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“You don’t need to pay us double to shut down a dirty cop,” Adam says, before he turns and leaves.
I rotate and find Lori waiting on me in the doorway to the dining room. “We’re leaving tonight?”
I walk to stand in front of her. “If I get my way, this will be a lesson in how to shut down bullshit and move on to what you really want. And what I want is you out of the line of fire and back in New York in my bed.”
Chapter thirty-eight
Lori
Cole and I sit side-by-side at the desk of the hotel suite’s office reviewing our questions for Tara Knight while stuffing our faces with croissants, bacon and coffee. What I notice about Cole during this encounter, and really all of our work interactions, is how eager he is for debate. He doesn’t want agreement, which is a good thing because on several points we don’t agree.
“I think you should ask her about her mother,” I say.
“Asking about her mother was smart,” he replies. “But ultimately at this stage of the game, the mother is wasted energy. She has nothing to do with this. We need to expend energy on what matters.”
“A mother is a key figure in anyone’s life,” I agree. “She’s feeding something into her daughter’s head and that will influence her behavior, especially as it relates to her ex-husband who is Tara’s father.”
“We don’t know how close she is to her mother.”
“We should,” I argue. “You are the one who told me that the things I’ve been through in my life give me an edge. Mothers influence daughters, and anger at a father influences a daughter. I’m your prime example.” I breathe out. “He affects me.”
The way his eyes narrow I can read his thoughts, and I know that he won’t speak them, not now, not in the middle of a word debate. He, my father, he affects us, too. “The point is that the mother is always relevant. Was she an issue at all during Jerome’s problems?”
“She was in Thailand and irrelevant at the time.”
“Her daughter’s in trouble. Most parents, aside from Jerome, who is being instructed by you to stay where he is, would come back or at least be talking to their daughter with that in mind. And that parent would say: Save yourself. And my experience is that a wife knows things about her husband. I know you trust Jerome, but if anyone can cause trouble, it’s the ex.”
He studies me a moment and then dials his cell phone. “Adam,” he greets. “Where is Jerome’s ex-wife?” He listens a minute and looks at me. “Yes. Find out. Let me know.” He hangs up. “In this case, I hope you’re wrong on this, but if you’re right we need to know.” His eyes soften. “Good work. We’re going to make a good team.”
“Because I argue with you?” I ask, but I’m pleased that he is pleased. No matter what, he is my boss and I admire his work.
“Yes, actually,” he says. “You think about all angles and then you’re smart enough to argue and make sense when you do it. A wise man once told me that if a group of people sit at a conference table and they all agree, only one was needed.”
There’s a knock on the door. “Here we go,” he says, standing, and I do the same. “She’s a diva,” he says. “Don’t let that shake you.”
“I won’t,” I say, and I believe it, really believe it, right up until the point that Tara, in all her blonde Marilyn Monroe glamour, bursts into the room. That means her, and a mass of two bodyguards, Chanel No. 5, Gucci jeans, a low-cut white glittery T-shirt, and boots, along with some sort of furry white jacket.
“Cole,” she says, pursing her lips and rushing him. She then throws her arms, and her half-covered double-D boobs against him. “Thank you for being here for me.”
“People do not hug their attorney, Ms. Knight,” he says formally, removing her arms from his waist.
“They should,” she says, flipping her hair. “Who better to hug than the person who keeps you out of jail?”
“We are not fucking,” he says tightly. “We’re fucking other people who want to fuck you with professional dignity.”
Just hearing him say the word “fuck” to her gives me a knot in my belly I do not like. I have no reason to be jealous, but she’s stunning, and a fantasy to millions of men around the world, which isn’t easy to completely ignore.
And she’s still practically standing on top of Cole, who quietly repeats, “With professional dignity.”
“Sorry,” she says, taking two steps backward, but she doesn’t sound sorry at all.
Cole motions to the guards. “They stay. We’re going to the dining room.” He glances at one of them. “If you want to check out the room, go do it now.”
One of them, a burly dark-haired man in a suit, nods and both men divide and conquer. Tara’s eyes suddenly fall on me. “Who are you?”
“My associate, Lori Havens,” Cole says. “She’ll be working the case with me.”
She looks at Cole. “I don’t know her. I don’t trust her. She needs to leave.”
