Лиза Джонс - Hot Secrets

“Someone throwing alcohol at us is in the news,” she said. “My phone calls are not. And you and I both know the police will do less than what you’re doing and someone will blab. This kind of thing feeds copycats. I don’t need to invite that kind of attention to me, or anyone in a similar position on a tough case.”

“Are you confident this is about the case?”

She inhaled and let it out. “I don’t know. I have ticking clocks and one day marked off a calendar. How do I know what that means? Logic says it’s this case though. That’s all I can go on.”

“Do you have your files on your computer? Can you go through them and make a list of the most likely suspects?”

“Royce, you were FBI. Is there even one of the perps you took down that would send you a Christmas card?”

“No,” he said. “But I know the ones that were the most vicious and the most likely to lash out. We need to start there.”

“I have my files.”

“Then when we get back here, we’ll go through them. We’ll get this behind you. I promise.”

Lauren wasn’t one to lean on other people, but in that moment, she was secretly far more thankful for that promise than she was willing to admit to anyone, even him. And not because she didn’t appreciate his efforts. Because she knew that if she let him know just how rattled she was, if she admitted it to him, she’d have to admit it to herself. The way she compartmentalized the bad stuff that came with her job didn’t work that way. There was an order to the way she dealt with things. She had to maintain control. Not Royce.

***

Several hours later, Lauren shivered as she stepped off the elevator and into the corridor outside her apartment. “Well, we didn’t beat the rain,” she said, shivering from the cold droplets that lingered on her black jeans and red t-shirt, as well as her hair. “I hope the sandwiches we walked two blocks for are worth getting wet over. I’ve never tried this place.”

She scooped her keys from her purse. Royce’s cell phone rang and he dropped his overnight bag on the ground, and Lauren took the bag of food from him so he could answer it.

He held his phone and punched the ‘answer’ button as his gaze dropped to the bottom of the door. He answered the call with, “I’ll call you back,” then ended the connection and stuck his phone back onto his belt.

Lauren’s gaze settled on the envelope on the ground and she knew that had to be what he was reacting to, and she was downright chilled to the bone now. “We’ve only been gone a few hours. There have to be security cameras.”

“There are and they showed no evidence of anyone but us at your door in the past few days. Let me have your keys.”

Lauren set the bag on the floor and fished them from her purse. He took them and checked the door over before opening it and grabbing the envelope. “Stay here.”

“Right,” she said stiffly. “I’ve got the drill down. You go. I wait.”

He tilted her chin up with his finger. “I’ll make this go away, Lauren. I promise.”

“Keep saying that,” she encouraged, confessing more than she should, more than she told herself just hours before that she would, but unable to stop herself. “It helps to hear it.”

***

After Royce searched the apartment, he found Lauren in the hallway and gave her the ‘all clear’ to come inside. Standing at the kitchen table, he showed her the calendar sheet he’d already pulled from the envelope with an additional day marked off. This time there was a message made from cutout letters.

Lauren frowned, reading it. “The countdown continues.” She shook her head. “There’s no ending date for me to have any idea where this is headed. It’s making me crazy.”

“When you see that paper and hear the ticking clock, what’s the first thing, or things, that comes to your mind?”

“This case. It’s a death penalty case. Well, there is this other...” She pursed her lips. “No. Never mind.”

“What?” he asked. “Say it. It’s better to look at all options than not.”

She leaned one and on the table. “I hesitate to bring this up because I was second chair, but my first death penalty case, a guy named Sheridan, goes to execution soon.”

“When?”

“Ironically, two weeks after this new trial begins but it’s been stayed several times. It could easily be again.”

“Who was the first chair?”

“He’s dead, natural causes.”

Royce stiffened at that news. “You’re sure it was natural?”

“Not only did the man practically inhale his weight in grease every day, the phrase ‘smoke like a chimney’ was created in his honor. He had a heart attack. It’s a reach but it’s what came to my mind on several occasions, so there it is.”

Royce grabbed his phone and punched in Luke’s number, before giving his brother the Sheridan execution and case to research. He asked Lauren a couple of questions for Luke and then ended the call.

“I hate that your brothers are being bothered with this,” Lauren said, her hands on the back of one of the chairs. “I hate you’re being bothered with this. I know you have work of your own to deal with.”

“They don’t question what I need any more than I question what they need. We have each other’s backs.” He pulled her against him, her hips to his, his arms around her waist. “And I have yours.”

Her hand settled on his chest and he doubted she knew just how much her touch scorched him, how much she affected him without even trying. “You barely know me,” she argued.

“But I want to, which means keeping you safe so I get the chance.” She shivered and he ran his hands down her arms. “Why don’t I don’t I start a fire before we eat? I noticed you have wood.”

“I’d like that,” she said. “I think I’ll go throw on some dry clothes.” She started to turn and paused. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“I do.” She hesitated. “Just... I do.” She rose up on her toes and pressed her lips to his.

Royce knew she meant to make it quick kiss and then escape, but she was tiny and soft in his arms and felt more perfect than anyone had in a very long time. It tormented him to know he was deceiving her but he shoved aside the reality he’d eventually have to face and wrapped his fingers around her neck, holding her to him. His tongue pressed into hers, stealing one sweet taste before he murmured, “Hurry back. I’m hungry.” And if she wasn’t clear that he wasn’t talking about sandwiches, she would be soon.

Chapter Nine

Royce watched Lauren disappear into her bedroom, thinking about the senator’s insistence that she would dismiss a threat, and put herself in harm’s way. Sure, he saw her caution about overreacting, but he couldn’t blame her in the role she was in with the DA. Most importantly thought, she wasn’t under reacting either or pretending nothing was wrong. The senator clearly knew something he wasn’t saying, something he didn’t want Lauren to know.

Royce headed to the front door and unzipped his bag and replaced his wet Yankees t-shirt with a dry white one on his way to the door. He had Luke on the line the instant he was in the hallway. “Senators can’t give stays of execution,” Royce said. “I get that but”

“They can influence them,” Luke finished for him. “I’m already on it. I’m trying to find any connection between the senator and the Sheridan case, be it past or present, or both.”

“You mean I’m trying,” came Blake’s voice in the background. “And I’m already on it. Apparently, you’re taking all the credit.”

Luke grimaced at Blake’s comment and continued speaking to Royce. “As you can see, I’ve recruited help. While Blake works the Sheridan angle, I’m working on anything and everything the senator has touched in the past year. Are you going to tell him about the phone calls and the calendars Lauren is getting?”