HE’D LIED TO HER. Stone was not convinced that he was going to win. He wasn’t sure that he could, especially with his client stonewalling him.
“I can’t put you on the stand,” Stone said, “not until you tell me everything.”
Byron stared across the conference room table at him. They weren’t at the jail, which should have made it easier for Stone to relax. There was still a guard posted outside the courthouse conference room where Stone had been allowed to meet with his client before the next session began. But it wasn’t the guard making him uneasy; it was the fact that he knew Byron was holding back.
“You know who her lover was,” Stone said. If he knew, he must have had a reason for keeping it quiet. He certainly wasn’t protecting the man with whom his young bride had been cheating on him.
Had he killed him, too? The horrible thought flickered through Stone’s mind and chilled his blood. And for once he saw what Hillary saw about his job—that he might actually be helping a killer elude justice.
And if he eluded justice, he was bound to kill again. If he hadn’t already...
“She cannot be right,” he murmured. About Byron or about him.
It wasn’t as if Stone wanted the guilty to go free. That wasn’t why he’d chosen to become a criminal defense lawyer. It was that he wanted to make sure everyone got fair representation—because his mother sure hadn’t.
If only she’d been sentenced to rehab instead of jail.
She might have been able to kick her drug habit and her husband to the curb. He sighed and rubbed his hand around the back of his neck where all his tension had gathered.
This was the kind of tension that not even a soul-shattering orgasm with Hillary could ease.
Byron leaned across the table and grasped Stone’s arms. “She’s not right,” he said. “I did not kill my wife.”
“What about her lover?” Stone asked.
Byron’s brow furrowed with confusion.
“Did you kill him?” he asked.
Byron’s face flushed. “I am not a killer.”
And once again Stone believed him. But that didn’t make his job any easier. In fact, it made it a hell of a lot harder. Just like Hillary made him.
Just thinking about her had more tension gripping him, coiling low in his groin. He groaned and shook his head. “I can’t put you on the stand.”
“But you believe me,” Byron pointed out. “The jury will, too.”
“I’m not worried about the jury,” Stone said. “I’m worried about Hillary Bellows.”
“What about her?”
“I think she’s good,” Stone said. Maybe even better than he was. “She’s so good that she might be able to get out of you whatever the hell you’re afraid to tell me.”
Byron shook his head. “No way in hell. She won’t get to me.”
That was what Stone had once thought, too. He shook his head. “I can’t risk it. I can’t risk another damn surprise in this trial.”
“So what are you going to do?”
“Ask for a recess until tomorrow,” Stone said. It would buy him some time to think. If he didn’t put Byron on the stand now, when the jury knew he was supposed to testify...they would think he’d changed his mind for a reason, that Byron had something to hide.
Unfortunately, they were right.
Was he? Was he only convincing himself of Byron’s innocence in order to save face with Hillary? Hell, he should be more worried about his conscience than her.
But it felt like she had become his conscience and more...
Too much more.
* * *
Hillary stood in the elevator, staring up at the numbers flashing above the doors. Her briefcase hung from her hand. It had never felt as heavy as it did right now with the envelope inside it.
Was she doing the right thing?
Should she have brought it here? Or straight to court?
Her boss had said that he wanted to be notified the minute she got any new evidence. This information would guarantee a conviction. Wilson Tremont would undoubtedly want to present it to the judge himself. He would want the win against Stone Michaelsen on his record, even though Hillary had done all the work.
She hadn’t had anything to do with this, however. The evidence had just dropped into her lap like those bank statements. She didn’t want to win like this.
And most especially, she didn’t want to blindside Stone again.
But was it going to blindside him?
Or did he already know?
He had to know, right?
Byron Mueller was his client. Surely, he would have told Stone everything. The elevator stopped smoothly on the top floor of the building. She had no more time to think, to figure out what was the right thing to do.
The doors slid open. And Hillary wasn’t sure if she was in an office or a penthouse. The floors were hardwood, the walls exposed brick, and the tall windows looked onto the lights of Midtown.
So this was how the other half lived? The half who represented the criminals and killers?
She uttered a soft sigh as she gazed around and she felt a flash of envy. She also felt a flash of empathy for the kid Stone had once been—a child of drug dealers who’d run away to live on the streets.
He’d come a hell of a long way—much farther than she had. She smiled as she thought of the different paths they’d traveled. She’d started out here with a wealthy father who’d tried to give her everything to make up for the untimely death of her young mother. She’d gone to the best boarding schools and colleges.
She’d made connections there, even more than she had through her father. But she’d wanted to make her own way, like Stone. So she’d switched to her mother’s name and lived only off the meager salary she drew from the district attorney’s office. And she was probably just as happy as Stone was here in the penthouse-like luxury offices of Street Legal.
Her heels clicked against the hardwood as she stepped out of the elevator. A guy met her at the glass doors of the lobby. He was stepping out of them while reaching for the security panel next to them, probably to lock them. He glanced up as he saw her.
“Ms. Bellows?”
She was usually good with faces, but she couldn’t quite place his. He had dark hair and a dark complexion. And as he reached out for her hand, she noticed the tattoo peeking out beneath the cuff of his shirtsleeve. He was a former gang member.
One who worked at the after-school program to which she’d sometimes sentenced young offenders back when she’d worked juvenile cases.
“Miguel,” she greeted him. “I didn’t realize you worked here.” They hadn’t talked about themselves, though, just about the kids they’d both been trying to save. His program was the only thing for which she’d ever asked her father for money. He still contributed—more than she did.
He nodded. “Yeah, I go way back with these guys. I haven’t seen you in a while.”
She felt a flash of guilt. “I haven’t worked any juvenile cases in a long time.”
“You’re big time now, huh?”
She would be—once she won this case. And she would win. But she didn’t want to win like this. “I’m not sure what big time is anymore,” she admitted.
“Trying Byron Mueller,” Miguel said. “That’s big time.”
She shrugged.
He pulled the doors open again. “You’re here to see Stone.”
“Is he still here?”
“Always...” His brow furrowed. “Well, it used to be that he was always the last one still in the office. But lately...”
Lately, he’d been showing up at her office. And at her apartment.
Was that why he didn’t know what she knew?
Or did he know but he’d been keeping her busy so that she wouldn’t find out?
Miguel held the doors for her with one beefy arm while he gestured with the other. “He’s at the end of the hall toward the right. Corner office.”
“Of course,” she murmured. Stone Michaelsen would have a corner office.
“Since we have the whole top floor, each of the partners has a corner office or would have...”
“Would?”
“A couple of them walled up some of the windows,” he said. “Guess it goes back to the streets, where you like to keep your back against the wall.”
Acting impulsively, she hugged the big man. “It was great seeing you again, Miguel,” she said as she pulled back. He’d reminded her that people could come a long way from where they’d started, not just materially, like Stone had, but emotionally as well.
Could Stone achieve the emotional growth that his old friend had?
Miguel smiled at her. “It’s too bad you’re not doing juvenile cases anymore, Ms. Bellows. You were always really fair.”
That was why she was here, because it was the only fair thing to do. With new resolve, she headed down the hall toward Stone’s office.
The door was open, and despite having two walls of windows, he had his back against a wall with none. It was the same wall on which the door was, so he would have seen her before she’d seen him if he was looking up.
But he had his head bowed over an open book on his desk as he rubbed the back of his neck. He already looked beaten, so he probably knew what she did.
He just didn’t know that she knew, that she had the evidence in her briefcase. She didn’t want to talk about that now, at least not yet. Instead, she slipped off her heels, so he wouldn’t hear her coming. And she tiptoed along the wall until she came up behind him. There wasn’t much space between his chair and the wall. And the minute she reached out and touched him, he pushed back the chair and nearly crushed her. Her breath escaped in a whoosh.
And he jerked forward. “Are you okay?” he asked, his gray eyes wide with concern.
“Yes,” she assured him.
“What were you doing?” he asked. “Were you going to whop me over the head with your briefcase like you did in the parking garage?”
“I didn’t whop you over the head,” she said. “I hit you in the shoulder.”
“I’m going to be like Ernest Rapier,” he said with a sigh. “So abused.”
At the moment, with dark circles beneath his eyes and lines of tension around his mouth, he looked abused. Or at least exhausted. And worried.
“Yeah, like I could ever hurt you...” But even as she said it, she trailed off. She could hurt him—or at least his case—if he didn’t know what she’d just learned.
He studied her face for a long moment, and as he did, a muscle twitched along his tightly clenched jaw. “I think you just might be the only one who could.”
“Will this really be your first loss?” she asked.
He grinned and shook his head. “You are so damn sure of yourself.”
She had even more reason to be now.
She reached out and stroked her fingers along his jaw. Stubble was already poking through his skin. But it was soft to her touch, making her fingertips tingle. “You’re not,” she said. “You finally realize your client is guilty?”
He groaned, and it was full of frustration. “He’s not. But he’s not helping me prove it.”
“He’s not going to testify?” she asked. He was on the witness list, but he could still change his mind. And she could guess why he had.
“He wants to,” Stone admitted. “But...”
“What?” she asked.
“You.”
“What about me?”
He touched her now, gliding his fingers along the edge of her jaw. “You’re too damn good.”
She’d never thought he would admit it. She beamed with pride. “You know I’ll get a confession out of him.”
“No,” he answered immediately, as if he still had no doubts about his client’s innocence. But then he added, “I think you might get out of him whatever he’s not willing to tell me.”
And she knew. Stone had no idea what was in that envelope. Once again it had come from his office—or at least the envelope had—but he had no idea what the contents were.
“Your client isn’t being forthcoming,” she mused. “That can’t be a first for you.”
He took his hand from her face and ran it over his. And she felt a twinge of guilt. Now was not the time to needle him for his career choice. Nor was it the time—just yet—to tell him his office mole had struck again.
Instead, she pushed him back onto his chair. “Sit down and relax.”
“I can’t, Hillary. You know this case isn’t going well.”
Even better than he did. She teased him, “It is for me.”
And despite his tension, his lips curled up slightly at the corners into a shadow of his usual wicked grin. “Of course you’d see it that way.”
They were never going to be on the same side of a trial, which was a problem now and for the future. Because of that, there really was no future for them. But there was the moment. And in the moment, Hillary wanted to make Stone feel better. So she dropped to her knees in front of his chair.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Getting you to relax.” But when she reached for his belt, his stomach muscles tightened and his body tensed. She trailed her fingers down his chest. “Relax...”
“Easy for you to say.”
“You don’t like this,” she said, “giving up control.”
“I haven’t been in control since that first kiss,” he said, “hell, even before that or I would have had the control to not kiss you in the first place.”
She liked him out of control. And she proceeded to get him to lose it again. After unclasping his belt, she tugged down the tab of his zipper. Then she freed his erection from his boxers, pushing them and his pants down around his hip bones, which jutted out. He was all toned muscle and taut skin. And his penis...
It was so thick. She closed her lips over the head of it. And so long, she sucked him deep in her mouth.
And he sucked in a sharp breath. “Hillary.”
She glanced up at his face, which was now flushed with passion. He leaned back in his chair, but he still wasn’t relaxed. She knew what that would take.
While she couldn’t relieve all the frustration he was feeling, she could relieve some of it for him.
She continued to slide her mouth up and down the length of him, sucking him deeper into her throat each time. And what she couldn’t take into her mouth, she stroked with her hand, pumping it up and down.
He groaned and reached for her, his fingers tangling in her hair. But he didn’t pull her away. He just held her head, fingering the strands of her hair, as she continued to bring him to the edge.
Finally, his body tensed and a deep groan tore from his throat as he threw his head back against his chair, rocking it against the wall. Then he came, filling her mouth with his sweet release.
She swallowed it down but still some trickled from the corner of her mouth. She lapped at it with her tongue. And Stone groaned again.
“You are so damn sexy and passionate and incredible,” he murmured as he stared down at her with eyes that looked glazed with pleasure and awe.
She knew he wouldn’t be looking at her like that once she opened her briefcase, so she enjoyed it for a moment. But she’d known this moment was all they would have. Once she showed him what she’d received, she suspected that whatever they had or were doing would end.