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This ends tonight, one way or the other.
Chapter nine
Reese
If she calls and suddenly wants to fuck right now, I’m right about her. She’s a fame-grubbing bitch.
Those were my thoughts when I left her outside the hotel and rejoined my legal team. Elsa, who is strong-willed, and Richard, who will never be strong-willed enough for lead in a case like this one, but makes up for it with his genius. Tonight, though, both are worried, fretting over the client they too believe to be innocent. “Focus on what we can affect,” I say, and in the next fifteen minutes, we review what that means, while Cat calls me three times, leaving no messages.
I don’t answer. She’s obviously freaking out. She wants to fuck. She wants to work herself back inside the story with me. Every second that passes, I get more pissed. I don’t let anyone trigger my anger, but Cat has me churning anger like it’s fuel. I’m also at my wits end with Elsa, who is rehashing the day over and over.
“Focus on what we can affect,” I repeat. “The future we can control. Ideally, you two find me the real killer by the time we get there.” They gape at my massive demand, but I’ve learned that you don’t get anything you don’t ask for. Maybe that’s my problem with Cat. Until tonight, I never outright said, let’s fuck. I never outright pushed her to get naked with me, and I know from that kiss that I could have. But I wasn’t all about one and done, for once, but then neither was she, no matter what she claimed. That wouldn’t have worked out for her.
I offer my credit card to the waitress, and glance between Richard and Elsa. “Go get some sleep. We’ll meet at my apartment at noon tomorrow and we’ll stay there until Monday morning, if that’s what it takes to find our confession.” I glance at Elsa. “Get that private eye we hired to meet us there.”
“He sucks, Reese,” she says. “What’s the point?”
“I have to agree,” Richard states. “We’re on our own. I have a tech bud who can hack—”
“No,” I say. “Illegal activity does not make for legal evidence. I’ll make some phone calls. Both of you leave now. Go home. Do what you do to rest, because it’s the last rest you’ll get until this is over.”
They both stand up and murmur their goodbyes, while my phone rings with yet another call from Cat. Her desperation just fucking pisses me off. I had to work for it until now. Now she has to work for it. Proof I never had to work for it at all. You were burned, she’d said. Damn straight I was. By her. Before her. I should never have let her get under my skin. Maybe I won’t fuck her. She’s a damn witch who makes me stupid drunk.
My phone starts ringing again, and I decline Cat’s call and dial Royce Walker, who, of course, is married to Cat’s friend, Lauren. Because I can’t fucking escape Cat right now. “Royce.” I greet.
“I’m not taking on your client,” he says.
“Hello to you too, asshole. He’s innocent.”
“I don’t care,” Royce says, but he gives a heavy sigh. “But my wife does. She’s pregnant and obsessed with this case. And emotional about the victim, who was pregnant as well. She thinks a killer is on the loose.”
“She’s right.”
“Who did it?”
“I know who I think did it, but I have to prove it and force a confession by Monday or face a jury decision. And once my client is convicted, you know how hard it will be to get real justice.”
“By Monday,” Royce says. “That’s a tall order.”
“My client is a very rich man,” I remind him. “He can pay for a tall order.”
“Why come to me now rather than sooner?”
“The judge outright told me that I need a confession to shut this down or this rests in the jury’s hands. My client didn’t do this. I would stake my career on it.”
“You have,” he says. “Which is why you should have hired me for this, not a protective detail, a long time ago. Hell. If you were paying, and not your billionaire client, I wouldn’t make you pay. I want the person who killed that woman and unborn child to be caught.”
“Which is why I took the case. If he goes down, the real killer goes free.”
“Agreed,” Royce says. “And I make no promises ever, most definitely not this late in the game. But my team is the best. If there is a hole to find, a killer to catch, time is our only holdback. I’ll be in touch by Sunday night.”
He hangs up. The waitress sets my bill beside me. I sign the receipt, and I’m about to stand up when suddenly Cat is sitting across from me. Her cheeks are flushed, her lips glossy pink. “I’m sure you thought all those phone calls were me saying, ‘Yes. Let’s fuck.’”
“Weren’t they?”
“No. No, I was not. But the idea that you would think that, was driving me nuts. So I’m here to say what I had to say on the phone, because you wouldn’t answer.”
“I told you not to call unless it was to fuck. So this conversation is over.”
