I'm a little surprised by the hint of what could be hysteria in his words. Giving his hand a gentle squeeze, I pull away from him. He watches me like a hawk. "I'm sorry, but Jenna's made her decision."
Reeve swallows hard, and I see a wave of sadness overcome his face. It makes me feel strangely uneasy and something cold settles inside my chest. But then it's gone, and he gives me a resolute nod of his head. "We better go tell Judge Henry."
He turns away from me and that unsettled feeling remains. Reaching out, I tug on the sleeve of his suit jacket. "Wait."
Reeve turns back to me, his eyes clouded and fatigued.
"Is there something I should know? Am I missing something here?"
Lifting his chin up, Reeve blinks a few times and clears his throat. "No, why do you ask?"
"I'm a little surprised you're bothered I turned down the offer. I feel like my case is going amazingly well, and the jury is going to give Jenna more than your client is offering. Yet you seem truly troubled by this."
I look closely at Reeve, waiting to see if anything surfaces to give credence to the uneasy feeling within me. Instead, he looks back at me with clear and confident eyes. "No, you're not missing anything. I just happen to think it's good money and you're risking a lot to turn it down."
"I understand the risks well," I tell him calmly, my eyes still flicking to his to see if his countenance reveals anything. "I never think a verdict is guaranteed. I understand Jenna could lose, no matter how good I feel about it right now."
No reaction but a slight tightening of his jaw, and Reeve gives me a small smile. "Well, that's good. If you're comfortable with the risks, then so am I."
I follow Reeve back to Judge Henry's office. We convey that the offer has been declined. Even though Reeve advised us there would be no counteroffer, the judge makes us go through the motions and exhaust negotiations in a formal manner. He demands that I send a number back to them, and I tell Reeve that Jenna will settle for two million. Our bottom line was actually a bit less than that, but I wasn't going to shortchange us in case TransBenefit has more money.
Reeve talks to his clients and is back in less than two minutes.
No counteroffer is forthcoming, and true to their word, the $500,000 is pulled from the table.
This shouldn't have bothered me.
I felt fine just minutes ago out in the hallway with Jenna's decision to press forward. I felt confident, and again, understanding there's no guarantee, I had no qualms about turning our nose up at that money.
But something doesn't feel right to me, and it all boils down to Reeve. I can't put my finger on it and I really can't ask Reeve about it, either, because we promised not to discuss this case. While I feel pretty strong in our evidence and know exactly how the rest of the trial is going to play out, I can't get over the feeling that I'm missing something critically important.
Judge Henry resumes the trial. I call Dr. Franklinton to the stand and he's brilliant. The jury eats up every word out of his mouth. Reeve can do nothing to shake his testimony. Dr. Summerland sinks lower and lower into his chair, and the jurors all take turns leveling glares at him and fond smiles toward Jenna.
Dr. Franklinton does so well that by the time he gets off the stand and the judge is recessing court for the day, all of my earlier feelings of unrest have disappeared. I only have three more witnesses left, the ones who will forecast the economic damages. Then I'll be done and Reeve will have a chance to put on his case. That will probably take another four to five days, and then Reeve and I will be arguing our cases to the jury. I'm more than halfway home. I can taste the victory on the tip of my tongue, and I'm not only excited about getting justice for Jenna, I'm excited to put this case behind me so Reeve and I can be together with no secrets or battles to wage between us.
CHAPTER 22
REEVE
This morning I was awake long before the sun rose, and long before Leary stirred next to me. Normally she's the early riser, the one pushing me out of bed.
I didn't get up, though.
Instead, I loosened my hold around her. Her face was turned so her cheek was pressed into my chest. One arm was curled under her, the other slung over my waist. I inched backward a bit and stared at her shadowy form in the gloom of the predawn hours.
As the sun rose, I watched as her features came into focus. The way her face was utterly relaxed, her lips slightly parted as she slept, her hair falling forward over her right eye. I tentatively reached up, pushed it back with my fingertips so I could have a completely unobstructed view of her. When my skin touched hers, I reveled in the sensation.
Then my chest squeezed in anxiety, as I was afraid our time was almost up.
I acted then on pure need, pulling her back against me. She moaned in her sleep, and when my lips pressed against hers, she opened her eyes to blink at me.
I felt the curve of her mouth against mine as it went from relaxed slumber to a welcoming smile.
I kissed her passionately, making sure she understood that this was far more than just a good-morning kiss. This had the potential to be a good-bye kiss, so I didn't hold a fucking thing back. I poured everything that I am and will ever be into the kiss, hoping it would speak volumes and she wouldn't doubt me later.
Kissing turned to stroking. Soft pants turned to rough gasps.
My hands wandered across her skin while hers did the same to me.
We made out like two teenagers in the backseat of a car on prom night, and when I couldn't stand it anymore, I rolled her onto her back, pushed in between her legs and made love to her.
She arched her back, giving me access to her slender neck, where I murmured gentle words against her skin while I pumped slowly in and out of her. It was beautiful and damning all at once. The memory of how I made love to her will haunt me, I'm sure.
I'll never forget how when I came inside her, she moaned, "I adore you."
I answered her, "And I you," and then I kissed her again.
"Okay, Mr. Holloway, Miss Michaels, it appears you both have concluded your cases before this jury. Are there any other matters we need to handle before we move on?"
I jerked and blinked my eyes as Judge Henry's words penetrated my poignant memories of this morning. Leary stood up from her table and answered, "No, Your Honor. I believe that's everything."
Of course, she would think that's everything. Last night she chattered at me like a little puppy, happy and relieved that all of the evidence was finished. Her case was wrapped up, and it took just a little more than three days for me to put on my expert witnesses. They, of course, gave testimony that was completely contradictory to Leary's expert witnesses. They didn't come off well because they weren't as qualified and there was personal bias. I rested my case late yesterday afternoon, and Judge Henry adjourned us until this morning.
Rising slowly from my chair, my chest cramped with fear, I button my suit coat and say, "Your Honor, the defense actually has two more witnesses to call to the stand. I expect their testimony won't take very long."
"I'm going to have to object," Leary says, and I don't look over at her. I can hear the shock in her voice. "There are no other witnesses listed on the pretrial order."
"May we approach the bench?" I ask Judge Henry, and he waves us both forward.
Leary's head turns toward me as we both slide out from behind our tables, but I can't even look her in the eye. Instead, I lower my gaze to the floor and motion with my hand for her to precede me.
I follow her up to the judge's bench, feeling like I'm walking to my own execution.
"What's this about?" Judge Henry asks me in a low whisper when we're both standing in front of him.
"I have two rebuttal witnesses," I murmur, the words tasting like ashes on my tongue.
"Rebuttal to what?" Leary hisses.
I still refuse to meet her gaze and instead look at Judge Henry. "Jenna LaPietra answered my requests for admissions, which were filed with the court and admitted into evidence yesterday. Reque
st number nineteen specifically asked her to admit or deny if she had solicited and performed sexual acts on the customers in exchange for money. She denied the request. My two witnesses are prepared to offer evidence to rebut that."
Leary is surprisingly calm when she says, "Your Honor, I object. This is highly inflammatory and prejudicial. On top of that, it's absolutely irrelevant. It has nothing to do with the facts of this case, and Mr. Holloway is doing this to slander my client in front of the jury."
"It's relevant, Your Honor," I say flatly. "It not only goes to her character but it also goes to her veracity. The jury has the right to judge those traits when determining whether or not to give credence to her testimony."
Judge Henry looks back and forth between Leary and me while he considers our arguments. Finally, he gives a regretful sigh and says, "I'm going to allow the witnesses--"
"But Your Honor," Leary pleads, and I hear panic in her voice.
"Your objection is noted, Miss Michaels. It's now an issue for appeal. The testimony will be allowed. But Mr. Holloway, keep it narrow and do not attempt to go into sordid details. You're only offering this evidence to rebut her denial of your request for admission."
"Yes, sir," I say quietly, not feeling like I've won a damn thing. Doesn't matter if I keep the questions short and limited--the damage to Jenna and her case will have the force of a sonic boom.
We turn away from the bench, and again, I don't have the courage to look at Leary. I'm afraid if I do, I'll drop to my knees in front of the judge and the jury and beg her forgiveness.
Looking out into the gallery, I see the two witnesses I plan to call. The investigator originally interviewed three witnesses, but one of them called me just last night and left a voice mail that said she wasn't going to show up. Her message was short and cryptic, but essentially she said, "I just can't go through with it." I took that to mean that she didn't want any hand in the sordid actions of calling a woman a whore in front of a group of people.
Didn't matter. Two witnesses are just as effective as three.
When I get back to my table, I say, "Your Honor, the defendant calls Holly Wharles to the stand."
Then I bite the bullet and I do it.
I take a quick glance over at Leary.
Her back is to me and she's leaning in toward Jenna, whispering into her ear. Her arm rests across Jenna's back, and her hand is squeezing her shoulder. I can't see Leary's face, but Jenna raises her eyes and looks at me directly over Leary's shoulder.
They're filled with tears and my heart cracks farther open while my stomach cramps in shame. I swivel my head to look behind me at Tom Collier, sitting in the first row. His face is triumphant and filled with haughtiness. I look back to the jury, and they all watch Holly Wharles as she comes through the low swinging gate and walks toward the witness stand.
The clerk puts her under oath, she takes a seat, and I start to destroy Leary's case by destroying the credibility of the plaintiff.
Easy as pie.
If I've calculated correctly, Leary has about a forty-five-minute head start on me, and I can't imagine she'd be anywhere else other than her home. I'm prepared to grovel mightily.
The testimony of my rebuttal witnesses didn't take long, and because they were a surprise, Leary wasn't able to do an effective cross-examination. They were powerfully effective, and the jury was highly interested in what they had to say.
The minute they both testified, the jurors' sympathetic looks toward Jenna turned skeptical and condemning. I doubted at this point that any of them remembered what a douche my client was.
Judge Henry insisted on dismissing the jurors and giving them a bit of a long weekend since it was just before lunch on Friday. He reasoned that closing arguments would take at least half a day, and he didn't want the jury having to wait a weekend to begin deliberations. So instead, Leary and I stayed in the courtroom, and Judge Henry conducted the charge conference where we went over the jury instructions, that body of law that the judge will read to the jury to help guide them through their deliberations.
After that was finished, Judge Henry dismissed us and Leary jetted out of the courtroom. I went immediately to my law firm, where as I expected, Kratzenburg and Collier were in Kratzenburg's office drinking scotch and gloating over those last two witnesses. Both of them were riding high, like hunters off a fresh kill.
I, on the other hand, was worried sick about Leary as well as Jenna. I'd come to admire her through the course of this case, and I hadn't realized how much it would affect me when I hurt her.
Just before I entered Gill's office, I heard Tom say, "I'm glad we sent the investigator back out to push at those witnesses."
"Yeah, well . . . let's keep that between us," Kratzenburg said with a chuckle.
I gave a light knock on the door to announce my presence, and both men spun toward me.
"Reeve, you are a fucking rock star," Kratzenburg cackled when I stepped into his office. "Come have a drink with us to celebrate."
Collier just smirked at me. My fingers curled tightly into my palms, balling into fists that wanted to punch the ever-loving fuck out of his smug face.
Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out my key chain. Calmly removing one from the coil, I stepped forward and laid it on Kratzenburg's desk. "Consider this my notice. I quit."
Gill's eyes rounded and his mouth popped open in surprise. "You quit?"
"I quit," I repeated. "I'm going to clear out my office now."
I turned to leave, but Gill snapped out of his fogged surprise. "You can't quit. You're lead counsel in this case. You have a duty to show up and finish this."
Turning back around, I say, "I don't owe you shit. You've sat through this trial with me. You can handle the closing arguments."
Realizing that I was dead serious, Gill tried another tack. "I don't understand, Reeve. You did brilliantly. I'm sure you'll get a raise after this. Why would you want to quit the firm and this case?"
All of the anxiety, guilt, and sadness permeating my being morphed in a white-hot flash. It curled inward and when it exploded out, it was molten rage. I stalked around his desk, got right in his face, and snarled, "You want to know why I quit? I quit because you and your greedy, scum-sucking clients took pleasure today in hurting a woman whose worst crime was loving her son so much she'd do anything to protect him. You make me sick, and working for you makes me sick. It's a stain on my soul I can't bear anymore, so that's why I quit."
I didn't give him a chance to respond. I didn't look at Tom Collier, preferring to let time and distance hopefully start to fade him from my memory. I turned away and slammed out of his office, going to my own to pack up my belongings. I was out of there in fifteen minutes flat.
Pulling up in front of Leary's house, I see her garage door down but a black Mercedes sedan in the driveway. If I have to take an educated guess, Ford is in the house with her right now, marveling over my evil ways.
I walk up to Leary's front door. Before I can clear the top porch step, it opens and Ford is indeed standing there with his arms across his chest. I expect him to be thundering at me with rage, but his eyes are knowing and sad.
"She doesn't want to see you," he says softly.
"She needs to let me explain," I counter as I take a step closer. Past his shoulder, I can see the inside of Leary's house . . . her living room, part of her sunroom on the back . . . but no Leary.
"She doesn't want to hear it," Ford says evenly.
"Come on, man," I plead with him. "I just need a few minutes. I have to tell her--"
A delicate hand comes around Ford's shoulder, pushing him to the side. Leary appears from behind him, dressed in a pair of black yoga pants and a T-shirt. Her eyes are bleak and red tinged.
"Leary--" I start out, but she cuts me off.
Her voice is deadly calm. "Get off my porch. Get in your car and drive away. Don't ever contact me again."
She slowly turns away and starts walking back into her living room. Her shoulders are
sagging, and from this angle, it looks like she's aged a hundred years.
"I'm sorry," I blurt out, needing to get the words out while she can still hear them. "I'm sorry for what happened. I didn't have a choice, and you have to believe me, it killed me to do that."
Leary stops for a moment. When she turns back to look at me, her eyes are blazing in fury. She takes two steps back up to the door and pushes Ford even farther out of the way. "You're sorry?" she whispers with barely controlled rage.
"Yes," I say emphatically.
"What exactly are you sorry for, Reeve?" she asks sarcastically. "For ruining a beautiful woman who did nothing to deserve the shit storm you just piled on her? Or are you sorry because you didn't have the balls to prevent that shit storm?"
"My hands were tied," I grit out.
"Bullshit," she snarls as she steps out onto the front porch and stands on her tiptoes to get in my face. "You had a choice."
"Fine. I had a choice. I chose to stay within the boundaries of the law," I defend myself, even though it feels so very wrong to do.
I expect her to retaliate. To attack. To call me every dirty name in the book, and hell, for good measure, she might as well slap the shit out of me.
Instead, my knees nearly buckle when tears fill her eyes and her chin starts to tremble. "You chose to be a coward," she says as teardrops fall, leaving silvery trails down her cheeks. Taking a deep breath, she blinks her eyes and rubs the back of her hand over her cheeks to dry them. "Now, get off my property and please don't bother me again."
"You said you wouldn't hold my job against me," I say forcefully, trying to keep dialogue open. "You promised."
More tears spill, sticking in her lashes and cascading down her cheeks. "I did," she says quietly, her words filled with pain. "And I'm apparently breaking that promise right now. But I made that promise before you gave me your heart and I gave you mine. I didn't take into consideration how badly you could hurt me."
"I didn't do this to you, Leary. I did my job. I did this to your case."
Leary gives me a sad smile, shaking her head. "Do you really believe that, Reeve? Knowing my background and what this all meant to me, did you really not think this would hurt me personally?"
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