by Piper Stone
“Please approach the bench.” The judge waved her forward.
Holding her breath, Joelle rose to her feet and attempted to walk in a manner that would allow her to keep her dignity. She heard a slight chuckle coming from Gregory’s mouth and she wanted to turn around and rip out his eyes. That would be sensational news at five o ‘clock. When she approached the bench, she smiled. “Your Honor?”
Judge Thompson covered up the microphone and leaned over as far as he could. “Ms. Parker. I’ve had you in my courtroom a dozen times and I’ve never seen you so absent from your duties. Is there a problem? Do you need some assistance?”
“No! I mean, no, Your Honor. I apologize. I was merely going through details of the case and lost track of time. That won’t happen again.” Lying to a judge now. Perfect. She was on the fast track to being thrown out in the street.
He raised a single eyebrow and exhaled. Ten full seconds ticked by. “Very well, but see that it doesn’t or I’ll have to hold you in contempt of court. Am I clear?”
“Yes, sir! I mean Your Honor, sir.” She cringed and slunk back toward the chair, able to see the delighted expression on Gregory’s face. As she sat down, she banished the sinful thoughts to another planet. She was going to have to learn to separate the two worlds one way or the other.
At three-thirty pm on the nose, Judge Thompson called the day. Weary from the brow beating, some of her own making, Joelle shoved the iPad and pen into her briefcase, fiddling in a hope that Gregory would leave first.
He didn’t. Instead, he waited for her, standing by the defense table with his arms crossed, his eyes twinkling. “Not on your game today?”
“I’m doing just fine, thank you very much,” Joelle retorted and walked past him.
“This case is out of your league.”
While she knew the man was considered on the fast track to move into politics, she didn’t give a damn. Gregory was a bottom feeder, preying on lost souls. He had no remorse for his tactics nor did he have a conscience. She stopped short and turned. “Just try me, big boy. You might be surprised.” The words were dripping with sarcasm, almost said in a purr instead of her voice. Without waiting for a reply, she headed out of the courtroom.
Out of the frying pan and into the fire. The Press were camped out on the courtroom steps. Vans from the various news stations were everywhere. She froze and shifted toward the left side, praying she could find a way to slink through without being detected. She loathed reporters, hated this part of her job. She simply didn’t like recognition of any type.
The crowd was huge and even though she stood taller than most of the women and men present, she wasn’t able to tell what was happening. This was her chance to skedaddle out of dodge. She clutched her briefcase and lowered her head. Suddenly the group of reporters rushed the stairs at the opposite end, heading in her direction.
No, this wasn’t going to happen. Swallowing hard, she raced down the stairs, thankful she didn’t kill herself in the four-inch heels. When she was a solid half block down the sidewalk, she turned to see if any of them had followed her. She chuckled. “Way to go, idiots.” The reporters had no desire to talk to a prosecutor with a dirty secret. They’d found some other poor, dumb fool to prey on. She laughed all the way to her car.
Randolph Mitchell, Craze to his friends, faced the near mob like group as he always did, with ease. He’d been in front of cameras his entire life and knew the reporters were merely doing their jobs. He plastered on his politician smile and waited as they jockeyed for position. He was due in court in less than thirty minutes for nothing more than a continuation. He could afford to spend time preening in front of the camera. His assistant would be proud given Mark continued to chide him on his public appearances.
“Mr. Mitchell, is it true that you have your eyes set on the White House?”
Randolph gazed down at the diminutive female reporter and slid into his charming mode. “Ms. Tanner, let’s not get the cart before the horse. I’m considering a run for Congress, but I haven’t made up my mind as of yet.” He made it a point to learn as much as he could about the influential reporters in town. They could make or break a career or a candidacy.
“When are you going to announce your decision?” the older male reporter asked, pushing his way in front of the gaggle.
“Mr. Wild, nice to see you again. I anticipate making my decision in the next three weeks. Trust me, you’ll be the first to know.” Randolph winked as the group laughed. He had them eating out of his hands.
“If you run, have you determined your platform? I know you worked hard to defend those who otherwise would not be able to afford a top-notch attorney. Every step of your career has been about making certain criminals have their day in court. How will that affect your chances?” the blonde and blue-eyed girl was swooning.
He couldn’t help but glance at her cleavage. She would drop to her knees in an instant if he asked. Unfortunately, he was through with playtime with women who could be his daughter. Besides, he appreciated intelligent conversations, spirited if at all possible. “Ms. Jones. Everyone who knows me understands that I care about what happens to the good people of Baltimore as a whole. Defending innocent people remains important to me and always will. My platform will simply be that the city and the state needs to be able to place their trust in someone, a man of honor.”
The words resonated throughout the crowd. Randolph made certain he looked into the eyes of everyone who was close. He could tell they believed him, even adored the sentiment. If they only knew about the man underneath the expensive suits and polished shoes. His persona had been groomed since he was a boy, his parents raising what they considered the perfect child. He snickered at the thought.
A few claps could be heard coming from the back. “I have time for one more question,” Randolph stated, his baritone voice cutting through the traffic below him.
A young male reporter, one Randolph had never seen before, held his hand higher than the rest. Randolph pointed in his direction. Every kid needed a start in the business. “Yes, sir. And you are?”
“Michael Trent with the Baltimore Sun.”
“Well, Michael, what is your question?”
“Do you have any skeletons in your closet?” Michael was expressionless, but his eyes were dark, almost ominous.
A single bead of sweat trickled down the back of Randolph’s neck. He cocked his head and chuckled. “Doesn’t everyone?” With the vague answer, the crowd laughed with him. However, Michael wasn’t smiling. In fact, he held an expression that said in no uncertain terms he had dirt on Randolph, a scandalous tale that Michael would use to his benefit at the worst possible time during Randolph’s political run for office.
And there was certainly enough scandal to ignite the Press.
“Thank you all for coming. I’m due in court. Have a wonderful evening.” Randolph shook the required amount of hands before entering the courtroom. Only then did he hiss under his breath. He’d have to find out what, or if, the young man had any dirt on him as well as Michael’s intentions of using the information.
Randolph took long strides down the hallway and into his office. The continuation had taken a mere ten minutes so he was back in the building before five. As he walked past his assistant, he nodded toward his office. He dumped his briefcase on the desk and went straight to his mini-bar. He loathed sparring with reporters that he didn’t know. They always had a hidden agenda.
Mark hurried into Randolph’s office. “You look pissed.”
“Close the door. I have something for you to do.” He plopped two ice cubes in a glass and poured a half glass of whiskey.
After shutting the door, Mark advanced. “Let me guess, the continuation didn’t happen.”
“Oh no. The case has been pushed back as I knew it would be. That’s not the problem.” Randolph took a swig of the liquor, savoring the flavor, before turning to face Mark. “Do you know the name Michael Trent?”
“Never heard of him. Why?”
>
“He’s a reporter from the Sun. Find out everything you can about him. I think we may have a digger on our hands.”
“A digger?” Mark asked as he frowned.
“As in digging into my life, my past.”
“Oh. Fantastic. I assume that means you want him shut down.”
Randolph rubbed his eyes. “I can’t shut him down. Every reporter in town will want to know why. I do want to know everything about this kid, including where he goes to eat breakfast and the woman or man he fucks. Everything. I need to know what I’m facing.”
Mark inched closer. “May I ask you what you’re worried about?”
While his assistant was completely trustworthy and a man who kept his confidences, Mark didn’t know details about his extra-curricular activities. No one did and he refused to allow anyone into his private life. “We all have secrets, some dirtier than others.”
“Anything I should know about?”
“Nothing that matters and shouldn’t to anyone, but I daresay if Mr. Trent is out to find dirt, he’ll stop at nothing to do so. Just find out what you can.”
“Of course. I’ll get started right away.” Mark turned to leave.
“Mark, I don’t mean tonight. I might be a tough taskmaster, but I’m not a slave driver. Go home. This can wait until the morning.”
“Are you certain? I’m here for you every step of the way.”
Randolph lifted his glass. “Go have a drink. Enjoy friends and family. You deserve it.”
Smiling, Mark nodded. “Thank you. I appreciate it.” He backed away toward the door. “I don’t care what anyone says about you. You’re not a tyrant.”
“Get out of here!” He laughed and shook his head. Hell yes, he was a tyrant. No wonder he’d never been able to find the right woman. Few women could handle his attitude, his intense needs and his dark requirements. As far as family? He wasn’t into afternoon cookouts and holiday get togethers. He preferred his time alone.
After Mark left, he gulped the rest of his drink and made another. Tonight, he had no appointments, either for business or pleasure. He was a free man. Huffing, he sat down at his desk and clicked on the internet. He opened the Sun Times website and searched through their files. There was one article written by Michael Trent, an article on a new corporation coming to town. The rather benign article shouldn’t have afforded the reporter time with a political candidate.
He sat back in his seat and closed his eyes. What would the young man want from him? Then again, what could he find? Randolph had spent his entire life under the microscope. His father, a retired Senator from the state of Ohio, had made certain his son was educated at the most exclusive schools, receiving the best education money could buy. Randolph was used to the finer things in life: wine, clothes, cars and even women.
He was also absolutely freaking bored to death. However, he was a picture-perfect candidate for office—at least on the surface.
If anyone found out what lay hidden under the mask, his career in politics would be over. He swirled the whiskey and grinned. No one was going to uncover his secrets, no matter what he had to do.
Not even one tenacious reporter.
Chapter 2
“Jury, have you reached a verdict?” Judge Thompson asked after reading the folded card.
Joelle was unable to tell anything given the man’s masked expression. She’d remained on task, leaving the club behind and working late into the night the entire week. She was surprised as well as terrified that the verdict had come in so quickly. A quick glance to her opponents and she knew they anticipated victory. She turned her head toward the jury and sighed.
“We have, your Honor,” the foreman stated as he stood.
“What say you?”
“In the matter of murder in the first degree, we find the defendant, guilty.”
The entire courtroom erupted.
“Murderer!”
“Fry, you bastard. Fry!”
Relief swept through her. She was surprised the guilty verdict had been rendered. There was more than enough reasonable doubt, even in her mind and after all the evidence she’d shown. This was a win for her office as well as her career. Now maybe her boss would stop breathing down her neck. She exhaled and gave herself a mental high-five.
“What happened? I don’t understand,” Ronald whined.
“Don’t worry, buddy. This isn’t over yet,” Gregory stated, his words laced with venom.
She kept her expression blank and refused eye contact with anyone. However, she knew Ronald was absolutely shell shocked. He’d been convinced he would get off on the charges. Nothing to worry about, buddy. We’ll get you off. She could just hear Gregory’s arrogance oozing out of his mouth. Of course, there would be an appeal, an expected practice, but by then she’d be refreshed, a new woman.
“You really did a number on this poor guy. You think you’re something special, don’t you?” Gregory hissed.
Joelle bit her tongue to keep from laughing.
“Jesus. I hope you sleep well tonight.”
She shoved her things into her bag and slowly lifted her head. “Don’t be a sore loser, Greg darling. Jealousy doesn’t look good on you.” But you better get used to it.
“You’re such a bitch,” Gregory said under his breath.
“What did you say? I didn’t hear you.”
He crowded her space, his eyes full of venom. “You heard me. You watch your back. I know your kind and your tactics. I’ll find out everything I can to take you down. Trust me.”
Joelle was used to threats. They were a part of her job, however Gregory’s tone and body language suggested a true vendetta. “Give it your best shot. I have nothing to hide.”
His old swagger returned, his smile showing off his pearly whites. “Making an enemy out of me isn’t a good idea.”
“You don’t scare me, Gregory and I’m not your enemy. I’m merely doing my job. Ronald was found guilty by his peers, not me.” She stood with her feet apart, her shoulders squared. Damn, the man wasn’t going to get to her. Sure, she’d pushed aside his forward advances almost two years before. He’d held a grudge ever since.
“You taint everything you touch. Everything.”
Taint? She was far too tired to continue playing games. “Have a good night, Gregory.”
Smiling, Gregory looked around the room before lowering his head, whispering in a husky tone. “I know you, Joelle. I know what you’re capable of as well as what you crave. You may think you’re top dog in the courtroom, but I have the winning hand.”
“Why does my winning this case matter so much to you?”
“Losing isn’t what I do.”
She narrowed her eyes. “You mean you’re running against an opponent that terrifies you. Your record must be stellar or there’s no chance of winning in the political arena. Am I getting warm?”
His upper lip curled and he looked away briefly. “Stay out of my way and I’ll stay out of yours.”
“We shall see.” Blowing him a kiss, she grabbed her things and sashayed out the door. As soon as she did, she rushed toward the entrance to the building. Why were his words troubling? Sure, the truth regarding their brief interlude remained a rather disgusting moment in her life. His proposition to her had been about hardcore sex in his office with a twist. Gregory wanted her to be the aggressor, even using a strap on. He’d run into her at a popular kink club. Not her finest hour and perhaps the real reason she’d never returned to the previous clubs.
She shuddered at the thought. Her simple ‘no’ had turned the entire limited friendship into animosity, making them bitter enemies. The poor guy was concerned that she’d tell someone about his kinky desires. Tit for tat. As she eased into her car, she half smiled. Perhaps she’d hold the strap-on card in the back of her mind, just in case things got nasty. The rumor mill had been rampant about Gregory’s desire to run for public office. She pitied anyone in his district.
As she headed back to the office, she glanced into her
rearview mirror several times, half expecting to see Gregory’s Mercedes in hot pursuit. She was exhausted. Tonight was for sliding into her jammies, cracking open a bottle of wine and eating cold spaghetti in front of the television. Then she was going to ask for some time off. The last three cases had taken a toll, eating into her private time. The club was the single night in several months that she’d let go, freeing herself of the forced bondage called professionalism.
Who was she kidding? The club wasn’t her style. She rarely went to clubs when she was in college. Finding what she needed wasn’t going to happen while being spanked on a cross. She rolled her eyes as she walked into the foyer of the office. She hadn’t gone three feet down the hallway when the world’s best assistant stuck her head out of the copy room.
“Sam is looking for you. I think his quote was ‘get her ass in my office the moment she gets in or you won’t have a job tomorrow’. Yeah, that sounds about right.” The redhead gave her a wry smile and placed one hand on her hip.
“Hello to you too, Betsy. Sam’s in that bad of a mood?” Joelle slid next to the wall, collecting her thoughts.
“Lately it’s been tough to tell. He’s perpetually cranky. If you ask me, I think the man needs to get laid,” Betsy said under her breath.
“Betsy! I know exactly why I adore you.”
Betsy winked. “Congrats. I heard you did a fantastic job.”
Joelle glanced at her watch. “The verdict was read like twenty minutes ago. How can you know?”
“You have to be kidding me. Spies, darling. Spies.” Winking, Betsy waved her off.
Sighing, she had no doubt Sam was going to chastise her for her performance in the courtroom. Sam Shepherd was old school, believing in black and white of the law without any variation or consideration of gray. He’d consider her method of winning the case hot-dogging. So what? She’d won the case.
She tossed her things into her office, smoothed back her hair and took long strides toward Sam’s office. Why did she hesitate before knocking on the door?