Resisting Redemption

by Amabel Daniels

  “Oh, get the stick outta your ass.” She squinted her eyes shut and got a quarter out from her purse. “Here.”

  He took it and eyed her curiously.

  “I’m trying to quit using profanity. Think about it. I already know as much as everyone else can know from the news. I do work for you. And I’ll work better for you if I’m not in the dark.”

  “Why’d you quit vet school?”

  Her sandwich stilled midair before she faced him. “The cutting off people and changing subject things are lawyerly techniques, aren’t they?”

  “Why’d you quit?”

  “Busy snooping about me?”

  “Why’d you quit? You were two months from graduation.”

  “Persistent, too.” She sighed. “I didn’t quit. I was expelled. Get your facts straight.”

  “Expelled because…?” He knew from his brief research on her, but he wanted to hear her side.

  She faintly shook her head. “Let’s say my expulsion, like your marriage, is off topic.”

  He nudged her with his elbow at their stop. “I have no marriage. I’m divorced. You keep your facts straight.”

  “Your previous marriage,” she said as they exited the bus.

  There was no way on Earth he was going to explain why he and Tara divorced. Not the real reason why. No one knew that juicy story.

  “Here, a token of trust, okay? I can be just as stubborn as you. I was expelled because a jury of my peers claimed me guilty of killing a prize horse at the stables I was employed at for my research. Apparently, the University looks down upon overdosing prime and exceptionally healthy thoroughbreds.”

  Her snippy tone at the end told him more than enough. She, too, used sarcasm as a shield against others. He rolled up his sandwich wrapper and chucked it into a trash can as they walked.

  “You killed the horse?”

  “That’s what the verdict read.”

  Nice try. “That’s not what I asked. Did you terminate the horse’s life?”

  “Terminate. One minute I think you’re just another man, and then you start talking like a Vulcan.”

  “Did you?”

  “You dare question an entire jury’s decision?” She scoffed. “They said I was guilty, so I am.”

  Guilt. Interesting parallel. He wanted to pull Ben out of claiming false guilt to a murder he didn’t commit, and his assistant…let herself be charged for something she might not have done?

  She licked her lips as she avoided facing him. “I said a token. I told you why I was expelled. How Bolt met his maker…that’s a longer story. I give, you give. That’s how trust works.”

  Interesting. She was, what? A martyr?

  She handed him his jacket. “I told you something you wanted to know. Now, your turn.”

  “I am not speaking about my divorce.”

  “My boss’s love life will never be my business. The case,” she said. “You know, what you should be focusing on instead of being curious about my life.”

  I am focusing on the case. He scowled at her. Liar. She had a point. He didn’t have time to wonder about Roxie. “Ben Rohn is accused of first-degree murder for the death of Josh Warren, the country singer.”

  “Thought he called himself a pop singer.”

  “What does it matter? He was a musician. Ben was at Velocity with several others for a private party. Ben’s teammate, Jaydon. Josh and his manager, Dave. Josh’s current date and ex-girlfriend. Couple actors. NFL big shots. It was a VIP gig. There’s always been some animosity between Ben and Josh. They have some history. He’s never been a fan and the two of them were known to escalate to arguments and fights very easily whenever they crossed paths.”

  “I see the same news as everyone else, boss. That’s all common knowledge. Five minutes on Entertainment Tonight can tell me that.”

  He shot her a look. “It is a circumstantial case. The preliminary information I’ve seen so far is coincidental. They have no weapon. They have no witnesses.”

  “What do they have?”

  “Ben was engaged in an argument and physical scuffle with Josh in the elevator nine minutes prior to Josh’s death. Velocity shared the video footage. One could presume Ben was the last person to see him alive.” Grant held the door to the courthouse lobby open for her.

  “I realize I don’t know much about the law, but why are you so sure he’s innocent?”

  Grant emptied his pockets before passing through the security check. “He’s an old family friend. Ben and I grew up in the same neighborhood. I was a groomsman at his wedding. We’ve drifted apart as our careers took off, but I’ve always stayed in touch with them. I can’t see him killing Josh. It’s not plausible.”

  Roxie followed him through security. “And because you were off on some personal leave, they hired Tara in your place?”

  He tongued the inside of his cheek. “Correct. Besides, since my divorce, I hadn’t been winning cases.” It burned to admit his failures, but he couldn’t hide it. He bet Juanita and Lia explained he was becoming the black sheep of the firm.

  Running his hand through his hair, he tamped down the gnawing self-doubt and guilt in his heart. He was a high profile criminal attorney. His job was his passion. Only, when the personal aspects of his life came crumbling down, he realized he was not half the man he used to be, regardless of his profession.

  “Hadn’t been winning ’til now, you mean.” Roxie clipped him with her elbow, startling him out of his self-pity. “Let’s beat her to his office. Won’t that be a kick in the face? Which way?”

  Grant savored a morsel of gratitude from her attempt to brighten his spirit. He pointed and they took the stairs to the second floor.

  Henry Gorden was the lead prosecutor for their district of Atlanta. Grant had encountered him in a few cases over the years. He harbored no disrespect for the older gray-haired man, only the general rivalry that came naturally between the opposing sides of law.

  “And what exactly is so important about meeting with this man?” Roxie asked as she climbed the stairs in front of him.

  He stalled answering as he watched her bare calves. She wasn’t a petite, short imp of a woman and it was no challenge to imagine her wrapping her limbs around him. It was impossible not to notice her every feature. And it was only his first day. He shook the thoughts from his mind. Ben needed his full mental power. He didn’t have the luxury of lusting after his assistant.

  I should have fired her on the spot.

  “To negotiate the terms of parole, what the prosecution is offering in exchange for a guilty plea.”

  Roxie waited for him at the landing. “What you and she-devil were talking about this morning.”

  She-devil? No, Tara was worse. “Yes.”

  “Got it. Chat about parole, and then what happens?”

  “Figure out how to prove Ben innocent.”

  “Just like that. Poof?”

  He deadpanned. “The discovery period follows. Prosecution shares the evidence and police material with us and vice versa.”

  “Tara already has this?”

  Grant shrugged. “Presumably. I don’t know what she has. Until this unusual arrangement to collaborate on Ben’s case, I’ve never worked on a case with her. Chris will have it all. He’s a shark for information. He’ll be our go-to man for all the incoming paperwork.”

  They came to Henry’s door and he knocked. When no one answered, Roxie pounded her fist harder and then opened the door.

  “Not here. Guess we’re really one step ahead.” She sat in one of the chairs facing the desk.

  “We can’t—we shouldn’t just barge in here. This is his office.”

  “Indeed, it is. We’re here to meet him. There’s nothing nefarious about it.”

  They were there to meet Henry and Tara only because Roxie was sharp enough to know they were going to be there earlier than they’d said. They weren’t even listed as guests when they checked in at the lobby. Not exactly an invitation. “They aren’t expecting us.”<
br />
  “What part of ‘step ahead’ do you not understand?”

  “Just…” He reached for her arm to extract her from the chair. “We can wait in the hallway and not trespass. I’m not so incompetent a lawyer that I need to resort to sneaking into offices to get ahead. I’m a professional.”

  She shook her arm free to point at the wall she was glaring at. “Those are endangered!” The stuffed bust of a mammal looked down from its post above Henry’s desk.

  “But you’ve already told him to plead guilty.” Henry’s voice came from the hallway past the door they’d left ajar.

  “Yes. And if he listens to me, he’ll ignore Grant’s nonsense,” Tara said. “Why would he take faith in him? He’s only just gotten back from running away.”

  Fuck. Grant did not want to get caught inside the office. Footsteps came closer to the door.

  “Hide,” he said to Roxie.

  Without a thought more, he grabbed her and pulled her to the only closet in the room. He hugged her back to his chest, squeezing them into the space the best he could. Before he could adjust the clutter at their feet to close the door, Tara’s heels clacked louder. An inch-gap remained open to the closet door, a sliver of a peephole.

  Henry and Tara entered the office just as Grant put a hand over Roxie’s mouth. At no sounds of surprise, it seemed they concealed themselves just in time. Henry took off his jacket and slung it on his chair while Tara closed the office door and kicked off her shoes. With both their backs to the closet, Henry rounded the desk and leaned his butt on the edge, and Tara came in front of him and lowered to her knees.

  You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

  “Hmm, ready for me, eh, big boy?” Tara said as Henry unzipped his pants and let them fall to the floor.

  Roxie gasped into Grant’s hand, and he tightened his arm around her waist to keep her quiet.

  Without another word or gesture, Tara put her mouth around Henry’s dick and began to bob her head.

  Grant closed his eyes, wincing them shut. He couldn’t block out the sounds of his ex-wife humming, or the prosecutor grunting, but he zoned out to the blackness in his eyes and clutched the soft fabric of Roxie’s shirt. He tried to concentrate on the honey smell of Roxie’s hair, and the warmth of her cheek. Like a lifeline, he held on to the physical presence of Roxie to numb the shock of what Tara was doing.

  Sucking the prosecution’s dick? No need to wonder whose side she was really on.

  Instead of a resurgence of anger at his ex-wife’s betrayal or a cloud of spite at how he’d ended their marriage, Grant could only drown in one emotion.

  Hatred.

  Not because the woman was moving on. Definitely not for loathing and missing her chilly attention. She could fuck whoever she wanted. Hell, she had when they were still married. He’d already written her out of his life, even before he filed for divorce.

  The brief snippet of conversation he’d heard in the hallway was enough to cement Tara dead last on his shit list.

  Tara wasn’t going to try to win the case, or even see the case go to trial. She was two-timing the system and delivering Ben right to a guilty verdict. Scheming with the opposition.

  Grant didn’t give a damn whose cock she was sucking like a vacuum. But he’d be damned if she was going to ruin Ben in the process. She’d destroyed enough lives.

  “How was that?” Tara finally asked.

  “Better and better every time,” Henry said.

  “How long do you think it will take to set up the transfer?”

  Henry pulled his pants up and ambled to his seat behind his desk. “Eager to come work in the same building with me?”

  Tara came around and sat on his lap. She fluffed her fingers at his hair—which was a toupee. “It will be all the easier to have our little rendezvous, wouldn’t it?”

  Grant bit his tongue. He couldn’t stomach the news of more of her manipulation. How long had she been fucking the opposition and screwing over her clients?

  “If you can get Ben to hold on to his guilty plea, then it’s a done deal. Seal it off as life in prison with parole down the line, and it’s done. If we go to trial, then it’s looking like at least a couple years before it’s settled.”

  “Couple years you don’t have.” Tara smoothed back Henry’s fake hair. “Your campaign just began. Elections will already be over before two years.”

  “Uh huh.” Henry twisted his lips.

  “Ben won’t take the chance. I’m lead counsel. If he’s smart, he’ll do exactly what his lawyer tells him.” Tara laughed.

  “What about Grant?”

  Tara hopped off his lap and waved a hand at Henry. “Oh, come on. He’s not a threat. He’s become useless.”

  “Why couldn’t he just have the case? Let him play with it and stall. You can apply for the junior DA position now. Why wait?”

  “Because then we’d be on opposite sides, Henry. I’d be prosecuting against him.”

  Henry leaned his chin in his hand. “Afraid you wouldn’t beat him in court? I would still prosecute the case myself.”

  Tara shook her head. “No. I refuse to give this case to him. You have no idea how much he wants it, being Ben’s old buddy and all.”

  “And for that, you want to keep it from him even more?” Henry turned his attention to the papers on his desk for a moment. “Don’t waste your time on such nonsense, sugar pie.” He reached around for his jacket and stood. “Come on, let’s get out of here. I’ll walk you out to the garage. I’m feeling like I’d like a taste of this sweet ass.”

  As soon at Tara and Henry left, Grant removed his hand from Roxie’s mouth.

  She must have been as shocked as he was, because she didn’t shove his arm from her waist or move away. Her immobility was a godsend. He didn’t know what he’d do or say if she made a smartass comment to smooth over how undeniably awful and awkward their unexpected show had been.

  She cleared her throat and gently tapped his arm. He let go. Nothing was in focus. His eyesight was numb to his surroundings. A faint ringing dinged in his ears.

  Roxie opened the closet door and stepped out. She turned back to him, seeming to notice he was still frozen in place. Gently, she tugged on his sleeve and encouraged him to leave the safety of the storage space. “Really? He has to be eighty years old.”

  Grant snapped from his fury and glared at her. Wrong time for humor. This was serious.

  “I honestly didn’t know what to expect on the first day,” she said and then pointed to the desk. “But that never crossed my mind.”

  Don’t even fucking dare to make light of this, Red. His jaw strained from clenching his teeth so hard.

  She held her hands up in truce. “Okay. Okay. Don’t blow up at me. Not here. Easy does it. I’ll shut up. But it isn’t going to look good if you do the berserk volatile thing in geriatric Don Juan’s office. Let’s head back to your office. I’ll follow in your wake.”

  He strode past her without a word. The entire trip back to his office was a blur of raw thoughts and vicious, ugly truths. Roxie steered him to the bus and managed the fees. She pressed the buttons to the elevators, opened the doors for him as he moved like a zombie, zoned out and furious.

  At the lobby of the offices, Juanita approached him, but Roxie held her off. He ignored everything and everyone with the sole goal of making it into the solitude of his office before he lost it.

  Chapter Five

  Roxie slouched her back to the hardwood door behind her as Grant exploded. She never considered herself a pro at men. But it wasn’t rocket science that he was pissed. Beyond enraged. Furious to a nuclear level.

  Before they left Henry’s office, Grant’s stony expression was warning enough to not attempt sarcasm or a joke to lighten the mood.

  If looks could kill? His was the Grim Reaper’s.

  As soon as he’d reached the security of his office, he yelled. He groaned. He threw a glass at the wall, punched his laptop into two pieces, flung papers to the carpet and k
icked a significant hole in his desk. He was a torpedo of anger, destroying everything tangible in his path. It was almost like an adult-size tantrum, but she didn’t fault him for venting.

  Physical anger was nothing new to Roxie. She’d helped restrain ferocious and distempered dogs. She’d wrestled ropes on furious and panicky horses.

  But instead of likening Grant to a rabid, uncontrollable animal, she realized he wasn’t the robot he appeared to be. He was human. Full of fury, pain, and agony just like every other man.

  She quietly pulled her phone from her purse as he stood in the center of the room. His back was to her as he clutched his hair with both hands, panting as he caught his breath.

  A text message from Lia shone from the screen.

  Are you alive?

  Roxie rolled her eyes. Grant was a stiff jerk, but how could anyone think he’d really hurt anyone? She’d only known him for a few hours, but she knew he’d never stoop to the kind of cruelty like her former boss Jimmy had. Grant was simply…wounded.

  She texted back: Please order Grant a replacement laptop. She noted the time on the screen before stowing it in her purse.

  “Feel better?”

  He whipped around to face her. “Jesus Christ. You scared the piss out of me.”

  She glanced at his crotch and shook her head. “Doesn’t look like you wet yourself.”

  He groaned. “What the fuck are you doing in here?”

  “I told you I’d follow in your wake.” She went to the couch where he’d flung his jacket. She picked it up and shook it out.

  “You were here? The whole time?” He seemed annoyed. “I—”

  “Need to get going.”

  He wiped at his mouth and approached her. Disregarding the notion of personal space, he walked right up to her as though he wished he could strangle her.

  “Do not fancy the idea you can be cute and sassy and tell me what to do. Get the hell out of my office. I’m not going anywhere.”

  Roxie swallowed hard and toughened her resolve to not weaken before him. She reached for his tie and fixed the knot. He didn’t flinch or refuse her hands as she continued to speak, his glare tracking her movements. “Tara faked her appointments, right? She doesn’t know that we know she lied about her schedule. Well, she doesn’t know that we know a lot of things, now. But she’ll wonder why her detour didn’t work.”