CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Cole
The internet on the plane is down, which means I can’t look forward to what awaits us in LA until we actually land. That occurs at five in the morning and while we taxi, my phone pings with messages, while Lori scans the news on hers for any updates we might need.
The first message on my phone is from our Hollywood starlet: My father wants you to call him and my home is a nightmare. I snuck out to the Bel-Air hotel. I’m registered as June Miller. Ask for me there. Your assistant booked your room here as well.
The next message is from Ashley: Starlet at Bel-Air hotel. Now you are too. Warning. There is a Hollywood charity event/party there tonight with your diva movie star hosting.
She’s included the address.
“It’s hard to be thorough on my phone,” Lori says, “but I don’t see much new on the internet related to this case. There are just a lot of tributes from stars and fans for the life lost. The police are being tight-lipped.”
“Of course they are,” I say. “Easier to manipulate us during questioning if we don’t know the facts.”
“Did you ask that security company to look into a suicide history for the deceased?”
“I did not,” I say, “but I am now,” I add, texting Royce: Suicide history of deceased. Him or relations.
He replies immediately, obviously not in bed asleep, with a simple: On it.
The plane pulls to a halt in the hangar and Lori and I unbuckle. The minute we’re both on our feet, I pull Lori to me and kiss her, in her own words, thoroughly, right up until she moans softly, and I know if I don’t stop, I won’t. “What was that for?” she asks, repeating my earlier question.
“Because I can’t do that once we’re on duty.”
She gives me one of her beautiful smiles that really, truly just makes me want to take her to the back of the plane and fuck her. I settle for another kiss before we gather our things and head for the door. Once we’re in the backseat of a hired car, I show her the messages from Ashley and our starlet. “A party?” she asks. “Talk about bad timing, and the diva reference. Is she a diva?”
“She was well behaved with me, but her father was always present and I can tell you that he’s a man of rules, ethics and manners.”
She opens her mouth and shuts it. “I have comments. I have questions.”
I nod, understanding and respecting that my flight attendant story has stayed with her. There will be no conversation in public and right here, in this city, under these circumstances, caution is paramount, or I’d already have my hand on her knee. “Have you ever been to LA?” I ask, changing the subject.
“Never,” she says. “My three flights included Hawaii, when I was too young to remember, and Texas twice when I considered UT for law school.”
“You know my home state then.”
“I was going to ask you about that,” she says. “You called New York home last night. You let go of Houston quickly.”
“I love New York City. I was only in Houston because of the firm.”
“And your father.”
“My father was the firm,” I say. “He was rooted in Houston. I wanted growth. Now we’re growing.”
“You have no siblings?”
“Not that I know of,” I say, “and you already know he had a strong opinion on birth control.”
Her cell phone rings and she scrambles for her phone, and I sense the panic in her, the fear that she left her mother, and her mother is now sick again. She glances at the number on the phone and her hand actually shakes. “Mom? Is everything okay?” She listens a moment, and breathes out in relief that I swear I feel with her. I’ve never felt anything with a woman before outside of momentary lust. But I feel it, right in my gut and my heart.
“We just landed,” Lori says. “We’re good. All is well.” There’s a pause. “His sister. Oh, well, aren’t you glad you asked now?”
I listen to the short exchange that ends with, “I love you, Mom.”
I love you, mom.
Fuck.
I have this crazy, long buried memory of the last time I hugged my mother.
Lori ends the calls. “Sorry about that.”
“Don’t ever be sorry for talking to your mother. That’s me saying that to you personally and professionally.”
Her eyes soften. “Thank you, Cole.”
I reach for her hand and discreetly squeeze it. “I take it the other woman was her new man’s sister?”
“Yes. She seems happy about it. I just don’t want her to get hurt or to lean on him like she did my father, and crash and burn again.”
And there it is. The wall between us. Her absolute fear of ever needing someone.
The car pulls up to the hotel and doormen open both of our doors. The minute I step outside, I feel the eyes on me, the way I feel the eyes on me when I first enter a courtroom. In that situation, I tune them out, center myself in the job, but here, now, I do not.
Lori joins me as I tip a bellman. The minute we’re clear of him and other nearby ears, walking through the lobby, she returns to the conversation we didn’t have in the car. “If Jerome Knight is such a good man, why did the police have such a hard-on for him?”
I laugh at her remark that she somehow delivers as if it’s ladylike, which is next to impossible. “The cops we took down, the ones that were after him, were actually in on the insider trading and they’d stolen millions from the company on top of that. With the help of Walker Security, we figured it out and went after them, which was Jerome’s decision. He knew they would come at him, but he wanted justice.”
“And they’re still coming.”
“Taking those cops down created a PR nightmare for the department, and trust issues with the public that they’ve done little to repair. Taking down the man who exposed the problem will perhaps create doubt that the problem was even real.”
“And challenge your credibility as an attorney,” she says, as we step into line, but remain a good distance behind the person in front of us.
“That won’t be easy to do,” I say, turning toward her and lowering my voice, “but without question, they want to take me down.”
“They’d need to prove you did something illegal, faked evidence, or something, to that effect.”
“That would be impossible,” I say, “but they have something up their sleeves which could be nothing more than using our client as leverage against her father.”
It’s our turn in line and Lori and I step to the counter. We leave with two side-by-side rooms assigned, and I don’t ask for the adjoining doors I want. “We’re being watched,” I warn Lori.
“I feel it,” she says, “but I thought it was paranoia.”
“It’s not,” I say punching the elevator call button. “Elevators are recorded,” I add.
The car opens, and we step inside. The bellman catches up with us, promising to meet us on our floor. He arrives at the eighth floor with us. Once we’re there, he helps Lori with her bags first and she disappears inside her room. I deal with him, and my bags, tip him, and then wait until he’s gone to dial Royce. “Walk me through checking for cameras and bugs.”
“What room?”
“Two rooms.” I give him the numbers.
“I’ll send someone to check them out when you’re gone, but for now do this. No internet in your room. Stay off it and that includes your phone. Unplug everything. Obviously look for wires and visible signs of a bug or camera. Hold private conversations outside, not inside. Any common area could be bugged.” He has me download several apps to use in the rooms to aid my efforts. By the time we’re done, I’m cursing.
“Fuck,” I murmur. “I should have had the sense to grab a private rental.”
“One of my men there in LA will have a spare room if you want it.”
I think of Lori's comfort and rule that out. “I need to be here with my client,” I say, “but thanks, man.” We disconnect, and I walk to Lori’s door and knock.
She opens the door already in her bare feet, her toes painted pink. I grab her and pull her close, whispering in her ear, “Walker is going to check our rooms for bugs when we’re gone. For now, I’m going to do what I can.” I lean back, and her eyes are wide, but she nods and backs into the room.
I start my sweep using the apps I’ve been assigned, and Lori follows me, checking behind me. We come up empty, which isn’t much of a relief since we don’t know what the fuck we’re doing. There are no cameras though, at least not in the bathroom. Of that I’m certain. I even checked the shower head.
I glance at my watch. “It’s seven,” I say. “Let’s meet up in an hour to talk through the case before our nine o’clock with Tara.”
“Sounds good,” Lori says, and for reasons I cannot explain, her pink painted toenails are distracting me and I now have a hard on. Fuck, what is it about this woman that her damn pink toes can turn me on?
I motion to the bathroom where I know we’re clear, and we step inside, but for safe measure, I pull her close, my hands on her hips, and I speak near her ear. “Undress and redress in here. Nowhere else.”
“Do you really think we’re being bugged?”
I pull back to look at her. “If they’re watching us, they could be listening to us.” I press my cheek to hers again, my hand sliding up her back to settle between her shoulder blades. “And just so you know,” I say softly, “every moment that you catch me looking at you, I’m thinking about touching you. Most likely, I’m thinking of you lying across my lap, your pretty, naked ass in the air, and how much I want to spank you again.”
She sucks in a breath that I catch with a kiss, before I say, “I’ll see you in an hour,” and exit the bathroom and then the room. I hate fucking leaving her in that room alone. I enter mine, clear the room as I had hers, and then walk to the end of the hallway and call Ashley.
“How are things, boss?”
“Interesting,” I say. “What’s your exact ETA?”
“It could be three weeks. I have to deal with personal matters, but I can manage a part-time load.”
“I won’t argue. As you know, I’m mentoring Lori Havens, a Stanford law student, who I plan to bring on full time with the firm. Call Stanford and find out how the hell I can get Lori her degree in no more than six months.”
“All right. What do I need to know about her?”
“Nothing you don’t ask her yourself when you get your ass back to work, outside of how to get her through law school in six months.”
“Interesting,” she says. “I can’t wait to meet Lori Havens.” I can hear the damn smile on her face. I hang up and walk past Lori’s room to get to mine and I do so with a vow: Six months from now, we will not be hiding. She will have her degree, she will see herself as the equal I already know her to be, and the world will know that she is mine.