Hello, Confusion, thanks for visiting. “Okay. Sure. Sort of lost here, though.”
“You don’t get it. From the time I’d been a lowly prelaw student, interning at various firms, doing any grunt work I could find, I’ve been trying to separate myself from my father’s reputation. All to prove I could make it on my own steam. That nepotism—” she spat the word, like acid burning her tongue “—hadn’t gotten me my spot at one of the top firms in Chicago. It makes me realize all these years of sleepless nights, of studying cases until my mind couldn’t absorb any more, was worth it.”
“That’s good, right?”
“No! You’re the man who should hate me and want nothing to do with me. Instead you’re the one who gets me.”
Who’d have thunk Killer Cupcake had her own spot, deep inside, where she hid all that self-doubt?
She stared at the phone he handed her, ran her thumb over the keypad he’d touched probably thousands of times. “You terrify me. You hate what I do for a living. A job I love. If I survive this Heath mess, it’ll most likely be because of your efforts. And that’s the rub, because you’ll break my heart. I know you will. One way or another, I’ll walk away fractured.”
Russ opened his mouth. Nothing. Nada. Not one coherent thought. Killer Cupcake had just ripped herself open in front of him and...and...what?
Nothing.
“I’m—”
Her hand shot up. “Let’s forget this. Please. Just wipe the last few seconds clean. I’ll call my dad, you won’t say anything and we will never speak of this again.”
She spun away, headed for the mudroom. Stop her. He beat her to the door, smacked his hand on it. “What if I want to speak of it again?”
Slowly, she shook her head.
“Not now,” Russ said. “After we get through this. When we don’t have your client sitting between us. Can we do that?”
He waited a few seconds, stood there like a dummy because Killer Cupcake trusted him enough to evacuate her feelings and it paralyzed him. She’d probably never open up to him again. Maybe that was good, though. Women liked all this emotional upheaval. Men? Not. But the idea of Penny shoving all her angst away didn’t comfort him much, either. What a mess.
Finally, she tipped her head down, gave a little nod.
Home run. “Okay. Later, then.”
She looked up at the door. “I need to pass so I can call my office.”
He lifted his hand and opened the door for her. “I’ll give you privacy.”
Fifteen minutes later, she came through the door again, spotted him leaning against the counter, stopped a few feet from him and held out his phone. “We’re good to go.”
Chapter Five
“You don’t have to walk me in,” Penny said to Russ while they waited for the elevator to scoop them up at the garage level of her condo building.
For the nine months Penny had lived in this building, she’d been a believer that the extra monthly fee—convenience tax, as she called it—for a building with a gated garage was worth it. Now, with Colin Heath threatening her, she was sure of it and would never again complain about shoes she could have bought with the convenience-tax money. Even if the slow gate drove her mad, she remained thankful for its presence.
“This is a nice perk,” Russ said.
Casual conversation. That was what this was, because she knew that he knew that she knew they were both thinking the universe had royally flipped them off. After the crazy emotional day, one that included the two of them admitting their mutual attraction, the god of love decided this would be the night a judge received a death threat and the extra marshal assigned to Elizabeth Brooks would go to the judge.
Not wanting to leave Elizabeth with only one marshal, Russ and Brent decided Brent would stay behind while Russ drove Penny home. In the morning, Russ would return with Brent’s car.
All around a good plan because Elizabeth would be safe. However, Penny was about to step into the elevator leading to her condo—her very empty condo—with the FBI agent her girly parts wanted a piece of. Elizabeth was safe. Penny was not.
She rocked back and forth while the floors blinked off. The doors finally slid open and Russ held them so she could step on. A gentleman to boot. Could this get any worse?
“This is weird,” she said.
“Yep.”
It wasn’t just her overthinking it. That was a relief at least. Still, that throb in her stomach wouldn’t quit. The entire ride home she’d felt the pressure, the expanding ball of nerves growing and growing and growing.
“Hey,” she said. “We’re professionals. We can handle this. What’s a little lust?” She nodded toward the elevator buttons. “Eighth floor, big guy.”
Russ laughed. “You really are insane.”
That would be one way to put it. “It’s true. Ask anyone.”
When the doors slid open again, Russ stuck his arm out to block Penny’s path, then checked the hallway. “All clear. Got your keys?”
“I do.”
“Let’s go.”
She stopped in the hallway outside the elevator and watched the doors close. He needed to be on that elevator. Away from her very empty apartment. Where she wanted to introduce him to an extremely inviting bed.
That throbbing mass in her stomach exploded. Big trouble. “You can go now.”
“Sorry, babe. Have to check the apartment.”
“Russell!”
“You’re the one who said we’re professionals. Standard procedure. If Brent were here, he’d do it. Last thing I need is not to do it and have you kidnapped. Although, you’re such a pain, they’d probably throw you back.”
He laughed at his own joke and Penny gasped, but really, there was a certain amount of pride she could take in scaring off would-be kidnappers. “Russell, I’ve said it before, flattery will get you everywhere.”
Particularly when it comes to my bed.
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
She spun, marched down the curving corridor and lamented the fact that the plush carpeting absorbed her footsteps. Sometimes a girl wanted to hear her own stomping and this carpet was stealing her fun.
What am I doing? Making herself crazy. That was what. She shook her head to clear the madness, lightened her footsteps and breathed in. Professionals. They could handle it. She’d just let him do his little search while she locked herself in the closet, where she couldn’t watch him entering her bedroom. Simple plan.
She focused on her apartment door just ahead. At this hour, most of her neighbors had gone quiet. Mr. Hanley’s television was still on, but that was normal, since he was an insomniac. She unlocked the door, pushed it open and waved Russ in. Thank goodness she’d left the place neat.
He glanced around the living room. “You always leave the lights on?”
“Timer. I don’t like coming home to darkness.”
He nodded in that way that said he really didn’t have an opinion on that fact, but didn’t necessarily think it odd.
“You mind if I check the rooms?”
“Have at it. I’ll know if you go through my underwear drawer.”
His only answer was a grunt.
“I guess you could save that for next time, though.”
“I’m ignoring you,” he yelled from the bathroom.
Penny laughed, and after the long day, laughing felt like that barrel of gummy bears she needed. She stood in the middle of her living room, pondered the closet door while he checked the two bedrooms. Maybe she wouldn’t actually get in the closet. If she just stared at it, it might be enough to keep her from seeing Russ in her bedroom.
“See anything of interest?” she called.
“Other than the bra you left on your bed?”
Oh, just hell. In a rush that morning, she�
��d taken the lacy bright pink bra off because—well—she didn’t know why. It just hadn’t felt right, so she’d swapped it out for a plain beige one and obviously had forgotten to put the sex-kitten one back in the drawer. Once again, the god of love had flipped her off. How could Penny have known Russell Voight would be escorting her home?
“I didn’t think I’d have company. In my bedroom.”
He stepped into the hallway. “Yeah, well, what’s another round of torture?”
Walking toward her, he stopped at the kitchen, smacked on the light, checked the miniscule pantry that a four-year-old wouldn’t fit in and turned the light off again.
Then he was in front of her, his tie loose and the button on his collar undone, and if he looked tired, she couldn’t blame him. Even she, who functioned on very little sleep, needed her bed.
“I’ve got a marshal on his way here. He’ll stay outside your door tonight.”
“Thank you.”
For a second, she’d thought about arguing. Pretending to argue, really, because as much as she hated to give in to the fear and weakness of being Heath’s prey, the only way she’d sleep was if she knew someone would be there.
Except, this guy Heath, he was a slippery creep and she’d been around slippery creeps long enough to know how they operated.
“Russell, how well do you know these marshals?”
He eyed her. “Why?”
“Heath is insane, but he’s also brilliant. He seems to know my every move.”
“You think there’s a leak somewhere?”
“No. I don’t think that. I’m just...” She raised her hands, let them drop. “I don’t know. I’m tired.”
“Look, it’s a valid question. One I’ve thought of myself. I’m on it. Anyone involved in this case, we’re checking their financial records. If Heath has someone on his payroll, we’ll find them.”
She nodded. “It’s probably nothing.”
“Doesn’t hurt to look. I’m heading to the safe house in the morning. Assuming you want to be there?”
“Yes. I need to go to the office first.”
Russ scratched his stubbled chin. “That works. We want everything to look business-as-usual. I’ll pick you up at your office and then we’ll do some creative driving in case Heath is watching. That work?”
“Sure.”
She rocked on her toes again. Here they were, two professionals, having a chat. No problem. Except the snapping energy in the silent apartment made heat fly off Russ in a constant and brutal wave. That wave would suck her under if she wasn’t careful.
She pointed to the door. “You should go.”
“I know.”
“Yet, he stands here. Unmoving.”
“Oh, I’m moved. Believe me.”
“Russell!”
And still he didn’t budge. The only sound was the distant hum from the refrigerator, and Penny concentrated on it rather than that damned loosened tie just begging to be stripped off. And then, the wave swooped in and, as if timed, they both stepped forward and Penny reached for his tie and tugged him to her. His hand slid around the back of her head and she went up on tiptoes, anticipating that first press of his lips. That first moment of their first kiss.
It was more than she’d imagined. He tasted warm and male and so, so, so safe. And then he increased the pressure and she tugged on his tie again, wanting more. So. Much. More.
“Oh, man,” he said, his mouth still on hers. “Better than I thought.”
“I know. It sucks.”
He made a move to pull back, but she gripped his tie, gave it a yank. You’re not going anywhere. To hell with it. She’d had a miserable couple of days, and if being reckless let her forget about almost getting shot and finding out it was her fault, well, she’d be reckless.
She squeezed her eyes closed, kissed Russ harder because—damn it—she wanted this. Wanted him.
Don’t think.
The condo phone rang. Ignoring it, she wrapped her arms around Russ’s neck, pressed her much smaller body into his. Immediately, his arms tightened around her.
The phone kept ringing.
No, no, no.
She leaped back, pushing Russ away and holding her arms straight out. Her breaths came in huge bursts as she stared at his face, all lean angles and dark eyes and—oh, my—he was amazing. “I can’t believe I’m doing this, but that might be the doorman. No one ever calls the landline anymore.”
Russ rubbed his hands over his face. “We’re in trouble here.”
“I know.”
The phone stopped ringing. Missed it. The sudden silence, all that quiet going on outside her rioting brain, didn’t offer any comfort. Somehow, it only added to the bedlam. She needed something. Anything to slow her down, because maybe it was a wrong number—please let it have been that—and she and Russ could pick up that blazing kiss exactly where it had left off. His eyes were on her—he’s not running—and she took a step toward him.
Music sounded from her cell phone. He’d given it back to her once they’d returned to the city. Doorman’s ringtone. So much for the wrong number. “Unbelievable, my life.” She dug the phone from her purse and hit the button. “Hi, Henry.”
“Good evening. Sorry to disturb you so late. I have a United States marshal here to see you.”
And Penny laughed. She’d bet Henry didn’t get to say that too often. She glanced back at Russ still focused on her with the intensity that, from the first time she’d seen it, rocked her.
Later.
They’d finish it later.
“Thank you, Henry.” She disconnected, tossed the phone on the coffee table and tried not to be disappointed when Russ adjusted himself, got everything sort of in order. So to speak. “The other marshal is here.”
“I figured.”
“I wanted—”
Russ stuck his hand up. “Let’s not. No point.” He dropped his head back, stared at the ceiling and breathed before bringing his gaze back to her. “We need to focus on the case.”
“I know.”
Because she never wanted to wear the label of ineffective counsel.
A soft knock sounded and Russ pushed his shoulders back, headed for the door. Without a peephole to check who stood on the other side, he stopped before opening it. “Who is it?”
“Marshal Danson.”
Russ cracked the door, hesitated, then stepped back. An extremely un-Brent average-size man entered and flashed his badge at Penny. He didn’t look much older than her—maybe early thirties—but his blond hair had already gone gray at the temples. Stress of the job? Who knew?
Russ held his hand out to Danson. “I’m Russ Voight. This is Penny Hennings.”
The marshal nodded. “Ma’am.”
“She should be good for the night. Just watch the door. I’ll be by in the morning to pick her up.”
“Got it.”
Russ turned to Penny. “You okay?”
So not okay. Because truly, she did not want him walking out the door. Gummy bears. A hard, determined edge appeared on his face and his slightly narrowed eyes warned her not to go there. Not in front of the marshal.
“I’m good. Thank you...for everything.”
“I’ll see you in the morning. Sleep well.”
If he thought that would happen, the man was delusional.
Chapter Six
At 9:00 a.m. sharp, Russ followed Penny—once again looking snazzy in stilettos and a suit the color of a perfect summer sky—into her father’s big-shot office, where he sat behind his big-shot desk with his feet propped up. Only an insanely rich guy would wear four-thousand-dollar suits, complete with suspenders and a pocket square, and then prop his feet on a desk that probably cost twenty grand.
Across from him in one of
the leather desk chairs sat Penny’s older brother Zac, who spun around, saw Russ and stood to shake his hand. The guy didn’t look too happy to have been summoned.
A bleep-bleep sounded from the desk phone. “I have David for you.” A woman’s voice—probably the secretary.
David Hennings, Penny’s oldest brother and—fantastic—another lawyer. At least David wasn’t a criminal attorney. He’d gone for civil law, but still, a meeting with four lawyers? Russ would rather tackle rattlesnakes.
“Thank you, Margaret.” Gerald set his hand on the phone’s keypad, then glanced up. “Good morning, Agent Voight.”
“Morning, sir.”
“Hello, Zachary,” Penny said, leaning down to kiss her brother on the cheek.
She offered Russ the guest chair, but he waved her into it. “I’ll stand.” If he wanted to sit, he’d take a squat on the overstuffed sofa that was big enough for King Kong to sleep on.
The phone rang and Gerald hit a button. “David?”
“Hi, Dad.”
“Hey, Dave,” Zac said.
Penny remained quiet. And when the hell had Russ ever experienced that phenomenon?
“Will someone please tell me what is going on?” David said, his voice sharp enough to chop wood.
Ho-kay.
Penny sat forward, moving closer to the phone. “I’m sorry I didn’t call you yesterday.”
“Ya think? I mean, a heads-up would have been nice before a marshal showed up at my office.”
Hang on here.
Russ stepped closer to the desk, but Gerald beat him to it. “Watch your tone. Things got hectic. You got what information I had.”
“Well, yeah, but once again the drama queen created chaos and we all suffered for it.”
Russ looked at Penny, who refused to even glance at him. She kept her focus on the phone, but her cheeks had gone hollow and she looked to be chewing on the inside of them. Apparently, she and David didn’t get along.
Zac sighed. “Dave, relax. It’s not her fault.”
“Right. It never is. I’m in Boston and I can’t get away from her drama. And you and Dad let her get away with it. Every time.”
THE DEFENDER Page 6