“Business,” she snapped. “Your client threatened my client. I want you to deal with him or we’ll involve the police.” She realized almost immediately she had been too abrupt when his mouth tightened.
“As always, no hello.”
“This is serious, Mark. She’s terrified.” She wanted to stop herself. Wind the clock back. Say hello. But she had jumped on this rollercoaster ride and she couldn’t get off.
Mark knitted his brows. “Who exactly threatened whom?”
Who exactly? Martha didn’t know. She had assumed the caller was from Hi-Tech, although she couldn’t say with certainty it was Steele.
“Someone called my client and told her to drop the case. He also told her to rein me in and stop meddling in things she didn’t understand.” She lowered her voice as uncertainty crept through her. What if Martha had lied?
Mark steered her away from the main hallway, his hand pressed firmly on her back. “What was the threat?”
Katy looked over at him and frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Have you been threatened before?”
Katy nodded. “Sure. Lots of times. Usually irate husbands who blame me when their wives ask for their fair share in a divorce.”
They stopped at a secluded seating area and Mark motioned for her to sit, but Katy shook her head. She needed to move. Being near Mark only heightened her agitation, and she needed some way to release the energy.
“So you know there is always an if and a then. For example, if you don’t smile, then I will throw you over my knee and spank you.”
Katy froze when a sliver of need, unexpected and unwanted, shot straight to her core. Dammit. He had to know what his words did to her. Heat bloomed in her cheeks, and she looked down at the plush, patterned carpet.
He continued in the same calm, cool tone. “So what did the caller say would happen to Martha if she didn’t drop the case?”
With a shuddering exhalation, she forced herself to focus. “He didn’t say anything else. The threat was implied.”
Mark shook his head and his sable hair gleamed in the soft lighting overhead. “You know as well as I do his statement would not likely meet the legal test for a threat. Maybe someone was just worried about her.”
“Well then, he had a funny way of showing it.” They stood not more than a foot apart. Her hands itched to touch him—to run up the broad expanse of his chest and around his neck. She wanted to pull him close and inhale the scent of soap and sandalwood, of him. God, even after their heated exchange in the courtroom the other day, she wanted to kiss him. She licked her lips, imagining his taste.
“What are you thinking, Katy Sinclair?” His voice dropped to a low growl. “If you keep looking at me like that, I might have to make good my threat.”
Her heart pounded against her ribcage. Afraid she would betray herself, she pressed her lips together and looked away.
“If we were alone…” he whispered.
“What do we have here? If I didn’t know you better, Mark, I’d be worried you were fraternizing with opposing counsel.” Steele’s voice echoed down the hallway, attracting the attention of the last of the seminar attendees making their way to the bar.
Damn. Mark ripped his gaze away from Katy and spun around as Steele approached the lounge area, his eyes rife with speculation.
“Ms. Sinclair came to see me tonight because someone threatened her client, Ms. Saunders.” Mark didn’t want to put her on the spot, but he needed a moment to collect himself. Far too perceptive, Steele would pick up on even the slightest glance. He needed to stay sharp.
Katy narrowed her eyes and stared at Steele. “I assume it was you.”
Steele laughed. “I wish I had the time to call every one of the hundreds of litigants our company deals with on a daily basis and threaten them. It would save us time and money. But unfortunately, I have a company to run and calling up former employees does not rank high on my list of priorities.”
“I’m not buying it,” she persisted. “No one else benefits from her dropping the case but Hi-Tech. You might not have handled it yourself, but I’m sure you’re involved.”
Steele’s eyes glittered. “Sheathe your claws, kitty, or I’ll do it for you.” He reached out and stroked a long, thick finger along Katy’s cheek. “Or is that why you are provoking me? Are you begging to be tamed?”
Adrenaline swept through Mark’s body, snapping the threads of his control one by one. His hand shot out, but before he could grab Steele’s arm, Katy slapped Steele’s errant finger away.
“You’ve crossed the line, Steele. Even if my client decides to drop the case, I’m going to pursue you. You’ve shown your hand by threatening her. Now I know there is something behind her dismissal and I won’t stop until I find out what it is.” The ice in her tone froze the air around them.
Steele’s eyes hardened. “Don’t threaten me, little kitty. You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”
Moments passed. Steele and Katy locked gazes, the tension thick between them. Mark’s body thrummed with pent up anger. If Steele touched her again…
“Hey, guys, why so serious?” Keegan’s voice broke the spell, and Mark turned in relief when the reporter approached them, a beer in one hand and a giggling waitress in the other.
“Are the legal intricacies of pharma regulation really that intense?” He cocked an eyebrow and flicked his gaze to Mark with an unspoken query.
Recovering first, Katy held out her hand. “We haven’t met. I’m Katherine Sinclair, a lawyer with Knight and Frank.”
Keegan winked at Mark. “I see you found her.”
He raised Katy’s hand to his lips in a mock Victorian gesture. “Phillip Keegan. Always a pleasure to meet a beautiful lady.”
Mark and Steele scowled, united for a moment in their disapproval of the smooth reporter’s intrusion on their territory.
“Hey, what about me?” The waitress tugged on Keegan’s arm.
He kissed her on the cheek. “You know you’re beautiful, darling. How about you run off to the bar and get us a round of drinks? I’ve been trying to corner Mr. Steele all evening. I have a sudden interest in drug development and I don’t want him to disappear again.”
Katy pulled her hand away. “I have to go. Nice to meet you, Mr. Keegan. Mr. Steele, I look forward to seeing you in court.”
Mark gave Keegan and Steele a farewell nod before following Katy down the hallway. “It’s late. I’ll walk you to your car.”
“No, it’s okay. I’m fine. I parked at the office so it’s a bit of a hike.”
They rounded the corner and out of view of the seminar attendees.
Mark put a hand on her waist and steered her toward the door. “I’m not asking, sugar.”
Lana snapped a picture of the subject walking down Burrard Street beside a tall man in a tailored suit. She logged the time in her notebook, eight twenty-seven p.m. She wished she had someone to call. Someone who could share the excitement of her very first case.
She followed close behind the couple, but dodging the crowds meant she couldn’t overhear their conversation. A group of rowdy sports fans approached them and the man deftly switched sides, putting himself between the group and the woman. How gallant. Lana didn’t know any men who would do something like that. In fact, she didn’t know many men. Period. She had only just moved to Vancouver to take the private investigator course and hadn’t had time to make friends. Maybe someday.
The subject leaned toward the mystery man, an almost imperceptible movement, but as a highly trained professional, Lana knew to look for subtle gestures. How sweet. She paused to snap a few pictures and then raced after them.
When they reached Nelson Street, they turned and stopped in the shadow of a tall office building. Lana checked her notebook. The subject worked in the building at Knight & Frank. Twelfth floor. She found a secure position and pulled out her camera to take a few pictures of them staring at each other.
The man stroked a finger along the subj
ect’s jaw, and Lana sighed at the tender gesture. Her first assignment and already she loved her job. If she could live vicariously through other people’s relationships, she wouldn’t long so much for her own.
They exchanged a few words and the subject entered the building and disappeared from view. Hopefully she would go home, and Lana could finish off her report.
She turned to leave and realized the mystery man hadn’t moved. She snapped a few pictures of him, lost in thought, before he finally turned and walked down the street.
Was he a friend? A colleague? A lover? As a PI she had to avoid making assumptions and consider all possibilities. Still, she liked the look of him. Brooding, intense, confident. But a little too clean cut for her taste. She liked her men rough…with an aura of danger. Kinda like the cop who had chased her and then called her up to chastise her over the phone.
Her lips curled in a smile. Damn sexy voice. All rough and gravelly. Turned out he wasn’t immune to her charms. By the end of the call, she’d pulled a chuckle out of him. And he’d pulled one out of her.
She wandered back to the hotel, mentally planning her report. Hopefully, her new employer, Mr. S, would be impressed with her efficiency and give her a bonus. Then she could fix the Jetta. Maybe buy some food and new clothes. An investigator had to blend in with her surroundings, although no one had blinked an eye when she’d wandered around the fancy hotel this evening in her yoga pants and T-shirt. She had some great pictures of the subject with the mystery man, although not once had she been able to capture his face.
She finally reached the Jetta and jumped inside, giving it a pat of encouragement when it wheezed to life. If Mr. S didn’t pay bi-weekly as agreed, she would have a hard time seeing the case through. Her poor Jetta needed a major overhaul.
She pulled out onto the road and headed for home. She had been ecstatic when Mr. S had agreed to pay in cash. Cash meant no tax. No tax meant more cash. In return she had agreed to his terms of strict anonymity. He had sent her a postal box key and a box number. She had to deposit her reports and photos on Mondays and Thursdays, and he had agreed to leave the cash after pickup. No real name. No contact details except a cell number. The warning bells had gone off right away, but she wasn’t about to turn away a paying client. She had a Jetta needing brakes and a belly needing donuts. Mr. S was her ticket to paradise.
Chapter Eight
“I won’t consider settlement.” Steele thumped his briefcase on the coffee table in Seattle’s Four Seasons Hotel lounge and snapped open the clasps.
Mark leaned back in his dark leather chair and folded his arms. A group of tourists filed into the lobby, complaining about the rain in Seattle. They should visit Vancouver.
“We’re on the back foot in this case,” Mark said. “Saunders’s exemplary work record, together with the timing of the dismissal following right on the heels of her failed attempt at whistle-blowing, will do you in even if they can’t establish a solid connection.”
“I said no settlement.” Steele removed a bundle of files from his briefcase and handed them to Mark. “I thought after years of working with me, you would understand the politics of the pharmaceutical industry. We routinely ferret out each other’s spies and use the legal system to make an example of them as a deterrent to other competitors. Although we never caught her with her hand in the proverbial cookie jar, I know she was up to something that went beyond the whistle-blowing. Call it gut instinct. I want to see her squirm. I want the competitor who dared send her into my company to be unmasked.”
Mark sighed and flipped through the files. Steele’s hard-nosed attitude had just cost Hi-Tech a valuable settlement with an American pharmaceutical company this morning and landed Mark with yet another lucrative piece of litigation. He should be thanking Steele, but he knew, at some point, Steele’s intractable nature would be his downfall. And when Steele went down, Richards & Moretti would fall too.
“What are you saying?” Mark raised his voice to be heard above the excited chatter of the tourists. “You want to come down heavy on Saunders? David and Goliath? You’ll be slaughtered in the press.”
Steele laughed. “I have friends in the press. I have friends in the regulator’s office. I golf with most of the judges. I’m not worried about bad publicity, or adverse judgments. I am worried about unpredictable, secretly funded spies. I’ve read the memo you prepared on Saunders and the investigator’s report you obtained. Her sketchy background makes it clear she isn’t who she claims to be. What can we do to get the upper hand?”
Mark gritted his teeth. The last thing he wanted was to complicate the legal proceedings and drag the case out for years in court, but he had a professional responsibility to give Steele the best advice he could. “We could counter-claim. I believe you said she took samples of the drug and gave them to the regulators. We could also claim for libel and for possible disruption to your business.”
Steele grinned. “That’s what I want to hear. Make it happen and do it quickly. I don’t want this case affecting our new product launch. I’ve got enough on my plate trying to contain the security breach.”
“What about the current state of affairs?” Mark was loath to mention Katy given Steele’s determination to bring her down to assuage his wounded pride, but he could not ignore his legal obligation. “Ms. Sinclair filed a motion for production of documents far exceeding the scope of the dismissal case. I wouldn’t be surprised if she has something up her sleeve.”
“Nor would I.” Steele narrowed his eyes. “She’s already sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong, but I’m taking care of it.”
Mark froze. “What does that mean?”
“It means, I asked you to deal with her and you refused, so I’m handling it myself.” He turned away and stared into the crowd of excited tourists.
Mark followed Steele’s gaze to a pretty young woman with big blue eyes, long chestnut hair and a very tight T-shirt. He stifled a growl. “You know you can’t speak to her directly about the case unless I’m present.”
“I don’t need to speak to her…now.” Steele leaned back and folded his hands behind his head. “But after she drops the case, all bets are off.”
Mark clenched his teeth. “Do you mind telling me how you know she’s going to drop the case?”
Steele looked at Mark, his piercing gaze missing nothing. “Do you really want to know?”
“Yes.”
“If I tell you, I’ll put you in a compromising position and I don’t want to do that. I need you doing what you do best, and doing it for me.”
Sweat trickled down Mark’s back. He should have seen this coming. If he had agreed to investigate Katy, he would have been in control of the flow of information to Steele. But now Steele knew something he didn’t, and he couldn’t ignore the threat.
“You understand if you harm her in any way, I will be legally bound to disclose this conversation.” He tried to keep his voice steady.
Steele laughed. “I want to bend her, not break her.” His smile disappeared. “And I want her curious kitty nose out of my business.”
He nodded to the documents in Mark’s hand. “Speaking of business, I have another agreement for you to draft. Same as the last one. Same accident. Same circumstances. Last name of Cunningham.”
Mark frowned. “What kind of accident was it? The guy I saw is totally disfigured. The wife said it had to do with some chemical spill.”
“I told you before, it’s better if you don’t know all the details. Is that going to be a problem?”
“You’ve given me enough to satisfy my duty as an officer of the court but if you’re trying to involve me in something illegal…”
Steele snorted a laugh. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
“I’m starved. What’s for dinner?”
Steven sat down at the kitchen table and Katy sighed. Wednesday. Double-shift night. Every week Steven showed up for dinner between shifts with a few hours to kill. He claimed it was for the children, but it totally disr
upted their weekly routine. Instead of doing their homework, the kids played video games with him, watched movies and ate popcorn. Then he sauntered out of the house, leaving her with the mess and meltdowns, overdue projects and tests. She hated Wednesdays but the kids always had fun, and if she couldn’t give them a two-parent family, at least she could ensure they had a solid relationship with their father.
“Isn’t this great? It’s like old times, and look how happy the kids are.”
Melissa and Justin grinned on cue and disappeared from the table to set up the Wii.
Steven leaned over and grabbed her hand. The overpowering sickly sweet scent of Drakkar Noir laced with antiseptic assaulted her nose and she stifled a sneeze.
“I miss you, Kate. I want you back. It would be the best thing for the kids. They need both their parents…together.” He squeezed her hand hard. Too hard. Katy winced and tried to pull away.
“Steven, let go.”
“You suffered as a child without a father,” he continued. “Don’t put your kids through that.” He punctuated his obviously rehearsed speech with a sad, unconvincing smile.
She tugged again. “You’re hurting me.”
His face flushed and his eyes glittered fever bright. He squeezed harder and her bones grated painfully over each other. Heart pounding, she stared at him in horror. What was wrong him? His callous, demeaning, manipulative behavior during their marriage had bordered on emotional abuse, but he had never once been physical.
She grabbed a dinner knife and held it above his hand. “Last time, Steven.”
With a soft sigh, he released his grip. Katy wrenched her hand away. “What the hell was that?”
“I’m willing to forgive you,” Steven said quietly. “For tearing the family apart.”
“Forgive me? We’re divorced for a reason. In fact, many reasons. Should I list all their names?”
Steven didn’t even flinch. She knew he felt no guilt about his affairs.
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