by Anthology
She sighed and snatched a letter opener to break the seal down the middle. Though she knew what the reports were supposed to say, she never took a verbal as final when headed into trial. She flipped open the double-sided lid and stared at the contents, her heart dropping to her stomach. A calendar page lay on top with today’s date marked off.
“Don’t touch it,” she whispered to herself and stood up, afraid something was going to explode or bite her or... she took off running for the door. Once she was there, she fumbled with the lock. “Damn, damn open!” It jerked towards her and she burst into the hallway, her bare feet padding on the wooden floor, as she started yelling, “Royce! Royce!”
The door down the hallway opened and Luke appeared, rushing toward her, grabbing hold of her, and pulling a gun from somewhere. “Talk to me, Lauren. What’s happening?”
“Lauren!” Royce shouted charging up the stairwell.
Lauren tore herself away from Luke and threw herself at Royce. He folded her into his big, powerful arms. “Package,” she managed to get out. “There’s a package. It was delivered to my office and Julie brought it and I opened it...”
“What’s inside?” he demanded quickly.
“A calendar page and I don’t know what else. I didn’t touch it. What does this person want from me? Why won’t they just leave me alone?”
“Where is it?” Luke asked from behind her.
Lauren turned in time to see Luke holster his gun at his ankle, under his pants. “The desk. It’s open on the desk.”
He lifted his chin at Royce. “I’ll check it out.”
“Be careful,” Lauren said. “Please be careful, Luke.”
“Careful is my middle name.”
“He’ll be okay,” Royce said, pulling her against him. “And so will you.”
Lauren melted into Royce, and for the first time in her life, she felt more secure in a man’s arms than she did on her own.
Chapter Fourteen
Thirty minutes after the discovery of the box, Lauren stood in Royce’s kitchen, staring at the twenty newspaper clippings from her various trials, all spread out on the table.
“Is there anything in all of this that rings a bell?” Royce asked. “There’s a message here. We need to try to understand what it is.”
Lauren sank down into a chair and pressed her hands to the side of her face. “Other than he’s been watching me for a long time and wants me to know, no. Nothing else comes to mind. They’re random trials over the course of years.”
“Are they all after the Sheridan trial?” Luke asked.
“Sheridan was one of my first cases,” she said. “So yes. These are all after Sheridan. As you can see, I’ve put plenty of people behind bars that probably hate me. Heck, if I get through this, there could easily be another.”
“Which is why we aren’t going to the police,” Royce said. “They won’t be much help and we don’t want to give anyone else the idea of lashing out at you.”
“Maybe this was to confuse us,” Luke said. “To give us a lot of suspects.”
“I’ve never questioned why I do what I do,” Lauren said. “Not until now. Now... I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. How do I live like this?” She laughed without humor. “This is the payment I get for putting criminals behind bars? Stalked and threatened and twisted in knots? What if I had kids or siblings or a husband? I’d be terrified they’d be in danger. Maybe my father is right. Maybe this is fool’s work.”
Royce squatted down beside her. “You're one of the brave and caring people who try to make a difference in this world. There is nothing foolish about that.”
Luke cleared his throat. “I’ll leave you two alone.”
Lauren looked at him. “Thank you for everything you are doing, Luke. I mean that. You don’t have to help me, but you are.”
He gave her a bow. “My pleasure. And for the record, I’m with Royce. You’re brave. Stay that way. Don’t give into the monsters or they’ll take over.”
“Oh, God. Julie. What if he targets Julie?”
“I already thought of that,” Luke said. “I have her being watched.”
Lauren sighed. “Oh, thank you, Luke.”
He gave her a salute and headed out of the kitchen.
“I’m going to make you something to eat,” Royce said. “Then you’re going to take a pain pill and sleep.”
“I’m too tired to be hungry.”
“You need to eat a little something.” He kissed the tip of her nose. The phone on the wall rang and he smiled. “Some of us still use our house phones.”
“I plan to rip mine out of the wall.” The phone kept ringing. “Are you going to answer it?”
“I have a machine.” He pushed to his feet. ”And feeding you is more important. I have sandwiches and not much else though, I’m afraid.” The machine beeped. “Royce, call your mother. Why don’t you ever answer your phone?” He backed up and grabbed the receiver, before saying, “I told you I never answer this phone. You have to call my cell.”
Lauren smiled weakly, feeling a punch in her gut, a bit of envy. What she wouldn’t do to have her mother alive right now. She turned back to the table, pulling one of the clippings forward, and started reading before moving to the next.
Before she knew what was happening, Royce was sitting down next to her and there were plates on the table. “I didn’t even know when you got off the phone.”
“Or when I asked you if ham and Swiss was okay,” he commented.
“I just kept reading and thinking I’d find something in one of the clippings that would set off a light bulb.” She took a bite of the sandwich and then reached for the soda Royce had apparently set in front of her as well.
“And while you’re thinking about that, you aren’t thinking about your current case.”
“So you think it’s about my current case?”
“In my experience, the obvious usually is the right choice. The rest is a distraction.”
“So what do I do?”
“You go to sleep tonight and you wake up fresh and you win this case. I’ll take you to work and I’ll have people watching you while Luke and I dig into ending this once and for all. Luke was right, Lauren. You can’t let this monster, or any for that matter, win. You do your thing, sweetheart, and I’ll do mine. We’ll get our man and you’ll get your conviction.”
Lauren felt her eyes prickle and tears well by her lashes.
“Wow,” Royce said, pulling her into his lap and thumbing away her tears. “What just happened?”
“I don’t know. I’m tired. I’m not even a crier. You and your family are so close, and so good to me.” She pressed her hand to his cheek. “No one but my mother and Julie has ever told me to fight for what I believe in and they’d fight with me. Never.”
“And never has a woman made me want to be there for her like you do, Lauren.” Rocye kissed her, tasted her tears and her fears, and her passion, and admitted what he’d known from that first night with her. He was falling in love.
He picked her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist, burying her face in his neck as he carried her to his bedroom. His bedroom. He laid her down on the bed and stripped her naked, kissing her, touching her, taking his time to properly make love to her. And when he finally entered her, when their eyes locked, he knew that not only was he going to fight by her side, he was going to fight to make her his woman.
Chapter Fifteen
The next morning, Royce pulled to the curb in front of Lauren’s building, making sure she was safely at work before he set off into action. Sitting outside Lauren’s building while she worked wasn’t going to end this for her.
“Remember, I have two men already in position here at the building. You have both of their numbers on auto-dial. Be aware of what’s going on but don’t let it consume you. You’re safe.” He glanced down at the deep cleavage of the emerald blouse she wore under a black suit. “From everyone but me.”
She tugged at the blouse. “Lea
ve it to Julie to bring me the most inappropriate clothes she owns. I’ll be pinning this shut.”
“We can go get your clothes tonight on the way home.”
“Home?” she asked.
“I’ve got you with me,” he said, pulling her close and kissing her. “Don’t expect me to let you go.”
She wiped his mouth. “Pink isn’t your color.”
He smiled and kissed her again. “Text me when you get to your office so I know you’re safe.”
She nodded and reached for the door. “Be careful.”
“Careful is my middle name.”
She smiled. “Funny. I thought it was Luke’s.” She pushed open the door and slung her briefcase over her shoulder, before heading the short distance to the glass door and disappearing inside.
He dialed Kyle. “I’m leaving.”
“I’m about to follow her onto the elevator. She’ll be fine.” He hung up, no doubt already inside the car with Lauren.
Royce dropped his phone on the seat, his gut tight. Damn, this was killing him. He was going to enjoy tracking down this bastard. His first target: the ‘dude’ who’d been nasty to Lauren the day before. Whether he was guilty of being a jerk or guilty of more, he’d know not to bother Lauren again when Royce was done with him.
Fifteen minutes later, Royce pulled into an apartment in the east side, poverty-stricken section of Brooklyn and made his way to the door 4B. He knocked, and mumbled under his breath, “Come on, you son of a bitch. Answer.”
The door swung revealing a man wearing jeans and nothing more. “Yeah?”
A standoff ensued. They stared at each other, sizing each other up. Cockiness, bred from Special Forces training, oozed from his opponent. The man was a deadly weapon, but then, so was he. “Jonathan Wilkins?”
“You’re looking at him,” Wilkins said. “Who are you and what do you want?”
“The name’s Royce Walker. I’d like to talk about Lauren Reynolds.”
No reaction. “What about her?”
“You tell me.”
“I hate the bitch. What’s it to you?”
“Everything.”
“She’s trying to kill my sister,” he said coldly.
“She’s doing her job.”
“Amazing how some people get paid to kill another while others just get thrown in jail, now isn’t it?” There was no mistaking the malice to the question. “Makes a person appreciate the laws of another country. An eye for an eye. A life for a life.”
“That’s called the death penalty,” Royce reminded him. “And here we get a jury and we’re innocent until proven guilty.”
“She’s already convicted my sister, and we both know it.”
“Her opinion doesn’t matter. The jury’s does.”
“And she tells them what she wants them to hear.”
He started to shut the door and Royce shoved his foot in the door. “Touch her and you’ll regret it.”
“I’m shaking in my bare feet, man. Absolutely quivering. I’m put in my place.”
They glared at one another and Royce wanted to yank the asshole into the hallway and beat him to a pulp, but he wouldn’t do Lauren any good in jail. However, if this guy meant her harm, he needed him to know that she wasn’t alone, that she was protected. “I’m going to be watching you,” he said, and stepped back.
Wilkins’s lips lifted in an evil smile. “Enjoy the show.” And he shut the door.
***
Royce was halfway back to the city, heading to Sullivan’s offices, the attorney who’d defended Sheridan, when it hit him that he’d never told Wilkins who he was, beyond a name, and Wilkins had never asked. Something about that rubbed him wrong, but then, everything about Wilkins rubbed him wrong.
He sent a text to Lauren and made sure she was okay, then called Julie. “Law offices.”
“I need to speak to Julie Morrison.”
“She’s not available,” the prim voice on the other line informed him.
He held his tone in check with effort, but his words still held a sharp edge. “Make her available. Tell her Royce Walker needs to speak to her urgently.”
“Sir-”
“Just do it,” he demanded. Rude and he knew it, but damn it, he didn’t have niceties in him right now. Instantly he heard office music in his ear.
“Royce?” Julie said, concern in her voice. “Is Lauren okay?”
“Yes,” he said reassuring her, feeling a bit of guilt for scaring her. “I just need you to take her lunch and check on her.”
A sigh of relief escaped Julie’s lips. “That’s an order I’ll happily take. You really are a bossy bear, Royce.”
“Yeah, I know. I’m trying to work on that. Have her call me when you get there. I mean, please have her call me when you get there.”
She laughed. “Since you asked, I absolutely will.” She paused. “Don’t hurt her, Royce. She deserves to be happy.”
His gut knotted. “I know. Believe me, I know.”
By the time Royce parked his truck and fed a parking meter, he knew he would be hard pressed to make his meeting with Luke after this trip. Sullivan’s street level office was small and rather humble in decor, at least from the exterior. A doorbell chimed as he entered. The lobby hosted a light assortment of furnishings including a well-worn desk and several mix and match pictures. It was a far cry from the elite law firm Sullivan had worked for during the Sheridan trial.
A tall man with curly blond hair, a lanky build, and a suspicious gaze appeared in a corner doorway. With sleeves a hint too long, and pants the same, his suit fit him about as well as the furnishings. It didn’t. There was an air about this man that said money. A complete contradiction to his surroundings.
“Can I help you?”
“I’m looking for Sullivan. David Sullivan.”
“I’m Sullivan. Who are you?”
Royce sensed nervousness in the man. “Royce Walker. I handle security issues for individuals as well as businesses. I’m here to discuss Marvin Sheridan.” It wasn’t a request, nor was it meant to be.
“What of him?” he questioned with narrowed eyes.
“There is suspicion that he could be involved in some threats one of my clients has been receiving.”
Sullivan studied Royce for several long moments as if he was deciding if he should talk to him. Finally, with a nod, he said, “Come this way,” turned and started walking.
Odd man, he thought, following him, noting the man’s jerky movements, almost like a machine fighting a mechanism.
Inside the corner office, Sullivan sat behind a bigger version of the scuffed piece of wood in the center of the lobby. Royce settled into a worn blue cloth visitor’s chair. He would have preferred to stand but he sensed Sullivan’s unease and didn’t want to intimidate him by hovering. He wanted the man to talk.
Leaning back, Sullivan rocked in a squeaky leather chair. Like nails on a chalkboard, the sound raked on Royce’s nerves. “Sheridan is scheduled to be executed,” he said. ”What harm is he to your client?”
Royce narrowed his gaze on the man. “Kept up with him, I see?”
“Wouldn’t you if you were the attorney who defended a man being put to death?”
Royce shrugged. “He’s a killer.”
“He was temporarily insane.”
“The jury said differently.”
Tapping the fingers of one hand on his desk, Sullivan studied Royce. “What are you after here, Mr. Walker?”
“How do you feel about Lauren Reynolds?”
“Is Lauren your client?”
“My client’s identity is confidential. Again, how do you feel about Lauren Reynolds?”
“How does anyone feel about the opponent that brings them to their knees?” His tone was hostile.
“You tell me,” Royce challenged.
“It doesn’t really matter. It’s past history.”
“What does that mean?”
Sullivan snorted. “What do you think it means? The man is going
to die, end of story. He’s out of appeals.”
“How’s Sheridan handling that?”
Sullivan raked a hand through his hair. “He’s accepting. He met a woman who helped him find God. He says he’s been forgiven and ready to face his maker.”
“Should you have won the case?”
A frown dipped his brows. “Should have, yes.”
“Why didn’t you?” Royce pressed.
His fist balled on top of the desk. “I had some bumps during the trial, and Lauren Reynolds milked each and every one of them. Surely you read the press I got over the ordeal. I lost my job, my wife, everything.”
“And you blame her?”
He grimaced and seemed to stiffen. “I did, but not anymore. I stumbled. She did what any good attorney would do and took advantage of opportunity. There’s no room in the courtroom to screw up. You just can’t do it.”
Royce stood to leave. “One more thing,” he said. “Is there anyone around Sheridan who might want revenge on his behalf?”
“Other than me and the ten partners in the law firm I worked for, no one.”
Ten partners who had suffered the bad press of losing the trail. Damn, the list of possibilities just got longer and longer. Royce turned to leave. “There is one more person who hates Lauren,” Sullivan said. Royce turned and arched a brow.
“My ex-wife. She lost all the prestige and money she thought I was about to give her. The bitch married me for money and power, and nothing more.”
Chapter Sixteen
In a few short hours, Lauren had negotiated plea bargains on four cases. She was zapped and she still had hours of work to do. It was taking every ounce of concentration she had to keep focused on the words she was reading as she clicked through her e-mail. She had forty new items in her inbox since she’d cleared it two hours before.
“Lauren.”
Lauren jumped at the unexpected, familiar voice of her ex-fiancé, Roger. “You scared the heck out of me. How did you get past the front desk?”