes. After she’d walked only a few blocks, the sweet, full-bodied smell of fried dough from Pete’s Cosmic Doughnuts stopped her.

  She detoured to the shop and picked up two apple fritters to go. She then beat a path to the Bank of Maryland building to see Stan. Turquoise panties be damned; she owed Stan a doughnut.

  A heavyset woman with teased bangs and a frizzy ponytail sat in Stan’s usual place at the guard’s desk.

  “Where’s Stan?” Jackie plopped the bag of pastries on the desk.

  “Oh, he’s out today.” The guard eyeballed the bag of doughnuts, her nostrils flaring.

  Jackie snatched the bag off the desk before the guard’s pilfering fingers could touch her pastries. Those were Stan’s and no one else’s. “Is he sick?”

  “Dunno. I just go where they tell me, and I’m here for the week.” The guard scooted her chair to the right, trying to get a view of something or someone behind Jackie.

  Before Jackie could turn around, someone grabbed her arm hard and spun her around.

  “What the hell—” Jackie growled.

  “What do you think you are doing?” Gary Stone’s fingers dug into her upper arms like a vise.

  “Get your hands off me!” Jackie’s voice was loud enough that people in the lobby stared in their direction and whispered among themselves. The security guard picked up her phone and started to flip through a Rolodex.

  Stone’s grip relaxed, although he still held on to her. He looked at the security guard’s panicky face. “Everything’s fine. I’m Gary Stone. My firm’s on the top floor. Jackie, this way.”

  As if being Gary Stone gave him a license to assault women in his firm’s lobby! Had Stone’s audacity quotient risen? Why had it taken her so long to realize he was nothing but an arrogant ass?

  Stone steered her to a deserted hallway where stairs led to the parking garage.

  “Checked your e-mail lately?” He sneered, practically spitting on her.

  “No,” she replied with venom.

  “Might I suggest you check that out now?” His breath was hot on her face.

  “Back up, Gary, for Christ’s sake.” She pulled her phone out of her bag and tapped in her password to bring up her e-mail. A message with an attachment from Gary Stone was in her inbox. Her hand trembled as she tapped the message. A photo of Brandon with his thumb in her mouth from just hours ago filled the mini screen. It was blurry but undeniable. A knot formed in her throat.

  “Where did you get this?”

  Stone inched closer. “I don’t think you’re in the position to be demanding any answers from me, Jackie. What’s going on with you and Marshfield?”

  “I don’t owe you an explanation, Gary.” She sidled sideways to get away from him.

  Stone moved with her and blocked her escape. “Oh, but you do.”

  Although his threat was unspoken, it hung between them as tangible and cold as the granite wall pressed against Jackie’s back.

  Jackie squared her shoulders, determined not to show weakness. “It seems to me that you might be in more trouble than me, Gary. You didn’t do a very good job at interviewing your expert to exclude any potential conflicts, did you? I should file a motion to disqualify Marshfield. Maybe it’s already drafted and waiting for me on my desk. What will your client think of that?”

  The color drained from Stone’s face.

  Jackie seized the moment and once again inched sideways to extricate herself from Stone, but he moved in closer to her.

  “I have no interest in taking you down professionally. I’m sure you feel likewise,” Stone said with an oily smile. “We’ve known each other too long. Worked together too long to sink to threats.”

  Jackie flattened herself against the wall to create space between her and Stone. “Your little games to the contrary, right?”

  Stone looked away and rubbed his hand over his mouth. “What I’m trying to say is—I loved you. I still love you.�
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  “Not again.” Jackie couldn’t look him in the face. Seeing him plead would be more than she could tolerate.

  “It’s not too late for us.” He leaned closer to her but didn’t touch her.

  “Not too late? You’re married. It’s over between us and has been for a long time.” She closed her eyes tight, willing him to disappear. At one time, she would have given the world for Stone to crawl back to her. Now, his groveling turned her stomach sour.

  Stone sighed. “At least let this case go. You don’t understand what you’re facing.”

  “Give me a break, Gary. I’m more than capable of facing you in court. Don’t tell me you’re worried?”

  “Listen to me.” Stone’s voice was strained as he grabbed her arms and shook her. “Am I worried? Yes. And you should be too. Afraid, in fact. There’s more to the Ashe family than is seen in polite circles. That’s all I can say.” Beads of sweat pearled on Stone’s lined forehead. He took her hand and slid a piece of paper into it. “Watch out for yourself. Don’t trust Marshfield. Believe me.”

  Before she could say anything, he dropped his arms and strode off down the hall. The torn piece of paper had a name and phone number on it, neither of which was familiar. She hurriedly left a note for Stan on her way out of the building, anxious to put as much distance as possible between her and Stone.

  Walking on autopilot, Jackie found herself across the street from her office, having forgotten about her quest to change clothes. The exchange with Brandon had left her hot and flustered, but the encounter with Stone had given her the chills.

  Of course she knew Ashe was a scumbag. But what could he be up to that put the fear of God into Gary? And, what did Gary know about Marshfield? He was probably just bluffing. Under Stone’s slick bravado was a man desperate for approval. After all, it was his insecurities constantly manifesting as manipulations and control that had put her over the brink when they were dating.