THE DEFENDER

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THE DEFENDER Page 9

by Adrienne Giordano


  Sneaky SOB.

  She swung the door open and passed the note to Cathy, the-woman-who-slept-with-Russ-first. She nodded, yanked her phone from her belt, and Penny closed the door.

  “I know you won’t go back on that deal,” he said. “The tub was insurance. I’ve got you, Penny. I see everything.”

  The slam of a car door came through the phone line. Moving again.

  Get there, Russ. Please.

  “This will be my last warning, Penny. Whatever you’re talking to the FBI about, stop.”

  Get there, Russ. She paced the room. Stall. Figure something out. Do something.

  “How am I supposed to do that? I’ve promised you I’d make this happen and I will.”

  Pause. Where was he? To hell with it. She peeked out the window just as Russ darted across the street. “Hello?”

  “Oh, Penny. You’ve just made a serious mistake.”

  * * *

  RUSS BOLTED INTO TRAFFIC and nearly got mauled by a car trying to catch the amber. At least he’d ditched the damned booties and could move faster. Two men stood in front of the ice-cream shop Cathy had just told him Heath called from.

  The guy in a white shirt and a blue baseball cap talked on his cell, spotted Russ and moved around the corner. The second guy, that one in jeans and a polo shirt, cut away and went the other direction.

  Decision time.

  From Russ’s distance and the similar builds of the men, he couldn’t decipher which was Heath. Which one to follow? Who, who, who?

  Ball cap.

  Heath would try to hide under it. Russ swung around the corner, blew by a woman in a stroller and nearly knocked a businessman on his tail. Still, he kept his eyes on his unsub sprinting to the opposite end of the block. Heath. Had to be. Go, go, go.

  He hit the button on the radio Cathy had handed him. “Corner of North Sheridan. Blue baseball cap. Denim cargo shorts. White shirt. White shirt! North Sheridan!”

  Heath bolted into the street, running diagonally. A car slammed its brakes and got nailed by the car behind. Oofff! A woman rushed from a store to see the action—move—and Russ skidded around her, bumping a parked car as he spun away from the woman and lost precious time. Damn it. He shot across the street. Ball cap. Where is it? There. Turning east.

  At a dead run, he hit the corner, and a mob of people getting off the bus blocked his view. Out of the way. Come on. Come on. He shoved around them, his gaze sweeping the area, checking building alcoves and store entrances. Nothing.

  A whooshing sound came from the bus as it pulled away and—ah, dang it—Russ ran next to the bus, scouring the windows. No blue ball cap.

  He spun away from the bus, scanned the area where a cab pulled away from the curb. The back of a guy’s head. Brown hair. No ball cap.

  Russ glanced in the other direction. Nada. He propped his still-gloved hands on his hips and tapped his fingers. Where’d you go?

  The cab was now halfway down the block and his pulse slammed, his breaths coming in short bursts that he knew better to control. He watched the cab shoot down the street and make a right. Did the guy in the cab have a white shirt on?

  Damn it.

  He checked the curb. Nothing. Garbage can. Right beside him. He peered inside. Blue ball cap.

  Every swearword he knew streamed from his lips. Finally, he bit down until his jaw ached. Get a grip here. A pedestrian stepped up to use the trash can. Russ flipped his badge up and waved the woman off before hooking his gloved finger through the back strap on the cap and fishing it out of the garbage. Trash. Fair game. No warrant necessary.

  Come to me, DNA.

  Chapter Nine

  Penny turned when Zac stepped into her apartment dressed in a sharp gray suit and light pink shirt. Had to love her brother for having no issues about wearing a pink shirt. He shut the door behind him, making it clear to the agents outside that they were not welcome to join the conversation. Knowing she’d need someone—specifically Zac, who’d been helping her through any number of situations for years—she’d called him from Russell’s phone on the way back to the city.

  “What the hell?” he said.

  If she’d had any answers, she’d be glad to share, but right now all she knew was this nut Heath seemed to know her every move. She threw her hands up. “This guy is a viper.”

  Zac spun toward the hallway, but didn’t move. Being a prosecutor, he knew enough not to traipse through a crime scene—which was exactly what her apartment was—and destroy possible evidence.

  “Where’s Russ?”

  “Last I saw he was running down the street chasing Heath.”

  Zac gawked. “Heath was here?”

  “He called me. From across the street. He’s insane.”

  Zac rubbed his hand over his face and sighed in a way that reminded her of their father when a case unraveled. “You can’t stay here. Stay at Mom and Dad’s.”

  Their parents lived in a gated community outside of the city, so Penny understood her brother’s immediate assumption she would be safe there. It might, in fact, not be a bad idea, but what she needed to do was distance herself from her family. If she could do that, maybe they’d stay off Heath’s radar. Yes. What she needed was to keep the focus on her.

  “You need to go, Zac.”

  “Why?”

  “You can’t be here.”

  “Pffft.”

  Heaven forbid her brother should listen to her. She marched over to him, grabbed the lapels of his jacket and shoved him. So what if he was a foot taller.

  “Don’t start, Penny.”

  “Leave.”

  “I know what you’re doing. Me leaving won’t keep this guy from coming after me. Or Mom. Or Dad. He knows your weak spots. He’ll take advantage. No matter where we go, if he wants to, he’ll find us.”

  “Zachary!”

  But Zac, being Zac, didn’t yell back. He simply stood there, staring down at her, his features relaxed. Neutral. Unaccusing.

  Finally, he squeezed her arm. “Accept it and plan for it. What’s your plan?”

  He knew her too well. She narrowed her eyes, hesitated. Of course she had a plan, one she’d hatched while speaking with her tormentor.

  Zac rolled his eyes. “Again with the drama?”

  “I’m putting an investigator from the firm on Heath. I’m done with him thinking he can control me. I’m not good with that.”

  “You don’t think the feds will take issue on that one?”

  “I don’t care what they do. I’m a citizen being harassed and they can’t seem to locate this man until he’s standing ten feet from me. I have a right to hire an independent investigator to find him. How do we know the FBI doesn’t have a leak?”

  That made Zac laugh. “I do love you, Penny. No fear. That’s you. Russ Voight will blow a gasket.”

  The door flew open and in stepped Russ, his short dark hair a little messy, his tie crooked and sweat pouring down his face. He carried a blue baseball cap.

  Russ’s gaze shot from Penny to Zac and back. “What gasket?”

  Penny scrunched her nose at her brother—who had completely thrown her under the bus without even trying—and contemplated an assault charge. At twelve, he’d taught her how to not punch like a girl and he’d long since regretted it since, she typically used that form of defense on him. Just one good shot...

  “Hit me,” Zac said, “and I’ll kill you. Right in front of an FBI agent.”

  An audible sigh came from said FBI agent, who still held the baseball cap. “Hello? What damned gasket? I don’t have time for this.”

  Penny pointed. “Why are you holding that?”

  “It belongs to the guy I was chasing. I’m sending it to the lab. See if we hit on anything. Prints, DNA, anything we can identify hi
m with. Chances are we won’t get a good print. Not with the hat’s material. Maybe from the plastic on the back. DNA is more likely.”

  “So, you lost him?”

  A murderous glare came her way and Penny stepped back. “I’m just asking.”

  “Yes. I lost him. He got a good jump on me. There were two of them and they split off. I went with the guy on the phone, thinking he was the one talking to you. I didn’t get a look at his face. I think it was Heath.”

  “Who was the other guy?”

  “I don’t know. Now, what gasket am I about to blow?”

  Penny stepped back another inch and readied herself for Russ’s rage. The only way to approach this was head-on. Just lay it out there. “I’m calling in one of the firm’s investigators.”

  “Uh, negative on that.”

  She tilted her head. “Excuse me?”

  “No investigators. They’ll screw up my case.”

  “Well, that’s too bad, Russell. I can’t have Heath taking over my life.” She jabbed her finger toward the bathroom. “The man was in my house. And the FBI can’t find him.”

  The door opened again and Brent, booties on his giant feet, stepped in. If the raised voices caused alarm, he didn’t show it. Just another day in paradise. He held open a clear plastic evidence bag and Russ dropped the hat into it and sealed it. “Thanks. I’ll take care of it.”

  Brent glanced at Penny. “You okay?”

  He might be pushy, but he was a good guy. “I’m fine. Be out in a minute.”

  He nodded in a way that let her know he’d be close if she needed him. Maybe he and Russ were on the government’s side, but Brent was one of those ultra-alphas who made taking care of women an art form. She’d sensed it from the second he’d stepped into her chaotic world. Personality traits such as that were always good to know. He moved out the door again. Penny glanced at Zac leaning against her bookcase with his arms folded. Another alpha she’d pegged long ago. If he thought she was in trouble, he’d jump in. No matter how they fought or disagreed, they always backed each other up.

  “Russ,” Brent said, “the investigator might not be a bad idea. Maybe a fresh set of eyes would help.”

  Thank you.

  Russ sucked in his cheeks. Thought about it. Or at least pretended to think about it. This man puzzled her. She didn’t know him well enough yet to figure out his mannerisms and right now, he had her stumped. Anything could be cooking in that brain of his.

  He gave Penny a hard stare and her stomach pitched. “I don’t necessarily disagree. But I’m not willing to risk my case. No investigator. Am I clear?”

  Is he clear? He did not just say that to her. They were in her apartment, her trashed apartment, and he thought he could treat her like an imbecile. Like a hysterical female who needed him to control a situation for her. Ha. “Oh, you’ve made yourself clear, Special Agent Voight. No doubt about that.”

  Again, he propped his hands on his hips and tapped his fingers. “I take it from the sarcasm you won’t listen.”

  “I don’t like your tone. I’m an attorney, Russell. A damned good one and I don’t appreciate you treating me like I’m some vapid woman.

  “Oh, come on!”

  Penny stayed silent. Why argue with someone just as stubborn and bullheaded as herself? No point. Besides, she hadn’t agreed to anything. Dirty pool? Maybe. But as long as she didn’t agree that she wouldn’t put an investigator on this, he couldn’t accuse her of going back on her word.

  Zac boosted himself off the bookcase. “You two arguing isn’t accomplishing much and I need to get back to the office. Everyone cool down and we’ll revisit this investigator thing later.”

  “No revisiting,” Russ said, his gaze still on Penny.

  Penny turned to her brother. “Go back to work. I’m fine.”

  She watched her only ally walk out the door, took a breath and swore—swore—she would not lose her temper. The only way to battle an overbearing man would be to stay calm. Rational. Not give him any ammunition. She faced Russ again. Breathed deep. I’ve got this. “I understand your feelings. That being said, I’d like to offer a compromise. How about I have my investigator contact you, and you can work together? Private investigators have more freedom than federal agents.”

  “Meaning he can bend the law where he sees fit?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “But that’s what you meant.” He stepped closer, crowded her space just enough for her to know it. “And when he bends the law too much and gets evidence thrown out because some hotshot defense lawyer—someone like you—proves Heath’s constitutional rights were violated, it could blow my case. No investigator. You gave me your word about working with me on this. I expect you to honor that.”

  Penny inched forward. Why should she be the only one crowded? “And you told me you’d protect us.”

  Clearly, Russ didn’t know her at all.

  And somehow, that hurt. What she expected from him she didn’t know, but she wanted his respect. She wanted him to understand she wouldn’t allow someone to terrorize her. For whatever reason, it was important to her that he know that. “Hang on—”

  “No. The man marched right into my house. I’m supposed to let that go? After he’s been in here? Probably sneaking around, pawing through my personal items. I’ll have to wash every damned bit of underwear I own just to be rid of the creep factor.”

  Russ moved even closer, one step that left him just inches from her. His posture had shifted slightly, his shoulders more relaxed. Nonthreatening. Smart man. She stared straight ahead at his tie and the intricate pattern of lines. Instinctively she knew it would be a disaster if she made eye contact with him. He was an FBI agent trained to deal with people. If she looked at him, she’d see warmth and understanding, not the anger from seconds ago.

  Don’t look at him. Not with all this emotional sludge building up inside her. Dealing with the apartment invasion was one thing; adding her conflicted feelings about Russ left her downright bereft.

  And yet, despite the aggression between them, there was something about Russell Voight that settled her, allowed her to be convinced of things she didn’t necessarily want to be convinced of. Giant gummy bear.

  Exactly why she couldn’t face him.

  “Look at me,” he said.

  “No.”

  “Penny.”

  “No.”

  He dipped his head a bit. “I know what you’re doing. It won’t work.”

  Slowly, she lifted her right hand and—bam!—punched him. One good shot midbiceps. The punch skidded off—darn it—only to be followed by snoring noises from the FBI agent.

  I hate him. Sometimes. Not all the time. She hated him when he got her number. When he maneuvered a conversation to fit his needs.

  How mad could she be, since her irritation came from him beating her at her own intellectual game?

  Suddenly, the stress of the day, all that emotional upheaval, sucked away her energy reserves—whoosh—and she could barely hold her head up. So blasted tired.

  Not knowing what else to do, she leaned forward and rested her forehead against his chest. Weak. “I can’t look at you.”

  She closed her eyes and breathed in the raw, male scent of him. He set his hands on her arms and slid them up and down, creating heat and awareness and—wow—he was close. A low squeeze in her belly consumed her.

  Step back.

  “Talk to me, Penny.”

  And still, she stood there, breathing in his scent, letting her aching body recover from her atrocious day. “No. You’ll talk me out of the investigator. I know it. And I don’t want to be talked out of it. This man terrifies me. I hate that I’ve allowed him to do this to me and I really hate that I’m willing to let you talk me out of it.”

  Total failure.
r />   Finally, he set her back, propped his finger under her chin and pushed up. She let him do it, but kept her eyes closed.

  “I need you to trust me. Please. I’ll take care of you. We’ll get this guy.”

  Finally, she opened her eyes. “It’s not you I don’t trust. It’s him.”

  “Understandable. Putting one of your investigators on this will only give him more power. Take the power back, Penny. He knows you love the battle. This is exactly what he expects you to do. He’s playing you, and you’re letting him.”

  “I am not.”

  “He expects you to fight back. Maybe he doesn’t know how you’ll do it, but he’s waiting for you to engage. Don’t. Make him wonder. This scenario stinks of a guy who’s scared. He knows something is up. He wants you to panic. People make mistakes when they panic. Don’t let him manipulate you.”

  Oh, oh, oh. He had to be kidding with that one. Whatever.

  “You can’t believe I’ll fall for that?”

  He shrugged. “What?”

  “Oh, puh-lease, Russell. You’re totally baiting me with that don’t-let-him-manipulate-you line. You want me to agree with you.”

  “Of course I do. Why else would I be standing here?”

  At that, she laughed. As annoying as he was, she might love this man. She poked him in the chest. Hard. “Here’s the deal. I’ll play it your way. For now. If that turns out bad—” she twirled her finger and poked him again “—we revisit it. That’s as far as I’ll go. Be happy with it and accept the deal.”

  He laughed. “You make me crazy.”

  “I know.”

  “But it’s a good crazy that gives me some kind of twisted enjoyment. Frankly, it’s a hassle. You’re tough and beautiful and insanely argumentative, and the whole damn package is scorching hot. You challenge me in ways I don’t want to be challenged, but I’d like to compromise. I want you safe and feeling at least somewhat comfortable. Within reason, I’m open to your ideas on how to do that.”

  “Except for the investigator.”

 

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