As she rewarded me with another laugh, my balls tightened.
If the incident had happened on any other day, I would have followed my instincts, either grilling her about her very existence or following her. But this wasn’t an ordinary day.
Sighing, I finally managed to tear my eyes away from her, but only when I was about to lose sight. After a shake of my head, I continued walking. Barely two minutes later my phone rang.
Seeing my brother’s number flash across the screen wasn’t unusual, but my instinct immediately told me something was wrong.
“Sinclair. What’s wrong?”
“It’s Pops,” he said far too quietly. “He’s been shot and Alex, it doesn’t appear he’s going to make it.”
Catherine Devereaux
Another later night.
Another game of verbal volleyball with a criminal proud of his long list of accomplishments.
Unfortunately for him, they were all illegal, including nearly beating a man to death.
What had pissed me off more than anything was him touting just how many ‘important’ friends he had, even daring to threaten me in open court.
Which the judge had all but ignored.
Men were often dumber than a box of rocks. Perhaps he’d believed a chick in a skirt couldn’t hold a candle to his special ‘friends.’
At least I’d been given the satisfaction of shock settling on his face after the verdict had been read.
While the case I’d spent grueling hours prosecuting had become another win, I’d been left with a sickening feeling the badguys were starting to win more than lose. Even with the career criminal’s conviction, minutes before I’d left the office, I’d been advised that the appeal had already been set in motion.
So much for the good guys.
Evidently, the pipsqueak hadn’t been lying to me. He had friends in high places.
Grimacing, I headed to my car, fighting with my purse in search of my keys. Laughter drew my attention and while still digging, I glanced down the street, wishful thinking marring my self-defeatist attitude for a few beautiful seconds.
Music was the soul of New Orleans, the nightlife unlike any other city. There wasn’t a day of the week or even a time of any day where various bars and private clubs weren’t blasting festive music from high-dollar speakers trickling out to the streets. A blatant invitation to join in a moment of pure sin.
Something I’d ignored for as long as I could remember. Why? Because I’d been working to build my reputation, climbing the big, beautiful brass ladder that lately had seemed tarnished. Or was that a brass ring? What did it honestly matter at this point?
It was only Tuesday and I was already exhausted. With another case to prepare for, the work needed could mean an all-nighter.
My, wasn’t I devoted?
I forced myself to turn away, realizing just how dark it was on the street near the office at this time of night. Everyone but the janitor had left for the evening. Not me. I was the workaholic.
Laughing, I finally located my keys, promising myself that before cracking open my briefcase, I’d indulge in at least one glass of wine. Maybe I’d even dare allow myself a little fantasy or twojust for kicks and giggles, especially since the closest I’d come to sex in the last year had been an accidental run-in with a very handsome man.
A quiet shudder rolled down my back, a sizzling image of the mystery man’s rugged face sliding into the forefront of my mind. With a quick look both ways for oncoming vehicles, I crossed the street, hitting the key fob as soon as I did. The flash of my headlights was a warm welcome on the dark night.
A strange feeling of being watched rolled over me, tensing my muscles. Stopping short, I glanced from side to side, chastising myself. I’d had the strangest feelings as of late, as if I was being watched from afar. In my line of work, threats were inevitable, but most were nothing more than someone I’d prosecuted shooting off his or her mouth.
Usually his.
I laughed off the feeling, quickening my steps.
Suddenly, I felt cold, hard steel pressed against the back of my neck.
My breath caught and instantly, I bristled.
