35
Nova Euclid leaned forward in her chair, the email from Belen Caldas maximized so that it took up her entire monitor. It had just come in this morning.
“For crying out loud!” she exclaimed to herself, eyes skimming the text.
“What’s wrong, gorgeous?” Wiley’s husky voice emanated from the piled red velvet comforter on her California king bed.
OfficerWiley, Euclid chided herself for using the title in her own thoughts. She should be calling himCassian, notOfficer. Not after they had been so… familiar. She supposed it wasn’t entirely appropriate what they were doing, but it’s not like anyone would find out. And even if they did—well, she wouldn’t be the first DA to fuck an officer assigned to one of their cases. Who was she to break tradition?
“It’s the Brooksfield case. Caldas is screwing with me.” Euclid blew out air in frustration, flipping away one of the brown curls that had fallen across her vision.
Caldas had filed not one, not two, butfourmotions with the court. She had probably recruited a team of first-year associates to stay up all night with her to write them. Euclid clicked open the first one, a motion to dismiss the case for due process violations during Margie Brooksfield’s arrest. She hissed through her teeth. It was strongly worded. This was not good, not good at all. If the case got dismissed on her watch, she would be totally screwed.
Wiley padded up behind her, pulling a curtain of hair aside to kiss the nape of her neck.
“Cassian,” Euclid griped, but she was grinning, “give me like five minutes.”
“Your wish is my command.” Wiley began to massage her shoulders, and Euclid leaned her head back against his bare, hard stomach. He was wearing nothing but a pair of white boxer briefs. The last thing she wanted to be doing was working right now.
“Okay, really. I can’t concentrate with you standing there.”
“You can’t?” Wiley leaned down, giving her a devilish smile. She admired the handsome contours of his jaw before leaning forward to peck his lips.
“Go play with Walt—he’s lonely,” she said, referencing her rescued pet raccoon, Walt Whitman Euclid. Named after her favorite poet.
“Where is that little bugger anyways?”
“Likes to hide between the bookcase and wall.”
Euclid listened to the sound of tussling as Wiley manhandled the fluff ball. Raccoons were technically not legal to own in Colorado unless you were a licensed wildlife rehabilitator, a hobby that Euclid had engaged in while in law school. She used to have a lot more animals housed on the expansive acreage that her parents had left her but had slowly donated them to other rehab centers as she became more and more engrossed in law. Walt was the last mammal standing. She loved Walt, would never be able to part with him.
She clicked back to the other tab open on her computer to finish reading a news article. Across the front page ofThe New York Timeswas a picture of Margie Brooksfield—wide-eyed and terrified—being escorted past the burning Brooksfield Ranch sign in between two deputies wearing gas masks, who had their hands firmly secured on her shoulders. An absolute catastrophe. The headline was even worse:CHAOS ERUPTS AS BROOKSFIELD ARREST SPARKS FIRE, TEAR GAS, AND BROKEN BONES.
Adewale had planned a presser that Euclid was supposed to attend this morning, and she wondered how she was going to do that with these motions hanging over her head.
Grabbing her cell, she dialed her boss.
Adewale answered on the first ring.
“She filedfourmotions this morning,” Euclid said, without waiting for her greeting.
“Figures. The presser’s been canceled anyways. Too much media craziness. The press are going nuts, and the public is feeding off of it like wolves.”
“Thank God. Gotta write the oppositions. On a scale from one to ten, how bad is the Brooksfield situation now?”
“Let’s just say I canceled my meeting with the governor over budget allocations today.”
“Fuck.” Euclid winced at the slip. She had forgotten that she was speaking tothedistrict attorney, not some coworker. “Uh, pardon my French.”
“No,fuckis right.” The curse sounded forced and against the grain of Adewale’s usual refined speech.
Another email dinged in from Caldas, and Euclid clicked it open immediately. “Oh, wow. She’s also filed a motion for change of venue. She’s claiming the pretrial publicity prejudices Margie Brooksfield negatively in Eagle County.” She winced as something made out of glass broke behind her. She shot Wiley and Walt a glare with her hand cupped over the mouthpiece.
Sorry, Wiley mouthed.
“We cannot allow her to change venue.” Adewale’s voice was emphatic. “Under no circumstances. This is our case. We have to show them that despite the…difficultarrest, we are on the right side of the law here. I don’t want some other DA taking credit for our hard work.”
Euclid wondered what hard work Adewale was talking about but bit her tongue. Adewale wanted this case—probably because of the prestige it awarded her office if they won it—and Euclid would keep it in Eagle County for her.
