by Regan Black
Working late. Dig up whatever you need, just find the jerk.
If she was going to be stuck at the office for most of the night, there was no reason to hold Mitch back from his own research. There had to be a reason, some connection she’d overlooked, that made her a target. Although she didn’t want a decent guy like Mitch uprooting her grimy past, it couldn’t be helped. The sooner they identified the man hassling her, the sooner they’d know how to deal with it.
She wasn’t going to sit back and let a stranger wreck her career.
Okay. Check in hourly.
She smiled at Mitch’s reply. Seemed she was taking orders on all fronts today. She set a timer on her phone so she wouldn’t forget and then applied her substantial focus to the Falk case.
Marburg attorneys were famous for putting the client above all else. The firm’s core philosophy had been exactly what she’d wanted, what she’d needed after graduating law school. Career was the best, most acceptable reason to put the skeletons of her personal life to the back burner.
The hours flashed by, afternoon giving way to evening and then a late night, marked by the exchange of all-is-well text messages with Mitch. At ten thirty, Mitch’s response changed.
Bring the work with you, but I’m picking you up in fifteen minutes at the front door. Wait inside until you see me at the curb.
She dug her fingers into the dull ache in her neck and decided he had a point. Haywood wanted Falk to be her sole focus. The stalker was connected to the case, so she could work on both fronts in good conscience. Gathering up what she needed, she packed her purse and laptop bag to bursting before she powered off her desktop computer.
She didn’t have long to wait for Mitch to arrive. The beefy engine purred as the restored beauty glided to a stop, and she felt a happy zing in her pulse. Probably not a smart reaction, but after the past two days, she needed the boost of cheer.
He came around and opened the passenger door for her. “Your chariot.”
She laughed, giving him style points for the lighthearted theatrics. “Thanks.” Her stomach rumbled loud enough for him to hear when he slid behind the steering wheel and buckled his seat belt.
“You didn’t eat?”
“Crackers and a cup of coffee around seven,” she admitted.
His brow wrinkled in concern. “The Escape will have food.”
“No.” She thought of the picture on her boss’s phone. “Thanks, but no. Just drop me at the apartment. I got reprimanded for going clubbing last night.”
“You didn’t go clubbing,” he countered, driving farther away from her building. “Who reprimanded you? What are you talking about?”
Reluctantly, she filled him in on the elbow strike and the meeting that followed.
“You should have told me.”
She laced her fingers, keeping her gaze on the view through the windshield. “It was a bit much for a text message and I could hardly discuss this on the phone.”
“Fine.” He flexed his hand around the gearshift, knuckles white. “All the more reason to check in with Grant,” Mitch said. “I’ve bumped into a couple of things outside my expertise.”
“Fires and cars, by your own admission, are your expertise.”
“And you now.” His smile flashed. “Thanks for letting me pull back that veil.”
“Was that meant to be comforting?” She shifted in the seat, wishing she could ditch the suit and heels and crawl into her sweats to relax. “If so, it failed.” The comment left an icy ball of dread in her stomach. It didn’t matter that he had valid reasons. She didn’t want a stranger poking at the past she’d worked hard to leave behind. The law firm was different. Being her dream job, Marburg had a right to make sure she wouldn’t be an embarrassment by accident or design. Would the stalker ruin that before she had a chance to show her real value?
“Hang on.” He reached over and gave her hand a quick squeeze. “I’m here to help, not judge you. This guy is intent on the case. I think you’re just a pawn.”
“Stop. Just stop talking.” She choked back a bitter laugh. “You’re making me feel worse.”
“Well, in your shoes I wouldn’t like a stranger poking through my life.”
“Or sleeping on your floor?”
“Probably not that, either,” he admitted with another grin. He found a space in Escape’s employee lot and parked the car. Swiveling to face her, the sincerity in his brown eyes was unmistakable. “I want you to know I searched from law school forward, not backward, Julia. No sense digging up crap that’s irrelevant.”
She nodded. “Thanks,” she said, gratitude clogging her throat. There were mistakes in law school, but none quite as grim as her childhood. She wanted to avoid stirring up the old pain of cutting herself free of her dysfunctional past. Although her mother never believed it, Julia did care. “Why are we here?”
He leaned against the car door, concern evident in his eyes. “Let me just say it once, okay?”
She didn’t like the sound of that, but he exited the car before she could say so. Like last night, he draped his arm around her shoulders, giving her shelter from the colder air out here near the river. “I’m wearing a perfectly good coat,” she reminded him.
“And my arm is even better.” He gave her an unrepentant wink as he opened the back door to the club. “We have time to grab something hearty while we wait for Grant.”
The late hour and the savory scents smothered any further argument she might have mustered. After a quick exchange with one of the cooks, Mitch had her seated out of the way at a prep counter, a steaming bowl of French onion soup in front of her. It smelled divine.
“Dig in. Leftover from lunch service. Want a salad?”
“No, thanks.” A sudden wave of shyness chased through her. “This is great.” The man was a force of nature and she either she was too weary or too foolish to put up any appropriate resistance.
It had been years since anyone had cared enough to feed her. She’d dated since coming to Philly, or rather she’d gone out with groups occasionally. None of those experiences made her feel as if her welfare mattered. It must be something in Mitch’s community values as a firefighter, some innate gene for compassion and kindness.
She slid a look at him and gave him a bright smile to cover her sudden sadness. In her world, cold and ruthless were the right strengths to cultivate for success. They were people at absolute opposite ends of the spectrum.
*
Mitch kept an eye on Julia while she ate the soup. The lack of color in her cheeks and the worry in her green eyes made the situation more challenging. He had no experience as a private investigator and had only pulled a few shifts as extra security when his cousin, in charge of staffing big events like concerts and hockey games, needed the manpower.
Being a buffer for Julia was completely different and it made him uncomfortable that he didn’t really know what he was doing. True, it kept his mind off his problems, but that wouldn’t help her if he screwed up. As he ate, he reviewed the best options for delivering the update to Grant. It would be a hell of a lot easier if he had a real lead to share with them.
The back door slammed open with a bang and Julia practically leaped off the stool.
“Easy,” he said. Under the counter, he bumped her knee with his. He must not be doing a very good job if her anxiety was increasing with him around. “Would you rather listen to the band while I fill in Grant?”
“No. I should be there.”
“Should be there—or shouldn’t be seen out partying?”
“Both,” she said, her voice firm and her eyes clear as she met his gaze. “Don’t try and shut me out.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he replied.
“Please.” She rolled her eyes. “You’re a guy.”
“No kidding?” He didn’t take the bait. His sisters had taught him not to argue about the general faults of being a guy. “You could wait back here and have more to eat.”
“That picture sent to Haywood was no coincidence,” s
he said, eyeing the people moving through the kitchen. “He told me it came in just before the meeting.”
Not long after they’d had lunch together in the park. Mitch suppressed an ugly oath.
“It has to be from the stalker.”
“I agree.” The bastard was making her afraid of everything. He didn’t dare speculate how things might change now that Mitch was in the picture. He was about to suggest they shake things up even more when Grant caught his attention from the kitchen doorway and motioned for them to come to the office.
Mitch gave her an encouraging smile, hoping it hid the worry he felt. “Come on. Grant might have some better suggestions.”
Julia kicked things off, explaining the note and the significance of the names listed. While Grant mulled that over, Mitch told him about meeting with the doorman and the complete lack of any helpful video from the building security system. Julia and Mitch both confirmed they had yet to find so much as a frayed thread tying her to anyone involved with the Falk operation.
“Last but not least,” Julia added at Mitch’s encouragement, “after lunch today, someone sent my boss a picture of me here, shortly after I arrived last night.”
Grant fixed his perceptive brown gaze on her, his bushy eyebrows flexing into a frown. “How can you be so sure of the timing?”
“The picture shows I didn’t have the glass of water yet.”
“Not good,” Grant allowed. “You didn’t mention your plans to a friend?”
“I wish I had,” she replied. “Somehow intercepting a communication is easier to swallow than the concept of some stranger correctly guessing my decisions.”
Her weary expression pissed off Mitch more and he swore under his breath. “The guy must have a network at his disposal.”
“Considering the swift responses, I’d say you’re right,” Grant said. “I’ll ask around about any loose ends from Falk’s organization.” He turned to Julia. “What would you like to do? What’s your ideal outcome?”
“Expose him,” she replied. “Ideally, we protect the case and I keep my job.” She linked her hands in her lap until her knuckles turned white. “He didn’t make any contact with me today.”
“No, today was an indirect hit,” Grant said.
“Yes. I assume that picture was supposed to make me feel like a trapped mouse. As if all his other tactics haven’t been annoying enough.”
“Did those annoyances make you want to help him?”
“No.” Those auburn eyebrows arched high. “They make me want to rip him to shreds,” she said. “I want my life back.”
“We’ll get there,” Grant assured her. “It may take some time. I’ll have my team scour our security feeds for any clues.”
Mitch stood up, antsy with his lack of progress. “I’m at a loss.” Mitch hated admitting it in front of Julia, but she deserved to know. “Tracking down who left the note or who snapped that picture last night won’t get us anywhere. We need to know who’s calling the shots. I’ve done some digging.” He caught Julia’s wince. “I can’t figure out why she’s the target.”
“We’ll get there,” Grant repeated in that steady, deep way he had.
The knot in Mitch’s stomach loosened. It was far too soon to worry that his inadequacies would let her down.
“Who might have been selected to the defense team other than you?” Grant asked. “Maybe the clue to the stalker rests with who wasn’t chosen.”
“A number of new associates were eligible.” Closing her eyes a moment, she rubbed at her temples. “I do know one of the associates was passed over because his brother was part of the squad that arrested Falk. Other than that...” Her voice trailed off and she spread her hands in a helpless gesture. “Your guess is as good as mine.”
“Then we wait and see,” Grant said. “Is there a trial date set?”
“Not yet.”
“Any talk of a plea deal?”
She shook her head, and for a moment Mitch was distracted by the soft wisps of hair that had escaped her clip swaying against her neck.
Grant frowned. “I sent the picture you took to a friend and there weren’t enough markers to make it worthwhile for facial recognition.”
“I’ll get a better picture when he shows his face again,” Mitch vowed. The stalker had taken an indirect shot today, but he still had the advantage.
“Stick to your routine, Julia,” Grant suggested. “And you—” he pointed at Mitch “—become a very obvious part of that routine.”
“You okay with that?” Mitch asked Julia.
She shrugged a shoulder. “I have to be.”
Hardly a glowing affirmation, though he didn’t blame her. He should tell her he admired that spark of determination in her eyes, that fortitude that kept her going despite the fear plaguing her.
“Keep me informed,” Grant said, interrupting Mitch’s thoughts. “I’m here for both of you.”
When they were back in his car, he started it and kicked the heater up a notch. The autumn night had turned chilly, offering a preview of the winter to come.
“Can you drive for a bit, please?” she asked when he pulled out of the lot.
“Sure. Any particular destination?”
“No. I’m just not ready to go home.”
He couldn’t blame her. Not only did she have him as an unwelcome houseguest, but it had to be tough knowing the jerk stalking her had been so close.
While he took the expressway across town, he weighed his options. He’d grown up here and, learning that she’d only moved here to attend law school at Temple, he wanted to show her something special. At nearly midnight, he left the expressway and headed for Boathouse Row.
She smiled when he pulled over, parking in a space that overlooked the Schuylkill River. On the other side of the river Boathouse Row shimmered with white lights edging each architectural detail.
“How beautiful,” she said, a hitch in her breath. “Thank you.”
“You’ve never been here?”
“No.”
Feeling a ridiculous amount of pride, he climbed out and came around to open her car door. “You need the full experience,” he said. He zipped up his jacket and pulled her coat snug around her, turning up the collar against the night air. “Wait here.”
He pulled the blanket out of the emergency kit in the trunk and spread it across the hood of the car. “Up you go.”
“Won’t it dent the hood?”
He shrugged. “I can always pop it out again.” He gave her a boost and then wrapped the blanket around her legs before he took a seat beside her, leaning back against the windshield.
“It’s lovely, Mitch.” She tipped her face up to the dark sky, a smile teasing her lips.
He savored the peacefulness of the view and the woman for several long minutes. “I come out here when I need to clear my head.”
She reached over and patted his hand. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He’d come here for her, but also for himself. Out here he was able to confirm his instincts that they had been watched today in the park. Grant had told them to stick with the routine, but Mitch instinctively wanted to get her away from the danger zone.
“How many lawyers will Marburg add to the team?” he asked.
“As many as they need,” she replied absently. “I’m not being intentionally vague, that’s just how it goes. Marburg is involved personally, of course, but his focus is managing media and publicity.” She sighed. “The rest of the team will do research and develop arguments that improve Falk’s chance of being acquitted.”
“And you’re okay with that?” Why would she eagerly defend one of the biggest criminals in the city?
She turned her head, gazing down the river toward the city center. “That’s how our legal system works. Everyone deserves a solid defense.”
He’d been through her transcripts, picked apart her life in law school and couldn’t see what had pushed her toward criminal defense. “But—”
“Can you
judge me another night?”
“I’m not judging you,” he countered. He didn’t want to ruin a pleasant moment. “I’m trying to understand your stalker.”
“Right. You’re trying to understand my motives.”
Mitch bit back the urge to argue with her. He didn’t expect her to believe him. This wasn’t easy on either one of them, though she wouldn’t believe that either. “I’ve got a union rep defending me,” he blurted. Once the words were out, he decided maybe his problem would be a distraction for her, like her situation was for him.
“According to your explanation of the incident, you won’t need a strong-arm firm like Marburg.”
He chuckled. “Not even if I could afford it.”
She shifted a few inches closer, her covered legs bumping his, and faced him. “So what’s bugging you about your situation?”
“It leaves a mark, official or not.”
“You’re worried about how others will look at you when you’re back on the job.”
He’d assumed, tough as she was, that she wouldn’t understand. “It’s a small world, y’know?” He laced his fingers behind his head to keep his hands from reaching for her. They barely knew each other and she’d been clear she liked her personal space. “Eventually, I want to move up through the ranks, and this kind of thing is something they can point to as an excuse to turn me down for promotions.”
“Even if you’re cleared?” She sat up a little straighter. “That’s not fair.”
“That’s life.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Are you playing me?”
He gave her a long look. “Hell, no.” The flood of honesty might be the dumbest thing he’d done since they’d met. “What good would that do?”
“I don’t know, that’s the problem. Are you taking this ‘infiltrate my life’ thing too personally and trying to create a bond or something?”
Would that be so bad? “I wasn’t. I was talking about me.” He stared out across the river. “It does bring up a valid question.”
“What’s that?”
“Why don’t you want to like me?” He’d noticed her utter lack of a social life and he thought it had more to do with her past than her present career. It wasn’t really his business and fewer people in her life meant fewer people who would ask about him hanging around.