A Raging Dawn (10 page)

“The original system hasn’t worked in decades. I’m in the process of updating it, rewiring the entire Tower, but the work won’t be done until after the New Year.”

“Too bad. A mistrial means your buddy—”

“Eugene is merely a tool, a means to an end,” he corrected her.

“Whatever. He gets to go through all that again. Plus facing whatever new charges the DA drums up.” She jammed a wad of rice noodles into her mouth, didn’t bother to swallow before speaking again. “Which means he stays behind bars. Without talking, just like he has for the last six months. My bet? He won’t last long. The Brotherhood will get to him first.”

He frowned at the melodramatic nickname the street had bestowed on the men he hunted. Wondered, not for the first time, if they’d christened themselves in an effort to feed their egos. “No. I want him alive.”

“Good luck with that. No way in hell is he going to get bail, not after what he did today.”

“You defend him. Get him released.” He sipped at his tea, enjoying the faint undertones of jasmine. “Now that the public defender’s office must recuse themselves, you can take it on pro bono. A service to the community, defending the rights of a poor, defenseless man victimized by the system.”

“Pro bono?” Her chuckle ended abruptly when he nodded. “Do you have any idea what I’m paid for my time?”

“You’ll be well compensated.”

“Damn right.”

Devon smiled, letting it reach all the way to his eyes. He enjoyed her look of appraising curiosity. Time to cement their partnership. He set his cup down delicately so that the fine-boned china saucer didn’t even quiver. “Of course, you do know who the prosecutor is, don’t you?” He waited a beat until he was certain he had her attention. “Your new favorite plaything.”

She dropped the shrimp she’d so painstakingly picked up with her chopsticks. It slid across the plate, dangling over the edge. “How did—” Her face tightened. She looked over her shoulder before returning her gaze to him and lowering her voice. “I’ll do it. But you need to leave Manny out of it.”

“Of course, of course. Far be it from me to interfere with true love.” He smirked as he skewered the wayward shrimp and popped it into his mouth. When would she learn? It was the one thing he shared with his father: Devon always got what he wanted.

Always.

“C’MON, DETECTIVE, LET’S
get our new friend tucked in,” Manny said to Ryder, walking past me.

Jacob had his back turned, shuffling his papers and files at the defense table. Ryder waited a beat, raising one eyebrow as he stared at me, his expression hungry. I couldn’t help smiling in return, heat burning my cheeks.

First day back at work after getting shot and he got to tackle a guy and hopefully get a lead on Tymara’s killers. Of course his hormones were raging worse than a teenage kid’s. Ryder allowed his hip to nudge against my backside as he strolled past, following Manny.

Leaving Jacob and me. Our marriage had been dead and buried long enough that we could be friends without worrying too much about hurting each other. We knew each other’s vulnerable spots and we both cared enough to avoid them.

I joined him at the table. The scuffle with Littleton had left his carefully organized files in a jumble. He was compulsive enough to keep his tea bags alphabetized; he wouldn’t rest until the files were back in order. I arranged the ones in reach, working in silence beside him, listening to him breathe, shallow and fast, as if he were still fighting with Littleton. “You did good today.”

“Did I? Did I really?” His tone was bitter and defeated. He wasn’t struggling because of his wrestling match with Littleton. It was the harder fight, the one with his conscience.

Knowing that reminded me why I had fallen in love with him. If Atticus Finch had had a grandson, it would be Jacob Voorsanger.

“If you got Littleton off, you’d be condemning another woman. More than one. This way, with his help, we can nail the others. Pretty good for a day’s work.”

“I’m not proud of what I did.” He stood, facing me, his files forgotten. “And you shouldn’t be either.”

For once, I was unable to read his expression. His tone implied I was at fault for his betrayal of his values. “You did this for me? I don’t understand.” He winced and I knew I’d hit the bull’s-eye. “I didn’t ask you to do this, Jacob. I never asked—”

“No, you never ask for anything, do you, Angie?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. As usual, I have nothing to do with anything in your life.” His focus zeroed in on an imaginary speck between his shoes as he avoided eye contact with me and shook his head, small shakes of anger and frustration.

“Exactly how is any of this my fault?” I asked. “Are you angry because of what you did? Or because I was here to see it?”

He opened his mouth, closed it again. This was the first time I could remember seeing Jacob speechless. He turned to shove the rest of the files haphazardly into his satchel. “I wish to hell I knew.”

He stalked away from me.

The door opened before Jacob reached it, and Ryder reappeared. Ryder held the door as Jacob faltered, sending a last look over his shoulder to me. My stomach clenched as if something terrible and important had just happened, but I wasn’t sure what.

Then Jacob was gone, leaving Ryder and me alone in the cavernous hall of justice.

Sunlight glinted through the stained-glass windows, casting red and gold diamonds on the marble floor. Ryder leaned against the heavy oak door for a long moment, staring at me, his thumbs hooked in his waistband. Appraisal laced with longing. Seconds ticked past, and he didn’t blink, simply drank me in until I was surprised to find myself blushing. I couldn’t remember the last time that’d happened. Funny how, with only a look, he could transform my mood. Make me forget everything.

“I’ve got time while they get Littleton processed.” He jerked his head in the general direction of the jail wing. His expression softened. “You sure you’re okay? Finding Tymara, then facing all this.” His nod took in the courtroom.

I looked away to the stained-glass window where Justice always prevailed no matter what happened inside the walls she protected. Despite standing up to Jacob, I couldn’t shed all my guilt. “It was my fault. She never would have agreed to testify if I hadn’t talked her into it.”

He stepped forward, placed his palms on my hips, and lowered his face until our foreheads touched and our gazes locked, shutting out the rest of the world. “I wasn’t there for the initial case, never met Tymara, but after a decade of doing this job, I can assure you her death is not your fault. Stop feeling sorry for yourself and start thinking of anything she told you—even if it wasn’t in the official medical record—that might help me catch these guys.”

I straightened, annoyed at his suggestion that I might have overlooked anything that could have saved Tymara. “If there was anything, I would have told the police already.”

“Then there’s nothing. You’re off the hook. And officially off the clock. Seems like we have some time on our hands.” He slid his lips down to meet mine, in no hurry, his gaze fixed on my eyes, never wavering, waiting for me to respond. I pulled him closer, my arms wrapping around his neck. After the emotional upheaval today had brought, being in his arms was a relief.

Life with Ryder was a constant adventure. He enjoyed pushing the limits and bending the rules as much as I did. We both liked taking control, both had shadowy, soft spots best to avoid, both respected each other enough to take pleasure in the physical without probing too deeply into the feelings or the personal shit.

Just the way I wanted it. No, be honest, it was the way I
needed
it. The honorable thing to do would be to end things now before they got too messy, before anyone got hurt.

Right now, this minute, my doomsday clock ticking away the seconds, I wasn’t feeling particularly honorable. Right now, I needed to forget, to block out the visions of Tymara’s body, of the blood and pain that threatened to drown me.

I needed Ryder.

He slid one palm from my hip slowly up along my waist to my breast. Taking his own sweet time with the caress, the fabric of my blouse whispering against my skin. His hand was hot, searing through the silk that separated us.

I didn’t care that we were in a court of law, didn’t care that anyone might walk in and find us, didn’t care about anything except what he had to offer. An escape from reality.

The kiss deepened, but instead of the heat I’d been expecting, it turned tender. He stroked my hair, cradling my head with a gentle caress. We broke apart, and I ended up leaning my weight against him, my face pressed against his chest, swallowing the sudden sob that ambushed me. I was a fool. We’d moved way past the point of harmless sex where no one got hurt.

“About this morning…” I started, surprised by the way my voice had grown hoarse. “We should talk—” I trembled with panic at the thought. Telling Ryder the truth of what was happening to me, it would change everything.

He traced his fingers down the back of my neck. “We will. When you’re ready. I’ll be here.”

I blinked, trying to deny the tears his words brought. Before I could gather my strength to tell him about my diagnosis, his phone went off.

“Shit.” He breathed the word, but his hands didn’t release their grip on me. “Manny has a lousy sense of timing.”

The phone rang again. He blew his breath out with a muffled curse. I untangled myself from his embrace and straightened my clothing, liking the way his gaze followed my every movement. It was one of the things I loved about Ryder, the way he could focus so intently, making me feel as if I was the only person in his universe. Unlike Jacob, who was always lost in clouds of intangibles like justice and ethics and morals. Ryder knew how to simply…be.

Holding the phone, he finally tore his gaze away from me to read the screen and nodded, all business now. “Manny can wait,” he said. “Let me take you home first.”

A stray beam of sunlight turned red by the stained glass sliced between us.

“No. I want to stay, help.” I walked to the prosecution table. My ancient leather messenger’s bag—a present from Jacob to carry in lieu of a doctor’s bag—waited there. I opened it, revealing all of Tymara’s files. Including eight-by-ten full-color glossies documenting her injuries—evidence the judge had disallowed as inadmissible, prejudicial, and irrelevant to Littleton’s prosecution, but I had brought it all. None of it was irrelevant to me.

“Will these help?” I asked, offering them to Ryder.

“Absolutely. Especially if you’re the one confronting Littleton. You scare the hell out of him. While you were on the stand, he was sweat-flopping like crazy, fidgeting, couldn’t stop ducking his face every time you glanced his way.”

I hadn’t noticed. Too angry to notice. Hated to admit it, but Manny had been right about not letting my emotions take control.

“Come with me,” Ryder offered. “We can nail him together.” How was it he always knew what I really needed?

“And his partners,” I reminded him, excited at the prospect of being able to do something concrete. I owed Tymara the chance to see the animals who’d tortured and killed her brought to justice. When I was in Ryder’s arms for those few minutes, I’d been able to banish the image of her body, but now it filled my vision again, coloring my world in blood.

“And his partners,” Ryder promised, taking my hand and squeezing it as we walked down the courtroom aisle. He opened the heavy oak door and held it for me.

For an instant, his form wavered, appearing translucent in the light glancing off the polished marble, as if he were glowing, some kind of mystic being or angel. I shook myself, blinked hard, forcing my vision back to normal.

Fear coiled itself around my insides, squeezing my stomach, heart, lungs. Fear of what the future might hold if I invited Ryder fully into my life. I shoved it aside, making a tight fist then releasing the fear into the air. I swear I saw it skitter across the floor, dark tendrils mimicking the mud streaking the marble, careening into the shadows where it waited in ambush.

I wanted to bellow a challenge. To fear, to fate, to my fatal insomnia.

Take your best shot.

LEAVING BEHIND THE
Gothic monstrosity of the courthouse, with its drafty corridors, high ceilings, marble floors, and stained-glass windows, Ryder led Rossi across the pedestrian skyway to the modern and austere jail, all concrete and steel. They passed through two sets of guarded checkpoints before being allowed into the room where Manny waited. The jailhouse conference room was windowless, and smelled of wet paint and disinfectant.

“We need to get our shit together,” Manny said as soon as he spotted Ryder. “The PD’s office is replacing Jacob Voorsanger with Gena Kravitz.” He prowled the perimeter with jerky steps, as if both excited and hesitant about the turn of events. “Conflict of interest for their office after the assault on Jacob.”

“No shit,” Ryder said. “How’d they pull that off? What she bills an hour is more than one of their guys makes in a week.”

“She’s doing it pro bono. But she likes the courtroom, likes grandstanding. We might be in trouble. Kravitz doesn’t often deal.” Manny narrowed his gaze at Rossi. “Why’d you bring her?”