Kate Donovan - Spin Control

“I told them not to bother me unless it was an emergency.”

“Perfect.” He punched the speaker-phone button, his voice turning into a growl. “This is Director McGregor. Identify yourself.”

“Hey, McGregor. It’s Justin Russo. So the rumors about you and S-3 are true, huh? You’re a lucky guy! Is she as pretty as she sounds?”

“Russo?” McGregor practically spat the name of Kristie’s favorite operative. “Not that it’s any of your business, but S-3 and I were having an employer-employee discussion. And I wasn’t aware we had any ops going with you at the moment.”

“We don’t,” Kristie interrupted. “But we recommended him for the Angel of Mercy investigation. Because of the possible Night Arrow connection. Remember?” Raising her voice, she asked with concern, “Justin? Is everything okay?”

“Sorry, S-3. Didn’t mean to get you in trouble with the boss. I know SPIN isn’t officially involved with this case, but I was hoping to get some quick advice anyway.”

“Don’t worry. But hold on, okay?” She pressed the mute button, then prodded McGregor hopefully. “You say you already bought the ring? Do you have it with you?”

“Let’s get rid of this guy first.” McGregor switched the phone off mute. “Your timing stinks, Russo. Can’t you call S-3 tomorrow at the office? It’s bad enough when you guys hound her in the middle of the night for SPIN business. But when we’re not even under contract for the operation—”

“You’re right,” Justin admitted. “But I didn’t know who else to trust. And Essie—I mean, S-3—hasn’t ever steered me wrong.”

Kristie sent McGregor a pleading look, and when he frowned but nodded, she said quickly, “What do you need, Justin?”

“The name of a good lawyer.”

“A lawyer?” McGregor was growling again. “What’s going on out there?”

“I’m not actually ‘out there.’ I’m in here—a jail cell, to be specific.” Dropping the bantering tone, the FBI agent added, “They think I killed a suspect. But I didn’t do it. I swear.”

“Of course you didn’t,” Kristie replied, shooting McGregor a warning glare. “How awful, Justin. But don’t worry. We’ll help you. Right, Will?”

“Yeah, Russo. Don’t worry. I’ve got plenty of contacts at the Justice Department. I’ll make sure they fix you up with the best.”

“We’ll do it right away,” Kristie added. “I can’t believe they’re actually holding you.”

“The Bureau will have him out in no time,” McGregor promised, his voice ringing with confidence. “Just sit tight, Russo. You may be a pain in the ass, but you’re also a federal agent. There’s no way anyone at the FBI—or here—will let you down.”

“Thanks, McGregor. And Essie? Just for the record, I didn’t kill anyone—”

“I know you didn’t,” she murmured, although in the back of her mind warning bells were beginning to clang.

This was sounding a little too familiar. The last time a close friend—former SPIN director Ray Ortega—had assured her he was innocent, she had believed him without question, and that misplaced trust had almost gotten her killed.

She licked her lips. “You said it was a suspect? You don’t mean the Masterson heiress, do you? I read about that shooting.”

“Yeah, and believe me, when I get my hands on the guy who did it, I’ll make him pay.” Justin’s tone grew brisk. “I’ve gotta go. McGregor? Give Essie a kiss for me.”

As the line went dead, McGregor muttered, “That guy is nothing but trouble.”

“Like me?”

He laughed warily and reached for her. “At least you have some redeeming qualities.”

She backed away. “You’re supposed to be calling your friends at the FBI, remember? To make sure they get a great lawyer for Justin.” Then she jutted her chin forward defensively. “He and I may use unorthodox tactics at times, but we each have excellent success rates.”

McGregor snorted. “Russo’s unorthodox tactics usually involve fooling around with some female when he’s supposed to be working on a case. Big surprise that there’s a woman behind this murder charge, too.”

“At least he knows how to be romantic. Maybe you should ask for a few pointers.”

McGregor winced. “I probably should have mentioned this earlier, but if I ever do have to fire you, my next official act would be to resign as SPIN director.”

“Assistant Director,” she reminded him drily.

McGregor seemed about to respond but ended up just shaking his head instead. Then he pulled out his cell phone, punched in a number and was soon lobbying the FBI to find the best attorney the Justice Department had to offer for Special Agent Justin Russo.

“Thanks for coming with me today, Suzannah. I can really use the moral support.”

“If half of what we’ve heard about Judge Taylor’s temper is true, you don’t need moral support. You need a flak jacket.” Suzannah Ryder gave her colleague Tony Moreno a wry smile. “You’re pretty brave taking on this case, knowing how angry he is about it. Can you believe he hasn’t ever had a ruling reversed on appeal before? They say he threw a huge fit when he got the news.”

She paused to wince, knowing that Judge Taylor’s anger had actually been focused in her direction. After all, she was the attorney who had successfully appealed the judge’s ruling. And since he was known throughout Northern California as “Taylor the Jailor” because of his habit of throwing attorneys into jail for contempt of court, she was glad it was Tony rather than she who was handling the Driscoll case from here on out, including this morning’s appearance.

“You’re sure you don’t want to be my co-counsel?” Tony asked, his expression hopeful.

“I don’t have a death wish. Plus, I don’t really know anything about criminal cases, remember? I only got roped into taking the appeal because Driscoll is my best friend’s sister’s boyfriend.” She shook her head. “I don’t know how you guys do it. An appeal is one thing, but here at the trial-court level, it’s complete anarchy. Hobnobbing with criminals. Kowtowing to hostile judges like Taylor every day. I’m glad my firm only accepts civil cases. Give me a nice safe stack of contracts any day of the week.”

“Yeah.” Tony sent a worried glance toward the heavy double doors that would soon admit them to Taylor the Jailor’s courtroom. “A stack of contracts sounds pretty good right now. Excuse me, will you? I’ve gotta go to the restroom and puke my guts out.”

“You really do look a little green.” She patted his shoulder. “There’s a water fountain over there—”

“Nope. When I get this nervous, there’s only one solution.” Tony was already edging toward the men’s room. “If I’m not back in five minutes, tell Driscoll to find another lawyer.”

Suzannah grimaced as her friend lurched away. Apparently he really was going to be sick. And she could hardly blame him. The thought of facing Judge Taylor would be enough to scare anyone. But to deal with him on this particular case, the one that had caused the judge so much embarrassment—

“Suzannah Ryder?” a voice asked from behind her.

She turned to find herself staring into the warm blue eyes of a truly gorgeous guy who was extending his hand toward her. The man had it all—a tall, athletic build, a smile with a provocative blend of sincerity and mischief, and wavy brown hair that was just shaggy enough to suggest he’d been marooned on a desert island for a while, which would also explain his golden tan.

“My name’s Justin Russo,” he told her, his voice clear and confident. “Congratulations on the big win. My colleagues were just telling me about it. Very impressive.”