Shattered Trust (Shattered #2) (16 page)

Chapter 28

Trenton

Despite filing a change of address with the court and the Loudoun County Commonwealth’s Attorney’s office, a court document in Mitch’s case gets sent to my ex–law firm. By the time I get it straightened out and have the legal document delivered to me, I’ve lost two days.

The misdirected document sets the date for the preliminary hearing. At that time, the Commonwealth’s Attorney must show that probable cause exists that Mitch murdered Holden. The preliminary hearing is the first step before a full-blown trial. If the judge finds probable cause, he or she will certify the case to a grand jury. It will be up to them to issue an indictment. And Beauregard Jefferson intends for Mitch to be indicted for capital murder.

What circumstances could he be relying upon to support such a claim? Only the death of a police officer, a pregnant woman, or a murder-for-hire scheme would support such a charge. The first two clearly do not apply. Does Beauregard Jefferson have evidence that Mitch hired someone to murder Holden?

Eager to find out what evidence they have, I call the Commonwealth’s Attorney’s office. I’m transferred to an assistant attorney who gives me the runaround, claiming Beauregard Jefferson’s tied up in a meeting. Is this more posturing by the Commonwealth’s Attorney in his bid for a congressional seat? Or does he have some evidence to back up the charges?

I call Charlie to see if he can pick up some scuttlebutt from his contacts at Loudoun County. I don’t have long to wait.

“They’re wet-their-pants excited,” Charlie says when he returns the call.

Fuck. “About?”

“Don’t know, Chief, but they seem to think they have a slam dunk.”

“They’ll have to show their hand at the preliminary hearing. But it will be two weeks before that happens. In the meantime, Mitch’s in jail when he should be free.”

“Face it, Chief. He’s in jail for the duration. No matter what you do.”

Much as I hate to admit it, he’s right. “See what else you can find out. I’m at my new place. Furniture’s being delivered today. Once it is, we’ll set up an evidence room.” At one point or another, we’ll have to pull an all-nighter.

While I’m on the phone with him, someone buzzes to get into my new suite. Charlie promises to keep digging until he finds something while I walk up to the glass office door. Rayne Adams stands on the other side, holding a pizza box and a couple of bottles of pop.

“You’re here,” I say with a forced cheerfulness I’m not feeling in the least.

She cocks her head to the side as if she can’t believe my obvious statement. “Yes. I took half a day off. Thought I’d come by to help you set things up. Brought sustenance.” She points to the pizza box. “Hope you like mushrooms and pepperoni.”

“I do. Thank you.”

Having nowhere to sit, we camp cross-legged on the rug. I devour half of the pizza in nothing flat, while she limits her share to one slice.

I point to the box. “Is that all you’re going to eat?”

“Watching my girlie figure,” she says, patting her stomach.

The gesture focuses my attention on her. With her mocha-shaded skin and lustrous brown eyes, she’s strikingly beautiful. If it weren’t for my obsession with a certain brunette and her pansy-colored gaze, I might be interested. But Madrigal’s the only woman I want in my bed. Or in this instance, her bed. Coming to my feet, I offer my hand to help her up. “Thanks. I needed that.”

“My pleasure,” she says.

Within the hour, the office furniture arrives. Slowly but surely the space comes to life as the movers arrange the desks, chairs, and credenzas in the private offices, and sofas and chairs around the reception area.

“You’ll need a sign over the receptionist’s desk with the firm’s name,” Rayne points out.

“I’ll need a logo as well.”

“You can work on that later. What’s important is the name.”

“Trenton Steele and Associates. It has a nice ring to it, don’t you think?”

Laughing, she gestures to the telephone console now resting on the receptionist’s desk. “I see they installed the phones.”

“This morning. Now all we need are clients.”

Almost as if the gods heard me, my cell phone rings. I don’t recognize the number, but I pick up. “Trenton Steele.”

“Hello, Mr. Steele. My name is Bernard Bates.”

The name sounds familiar, but I can’t quite place it. “What can I do for you, Mr. Bates?”

“I’m the general manager of the Washington Stars. One of our players is in trouble, and I heard you were the go-to guy.”

“Which player?”

“Mikhail Robinson, one of our rookies.” As he rattles off the details behind the arrest, I gesture for a pad and pencil to Rayne. She fishes out what I need from her briefcase and hands them to me. Taking a seat at the receptionist’s desk, I jot down the details. A wide receiver caught with drugs at a club. Arrested last night but freed on his own recognizance. Makes sense they let him go. A football player about to attend training camp is not going anywhere.

“Can you help him?” Bates asks.

“Of course. Where is he?”

“He’s at our Ashburn training facility. He’s scared shitless. Done nothing wrong his whole life. If he were found guilty, it would totally devastate him and his family. They’re as straight as they come.”

I recall reading something about the young man’s background when he was picked up by the Stars. Religious family, strict parents. Of course, that could all have been PR spin. Guess I’ll find out. “I’ll be there in an hour.”

After I hang up, I turn to Rayne. “Looks like we have a client.”

Her face lights up with a smile. “Congratulations.”

“I have to go. Can you stay and sign for the rest of the stuff? Those things you picked out in Alexandria are due to arrive this afternoon.”

“Of course. Don’t worry about it. By the time you get back, everything will be set up.”

Three hours later, after my interview with Mikhail Robinson, I return to find a totally transformed office. Paintings hang on the walls, area rugs cover the floors. All those things Rayne chose now adorn every room in the place. I arrive to find her arranging flowers in the reception area vases. The lobby appears cozy and classy at the same time. “This looks fantastic. Where did you get the flowers?”

She flushes a little at my praise. “From the florist shop downstairs. It doesn’t look bad, does it? I called the rest of the team. They’ll be here tomorrow to set up their offices. How did it go with Robinson?”

“Great. He was definitely set up by someone trying to make him look bad.”

“Who?”

“A groupie. On the way back, I stopped at the DA’s office. Once I explained about the groupie, they promised to look into it. Pretty sure I can get the charges dismissed. They’re not eager to enrage the Washington Stars’ fan base by dragging their number-one draft pick through the mud at the start of the season.” I pop open the bottle of bubbly I picked up from the liquor store downstairs and pour it into the two plastic glasses I grabbed as well. “To our first client.”

“May there be many more.” We clink, spilling a little of the champagne. Just as we do, the doorbell buzzes. “Maybe it’s another client.”

But it’s not. It’s Madrigal.

“Hi. Glad you stopped by.” I buss her on the cheek and then point to my valuable assistant. “You remember Rayne?”

“Yes, of course.” They shake hands.

“I stopped at Pietro’s and got a couple of dishes to celebrate your new office. I’m sure we can stretch it to three servings.” Her tight smile tells me she’d rather not.

“Oh, no.” Rayne waves her hands. “I have to go. Got a . . . thing tonight.” Her hesitation tells me she has no plans. But she’s doing the right thing by leaving us alone. Madrigal does not appear too happy about her being here.

After Rayne leaves, we set out the food in the kitchen.

“So, your furniture arrived.”

“Yes. They even delivered the water cooler.” I point to the contraption in the corner.

“And you asked Rayne to help?”

“No. She just showed up. Took half a day off. Nice of her to stop by. Don’t know what I would have done without her.”

Her lips twist. “You could have called me. I would have loved to help.”

“You have enough going on, Madrigal. How’s the bar studying going? That’s next week.”

“Don’t.” She spears me with her glance.

“Don’t what?” I ask, all innocent.

“Don’t change the subject.”

“We have a subject?” I ask, trying to lighten the mood.

She folds her arms across her chest. “Don’t get cute, Steele. It doesn’t suit you.”

“You’re upset.”

“Yes.”

“About Rayne.”

“What clued you in?”

“The smoke coming out of your ears and that little green monster sitting right there.” I brush my hand across her right shoulder.

She bops me on my shoulder.

I pull her into my lap. “You got nothing to worry about. She doesn’t do a thing for me.”

She pushes back. “Stop paraphrasing my words.”

“Seriously? You’re jealous?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? She’s gorgeous, smart, and infinitely more stylish than me. Just look at that gorgeous dress she was wearing. And here I am in blue jeans and a shirt.”

“I like you in blue jeans and a shirt. I like you even more out of them.” Pulling on her shirt, I inch it out of her jeans.

She stands up. “We’re not going to screw here, Steele.”

“Why not?”

“Because. Now eat your dinner like a good boy and then show me around.”

“I’ve never been a good boy.”

“Oh, I don’t know. I think you’re pretty good at some things.”

“Like what?”

“Lawyering.”

“And?”

“I’ll tell you after you show me around,” she says, dancing out of reach with a smile.

Chapter 29

Madrigal

I’ve spent the weekend studying for the bar, and now Steele is taking me out to a hot new restaurant in Leesburg as a welcome distraction. But just as I’m getting dressed, Cristina calls. In tears. “What happened?” I ask.

“That son of a bitch.”

“Who?”

“Scott. Did you catch the news?”

“No. I’ve had my nose buried in study guides the entire weekend.”

“He’s been screwing his boss this whole time,” she says through a sob. “All those weekends he’s been campaigning were spent under the sheets. The scandal just broke. It’s all over the news. She’s a married woman, for heaven’s sake.”

Well, there goes her career. And his.

“You want me to come over?” As much as I hate to break my date with Steele, I have to be there for my friend.

“No. I don’t want to inflict my misery on you. And now I’ve got to find a new place to live. I moved in with everything I owned. And since I subleased my place in Georgetown, I don’t have anywhere to go. Damn him.”

“You can stay here with us until you find a new place. Steele lives in Scott’s building. We’re coming over to help you pack.”

As soon as I hang up, I turn to Steele. “Change of plans.”

“What?”

“Cristina’s boyfriend, Scott McCarthy? He’s been cheating on her with his boss. Apparently, it’s all over the news.” I fire up my laptop that I’d purposely turned off so I wouldn’t be tempted to surf the web. It takes no time to find the gossip item, with pictures to boot. The two of them doing the nasty in some hotel room. Yeah, the senator’s not making a comeback from this. And she’s a Republican too. “You’d think they’d know to draw the curtains.”

Steele taps the screen. “Look at the angle. Those pictures were taken from inside the room. Probably somebody hiding in a closet.”

“Ugh. Who would do such a thing?”

“Lots of private investigators. My guess is the husband probably suspected she was two-timing him and hired someone to prove it.”

“That cheating bastard. Cristina’s a mess, and she’s got no place to go since she subleased her place. I told her she could crash here.” I glance up at him to gauge his mood. “You don’t mind, do you?”

He shrugs. “Why should I mind? It’s your home.”

“I know, but it’s yet another person in the house.”

“It’s a big house.” He captures my hips and grinds against me. “And we can be private in here.”

Who would have thought my grandfather’s bedroom would become our refuge? “We have to go help her move her things.”

“Um, about that. I have a better plan. Why don’t we ask Hunter to go with us? After she’s packed, he can drive her here and we”—he kisses the tip of my nose—“can enjoy dinner at Pietro’s and spend the night in my apartment.”

“Are we going to fuck or make love?”

He grins crookedly at me. “Lady’s choice.”

We drive to Crystal City in separate cars. Steele and me in his Jag, Hunter in his Grand Cherokee. After Cristina lets us in, she takes one look at Hunter and wails. “Why did you bring him?”

Too late I realize I should have warned her. “He’s here to help you move. Just how much stuff do you have?”

She points to several boxes, plus oodles of clothes and shoes draped over the couch and chairs. Knowing Cristina’s penchant for fashion, I’d brought two huge suitcases. In no time at all, we’ve got everything packed.

“Is that it?” I ask.

“Yes.”

Hunter picks up several boxes while Steele drags the suitcases toward the door.

“Wait.” She fishes a key card from her purse and hands it to Steele. “You’ll need it for the elevator.” The key cards only work for specific floors, so we couldn’t use Steele’s to gain access to Scott’s apartment. When we arrived, she had to buzz us in.

After Hunter and Steele head out with her things, she bursts into tears. I wrap my arms around her.

“You shouldn’t have brought Hunter. I don’t want him to see me like this. Mascara running, sniveling nose. I look like hell.” She dabs at her face while more tears course down her cheeks.

She’s making it worse, so I take a wipe from my purse and gently repair the damage. “You didn’t really love Scott, did you?” I ask once I remove most of the heartbreak evidence.

“No. But I hate that men seem to think it’s all right to do this to me. I really do. I’m never dating again.”

Yeah, sure. That will last until the next gorgeous man catches her eye. Come to think of it. One already has. And he’s helping her move. “Okay. I think that’s for the best.”

She laughs and wipes the tears from her face. “I ruined your evening, didn’t I?”

“Why do you say that?”

“Look at you.” She gestures at me. “You never get dressed up.”

“We’re going out to dinner. At Pietro’s. Hunter’s driving you home.”

She juts out her chin. “I don’t need him driving me. I have my own car.”

“You’re upset. You shouldn’t be driving. He’ll come back and get your car in the morning. Now wash your face and brush your hair.”

She takes but a couple of minutes to fix her face. When she comes back, she looks more like her usual self.

“I’ll need to return Scott’s key card to him.”

“Mail it to the bastard so you don’t have to see him again.”

“Okay.”

The doorbell rings, and I open the door to find Steele and Hunter on the other side. Standing next to each other, their resemblance strikes me. They have the same build and coloring, except where Steele’s eyes are slate gray, Stone’s are midnight blue.

“Is that all?” Hunter asks. “Or is there more?”

Cristina takes a look around. “Just those two boxes.”

Stone picks them up and heads toward the door.

I hug her again. “I’ll stop by your room when we get home tonight, okay?”

“Don’t. I’ll probably be asleep by then. But I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Yeah.” I kiss her. “Hunter will take good care of you.”

“Right.”

“Shall we?” Steele nods to the door.

We say good-bye in the lobby. We’ll walk to the restaurant, which is just around the corner, while they take the elevator down to the parking lot.

“Have a great time,” she says.

“We will.” I hate to see her so sad. She’s such a good person. But she has the worst luck in men I’ve ever seen. As I stroll down the sidewalk, happy to be holding hands with Steele, I have no way of knowing how the events of that night will come back to haunt us in the months ahead.