Chapter 12
“Next case: Scott Holland.”
Scott stood and walked over to the table where the other defendants had been standing. He’d been here for over an hour listening to the other people being arraigned. Apparently, it had been a busy weekend for crimes.
The bailiff read out his right to a trial and all the other information. He’d heard the same thing six times already this morning. He understood. When his charges were read, Scott cringed. It sounded horrible. It was horrible. But he hadn’t done it.
The judge looked him up and down. A woman. Usually he was more than happy to have a woman doing any kind of job, but it seemed everything was stacked against him now. A female detective, an Assistant DA whose goal was to stop men who hurt women, and now a female judge. He’d bet his life she had some agenda against women beaters too. Not that he was one, or wanted them to get away with it, but shit, couldn’t he catch a break?
The ADA read off the evidence against him. Too damned much. He almost believed he’d done it.
“How do you plead, Mr. Holland?” Judge Mary Barlow asked.
He clenched his hands at his side, wishing he’d had something nicer to wear to this hearing. But he hadn’t even been allowed time for a shower before he was given back his dirty work clothes and brought to court.
“Not guilty, Your Honor.”
She tried to keep her expression neutral but the tightening of her jaw let him know her thoughts on attacking a woman.
After whispering a few things to the court clerk, she looked back up. “Pre-trial conference will be scheduled for two weeks from today, July nineteenth.”
“Your Honor,” the prosecutor cut in. “We are asking for the defendant not to be released on bail considering the violent nature of the crime and the condition of the victim. You’ve seen the evidence of her injuries.”
No. Fuckin’. Way. How could they do that to him? Spend another two weeks in that facility? This time he’d most likely be able to move around, hanging with the nice boys. Like the ones who’d asked for a date when he’d been dragged past their cells this morning. Shit.
He looked at his lawyer, who was practically shaking at the thought of talking in court. Scott cleared his throat and glared at the kid.
“Um, Your Honor. Mr. Holland has no prior convictions and runs a respectable business in the state. He is not a flight risk. We request he be let out on his own recognizance.” Finally, something in his favor. It probably could have been more though. He’d done lots of good things in his life. Where was his list of them all?
The judge scanned the documents on her desk and looked up. “I see that, but prosecution has a good point. Due to the violent nature of the crime bail is set at five hundred thousand dollars.”
Five hundred thousand. Holy shit. How the hell would he come up with that kind of money? He certainly had equity in the business, but he’d taken out a huge loan for the renovation project.
“Next case: William Chadwick.”
Scott threw Billy a tight smile as he moved away from the table. The court officer who escorted him here led him back out to a waiting area in a private room. A few other men sat there too.
“What happens now?” he asked the officer.
“You stay here until either your bail is posted or the van is ready to bring you back to the correctional facility. There’s a phone over in the corner if you want to arrange bail.”
Scott nodded, moving into the room. The phone was currently being used. Who would he call anyway? Jack? He and Callie certainly didn’t have the money to post bail. Keith was a Boston cop. Cops didn’t make big money and his friend sent much of his pay to help his parents. Drew? Would that be a conflict of interest having a prosecutor for the DA’s office bail him out? Plus, Drew was still paying off huge law school loans.
Nick? He came from money. Lots of money. But he and his dad were on the outs. Would he be willing to eat some crow to get a loan? Scott wasn’t sure he wanted to ask his friend to do that.
That didn’t leave him with a whole lot of options. There’s one option you haven’t mentioned. He didn’t even want to go there. Heather. Sure, they were partners, but did she believe that he didn’t do this? Or was there some niggling doubt in her mind that he had? He’d pushed her a few times with the sexual innuendos. Maybe more than innuendos. Would she think her refusal had set him off to do this to someone else? He stared at the window in the room, wondering if it would be one of the last times he’d get to see outside. Three more guys took their turn on the phone before it was finally his. He moved toward the table to pick up the receiver, still not sure who he’d call.
“Scott Holland.”
The clerk waved at him. “You’ve been released on bail. Here’s the form with the dates of your next appearance. You are reminded to stay away from the witness. Please sign here.”
“Wait. Bail? Who…?”
Her finger pointed to where he needed to sign, but his eyes skimmed the rest of the document. Heather Silva. God, he could kiss her. Desperately wanted to kiss her.
The pen moved across the form and he looked at the clerk who pointed down the hall. He didn’t need to be told twice. Shoving his copy in his pocket, he half-trotted down the corridor. There stood Heather. Gorgeous as ever, her silky hair falling around her shoulders, not pulled back into its proper confines. Her smart business suit showcased her shapely figure and her high heels accentuated those incredible long legs. He could eat her up right here.
“Scott. How are you?”
Pulling her in for a hug, he nodded, not wanting to let her go. “I don’t even know how to thank you. That’s a hell of a lot of money.”
Easing back, she said, “You’re worth it. But I’ll get it back when they drop these ridiculous charges, so no worries.”
“Let’s hope they drop the charges,” he said, taking her elbow and walking toward the exit. He couldn’t get out of here fast enough. “The evidence they have against me is stacked pretty high.”
Outside the entrance, she stopped on the top step. “But you didn’t do it and we’ll prove it. For now we’re going to get you home. I’m guessing it’s been a hell of a weekend.”
“You have no idea.” He skimmed his hand along her cheek, noticing a discoloration. One she’d tried to hide with makeup. “What happened here?”
Rolling her eyes, she shrugged. “Stupid me. I walked into something.”
Her discomfort was apparent, and he wondered if she was embarrassed or if something more had happened. He was too tired to push the question. The ride was quiet. What was Heather thinking about and what should he say to her? The rhythm of the vehicle lulled him into an almost comatose state. Little sleep, and the constant anxiety of what would happen, had drained him.
“I’ll get the money back for you.” He finally broke the silence as they pulled up to his apartment complex.
“Scott.” She got out of the car and glared at him.
“I will,” he broke in before she could argue. “Regardless of what happens. If I get sent to jail, I’ll sell my share in the company. But I will get it back to you.”
Linking her arm in his, they went inside and used the elevator. He didn’t have the strength, emotional or physical, to think about climbing stairs today. Once inside his place, he sagged against the door.
“What can I get you?” Heather cocked her head, her expression concerned.
“I need a shower. Want to scrub off all the scum of the prison cell before I do anything else.”
“Go take it then, and I’ll throw something together to eat while you’re in there.”
“Thanks.” As he walked past, her lips begged for a kiss. Not in this condition though. “Don’t go to any trouble. I can get something later if you need to be somewhere more important.”
“Nowhere more important than here, Scott.”
His eyes slid to where she bent over to slip off her shoes. Damn, she had a fine ass. He shut the bathroom door firmly and adjusted the water.
His typical shower was only a few minutes, but today he spent much longer. The memories of Billy and the smell of the cell flickered in his mind as he scrubbed harder, allowing the warm water to wash away the images of sitting alone in the segregation cell. At least it hadn’t reeked, not as badly as the other one.
Grabbing a towel, he dried off and ran it through his hair to get rid of the excess water. His clothes were in the bedroom, though. Heather hadn’t minded him in a towel last week so he slung it low on his hips and opened the door. Although to be truthful, her cheeks had turned pink as her eyes skimmed his bare chest while she cleaned up his cuts.
“I made you an omelet.” Her voice rang from the kitchen.
“Just throwing on some pants,” he called. Her perfectly-styled head poked out then back in the doorway when she saw him looking in her direction.
Sweatpants were all he had energy for at the moment. He pulled on a pair and then went to sit at the counter where a plate sat ready for him.
“Milk or orange juice?” She looked cute in her bare feet, sticking her head inside the fridge.
“Milk, but I can get it myself. You’ve already done enough.”
Bringing a glass over, she sat on the stool next to him and watched as he dug into the eggs.
“Thank you, again.”
“It’s what friends do for each other, Scott. And my father gave me the names of a few lawyers who might be available to help you.”
“Pick one who can work miracles. Listening to the evidence they have today made me almost believe I was guilty.”
* * * *
Putting his fork down, Scott ran his hands through his still-damp hair. The hair Heather wanted to slide her fingers through. A few locks fell over his forehead and she brushed them back.
“No one who knows you would ever believe that.”
“Not sure those are the people who will be on a jury. Don’t they have rules against that stuff?”
“There are already people working on the case. We need to figure out why this lady said you beat her up. And get her to tell who actually did it.”
He let out a big sigh and dropped his head into his hands. Only half his meal had been touched. When he looked up his gaze zeroed in on the bruise on her arm. The one the thug trying to rape her had given her. Along with the bruise on her face. Her jacket had concealed it earlier.
“What happened here? Why do you have all these bruises?” His concerned voice was sweet but she couldn’t tell him the truth right now. He’d been through enough.
“They all happened at the same time. Me being stupid and clumsy.” That was the truth at least. Part of it anyway. “Finish your food and then you should take a nap.”
The twinkle in his eyes returned, warming her heart and sending flutters to her stomach. “What, I’m an infant now?”
“Sure, baby,” she teased, then said seriously, “You look tired.”
“You know those parties in the county jail.”
His lips turned up but something flared in his eyes, letting her know it had been anything but fun. Reaching over, she squeezed his hand. He squeezed back then took a few more bites of the omelet.
“Maybe I will sack out for a short time.”
“I’ll clean up here and let you sleep.”
Standing, he took her hand and pulled. “You could join me.”
Usually he said those words with such sexual heat, it took her breath away. Today his eyes held desperation. She couldn’t have walked away if she tried.
In his room, he slumped on the bed and tugged until she stood between his knees. Wrapping her arms around him, she kneaded at the knots on his shoulders. His head leaned against her, right between her breasts. But he wasn’t trying to get into her blouse. She stood there for a while, hoping he was getting the support she was sending.
“Lay back,” she said after a few minutes then pushed at his chest. His nicely muscled and bare chest. He complied but didn’t let go of her, and she toppled next to him. Twisting, he settled so they were facing each other, side by side.
“Um, you’re supposed to be resting.”
“I’ll rest easier if you’re here beside me.” His bare foot nudged against hers.
Grinning, she said, “Would you like me to rub your back? Sing you a lullaby?”
“Sure.” His lips touched her forehead as he pulled her closer. She began to hum. It certainly wouldn’t be relaxing if she sang. Her singing usually sent dogs running away, howling.
His body tensed beside her and she stroked her hands down his torso and back up again then pulled on his neck. Their lips came together then Scott tightened his arms as his kiss grew in strength and intensity.
“God, Heather.”
She allowed him in, gasping as his tongue tangled with hers. When he rolled her on her back, she took advantage and skimmed her fingers over the taut muscles of his shoulders then down. Damn, this man was built. Not in a body-builder sort of way, but all lean and sculpted muscles. Done the old-fashioned way, not in a gym.
The kissing continued but Scott never moved his hands. One held her head while the other, at her waist, made sure she stayed where she was. His lips gentled and his face eased back but his forehead stayed touching hers.
“I’m sorry. I was too rough.”
Caressing the side of his face, she said, “You didn’t hear me complaining. Seems like I was equally as involved.”
He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. When he opened them again, gratitude shone in their depths. He kissed her again, this time sweet, and—dare she even say—lovingly. His lips skimmed along hers, his tongue tracing the outline. Watching him was heartbreaking. Like she was the answer to all his problems. Not likely. She was merely a distraction. But she was happy to help him if it meant he could forget everything for a short while.
Pushing him, she adjusted so they faced each other again, their lips still in contact. They felt right, touching, nibbling, nipping, and caressing. His fingers stroking her cheek.
As his eyes fluttered, she moved her lips down his face, snuggling up closer. “Rest.”
“Mmm” was all she heard, though his arms encircled her in a steel band. Nothing too tight but he wasn’t letting her go anywhere. It was all right, she didn’t want to leave where she was. It felt good. Was this how Callie felt when she had Jack next to her in bed every night? It was pretty damned fantastic.
Scott’s heart beat under her ear as his breathing evened out. She should wait a few more minutes until he was definitely asleep then sneak out. There was lots of work to do at her office. His nose nestled in her hair and the scent of his natural soap wafted into hers. Work could wait.
The man in her arms needed her at this moment. It hadn’t been too often she’d been needed. For her money or her connections, sure. But for the comfort of her presence, maybe Callie, but no one else. It was kind of nice for someone to want her here simply for herself. She wouldn’t be giving that up any time soon.
* * * *
“Where’s Scott?”
Heather let Jack and Drew into Scott’s apartment then closed the door gently behind them.
“He was sleeping a few minutes ago. It must not have been too relaxing in the prison cell.”
Jack glanced in the direction of Scott’s bedroom. “How’s he doing?”
“Hungry and tired,” she said, leading the men to sit in the living area. They didn’t need to know Scott’s sleep had been troubled. Staying beside him for a few hours, she’d needed to whisper in his ear and stroke his face when nightmares had assailed him. She suspected more than the weekend in jail caused them.
“Has something ever happened to him to make him feel trapped?”
Both men turned to look at her, eyes concerned.
“Why do you ask?” Jack leaned forward, his forearms resting on his knees.
“He said something in his sleep.” Thrashed in his sleep was more like it. Not that she’d share that right now. Not unless it got worse. But their eyes told her she was right.
“In Afghanistan, Scott was in a village when insurgents started shelling,” Drew said. “The building he was in collapsed. He was trapped for a few days. Pretty tight quarters. He told me once it was like being in a coffin.” Drew looked away and his jaw tightened.
“We couldn’t get in there until the shelling stopped.” Jack’s face was like granite. Was he remembering how worried he’d been for his cousin?
“How bad was he injured?”
Looking around the room, Drew said, “He made it out. Lots of others didn’t. I know that still bothers him.”
“Have you gotten any information on the woman who’s accusing him of beating her up?”
“I’d like to know that too.” Scott’s voice behind them was scratchy, like he’d swallowed gravel. From sleep or anxiety?
Settling on the couch next to her, he reached for her hand and squeezed. His smile was grateful. Because she stayed near him as he slept, or something else? Whatever it was, she was more than happy to support him.
“I spoke with Chris and he did some background checking on Ms. Findley,” Jack said, leaning back in his chair. His eyes roamed his cousin, his expression one of worry. She checked him out as well. He’d pulled on a T-shirt but still had the sweatpants clinging to his muscular legs. His hair was tousled, like he’d had some wild sex. Didn’t she wish that was true. With her, of course.
Shaking her head, she threw off those thoughts. He’d given her plenty of opportunity to be with him. She’d been the one who had pulled away. And right now, he needed her support and comfort, not sex.
“She has no priors and doesn’t seem to be mixed up with anything unsavory,” Jack continued. “However, her brother is a different story. He’s into all sorts of shit. This could have something to do with him.”
“I spoke with Judge Stokinger,” Drew said. “You met him at the Law Library opening. Asked him if he had any advice, or if he could speak with the judge on the case, put in a good word.”
“What’d he say?” Scott asked, his hand tightening on hers again. The fact he hadn’t let it go spoke volumes. Scott wasn’t the hand-holding type.
Drew’s expression wasn’t hopeful. “He seemed aware of the evidence and said it was solid. Said he’d check further into the case and if there was anything that could help us, he’d let me know.”
“We shouldn’t hold our breath, though, right?” Scott sighed and slumped back against the cushions.
Shrugging, Drew said, “He can’t do all that much. He’s retired now. But I appreciate his efforts. It’s more than we could ask for.”
Scott nodded. “Tell him I appreciate it. Jack, we should talk about what to do with the company.”
“What do you mean, what to do? The company will stay the way it is.”
Scott chuckled dryly. “If things don’t go well for me, and they look pretty dismal right now, you’ll need to take over everything.”
Standing, Jack towered over his cousin. “Get that out of your head, now. We still have a few weeks until the pre-trial hearing.”
“And it would be even longer until the actual trial,” Drew added. “A good lawyer could stretch things out for a while. Give us more time to figure this out.”
“Thanks.” Scott’s crooked grin held no warmth and his eyes narrowed in pain. “I don’t understand what the hell is happening. I’ve been racking my brain, trying to remember if I did something to anyone in this lady’s family. I need to do more digging to see if one of my projects affected her somehow. Anything else doesn’t make sense.”
“Or it’s something to do with this mill building,” she suggested. “We’ve had a bitch of a time getting permits through. I’ll see if I can dig up the history on it.”
“Or check out the other bidders who wanted it,” Drew suggested. “This could be a way to get you to sell.”
Running his hands through his hair, Scott took a deep breath. “This is an awful lot of trouble to go to just to get a building.”
Heather’s phone buzzed and she grabbed it from the table. Jian.
Looking at Scott, she slid her hand over the screen to read the text. “Jian has some information he says we should hear. He wants to meet.”
“Jian? Has something else happened to the building?” Scott asked.
She shook her head. “No, it’s about Carla Findley.”
His eyes drilled into her. “How the hell does he know about her?”
“I told him.”
“When did you see Jian?”
Heat crawled up her neck. He wouldn’t be happy about this. “I went looking for him a few days ago.”
“You went…” He held her upper arms, glaring. “What the fuck were you thinking going looking for him? His crowd is dangerous. You could have been killed, or worse.” Yeah, she knew what the worse was but she’d never tell Scott about that little incident.
“I know but you said I was under his protection now. And I was fine.” And she had been once Jian’s men had come to her rescue.
“Jian? You mean the street gang guy?” Drew sat up straighter. “You aren’t still hanging around with him, are you?”
“I don’t hang around with him. But occasionally I need a favor and he’s able to do it for me.”
“This won’t look good if the cops find out, Scott. It could make your case worse than it already is.”
“Too late,” Scott replied. “They already know. Probably one of the reasons my bail was so high, even though I’m not a flight risk.”
Running her hand down his arm, trying to calm the anger she felt in him, she said, “What do you want me to say to Jian? Did you want to see what information he has?”
Scott shoved his hands through his hair again then rubbed them over his face. “I guess it can’t hurt. Tell him I’ll meet him at the mill in thirty minutes.”
“We’ll come too,” Drew said, standing beside Jack.
“No.” Scott shook them off. “Lawyer and ex-FBI. Not a good match for Jian. His trust only goes so far.”
Tapping her fingers on the phone screen, she said, “I’ll tell him we’ll meet him.”
Scott pushed himself off the couch. “You’re not coming with me. I don’t want you anywhere near these guys.”
Standing, she followed him across the room. “You’re not going by yourself. I want to help. And don’t even try to give me the ‘it’s too dangerous’ lecture. You’ll be with me and I know I’m safe with you.”
Scott didn’t argue, simply entered his room to change his clothes. Strangely enough Heather wasn’t worried about meeting with the street gang leader. With Scott, she felt safe. He’d never let anything happen to her. And as much as she hated admitting to needing anyone, for some weird reason, she didn’t mind Scott wanting to protect her. It felt kind of nice.