"I have a pretty good idea," he said, nuzzling her hair as he wrapped an arm around her waist to steady her. "Because I was thinking the same thing."
He'd completely lost track of time. All he'd been thinking about was Livvy.
It was scary as hell.
"Great minds," she said, glancing up at him, and he had to stop himself from leaning in to kiss her again.
He stepped away as soon as her boots were on, and she looked around and grabbed her briefcase. Stilled.
"Ready to go?" He followed her gaze to the briefcase. Saw its smears of mud from its slide across Daley Plaza after the accident. "Let me clean that off."
He hurried into the kitchen, his anger bubbling beneath the surface. Fucking Anson.
Five minutes later, the briefcase clean, he handed it back to her. "You sure you want to go to work today?" he asked.
"Absolutely. I'm a little sore, but otherwise fine."
He opened the back door, scanned the yard and the alley, then rested his hand on his gun as they descended into the back yard. Livvy unlocked the garage, and they got into his car. She'd given him the key yesterday and suggested he park in the garage to get his car off the street.
As he slid into the driver's seat of the SUV, he nodded at the tarp-covered car next to him. "What's that?"
"That's Betsy. Cilla's car. She keeps it in the garage here."
"Yeah, you mentioned Betsy a couple of days ago."
"Vintage Mustang. She and our dad rebuilt it."
"Yeah? You weren't kidding when you said she was a gearhead." Any other time, he'd whip off that tarp and check out the Mustang. Instead, he slid into the car. He needed to focus on business.
Livvy pressed the garage door opener he'd grabbed from her car when he'd moved it to the street, and he backed into the alley.
"You need to stay in your office today," he said, once they were on Lake Shore Drive and heading toward the Loop. "Don't leave your building. Understand?"
"I'm supposed to have lunch with one of the other state's attorneys," she said, frowning. "We have a case going to trial in two weeks, and we have to go over some final details."
"Can you postpone it for a day?"
"No. This is his last chance to get together. He's starting another trial tomorrow."
Ryan drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. He didn't like this. "You know the guy?"
"Yes. I've worked with him on a couple of other trials."
"Why can't you stay in the building and meet in your office or his?"
"His office is in a different building. We meet at the restaurant across the street from the Daley Center. He's always late and never has enough time for the security line."
"He sounds like a pain in the ass."
She shrugged one shoulder. "He is, but we don't get to choose who we work with." She leaned over and kissed his cheek as she squeezed his thigh. "Sometimes, though, that works out pretty well."
He turned his head to capture her mouth before the light turned green, pulling away only when the car behind his honked. "You're right," he said, pushing on the accelerator. "I owe that bastard Swenson."
He glanced at her as they got closer to her building. "I'm not happy about that meeting. But if there's no other way, make sure you're in the middle of a big group of people before you leave the building. And when you cross the street."
"I'll call Cilla and have her walk me across the street. She was pissed off yesterday morning because I didn't let her stay. She'll be thrilled to have something to do. Okay?"
"Yeah. That would be good."
He rolled to a stop in front of her building, threw on the gumball, and left the car at the curb as he walked her inside. As she turned to get on an elevator, he grabbed her hand. "Be really careful, Livvy. Please."
She twined her fingers with his and squeezed. "Believe me, I will. It'll be fine, Ryan. The restaurant is full of lawyers. Cops, too. It's probably the safest place I could be, besides my office."
He wanted to lean in and kiss her. Instead, he rubbed his thumb along the back of her hand. "I'll see you this afternoon. Wait in the lobby for me."
"Okay." She smiled up at him, and his damn heart fluttered. "See you tonight."
He watched her as she headed for the elevator. Got in, still smiling, and waved as the door closed.
This was supposed to be fun. No strings attached. Nothing but surface intimacy.
He was in trouble.
Chapter 13
Ryan sat in his car at 28th and California, staring at the massive grey stone building's barred windows. His gaze swept over the forbidding walls topped with razor wire. The armed men in towers at the corners.
Cook County Jail. Home to almost nine thousand men and women, including his former partner, Anson Bates.
The guy who'd hired the most expensive defense attorney in Chicago to get him out on bail. Right before Livvy Marini had almost been run down in a brazen attack in the Daley Center plaza.
Ward curled his fingers around the steering wheel until his knuckles whitened. He stared at his hands as fury burned through him like wildfire
He closed his eyes and thought of Livvy instead – her smile. The way she nestled into him, as if nothing else in the world mattered. The way she'd waved at him as the elevator door closed this morning.
His rage dissipated, and he released his grip on the steering wheel. Flexed his cramping fingers.
He had to let go of his anger. Swallow this hatred for Anson. Going into that building with his fists clenched and his heart slamming against his ribs would get him nowhere.
Anson would laugh at him. Taunt him. Refuse to give up a single drop of information.
As much as it sickened him, he had to make Anson believe Ryan was on his partner's side. That he wanted to help.
Ryan breathed in and out until his heart rate was steady. Until the top of his head didn't feel as if it was about to blow off. Taking one final deep breath, he avoided thinking about Livvy. About what Anson had done.
He remembered only the man he'd idolized, the man who'd been a father figure to him. The guy who'd taken Ryan under his wing and taught him how to be a cop.
But what kind of cop had Anson taught him to be? The kind who roughed a suspect who'd accused Ryan's partner of stealing from her?
Apparently, Ryan had substituted one lousy father for another one.
Ryan slammed the car door behind him and strode toward the jail's front door. As he stepped inside, the overwhelming prison smell hit him like a fist. Industrial-strength cleaners. Thousands of men and women who showered only twice a week.
Rage. Despair.
Swallowing hard, he gripped the counter at the visitor's window. "Ryan Ward to see Anson Bates."
He slid his badge and identification beneath the bulletproof glass. Signed the log with his name, the time and who he was visiting. Scanned the page, looking for anyone who'd visited Bates earlier that day. No one.
Twenty minutes later, he sat in a small carrel and watched the door open. Bates sauntered in wearing an orange prison jump suit. His face was sallow and puffy as he slid into the seat on the other side of the glass.
"Ward." Bates' eyes narrowed. "What are you doing here?"
Ryan lifted one shoulder. "Just checking in. How you doing?"
"Hanging in." Bates studied his former partner suspiciously. "Heard you were talking to that jerkoff Swenson."
"Had no choice." Ryan allowed his anger to show, knowing Bates would think it was aimed at Swenson. "It was either talk to the SAs, or end up in here myself on that bogus assault charge." The rough way he'd questioned the woman who'd accused Bates of stealing her drug money would be a stain on his soul forever.
"I'm trying to throw them useless scraps, but it's pissing me off," Ryan continued. He thought of what Bates had done to Livvy and allowed the anger to build. "You may be an asshole, Anson, but you're my asshole. My partner. They got nothing useful from me."
Bates relaxed back into his seat. "Knew
I could count on you, Ward. I got a new lawyer. He's pretty sure he can get me bail. Those asshats at the state's attorney's office are crapping their pants."
"That would be great, but it's not gonna happen." Not if Ryan had anything to do with it. "Swenson has a hard-on for you. He's not letting you out."
"My new attorney has some juice. Bennett knows the right judges to ask. He knows who's pro-police and who's not."
"It's not just the judge. You still have to get past the state's attorneys." Bates would be suspicious if Ryan wasn't logical. If he didn't speak the obvious truth.
"Don't worry about them. That problem has been taken care of."
A chill shivered down Ryan's back, but he scooted his chair closer to the glass, as if he didn't want to be overheard. "They're pretty cocky. They think they have a solid case against you."
"We'll see, won't we?" Bates smirked at him. "Have a beer with me when I get out? For old times' sake?"
"You got it. We'll get together at the Pipe and Shamrock."
Bates' mouth thinned in sudden anger. "I miss that damn place. Miss a lot of shit."
"Sounds like you won't miss it for much longer."
"Damn straight." Bates put his fist against the glass, and Ward pressed his on the opposite side. It made him sick to act like he was on Bates' side.
"Nothing you need?" Ward asked as he pushed his chair away from the carrel.
"I'm good." Bates studied him through the glass. "You coming again next week?" His old partner's smug confidence that he still controlled Ryan made Ryan want to slam his fist into the plexiglass separating them.
Two months ago, he would have felt bad for Anson. Now he felt nothing.
"If you're not out on bail by then." He rapped on the Formica twice, then stood up. "Next week, man."
He walked away from the visitors' area, through the corridor and out of the building. He dragged in a lungful of fresh air to wash away the taste of prison that coated his mouth and clung to his skin. The bitter residue of pretending to be on Anson's side.
He glanced at his watch. Almost noon. Maybe he could get downtown and walk Livvy to her appointment at the restaurant.
A black Escalade with heavily tinted windows rolled to a stop in the parking lot, and a man got out of the passenger side. He headed for the door without glancing at Ward, but Ryan stilled. He knew that guy.
Didn't know his name, but he'd seen the guy with Bates.
His instincts buzzing, Ryan flipped through his memories, but couldn't identify the man. Couldn't remember where he'd seen him.
He could wait ten minutes and walk back into the building. Check out the sign-in sheet. He glanced at his watch. If he did that, he wouldn't make it back in time to escort Livvy to the restaurant.
Stepping into his car, he glanced at his clock and started his engine. He could call the visitor center on his way downtown. Ask them who'd checked in around 11:48.
Before he put his car into gear, he made sure his Bluetooth was working, then scrolled through his contact list until he found the jail. Pressed connect.
* * *
At ten minutes before noon, Livvy put down her pen and threw on her coat. She shoved her wallet and phone into her briefcase, along with her file on the case she shared with Schmidt, then headed for the elevator. She wasn't a big fan of Cory Schmidt – her fellow ASA was arrogant and always late. On top of that, he was a mansplainer. Fatal flaw, as far as she was concerned.
Still, she had to meet with him and coordinate their strategy for the upcoming trial. It was her case, but he was the second chair and she needed to lay out what she wanted from him.
She had to walk to the restaurant by herself, too. Cilla wouldn't be waiting for her on the first floor. She'd gotten a case and was tied up. Her sister had offered to send someone else, but Livvy told her no. She'd take her chances with a big group, rather than trust someone she didn't know.
Once on the first floor, Livvy waited until a crowd of ten or twelve people began drifting toward the Winking Judge pub. She inserted herself in the middle of the group, exchanging pleasantries with a woman from her office.
As they crossed the street, she whipped her head from side to side, watching every car on the street. No one was speeding. The sidewalk was clear.
She saw nothing out of the ordinary.
Inside the pub, she took a deep breath, releasing the dread that had built with every step she'd taken. She'd made it. She was safe. She could meet with Schmidt, and maybe by the time they were done, Ryan would be finished at the jail. He could walk her back to the building.
The pub was crowded, as it usually was at lunch, but a couple was rising from a booth by the window. Livvy started toward it, then hesitated. She'd be an easy target behind that big pane of glass.
But there were no other tables, and she didn't want to sit at the bar to work. Much easier at a table. So she slid into the booth and looked around for Schmidt.
He wasn't there. The jerk was late. As usual.
Huffing with irritation, she opened her file and glanced at her notes. She started a list of things to ask him. She was almost finished when a man slid into the booth across from her.
She looked up with a professional smile. It slid off her face. Not Cory Schmidt. James Dugger.
The man who'd dated her a couple months ago so he could get hold of her files on one of his friends.
"Dugger. Get out of my booth. I'm waiting for someone."
"Hey," he said, with that smile that had attracted her at first. Now she saw it for the smarmy, phony façade that it really was. God, she'd been an idiot.
"I saw you in the window, so I popped in," he said. "I want to apologize to you."
She stared at him for a moment, unmoved by the regret in his expression. There was a little too much calculation in his eyes.
I'll call you if anything unusual happens.
Remembering her promise to Ryan, she fumbled her phone out of her briefcase. "Hold on a minute, Dugger. I've got a call coming in."
She glanced down at the phone in her lap and pressed Ryan's number.
"Hey," she said, forcing herself to smile. "What's up? I'm talking to a guy I know."
"Liv. What's wrong?" Ryan's voice. Thank God. He wasn't still in the jail.
"James Dugger. I dated him a while ago, remember? You met him that night at the bar in River North. He saw me through the window at the Winking Judge and popped in."
"On my way."
"Yeah, that's him. Yeah, I'll tell him you said he was cute. Gotta go, Jules. I'll call you back later."
Her hands trembling, she disconnected. Held the phone gripped in her hand. Stared at Dugger, willing him to disappear. When he didn't move, she said, "Okay, you've apologized. Leave. I have work to do."
"I kicked myself for weeks afterward, Liv. You were so great. We were so good together. And I blew it by doing something stupid. For a guy I didn't even really know."
Livvy knew exactly how well Dugger had known David Blaine – Cilla had filled her in on their shared drug dealing business in college. "Fine. You're sorry. You made a mistake. It's over. Leave."
"You have to listen to me, Livvy. I want a fresh start."
"Not going to happen. You're out of your mind if you think it will." She glanced around for Schmidt, but he wasn't here. Half an hour had passed since she'd sat down in the booth. He was usually late, but not this late.
Suddenly uneasy, she stood up to leave. Dugger reached up and grabbed her wrist. Squeezed way too hard.
"Sit back down, Livvy." His smile had disappeared. "So I can tell you how this is going to work."
She tried to yank her hand away from him, but he squeezed more tightly. Pain arced up her arm, as if he were grinding her bones together.
"Sit. Down." He lifted something from his lap, and the light glinted off it.
He had a gun. Pointing at her.
* * *
His hands shaking, Ryan pressed Cilla's number.
"Marini."
"Cilla. Thank God you answered. This is Ward. Who's James Dugger?"
"He's a dirtbag Livvy dated a while ago. Why?" Her voice sharpened.
"Livvy was meeting a guy she worked with at The Winking Judge. Across from her building. Dugger showed up."
"Oh, my God. I'm on my way." Ryan heard her saying something to Sobieski. Footsteps running.
"Tell me," he demanded.
"The dating was a set-up. He wanted to get a look at one of her files. A guy she was prosecuting."
"What was the guy's name?" Ryan asked, reaching for the switch to turn on his lights. He had a really bad feeling about this.
"David Blaine. Drug dealer."
The guy he'd seen at Cook County Jail. Visiting Bates. Ryan turned on his siren as well and stepped on the gas. "Gotta go."
* * *
Frozen in place, Livvy stared down at Dugger.
His face hardened. "People are watching, Liv. Unless you want to die right now, sit down."
"As opposed to what, Dugger? Dying later?"
"As opposed to you and a bunch of other people dying right now. Your choice, Livvy."
He leveled the gun at her chest, his hand rock-steady. How could no one else in the restaurant see this? Wasn't anyone paying attention?
No. Her body shielded the gun from the rest of the people. And everyone was involved in their own conversation. Their lunch.
Her legs wobbling, she slid back onto the seat, frantically trying to figure out a plan. She could jump up and bolt. Run for the door. It was harder to hit a moving target. That's what all the self-defense classes said.
"I'm sitting. What's this all about?"
"You're going to come with me, Liv. We're going to walk out of this restaurant and get in my car. We're going to have a conversation."
"I have nothing to talk to you about." She swallowed the hard lump in her throat. "I told you, I'm meeting someone here. He should be here any minute. So leave now, while you have a chance."
Dugger smiled. "Schmidt? Don't worry about him. He has his orders. He's not showing up."
Ice cold fear spread through her veins, and she began to shake. "What do you mean, he has his orders?" She was afraid she knew exactly what Dugger meant. But she needed to keep him talking. Stall whatever plan he had. Ryan would get here. He'd be in time.
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