Tall, Dark and Deadly Books 0.5 - 3

by Lisa Renee Jones

  “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. “Leave 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 Sheri
dan 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?”

  He leaned against the door frame, looking every bit like Tom Cruise in ‘The Firm’, one leg crossed over the other, his thousand dollar suit fitted, his hair and nails perfectly groomed. “She was on the phone and I waved and walked by.”

  So easily. Too easily. She was fooling herself to think she was safely nestled in her office. “What are you doing here, Roger?”

  “What kind of way is that to greet your ex-fiancé? I am, after all, the man you almost pledged never-ending love to.”

  “I’m tired. I have a big trial starting, and I don’t have time for this.” She refocused on her computer screen, intent on dismissing him.

  “I worry about you.”

  The sincerity in his voice surprised her. She gave him a curious look. Suddenly, the past came back in a rush of memories, but none of them were good. She couldn’t remember why she’d ever said ‘yes’ to marrying him.

  “We weren’t meant to be, Roger. We were a business arrangement and neither of us would have been happy long term.”

  Lauren’s buzzer went off. She punched the button. “Yes.”

  “Pick up.”

  Lauren frowned, but reached for the receiver. “Yes?”

  Alice whispered urgently, “There is a very large, very grouchy man here who insists on seeing you.”

  Lauren couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s Royce. Tell him I’ll be right out.” Lauren pushed to her feet. “I have a visitor I need to attend to.”

  Abruptly Roger closed the distance between them, and was behind her desk, his hands on her shoulders, right over the bandage and her burn. “I made a mistake. I had cold feet. We can make it work. I’ll make it up to you.”

  Lauren grabbed his hand. “You're hurting me.”

  “And you’re destroying me. I miss you. I-”

  “Let her go.”

  Roger released her and turned to the door, where Royce stood, tall and broad, in jeans and a T-shirt, that might as well have been leather and knives, for the look on his face.

  “Who are you?” Roger demanded.

  “The only man who gets to touch her.”

  Lauren gaped at the caveman-like statement. “Royce,” she ground out between her teeth.

  “Yes, sweetheart?”

  “I was just leaving,” Roger said, but Royce still blocked the doorway and made no effort to move.

  “Don’t leave on my account,” Royce said in a hard voice Lauren was starting to worry about.

  Roger, who was used to being under fire in the courtroom appeared to recover from his initial shock. Offering a cool glare, he said, “I’m not. I simply came by to check on Lauren.” He glanced at Lauren, “I’ll call you,” and then stepped forward as if daring Royce to block his way.

  For several tense seconds, Lauren thought Royce wasn’t going to move, but finally he backed up to let Roger pass. She was at the door when Royce stepped inside her office, shutting the door. “You’re the only man who gets to touch me? I’m not your property, Royce.”

  “No. But we’re either exclusive or we aren’t anything.”

  At any other time, she’d have reveled in what he was saying, what he was offering, but not now, not like this. “You don’t get to tell me we’re exclusive. You don’t get to demand it. That’s not how this works.”

  He grabbed her and picked her up, setting her on the desk, shoving her skirt up and pressing her legs apart to st
and between them. His hands framed her body, pressed to the wooden surface beside her hips. “Do you want Roger?”

  Heat sizzled down her spine. This damnable alpha side of him pissed her off, but it turned her on too, and she didn’t understand why. She pressed on his hard, unmoving chest. “Don’t bully me or push me around. Let me up.”

  “Do you want Roger?”

  “You know I don’t.”

  “Apparently you want to keep you options open,” he said, his hands skimming up her thighs. “You don’t want to say we’re exclusive. So maybe this is just a good time ride for you?”

  “You’re being an asshole,” she said. “Demanding and demanding. You don’t get to demand. You ask, Royce.”

  His eyes darkened, glinting dangerously. “You want me to ask?” He skimmed his thumb over her panties. “How about this? Will you come for me, Lauren? Right here, in your office?” He slid his fingers under her panties and she gasped at the pleasure. “Does he make you wet like this?”

  “Stop it, Royce,” she gasped as his fingers pushed inside her. “Stop.”

  He reached up and tugged down her blouse, exposing her bra and then her nipple, before leaning down and licking it. “Not until you say you’re mine.”

  “I’m not saying that. I won’t ever be yours if you’re this big of an asshole.”

  “I’m just making sure you know who is supposed to be fucking you.”

  She arched against his fingers, unable to stop herself. “I hate how you’re acting.” She buried her face in his shoulder. “I hate that you’re doing... this.” Her body clenched around his fingers, pleasure rushing through her, defying her words.

  The fingers of his other hand tangled into her hair, forcing her gaze to his, her mouth a breath from his. He stroked her clit with his thumb, pumping inside her. “I hate the idea of him doing this to you.”

  “He can’t do this to me.”

  “Why?” he all but growled.

  There was something in his voice, in his words, a vulnerability that defied his demands, that reached into her and drew a response. “Because he’s not you, Royce.”

  He kissed her, hard and demanding, a fierce claiming that had her moaning and giving into her need for him. Everything blurred then turned into shades of pleasure. She couldn’t get enough of him, she couldn’t even remember where she was. Only that she helped him shove his pants down, welcomed him ripping away her panties, and whimpered when his cock pressed into her.