Justice (Counsel #2)

by Shenda Paul

  "Ms. Gomez, have you or any of your female friends ever had a boyfriend, or any man for that matter, embellish the truth to impress you?" I ask.

  "All the time," she answers without hesitation.

  "Would you say that you attract the attention of men?"

  "I think I do."

  "Was Mr. Moretti the only man vying for your attention on the night you met?"

  "He wasn’t," she says, her tone bordering on smug.

  "Would you tell the court who else sought you out on that night?"

  "Fico noticed us immediately when we arrived. He watched us; well, me, even when we moved to our table. Some guys at another table sent over drinks, and Sue, my friend, invited them to join us. Later, our group moved onto the dance floor, but Sue and a guy called Joey stayed with me at the table. He was obviously interested in me and wanted to dance, but I said maybe later."

  "What was Mr. Moretti doing at the time?"

  "He kept watching me, and when Joey went to the washroom, Fico came over and said I was wasting my time on a loser. That's when he told me he was a big man on the streets."

  "Were those his exact words, ‘big man on the streets’?"

  "Yes."

  "So he didn’t, in fact, say he worked for himself as you testified earlier?"

  "Well, it was obvious."

  "Did he explicitly tell you that he worked for himself, Ms. Gomez?"

  "Well… um…no."

  "Do you think Mr. Moretti said what he did to impress you?"

  "Objection, Your Honor, calls for speculation," Jones interjects.

  "Sustained."

  "Ms. Gomez, was there a reason Mr. Moretti might have felt the need to impress you?"

  "I may have told him he was a loser too," she admits.

  "So, it would be fair to say that you challenged Mr. Moretti to impress you?"

  "I guess so."

  "Yes, or no, Ms. Gomez—did you challenge Mr. Moretti to impress you or not?"

  "Yes, I did."

  "No further questions, Your Honor," I declare.

  Judge West receives no immediate response when he asks whether Defense is ready to call their next witness. He repeats himself, tersely this time, and Jones looks up from what appears to be a heated discussion with his client and second-chair.

  "Your Honor, if the court pleases, we request an adjournment."

  "Approach," Judge West direct, and Jones and I join him for a sidebar where Jones explains that he needs to confer with his client before calling their next witness.

  Judge West asks whether the Commonwealth has any objections, and when I say no, he announces that court will reconvene the following morning at eleven.

  Defense still has two witnesses listed to call, but after what happened with the last two, I can understand Jones wanting to make sure he’s not in for any further surprises.

  Chapter Eleven

  Today, I deliberately choose to leave via the front entrance.

  "Adam…Counselor," a reporter yells the moment we’re spotted.

  "Do you really want to do this now?" Jodi asks.

  "No time like the present. You may want to hang back, though."

  "We’re in this together," she tells me with a determined lift of her chin.

  "Let's get it over with," I mutter, grasping her elbow as we’re surrounded.

  "Are you in a relationship with the prostitute, Angelique Bain?" the same reporter calls out, and another follows with, "Adam, what is your relationship with Angelique Bain?"

  I take a moment to curb my anger at the reference to Angelique being a prostitute before casting a stony gaze over the group. "This is the only public statement I intend to make on the subject of Ms. Bain’s and my relationship," I announce and wait until there’s quiet before continuing.

  "Ms. Bain was never a target of police investigations, yet she's unfairly borne the brunt of media outcry. By chance, we both attended the same restaurant directly after the Wade trial, and I took the opportunity to make certain she understood that my treatment of her in court had not been undertaken as a personal attack. Being the gracious person I now know her to be, she accepted my apology. We became friends and have only recently entered into a deeper relationship." I pause to let that sink in.

  "Let me make it clear to any who may wish to embellish or misrepresent what I've said. I was the one to pursue a friendship with Ms. Bain, I was the one who initiated a deeper relationship, and I feel incredibly fortunate to have had my overtures accepted.

  "Ms. Bain's and my personal life remains just that—personal. There is nothing sinister or threatening about our relationship. It did not and will not impact on how I execute my responsibilities as a public prosecutor.

  "I give fair warning to those who choose to continue their witch-hunt of Ms. Bain or cast aspersions on my ethics or ability to do my job. Make sure you print the truth, make sure you substantiate your claims with irrefutable evidence. If you don't or can’t, I will sue for libel; don't for one moment doubt my determination to protect Ms. Bain or myself."

  In the wake of their stunned silence, I tell Jodi we should leave.

  "Doesn't Angelique’s past bother you?" someone calls out.

  "I'm not sure which part of my statement about not entertaining further questions you misunderstood," I turn to address the young woman. "Now, unless you or anyone else has a question relating to the Cordi case, my colleague and I are about to leave." We’re asked some lackluster questions about the trial then, which I take my time answering before Jodi and I depart.

  Early that evening, Jon calls and then pops in to debrief Jodi and me on his Texas trip.

  "What’s the latest on the girls?" I ask after he’s filled us in.

  "Miranda Flume’s DNA matches, and the Rivieras are traveling to Laredo to reunite with their daughter."

  "Those poor people; they said goodbye to an innocent child one morning, and now they’re welcoming back a drug addict," Jodi laments, and Jon and I both echo her sentiments.

  "Did Perez or Vega shed any light on how and why the border patrol guard was murdered?" I ask a moment later.

  "Perez remains uncooperative and nothing of substance from Vega, other than saying that Perez told him the guard got in his way."

  "I suppose the girls aren’t fit to be questioned yet?" Jodi then asks.

  "No, but we did learn that Lucia Fluss is actually Lucia Montgomery and that she ran away from home when she was fifteen. The police are still trying to trace her family because they’ve moved."

  I spend some time outlining the questions we still need to have answered. Jon, of course, knows most of it already, so it's just a matter of making sure there are no gaps in our thinking. What I really want to know is whether Joseph ordered Perez to kidnap Maria and whether it was to repay a favor to a friend in Mexico as he'd alluded to in his journal.

  We're just about wrapping up when Jon's phone rings. He tenses and casts me a concerned glance as he listens to the caller. Something in that looks sets my senses on high alert.

  "Hold him there, we're on our way," he barks.

  "What is it?" I ask, already on my feet.

  "Adam, you need to stay calm, " he warns.

  "Just tell me what the hell’s going on!" I demand.

  "Quandt’s at Angelique’s apartment."

  "I'm going to kill that bastard," I say, grabbing my phone and keys.

  "No, you're not." Jodi jumps up. "The last thing she needs is for you to be arrested; you need to stay in control."

  "If he's hurt her …"

  "She's safely inside, and the boys are on their way," Jon assures me, the information only marginally quelling my agitation.

  "What the hell are we waiting for? I yell at him. "I won’t be back," I inform a worried-looking Bec as I rush past.

  "Stop him from doing something stupid," I hear Jodi say.

  "We
'll use my car," Jon tells me when he catches up with me at the elevator.

  "Fine," I huff ungraciously while impatiently jabbing at buttons.

  "Jodi’s right," he tells me as we descend.

  "What would you do if some fucker’s been stalking Jodi since she was seven? If the sick bastard caused the accident that ultimately brought about the end of her career and the need for her to prostitute herself to support her invalid mother? You tell me what you'd do?" I demand.

  "Probably the same thing you're contemplating."

  "But," he holds up a hand as I’m about to respond. "I'd hope I had friends who’d make me see reason; who’d tell me to consider the effect if the woman I love sees me being violent, and then having to watch as my friend was forced to haul my ass off to jail!"

  As much as I want to argue, he’s right. Angelique’s probably terrified out of her mind; she needs me to comfort her, not get into a fight. I breathe deeply in a bid to stop my rage from overflowing.

  "Why did the guys call you anyway?" I ask once we’re in the car.

  "I left word at the precinct to contact me if they heard from Angelique or spotted anything out of the ordinary near her apartment or workplace."

  "Thanks, Jon. I really appreciate that."

  "You'd do the same for me, Adam."

  "In a heartbeat," I reply as I pull out my phone.

  Angelique sobs my name when she answers. "It’s all right, Darling, I'm on my way," I soothe.

  "He's shouting at the door," she whispers brokenly.

  "Don’t go near it and try not to listen to what he's saying. Jon and I are nearly there, and the police are on their way. He won't get to you, I promise."

  "I'm so glad to hear your voice," she says. I can tell she’s crying.

  "Tell me what happened?" I ask in an attempt to distract her.

  "Your Mom dropped me off. I'm just so lucky she came up to get a DVD we were discussing—I keep imagining what could have happened if she hadn’t…" She sniffles.

  "But it didn’t; you’re safe. What happened next?" I prod, wanting to keep her talking.

  "She’d just left when there was a knock at the door. I thought she forgot something, and I was about to open it, but something made me look through the peephole. He started yelling then, so I called the police."

  "You did so well," I praise her.

  "I wanted to call you, but I thought you were in court," she explains.

  "We finished early, and I had to see the DA, and then Jodi and I had a meeting …"

  "I think the police are here," she interrupts.

  "Don't answer the door until we get there, Angelique."

  "Adam, there's shouting," she says, sounding panicked.

  "Just stay where you are, the police know what they're doing," I reassure her and keep her talking for the few remaining moments it takes to reach her place. A patrol car and another, Jon informs me belongs to one of his detectives, is parked outside.

  "We’re here, Darling. Open the door only when I tell you, okay?" I say as we rush into the building.

  "Okay," she replies with an audible sigh of relief.

  "Adam, concentrate on Angelique," Jon calls out as I race ahead. "Get into the apartment and take care of her. This is a police matter; you'll get your chance to deal with him in court."

  "Angelique!" he repeats, pointing to my phone when I turn to glare at him.

  I don’t respond and race up the stairs, pushing past some people, probably neighbors, crowding the hallway. Jon tells them to get back inside. "A detective will speak to you shortly," he says, and then repeats himself forcefully when they linger.

  Two uniformed police and two detectives surround a tall man with black hair outside Angelique’s door. His icy blue eyes lift at our approach, and he glares at me balefully. My hackles rise, my hostile look matching, if not trumping, his. I've never wished more than I do right now that I wasn't a public prosecutor, and that I had the anonymity of a dark alley and no witnesses.

  "She's mine," he spits at me venomously.

  "Adam?" Angelique’s panicked voice in my ear reminds me of my priorities.

  "Everything’s all right, Darling. I'll tell you when to let me in," I say. She pleads with me not to do anything reckless. "You’re my only concern," I assure her.

  "I love you," she tells me, and I know it’s also a plea for me to remain calm.

  "I love you too. I'm going to hang up, and I’ll knock when I want you to let me in, okay?"

  "Okay," she whispers. I pocket my phone and turn to face him.

  "She's never been yours, you sick bastard. Angelique’s no longer alone and helpless—you have me to deal with now, and you will never approach her again, not if you value …"

  Jon sinks his fist into his gut before I can finish. "Slippery floor," he says unapologetically and lays a seemingly solicitous hand on the shoulder of the now doubled over Quandt. I'm not sure whether to be pissed off that he got in a punch that should rightfully have been mine or if I should thank him.

  "Go and take care of your girl," he says, grinning at me cheekily. "We'll take the trash out."

  Angelique falls into my arms the moment the door opens, and I wrap her in an embrace, kicking it shut to cut off Quandt’s view of her.

  "Are you okay?" I cup her face in both hands.

  "I am now," she says smiling through her tears. I capture her mouth in a passionate kiss before picking her up to carry her to the sofa. "I can walk," she protests.

  "I can't bear to let you go right now," I tell her.

  "I was so scared until you called," she whispers as I settle us on the sofa. I wind my hands in her silky hair and draw her in for another kiss. We get lost in giving and taking comfort from each other until a knock pulls us out of our haze.

  "That'll be Jon," I murmur against her lips before reluctantly pulling back.

  "Could you get the door; I need to freshen up?" Angelique asks, gesturing to her rumpled hair.

  "I love the way you look," I tell her, taking in her flushed cheeks and kiss-swollen lips, "but I don't want to share the vision."

  An hour later, as Jon prepares to leave, he hands Angelique a card with the name of a detective to contact while he’s away.

  "Quandt will be locked up until his arraignment, which will probably take place tomorrow or Friday, but I still don't want you staying here," I tell her when we’re alone once more. "This walk-up doesn't exactly fill me with confidence; anyone can get in here," I add at her imminent protest.

  I raise her chin so she's looking directly at me. "Pack a bag, Darling. You’re coming home with me."

  Chapter Twelve

  The sight of Angelique hanging her clothes in my dressing room thrills me beyond measure, and I'm already mentally rearranging the space to accommodate all of her belongings.

  "You didn't have to make this much room," she says almost shyly when looking up to see me watching.

  "It’s hardly enough in my book," I reply, and then, deciding to give her privacy to settle in, walk over to place a soft kiss on her mouth. "I need to make some calls. Why don’t you finish up here and then come and find me?" I suggest.

  "Okay; I need to call my mom too," she answers and reaches up to kiss me on the jaw.

  .

  .

  "I was going to call you before this happened anyway," I tell Mom after we’ve discussed the Quandt situation. She was, naturally, horrified at what had happened and relieved that Angelique’s agreed to stay with me.

  "Would you keep Angelique occupied on Saturday of next week?"

  "Of course, but can I ask why?"

  "I'll tell you over the weekend, Mom," I say as Angelique enters my office. "Angelique’s just walked in; I have to go Mom."

  "Call me tomorrow, Adam. I want to know what you're up to."

  "Sure," I laugh, knowing she'll drive herself mad in the meantime.

>   "Did you speak to your mom?" I ask, making my way around the desk to Angelique.

  "I did. She's just so thankful that he's been arrested."

  I move her hair aside to kiss her neck. "So am I," I murmur, running my nose up to her ear. "Did you tell her you were staying here?"

  "I…did." She gasps softly when I gently bite down her earlobe. "Was she okay with that?"

  "Sur…prisingly," she stutters as I gently suck on her skin.

  "Eat first or shower?" I ask, my voice thick with desire.

  "Shower," Angelique shudders delicately as I run my tongue over her plump bottom lip.

  "With or without me?" I ask.

  "With…" she manages to say before I claim her lips in a passionate kiss. With mouths locked, I swing her up into my arms and carry her upstairs.

  "May I?" I ask, grasping the hem of her top. She nods, and I peel it over her head before smoothing her hair back to caress her breasts. Angelique inhales sharply when I tug at her nipples through her bra. I soothe her sensitive flesh with gentle strokes and run my hands up her neck and across her shoulders to slip the straps from her arms before undoing the clasp and peeling the garment from her body.

  "Beautiful…" I murmur, staring down at Angelique. Her cheeks flush a delicate rose, and she lowers her head to silently unbutton my shirt to run soft hands over my abdomen. I draw in a ragged breath at the overwhelming sensation this simple touch from her elicits. She rakes her nails lightly over my chest before leaning forward to sensuously circle a nipple with her tongue.

  "Angelique," I groan at the instant tightening in my groin and pull her in for an urgent kiss. "I love you; if anything had happened …"

  "It didn't," she stops me by placing two fingers over my mouth. "Let's just be us for now," she urges. I kiss them before dropping to my knees to remove her pants. She scratches my scruff lightly as I undo her zipper. I wrap my arms around her and lean my cheek against her belly to inhale her delicate fragrance. Emotion wells in me at the realization that I'm holding my future in my arms. I place a soft kiss on her skin before slowly peeling the garment down her limbs, urging her with a touch to step out of it before I remove her tiny scrap of underwear. I rise to my feet and allow her to undo my belt and zipper and then discard my clothing. I turn the water on and adjust the temperature and pressure in the showerheads and jets before extending my hand in invitation.