The man was watching her through a pair of binoculars.

Suzannah stared back, completely confused. He was wearing a baseball cap and nicely fitted jeans. He was also wearing a brown leather bomber jacket exactly like Justin’s, but with the binoculars obscuring his features, she simply couldn’t tell who it was.

At least, not for sure.

If it were Justin, he would have waved to her by now. Even if he hadn’t intended for her to catch him following her, he’d do something now to acknowledge her. Wouldn’t he?

She was about to call out to him when the man finally moved. Reaching his hand under his jacket, he pulled out a jet-black, long-barreled firearm. Then, to her shock, he aimed it right at her.

Dear Reader,

Law students learn countless rules governing trial procedure. Most laypeople know the major ones, too, just from reading or watching legal thrillers. Rules like: Don’t lead your witness. Don’t badger their witness. That sort of thing.

But Rule #1 overshadows all others: Don’t piss off the judge.

A good litigator chants it silently before every appearance. No competent attorney wants to test it, much less break it.

It’s true that a judge’s rulings can be reversed later on appeal, but while trial is in session, he or she is omnipotent. Get on that judge’s bad side, and suddenly, you have zero leeway with either your questioning or your arguments. Heck, at that point, you’re just trying to survive! Because if you’re really annoying, you could go to jail for contempt.

Among her other problems, the heroine of Spin Control has just broken Rule #1.

Enjoy!

Kate

Spin Control
Kate Donovan

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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KATE DONOVAN

is the author of more than a dozen novels and novellas, ranging from time travel and paranormal to historical romance, suspense and romantic comedy. An attorney, she draws on her criminal law background to create challenges worthy of her heroines, who crack safes, battle bad guys and always get their man. As for Kate, she definitely got her man and is living happily ever after with him and their two children in Elk Grove, California. Please visit her Web site at www.katedonovan.com.

This story is dedicated to our dog Murphy,

who was so sweet, so loyal and

so loving for fourteen years,

and who never once complained at the end.

Good boy, Murf. We’ll never forget you.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Epilogue

Prologue

Kristie Hennessy’s career at the Strategic Profiling and Identification Network required her to excel at three things: evaluating a subject’s state of mind, anticipating his next move and designing a strategy to deal with it. She had been doing this sort of thing every day, weekends included, for almost two years, yet had to admit the man she was currently observing was the most fascinating subject she had ever encountered.

He paced back and forth like a wild animal that had just been caged. The fact that he was visibly conflicted was particularly intriguing given his profile. Everything in his file indicated that he was a man of incredible confidence, determination and single-mindedness. And Kristie’s dealings with him up till this point had proved that profile correct.

So why was he suddenly so unsure of himself? So tense? So downright fidgety?

And then it hit her, right between the eyes. This man—SPIN Director Will McGregor—was about to propose to her.

Finally!

“As you know,” he was saying, his sexy voice resembling an X-rated travelogue as he paced the floor of her Washington, D.C., apartment, “the West Coast office is ready to roll. The last stage in this plan is to assign permanent staff, and then—assuming the President doesn’t change his mind again—SPIN will be converted from a separate agency into a division of the Bureau.”

“It’s like going home for you,” she agreed, wistful for the days when he had been an FBI agent in the field, depending on her—his “spinner”—to provide him with undercover identities and support via computer and telephone.

It had been his gorgeous intonation and impressive record that had first attracted her to him. For weeks they had known each other only by voice. Now they were lovers. And if she was reading the signals accurately, they were about to become even more.

“I kind of miss the days when you were an agent yourself,” she told him. “But you’re such a great director, the change has definitely been worth it.”

He seemed disconcerted by the interruption, so she warned herself to stop distracting him from his objective.

McGregor cleared his throat. “Once the transition is complete, I won’t be a director any longer. I’ll be an assistant director of the FBI. They’ve promised me I can choose to be based in L.A. or D.C. And since my sister lives in L.A., that’s my preference. But it affects you, too, because I’d want you to permanently relocate there. The good news is, you won’t have to find housing. Because obviously you’d be living at my place.”

“Then where would you live?”

“Huh? Oh. Funny.” McGregor grimaced, then joined her on the sofa, taking her hands in his own. “You’re not going to make this easy, are you?”

“After fourteen months? Nope.”

He chuckled. “Okay. Move in with me, please. I can’t live without you.”

“Move in with you?” She licked her lips, disappointed. “That’s it?”

“For now. I figure eventually we’ll make it permanent—”

“Eventually we’ll make it permanent?” She pulled her hands free. “FYI, that’s the most unromantic thing anyone has ever said to me.” She eyed him grimly. “All year long I thought you were waiting until the new office was set up. Then I thought you were waiting to see if Ray would come back to SPIN, which obviously isn’t going to happen. Now what? Are you some kind of freakish confirmed bachelor in disguise? Because if you are, you should have warned me.”

He gave her a pained smile. “Just the opposite. I’d love to marry you. But our work situation complicates things. If you and I get married…have children…”

“Oh, that.” She laughed in relief. “Let me make it easy for you. You and the kids would come first. Absolutely. But I also love spinning and I love working for you. And I actually think I can run some ops from home, so I can combine business and pleasure. Except when the kids are babies, of course, because I’ll be too busy kissing their toes to get anything done.”

McGregor grinned. “Sounds great. Unfortunately that’s not the complication I was referring to. I’m worried I’ll have to fire you someday, and I’m pretty sure the marriage manuals advise against that.”

“Fire me?” Kristie scowled. “For what? I’m your best spinner.”

“You’re great,” he agreed. “But you’re also a rogue. You’ve decimated the rules at least three times that I know of—once on my watch, two or three on Ray Ortega’s. I figure you and I should live together for a while. See if you do anything else crazy. If I have to fire you, then you can decide if you’ll still marry me. And if by some miracle you become a model employee, we can get married next summer. I even bought the ring—Oh, fine!” His blue eyes darkened as the phone on Kristie’s desk began to chime. “Is that your operative line? I thought we agreed you’d route it to the backups so we could have an uninterrupted dinner for once.”

“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.

Chapter 1

“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.”

She accepted the handshake, shamelessly enjoying the R-rated tingle it induced. “Thanks. Do you have an appearance before Judge Taylor today?”

“Yeah. Now that you’ve got him all riled up,” Justin complained.

She bit back a smile. “Sorry.”

“You must be one helluva defense attorney.”

“Actually, I only took that appeal as a favor for a friend. I’m totally out of my element here. And I’m no longer involved with the Driscoll case. I just tagged along today to give the real defense attorney some moral support.”

“I like that. You know your stuff. You’re modest. And you’re loyal to your friends.”

“Hey, Russo. They’re ready for us,” a nearby man announced, motioning to the courtroom doors, which were being opened.

Justin’s associate was a grim-faced man who appeared to be in his early forties, with dark hair and dark eyes. Not as good-looking as Justin by any stretch but still attractive, as was a third man hovering close by who also seemed to be part of the entourage and who had curly hair the same shade of dark blond as Suzannah’s.

You should come to the courthouse more often, she teased herself. These litigators are kind of sexy. Either that or you’ve been out of commission for way too long.

“Gotta go,” Justin murmured. “Maybe we can hook up later for some coffee? Assuming the Jailor doesn’t lock me up, that is.”

Suzannah hesitated, but this was supposed to be a fun, relaxing week, wasn’t it? What harm could one cup of coffee do?

She pulled a business card out of her purse and handed it to him. “That’s my office number. I’m on vacation this week, but I’ll be checking voice mail regularly, so…yes, definitely call me if you survive Judge Taylor.”

He flashed a killer smile, pocketed the card and said, “See ya.” Then he trailed his companions into the courtroom.

Suzannah hung back for a moment, enjoying the unfamiliar sensation of being a little weak in the knees over a guy.

This is going to be the best vacation ever, she told herself with an embarrassed laugh. Then she remembered that this week wasn’t completely about fun. She had to prepare for an upcoming conference in Hawaii, where she was slated to make a presentation—a presentation that was quite possibly the last step in the rigorous timetable she had set for herself and her career.

She called it her “Twelve-Year Plan,” a blueprint she had designed at the age of eighteen to help her attain certain professional goals. Four years of college, three years of law school and enough time with a prestigious law firm to establish a reputation and develop a marketable specialty, which could then translate into a house-counsel job with a corporation. It was now year ten and she was way ahead of schedule.

Reminding herself that her rapid progress had been the result of working hard and not dating lawyers—especially not towers of sex like Justin Russo!—she decided it would be best if he didn’t call her after all. There would be plenty of time in year twelve for romance—wasn’t that the plan, after all?

Resolving to resist Justin if he should call, she pulled out her state-of-the-art PDA to check her calendar, messages and task list, which was a mile long. Forty separate entries for this “vacation.” And so far she had only accomplished three—Paint the bathroom, Clean the refrigerator, and Go with Tony to court on Monday.

Tony…

She was worried about him, not just because they were friends but because if he failed to appear, Suzannah might have to take his place. And since the Driscoll case had only been remanded by the appellate court for resentencing, rather than for a new trial, the option of moving for automatic disqualification of Judge Taylor wasn’t available, no matter how angry he was at Driscoll’s attorney.

To her relief, Tony finally emerged from the restroom, his face pale but his shoulders squared, ready to do battle.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Bring it on,” he said with a wry smile.

Ritual vomiting, she realized in relief. All the great trial lawyers do it before a big case. He’s going to be just fine.

“I’ll just grab a seat in the back row, if you don’t mind,” she said, pulling out the oversize, tinted glasses she had brought with her in case Judge Taylor had caught a glimpse of her face on TV the day the news story about the appeal broke. “But I’ll be up there with you in spirit.”

“You’re the best,” Tony told her, giving her an unexpected hug. “Driscoll didn’t deserve you, and neither do I.”

Touched, she followed him into the courtroom, but when he proceeded to a row near the front, she hung back, settling into a seat right by the doors so that she could escape quickly if the judge began hurling expletives in her direction.

Then she sank low in her chair, fixed her glasses firmly in place and prepared to enjoy a little free entertainment, courtesy of the Jailor. It might not be as much fun as a hot date with Justin Russo, but it would be much, much safer.

Apparently Justin and his two associates were first on the docket, because they made their way directly to the defense table. To Suzannah’s dismay, her hot date seated himself in the chair usually reserved for the defendant, while the other two men sat in the counsel chairs.

This can’t be right, she told herself nervously. What if he’s a freaking ax-murderer? That’s worse than a lawyer!

The bailiff instructed everyone to rise, then announced that Judge Nathaniel Taylor would be presiding. Grateful for the distraction, Suzannah turned her attention to the massively built, wild-haired jurist who strode into the room, his black robes flapping. He seated himself without so much as a glance at the crowd that was watching him with a mixture of fear and anticipation, but she suspected that he was well aware of the effect he was having on them.

The man had made quite a name for himself in one short year on the bench. Passionate about his calendar of felony prosecutions, he reportedly brutalized any attorney who dared to appear before him unprepared or otherwise unprofessional. And according to some reports, he often berated them even if they had done absolutely nothing wrong. He had sent three lawyers to jail for contempt already—two assistant district attorneys and one defense attorney from a private firm. And he had sent countless others running to the restrooms with their stomachs tied in knots after a session with him.

Grateful that she was beyond his radar, Suzannah was still tempted to flee for her life, especially when the bailiff announced the first case for the morning: the People versus Justin Russo.

Okay, Judge Taylor, Suzannah insisted as she slunk down in her seat and tried to become invisible. I’m counting on you. Do what you do best. Lock up this creep and throw away the freaking key before he ends up stalking me.

After introductions were made, the defense attorneys and the prosecutor sat down, but Justin remained standing, shocking the courtroom by announcing in a loud voice, “I’d like to make a motion, Your Honor.”

Suzannah watched with fascinated dread. Maybe he really was going to get himself thrown into a jail cell.

Judge Taylor scowled. “Don’t you watch Court TV, Agent Russo? You don’t make motions. Your attorneys do.” Turning his blistering gaze to the lawyers, he instructed them, “Control your client. Or else.”

“Your Honor?” Justin walked around the counsel table and approached the bench. “That’s what my motion is about. I don’t want these gentlemen as my attorneys. I didn’t choose them and I’d like to fire them right away.”

“Is that so?” The judge’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “Let me guess. You think that means we’re done here today? You just get to run around loose indefinitely while you find another lawyer? That’s not quite how it works.”

“I’ve already chosen another lawyer, sir,” Justin told him. “And she’s sitting right here, so we won’t lose any time at all.”

Oh, God…

Suzannah tried to believe that he couldn’t possibly be talking about her, but just to be safe she began calculating how quickly she could run for her life. The door to the hall was just a few yards from her seat. If only she could count on her legs not to buckle….

“Her name is Suzannah Ryder, Your Honor.”

She heard herself whisper, “No,” like a child pleading with a nightmare in the dark. Then she shook herself, determined to keep some semblance of poise.

Judge Taylor stared at Justin in disbelief. Then he slowly turned his gaze toward the audience. “Are you saying the infamous Suzannah Ryder is here with us today? Excellent. Join us, won’t you, Ms. Ryder?”

A dozen or so people turned to stare at her, and she realized they recognized her from the unfortunate interview she’d given after news of her successful appeal had hit the airwaves. She hadn’t said more than a few words—mostly No comment and Judge Taylor is one of our finest judges—but she imagined it had been memorable, if only because of her futile attempts to duck the cameras.

She knew she had to do something fast to salvage this situation, so she took a deep breath, pasted a confident, slightly bemused smile on her face and stood up. Thankfully her legs held her weight, so she walked slowly toward the bench, ignoring the piteous stares of the attorneys she passed, including Tony, who winced expressively.

Justin Russo, on the other hand, was ready with an encouraging smile, which actually helped Suzannah a little because it allowed anger to surpass embarrassment as her dominant emotion. This was all his fault. And she was going to find a way to pay him back just as soon as she got beyond the contempt zone.

“So,” Judge Taylor said with a drawl. “The victorious appellate warrior in person. What an honor. I didn’t think you’d be here today. Did you change your mind about handling Mr. Driscoll’s resentencing?”

“No, Your Honor,” she assured him, her voice hoarse but steady. “Tony Moreno is taking over. I’m just here as a spectator.”

“According to Agent Russo, you’re his new attorney.”

She grimaced. “I assure you, Your Honor, that’s a misunderstanding on Defendant Russo’s part. I barely know him and I certainly never agreed to represent him. It would be malpractice for me to even try. I just don’t have the experience.”

“You had enough experience to get me reversed on appeal. Are you saying my ruling was so wrong any attorney could have gotten it reversed? Even an incompetent one?”

“No, Your Honor.” She took a deep breath to calm her nerves. “What I meant was, I don’t have much trial experience and absolutely no criminal trial experience. I have a corporate practice. Contracts, mostly. E-contracts, actually. It’s all transactional, except for the occasional hearing, and even those are few and far between—”

“Fascinating,” Judge Taylor interrupted with a growl, “but would you mind if I talked for just a moment?”

“Sorry, Your Honor.” She forced herself to maintain eye contact with him despite the smoke visibly pouring out of his ears. “I’m just pointing out that I’m not a trial attorney. This situation with Agent Russo is all a big mistake.”

“That is abundantly clear,” the judge agreed. “Agent Russo? Could you enlighten the court on this bizarre motion of yours?”

Justin nodded. “I trust her, Your Honor. She’s smart, she’s got class and she’s got guts. And quite frankly I don’t trust the lawyers the Bureau supplied for me. They’re nice guys, but I’m concerned they’ll put the government’s reputation and interests ahead of mine. I’m hoping Ms. Ryder can devote herself to my case without dividing her loyalties. Especially because she’s on vacation this week—”

“Wait!” Suzannah sent him a death glare, then told the judge, “It’s a working vacation. I’ve got a very important presentation to prepare for. On electronic signatures and Internet contracting. I’m attending a conference in Hawaii next week and I have to be fully prepared. I don’t have time to do anything else. And I don’t have the skills either! I’ve never handled a jury trial—”

“Counselor?”

“Yes, Your Honor?”

“Are you familiar with the concept of a gag order?”

The audience laughed at the play on words, knowing that a gag order involved statements about the case made outside the courtroom, not in it. Still, there was no misunderstanding Taylor’s meaning.

He was saying that Suzannah was babbling. And it was true, but she couldn’t seem to make it stop.

“That’s pretty funny, Your Honor,” she admitted. “I’ll be quiet now. I promise.”

“Thank you.” He arched a stern eyebrow. “The last thing I want to do is interfere with your little junket to Hawaii, but some of us have real work to do. Did you happen to take a criminal-law course when you were in school?”

“Of course, Your Honor. But—”

He held up his hand to silence her, then continued. “Did you take criminal procedure?”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

“Evidence?”

“Yes, Your Honor.”

“And last but not least, did they teach you anything about your ethical obligations? To this court, for example? Are you aware that I have the power to appoint you to represent Agent Russo?”

She nodded, too miserable to argue. “May I ask what he’s charged with, Your Honor?”

A hint of a twinkle invaded Taylor’s green eyes. “That would be murder.”

“Oh, God…”

“I didn’t do it, Suzy,” Justin assured her. “I swear I didn’t.”

“Suzy?” The judge’s scowl had returned. “Just what is your relationship with the defendant, Ms. Ryder?”

“I don’t have a relationship with him, Your Honor.”

“Well, you do now.” Taylor turned his attention to the two defense attorneys who had been hovering nearby, clearly too intimidated to speak. “I want you gentlemen to assist Ms. Ryder, since by her own admission she’s borderline incompetent. But she’s Russo’s choice, and I’m going to respect that. At least for the moment. Agent Russo? Are you comfortable allowing these men to remain involved?”

Justin pursed his lips, then nodded. “As technical advisors, sure. But I want to be able to talk to Ms. Ryder in complete confidence. And I want her to make all the decisions about my representation.”

“Agreed.” Judge Taylor squared his shoulders. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have other cases on my docket. Unless Ms. Ryder wants to regale us with more irrelevant tidbits about her vacation plans, I suggest we move on to the issue of bail.”

“Your Honor?” The assistant district attorney, a petite brunette in a severe black suit, spoke for the first time, her tone guarded. “The People strongly feel that Agent Russo represents a flight risk.”

“A flight risk?” Suzannah rolled her eyes. “Are you kidding? Look at him. He’s too cocky to run.”

“That’s a novel defense,” Taylor muttered. “Care to throw in any traditional arguments, just for fun?”

Suzannah shrugged. “Obviously, Your Honor, the fact that he’s standing here right now shows that he intends to cooperate fully. I mean, he could have gotten away from these two clowns any time he wanted.” She grimaced in quick apology toward the defense attorneys, then continued. “It’s not like my client could get out of the country even if he wanted to. As an FBI agent, there has to be a file on him a mile thick. Prints, DNA, photos, and a list of all his relatives, friends—assuming he has any—and travel patterns.”

The prosecutor was shaking her head. “The fact that he’s a federal agent doesn’t lessen his flight risk, Your Honor, it contributes to it. You’ve seen his file. Working undercover—in disguise—is one of his specialties! In fact, he has made a career out of seducing and conning people.”

“He did all those things for his country,” Suzannah reminded her. “And this is the thanks he gets? Just because of one little…well, misunderstanding?”

“A second-degree misunderstanding,” the prosecutor retorted.

“Forgive the interruption, ladies, but could I get a word in here?” Judge Taylor fixed a stare in the prosecutor’s direction. “I can understand Ms. Ryder’s exuberance, because she’s obviously still giddy over her appellate triumph.” He paused as the audience laughed nervously, then he growled again. “From you, Ms. Armstrong, I expect better. In fact, I demand it. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Your Honor.” The brunette slunk backward until she was flush against the counsel table.

“Agent Russo?”

“Yes, sir?”

“This is your lucky day. Thanks to Ms. Ryder’s innovative arguments on your behalf, I’ve decided to place you in her custody.”

“Thanks, Your Honor.”

“Wait!” Suzannah shook her head frantically. “I never consented to that. My custody? I don’t even know what that means. I mean, I know what it means generally, but in this context—”

“It means you’re vouching for him,” the judge explained. “And I don’t need your consent. This is still my courtroom, is it not? Which means I’m in charge. And from now on you’re going to listen, not talk, while I walk you through this, step by baby step. Is that clear?”

She nodded.

“I want you to spend some time with your client today. Listen to his story. Evaluate its strengths and weaknesses. Consult with his former counsel as appropriate. Then come back here—all of you, Ms. Armstrong included—tomorrow morning. I’d like an update at that time.”

“And at that time, if it’s clear I can’t effectively represent Agent Russo—”

“My God, Ryder! Do you want me to hold you in contempt?” The judge snorted. “I’m starting to believe your claim that you’re incompetent.”

“Your Honor?” Justin interrupted. “I’m going to have to insist that you treat my attorney with respect.”

Oh, God… Suzannah stared down at her hands, silently warning him that he was only making things worse.

When Judge Taylor finally managed to respond, his voice was soft with anger. “In case you’re not clear on the rules, Agent Russo, you’re not supposed to talk unless I instruct you to. Ms. Ryder will do your talking for you from now on, and according to the Court of Appeal, she’s a legal genius. So be quiet and let her work her magic. Unless you’d prefer to represent yourself, because that can definitely be arranged.” His green eyes flashed. “What’s it going to be?”

“My client understands now, Your Honor,” Suzannah assured him, concerned that Justin was hopelessly prejudicing himself in Taylor’s eyes by his misguided hero routine. Didn’t the agent understand that this angry jurist was going to decide his fate on a murder charge? They didn’t dare alienate him more than they had already done.

So she added with a respectful smile, “Thank you for your patience, Your Honor.”

The judge exhaled slowly, eyeing each of them in turn. “We’re all clear, then? We’ll meet back here tomorrow for another round of fun and games? Fine. You’re dismissed. Bailiff? Next case, and make it snappy. We’re already running behind, thanks to Suzy the e-lawyer.”

She clenched her fists at her sides, forcing herself to give the judge one last humble smile before she turned and stalked past a wide-eyed Tony and down the aisle, bursting through the double doors to the hallway before the guard could open them for her. She knew she was being trailed by Justin and his former lawyers. She just hoped they had the good sense to keep their heads down and their mouths shut indefinitely.

But as soon as the doors had closed behind them Justin dared to address her. “Hey, Suzy! Wait up.”

She spun around and stuck her finger in his face. “Not a word. Not—one—word. Is that clear?”

“Ms. Ryder?”

She sent Justin’s former attorney her most frustrated glare. “That goes for you, too. All of you. Just be quiet and let me think.”

“But—”

“Do you have a freaking death wish?” she demanded. But it was clear the government lawyers weren’t going to back down, so she assured them soberly, “We’ve got a huge problem on our hands. That judge has it in for me, which means we can’t possibly get a fair shake from him. But we don’t dare piss him off any more either. At least not until I’m sure how to handle it. So give me a little time. And space. I’ll get in touch as soon as I figure a few things out.”

“We can help,” the attorney insisted.

“Really? Because so far you’ve been a big fat zero.” She pressed her fingers to her temples. “I’ve got to talk to my senior partner. Maybe he’ll have some ideas. And at least my secretary can start drafting up a fee agreement, because believe me, Russo, you’re gonna pay through the nose for this.”

“No problem,” Justin replied. “I’m just glad to have you on my team.”

“Cut the crap. I’m not in the mood to be conned. Or seduced. Those are your two specialties, right?”

“I have more than two,” he assured her with a playful smile.

She folded her arms across her chest to stop herself from reaching out and strangling him. Then she told the attorneys, “Give me a number where I can reach you later today. Will you be available?”

“Anytime, anyplace,” the dark-haired one assured her, handing her his card. “Good luck.”

“Yeah, good luck,” the blond man echoed. “Here’s my card, too. We’ll be waiting.”

When they had hurried away, Suzannah gave Justin a weary sigh. “Are you staying in a hotel?”

“Yeah, the Charlton. They’ve got a coffee bar in the lobby, if you want to meet there. Or if you want me to come to your office, that’s fine, too. Whatever you say.”

Suzannah hesitated, imagining the commotion if she showed up at her dignified law firm with a sexy, swaggering FBI agent when she was supposed to be on vacation. The women would be impressed. Her senior partner? Probably not so much. At least not without some well-executed preparation.

“The coffee bar sounds good. I’ll meet you there. Take a few minutes to gather up whatever you need to brief me. And to change out of your suit if you want.” She arched her eyebrow for emphasis. “If you’re smart, you’ll cooperate with me. If I’m lucky, you’ll run, and I’ll be off the hook.”

“I’m not a flight risk. Not just because I’m cocky,” he added with a wink, “but because I’m innocent.”

Biting back an expletive, she told him between gritted teeth, “Just do what I say, okay?”

“I need to tell you something first. Something important.”

“Fine. Make it quick.”

His smile warmed. “I’m honestly grateful to you for taking this on. I know it’s not how you wanted to spend your vacation, but I really need your help. Those two guys Justice found for me are probably fine lawyers, but they can’t possibly be one hundred percent on my side. That’s why I need you. So…thanks.”

She closed her eyes and sighed in exaggerated martyrdom. “Fine. You’re welcome. Whatever. Now let’s just go to the hotel so you can freaking brief me.”

“Sure, Suzy,” he said fondly. “Whatever you say. You’re the boss.”

“This is S-3. Please identify yourself.”

“Essie? It’s me. Got a minute?”

Spinner Kristie Hennessy smiled with relief at the sound of Justin’s voice. “I was hoping you’d call. How did things go in court today? Are you comfortable with the attorneys the government supplied? Director McGregor says they’re the best.”

“It went great, but not because of those stiffs. I hired a new lawyer this morning. That’s why I called. I was hoping you could check her out for me.”

“You hired her on the morning of your court appearance?”

“Yeah.” He chuckled. “Luckily she’s a quick study. Her name’s Suzannah Ryder. Every bone in my body tells me she’s clean, but if you could run a check—”

“I’m on it.” Kristie’s fingers flew across her keyboard.

“I drew a hard-ass for a judge,” Justin was explaining, “so I figured I’d better call in reinforcements if I wanted to stay free pending trial. Suzy just won a big victory against this particular judge, so I figured she could come through for me. And she did.”

“Suzy?” Kristie grimaced. “I’m guessing she’s attractive?”

“Are you jealous?” he said, his tone teasing. Then he added more seriously, “It’s her attitude that sold me, Essie. She effing radiates confidence, but with enough vulnerability to keep things interesting.”

A recent photo of Suzannah Ryder flashed across Kristie’s computer screen. Honey-blond curls, huge blue eyes and cheekbones so striking that Kristie made a note to incorporate them into one of the composite pictures she sometimes built for SPIN ops.

“She’s darling.”

“Yeah,” Justin confirmed. “But I hired her for her guts. My question to you is, is she as good as I think she is?”

“Her reputation’s spotless, at least on the surface.” Kristie scanned Suzannah’s credentials, noting that she had graduated at the top of her undergraduate class at Notre Dame, then came out comfortably in the middle of her law-school class at Princeton before landing a job at a well-respected civil law firm. Again Kristie made a note to use Suzannah’s profile in a fake ID some day soon. She had just the right blend of excellence and normality, almost as if she had engineered it that way.

“She doesn’t practice criminal law, Justin.”

“Yeah, I know. The win against Taylor was an exception. Something she handled for a friend.”

“That makes sense.” The spinner continued to search her favorite agency and Internet sources. “I’ll keep digging.”

“Okay. I’ll call again tonight.”

“Actually—” The spinner hesitated before suggesting, “If I find something, I’ll let you know. Otherwise, just assume she’s clean, okay?”

There was a long silence, then Justin asked her, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m on probation again. It’s seems like I always am, doesn’t it? But this time McGregor means it. In more ways than one,” she added with a self-conscious laugh.

“Unbelievable,” Justin muttered. “They should be kissing your feet, not trying to control you. Don’t they know how great you are?”

“To be fair, they’ve given me a lot of slack.”

“They don’t deserve you,” Justin retorted with unexpected vehemence. “Maybe we both should just chuck it all and run away together.”

“Huh?” Kristie’s stomach knotted. “Are you that worried about the verdict?”

“Nah. I’m innocent, so it’ll come out fine. But meanwhile…” His tone grew pensive. “The thrill has gone out of this gig for me, Essie. I never thought I’d say that, and it’s probably temporary. So just forget I said anything.”

The spinner bit her lip. Until now, Justin Russo had loved his work more than anyone she knew. He thrived on the danger, the heroic opportunities, the romantic possibilities….

“Obviously I screwed up this time,” he was admitting. “But you haven’t done anything wrong. The fact that they don’t appreciate you—”

“They appreciate me. They just want me to start following protocol. And I’ve decided they’re right. And,” she added, trying for a lighter tone, “I’m not just saying that because I know the monitors might be listening to this call.”

Justin’s chuckle sounded forced. “Don’t get in trouble on my account. I’m doing fine here. Just forget I called. I won’t bother you with this anymore.”

“I’ll keep looking at Suzannah Ryder’s background,” she assured him. “If I find something negative, I’ll call. And if you need anything—anything at all—please let me know.”

“Sure, Essie. But for now I’d better get going. I don’t want to keep my new lawyer waiting.”

“Right. Okay, good luck.”

She winced when he said, “’Bye” and hung up without giving her a chance to say anything further. She was actually tempted to call him back and make him promise to contact her at least daily.

Then a video popped up on her monitor, distracting her completely. It was a recent film of Suzannah Ryder handling—or rather, attempting to politely terminate—a news conference on her recent appellate court success. Even with the graininess of the footage, the attorney’s smile was amazing, just as Justin had described—confident yet vulnerable.

“The Court of Appeal’s opinion is pretty blunt in its criticism of Judge Taylor,” a male reporter was observing. “Do you think there should be an investigation of his heavy-handed tactics? Maybe even a recall?”

“Judge Taylor is one of our finest jurists,” Suzannah assured him. “I don’t think there’s a member of our legal community that doesn’t respect and admire him. The appellate court’s comments are specific to this particular trial and shouldn’t be taken as a general criticism. Or even as a criticism at all. These things are complicated,” she added with another, warmer smile. “It’s the reason I don’t generally practice criminal law. I leave that to the real pros, like Defendant Driscoll’s new attorney, Tony Moreno.”

A barrage of questions erupted, but Suzannah held up her hand and insisted, “That’s all, folks. Have a good afternoon.” Then she dismissed them with a friendly wave, and while a few reporters made halfhearted attempts to ask follow-up questions, most of them cooperated.

Kristie nodded, pleased with what she saw. This Ryder woman had poise as well as brains. In fact, she was the consummate professional in her perfectly tailored suit and medium heeled shoes, not to mention the casual, easy-care style in which she wore her chin-length curls. If the rest of her background check came out as well as this, Justin had definitely picked himself a winner.

Assuming, of course, that he was able to keep his hands off her.

And assuming, further, that he was innocent…

Kristie tried not to think about that, but it was too late. The knot—a cruel blend of spinner instinct and bitter experience—had returned to her stomach.

Chapter 2

They took separate cars to the Hotel Charlton, giving Suzannah a chance to adjust to what had happened. It was obvious that Judge Taylor saw this as an opportunity to punish her for getting his ruling reversed on appeal. If she made any further attempts to resist, he might even hold her in contempt. She had to be very careful, not just for her own sake but for Justin’s.

She knew why the FBI agent had chosen her. He thought she was a great criminal-law attorney because of her success in the Driscoll case. Poor guy—not only was he wrong about that but he simply didn’t understand how much Taylor hated her or how much all that resentment would work against him now, too.

Like it or not, their best strategy for the short run was to cooperate completely with the judge. Hopefully Suzannah’s role in the case wouldn’t be too taxing. She really had only two responsibilities: the first, to make sure the defendant didn’t skip town, which made her a glorified babysitter; and the second, to make sure the government defense attorneys didn’t sell Justin down the river to protect the FBI’s reputation.

She could do both of those things while also working on her Hawaii presentation. The government lawyers could handle the big defense issues, do the footwork and keep her informed so that she could make the final strategy decisions.

It didn’t sound so bad, assuming Justin cooperated. And assuming he was innocent. Not that it really mattered, because if he wasn’t, she was going to strangle him. So either way justice would be done.

Once she reached the hotel, she found a seat in the coffee bar adjacent to the lobby, rejecting any thought of going to his room to check on his progress. There was a slight risk that her new client might ditch her and dash for the border, but in the long run, that would be a good thing, wouldn’t it? In any case, she wasn’t ready to be alone with a suspected murderer who had a reputation as a charmer. Better to stick to public places for the moment.

Keeping one eye on the elevator, she ordered a mocha, then checked her office voice mail to see if any messages had come in. Then she sent some brief e-mails to her colleagues, just in case they heard rumors about what had happened with the Jailor. And finally she attacked the job of reorganizing her obsolete calendar and task list.

Forty things to do in two short weeks, all of them trumped by a murder case. Ugh!

Justin finally appeared, ambling toward her in tan slacks and a sexy black polo shirt. And she had to sigh, right out loud. He had looked so good just two short two hours ago, with his shaggy hair, sexy smile, golden tan and great body. Now he just looked like a pain in the ass.

“That was fast,” she told him, tucking her PDA into her purse.

His tone was warm as he settled into the seat across from her. “I know you’re mad, but—”

She held up her hand to stop him. “I’ve adjusted, actually. Let’s just get started, shall we?”

“Great.” He motioned to a nearby waitress, who almost tripped over two other customers getting to him right away, then breathlessly introduced herself as Janet.

Gracing her with one of his sexiest smiles, he ordered a latte with an extra shot, plus a refill for Suzannah.

“Should we get something to eat, too?” he asked his new attorney. “It’s almost lunchtime.”

She hesitated but then remembered her policy of making him pay through the nose for ruining her vacation, so she nodded. “The quiche looks good. And a small salad?”

Justin nodded, then told the waitress, “I’ll have grilled cheese if you’ve got it.”

“It’s not on the menu, but I’m sure I can talk the cook into it.”

“That would be great, Janet. Thanks.”

Suzannah watched the woman hurry off on her mission. “I guess you get a lot of that?”

“Pardon?”

“Females falling all over themselves to do your bidding?”

“She’s just trying to do a good job. Anyway…” He exhaled sharply. “I know I screwed up your morning, to put it mildly. And I realize criminal law isn’t your specialty, even though you kicked some serious judicial ass on that appeal. So I just want you to know you’re off the hook as of now.”

“Pardon?”

“You earned your fee by getting me released on bail. That was my big concern this morning. Now I can take it from here. After tomorrow’s court appearance, you can just do whatever you were already planning to do this week.”

When Suzannah glared, he laughed and said, “I know, I know. The judge wants me to brief you, and I will. But take my word for it—this thing will never go to trial. I’ll conclude my investigation and find the real perp long before that happens. I promise you that.”

“Oh, you promise? Well, that’s a relief.” She glared again. “I’m the attorney of record in a murder case. I take that very seriously. I take everything very seriously—a fact you’d better start respecting. I’ve spent ten years building a sterling reputation and I don’t want this case to torpedo it.”

“I told you, it’ll never go to trial.”

“Because you’ll solve it first? No offense, but I’d rather not count on you. Especially considering you’re an accused murderer.”

He leaned back in his chair and studied her for a moment, then nodded. “Fair enough. So how do you want to approach this? I can give you details or just the big picture.”

“Let’s start with the punch line. Who is it you’re supposed to have killed?”

“A woman named Gia Masterson. She was a witness in a case I’ve been investigating.”

“Gia Masterson?” Suzannah bit her lip. “In that case, I already have the big picture. From reading the newspapers. Not that I’ve kept up with it faithfully, but she was shot a couple of weeks ago, right? And a few weeks before that, she inherited a huge fortune from her father when he was murdered by the Angel of Mercy serial killer.”

When Justin nodded, Suzannah rubbed her eyes, acutely aware of the ache forming behind them.

The Angel of Mercy, as the papers had dubbed him, had been in the headlines for a couple of months. He apparently thought he was receiving psychic signals from vegetative patients who were begging him to free them so that they could go to heaven. Unable to resist, he had finally begun infiltrating nursing homes, using his position and training as a licensed vocational nurse to put the patients out of their misery once and for all.

Rallying herself, Suzannah asked carefully, “Any chance the Angel of Mercy killed Gia, as well? I mean, I know he usually goes after people in comas, but…”

Justin shook his head. “I’m not even sure the Angel of Mercy killed the father, much less the daughter.”

“Ooh, that’s new. The papers made it sound like a slam dunk.”

He nodded. “We tried to keep it quiet while we investigated. Horace Masterson was the fourth in a series of patients supposedly killed by the Angel—by lethal injection—in nursing homes. But given Masterson’s enormous wealth and the fact that his company handles top-secret government research, the possibility of a copycat killing with financial or political motives couldn’t be discounted.”

“Hmm…And since Gia inherited her father’s money, she was a suspect in his murder, even though the Angel of Mercy was the prime suspect?”

Justin hesitated. “Putting aside the whole mercy-killing angle, the Masterson case is pretty complicated. For one thing, Gia could have pulled the plug on her father any time she wanted. He’s been brain-dead and completely dependent on life support for more than three years because of a massive stroke and a slew of complications. Gia had a durable power of attorney over his health decisions. But she worshipped her father, almost to a perverse degree. She swore she’d never—ever—order life support removed, even though doctors said there was no hope of his regaining the slightest awareness. And since Gia had full authority to handle Masterson’s financial affairs, she was able to pay for endless excellent care.”

Suzannah frowned. “So that’s why you called her a witness, not a suspect, in her father’s murder investigation?”

“It’s complicated,” he repeated. “But yeah, I don’t think Gia killed her father. On the other hand, I don’t think the Angel of Mercy did it, either. My instincts are generally pretty good in these cases. That’s why the Bureau sent me in the first place. And right from the start I was sure a huge chunk of the puzzle was missing. Unfortunately I went off in the wrong direction.”

“How so?”

He hesitated, then explained. “Like I said, Masterson Enterprises handles top-secret government projects. At the time of Horace’s murder, his company was being considered as the contractor for a project known as Night Arrow. Night Arrow,” he added reverently, “is an amazing phenomenon. I’ll fill you in on the nonclassified details later, but take my word for it. It’s probably the biggest find—scientific or otherwise—of our lifetime.”

Taking a deep breath, he visibly checked his enthusiasm. “The point is, I focused on Night Arrow as the motive. I figured someone wanted to get their hands on the research—even take over Masterson Enterprises to do so—and the first stage was killing the old man.”

“But now?”

“Now I’m not so sure,” he admitted. “If Night Arrow was the motive, killing Gia was counterproductive. Because Masterson Enterprises lost any chance of getting the contract when Gia was murdered. Scandal and government research don’t go together. So,” he finished with a shrug, “I’ve put Night Arrow on the back burner for now.”

Suzannah wasn’t fooled. She had caught the gleam in his eye when he’d first mentioned the project, and it was a look guys usually reserved for sex and sports. There was no way he had truly abandoned his theory, but for the moment she would play along.

So she asked him, “Are you sure the same person who killed the dad killed Gia?”

“I’d bet my ass on it.”

“Okay…” She pursed her lips. “Gia was Horace Masterson’s sole heir. But Gia must have an heir, as well, right? So that person would have a motive to kill them both, right? First kill Horace so Gia would inherit his fortune. Then murder Gia and get everything—the whole Masterson estate—for himself or herself.” She gave him a hopeful smile. “So? You’re not Gia’s heir, are you?”

He laughed. “Hardly. She recently changed her will, but not to give it to me. Her sister, Mia, is her sole heir.”

“Mia and Gia?” Suzannah winced. “Cute. If they’re sisters, how come Mia didn’t get half of Masterson’s estate in the first place?”

“Horace Masterson disowned Mia about eight years ago. Kicked her out of the house, out of his life and out of the will—all for having an affair with the son of his archenemy.”

“He had an archenemy?”

“Cool, huh?” Justin grinned. “William Seldon and Horace Masterson were partners. Then William had an affair with Horace’s wife, Julia. Needless to say, the partnership ended. William is long since dead. So is Julia, for that matter.”

“But Mia had an affair with William’s son?”

“Correct. William’s son, Derek.”

“And then Horace disowned Mia.”

“Right. And since big sister Gia was such a slave to her father’s affection, she turned her back on Mia, as well. So Mia went to live with a cousin named Cynthia on the East Coast. Even after Horace Masterson had his stroke, Gia didn’t thaw out about her estranged sister. But then…” He gave an apologetic wince. “Can you handle more or are you overloaded?’

“You’re kidding, right? What finally made Gia thaw out?”

He chuckled. “Like I said, Mia had been living with their cousin. Apparently this Cynthia was something of a bridge between the sisters—she had visited them often as a child, and they both loved her. When Mia went to live with Cynthia, Gia turned her back on both of them. After Horace’s stroke, Mia wanted to come home to visit her dad at the nursing home. When Gia said no, Cynthia decided to intercede. She drove across the country and appeared on Gia’s doorstep to plead for a reconciliation between the two sisters. Gia sent Cynthia away. But Cynthia—who was exhausted and in tears—never made it home. She crashed her car into a power pole.”

“Oh, no.”

Justin nodded. “That’s when Gia came to her senses. She told me she finally realized how isolated she had allowed herself to become, physically and emotionally. So she contacted Mia and they reconciled as sisters. Mia moved back home and started visiting the old man—and since he was in a coma, he didn’t object, obviously. The sisters became genuinely close again. Closer even than regular sisters in some ways. I can’t imagine Mia killing Gia. But someone did it, and it sure wasn’t me.”

“So besides you, the Angel of Mercy, and Mia, are there any other suspects? In Gia’s murder, I mean.”

“Well, like I said, it’s always possible—although less likely now—that some outsider wanted to gain control of the company for political or economic reasons. But, ironically, the series of scandals hitting that family has probably ruined the company’s reputation, at least temporarily. So if someone killed Gia for wealth or secrets, they grossly miscalculated.”

“Okay.” Suzannah held up her hand, palm forward. “I can’t absorb much more for the moment. But there’s one last thing I need to know up front. Why would anyone suspect you of murdering Gia?”

He gave her a pained smile. “Promise not to get upset?”

“Oh, God, let me guess. You slept with her? A suspect?”

“A witness,” he reminded her with another, weaker smile. “Anyway, no one really thinks I had a motive to kill her. She was found alone in her bedroom, shot by a gun with my prints on it, about an hour after I had dinner with her. The circumstances indicated that there was a struggle, so the consensus was that I must have shot her in self-defense.” His blue eyes clouded. “They offered me a deal right away. If I would admit that she tried to shoot me and that I just acted to protect myself, there wouldn’t be any charges. I’d keep my job after a perfunctory investigation. That’s what everyone wanted, because my career’s been solid up till now. No one wanted to see it end over this.”

Suzannah gave him a sympathetic smile. “But you didn’t shoot her, so you didn’t take the deal.”

“Right. Someone shot her, and I’d be damned if I was going to let them get away with it. Or have that kind of crazy shit on my record. Unfortunately the evidence against me is fairly strong.”

“Like the fingerprints on the gun?” she murmured.

“I helped her load it before I left that night. She was getting nervous—about the Angel of Mercy coming after her next. Poor kid.”

“That makes sense. About the fingerprints, I mean, not the Angel.”

“Right. But it ticked the D.A. off big-time when I wouldn’t take his deal. So he slapped a murder charge on me. I think they all thought that that would make me cave and admit it was self-defense for sure. But I didn’t shoot her. End of discussion.”

“And those two guys the Bureau got to defend you?”

“They wanted me to take the deal, too. To save everyone the embarrassment.”

She bit her lip, acknowledging to herself that Justin had done the right thing firing those guys. But hiring her was still wrong, wrong, wrong….

“You believe me, don’t you, Suzy?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, I believe you.”

“Good.” He gave her a confident grin. “You’ve already been such an incredible help, making sure they didn’t lock me up pending trial. I knew the D.A. was going to make Armstrong go for the jugular on that. But you handled it like a pro. Now I can solve Gia’s murder, see? Not just to clear my own name but to get that last piece of the puzzle I need to solve the father’s murder, as well.”

Suzannah shook her head in protest. “I’m guessing you’re on some sort of administrative suspension, aren’t you? I don’t think they want you running around trying to solve either case. You need to stay out of trouble, especially because you’re in my freaking custody. I’ll handle any investigating from here on out.”

“Just like I told the judge—you’ve got guts.” He reached across the table and grabbed her hand. “We’ll solve it together, then.”

“Are you nuts?” she demanded, pulling free, then glaring. “I don’t need to solve anything, and neither do you. The burden of proof is on them, and they don’t have a strong enough case to convict a respected federal agent. Fingerprints? A couple of hot dates? None of that adds up to motive, and jurors need a motive, not just evidence. Besides—” she settled down enough to give him a sheepish smile “—all I really have to do is load that jury with females and you’re as good as acquitted.”

To her surprise, the compliment seemed to rankle Justin. “I’d like to think it’s my professional accomplishments—not my sex appeal—that will give me credibility.”

“You’re charged with murder. We’ll use anything we’ve got. That’s my first strategy decision as your incompetent e-lawyer.”

He laughed. “Fair enough. Looks like we both have something to prove.” Pulling out his wallet, he dropped a handful of bills on the table. “So where do we go from here? Your law office?”

She studied him carefully, impressed by his enthusiasm, openness and clear desire to get to the truth. He was innocent—she’d stake the Twelve-Year Plan on that. And he needed more than a quick consultation under the dubious eyes of her senior partner.

He needed a lawyer.

“We’ll go to my apartment. I’ll wait while you get what you need from your room, then you can follow me in your car.”

His blue eyes widened. “You want me to move into your place?”

“I’m not that convinced you’re innocent,” she said, shaking her head in amusement. “Just bring what you need for the rest of the day. We can work at my kitchen table. It’s not as ritzy as this place, but it’s comfortable.”

“I’ll bet it is. And this hotel isn’t so great, believe me. The only thing it has going for it is a state-of-the-art fitness center.”

“You’ll be able to get a good workout in my bedroom,” she assured him, then she grimaced when he arched a playful eyebrow. “There’s a treadmill in there and some free weights, smart-ass.”

“Nice to know you’re getting some action at least,” he said teasingly. Then his smile softened. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, Suzannah. I promise you won’t regret it.”

He followed her to her redbrick apartment house, parking in one of the visitor spots behind the four-story building, then catching up with her at the elevator. In some ways, it felt more like a date than a business meeting, which made a certain kind of illogical sense to Suzannah. Justin was sexy and charming and single, and while she rarely brought men home with her for any reason, she definitely never brought clients or associates to her apartment.

The reason was simple: this place was her sanctuary. Her refuge. An integral part of the Twelve-Year Plan. Knowing from the start that her decision to focus on her career might get out of hand, she had done virtually all of her law work downtown, even though it meant late nights and weekends at the office, returning home only when she was exhausted and depleted. Home was reserved for relaxation—watching movies and reading.

Fortunately her firm’s building had a guard in the reception area for anyone working late, and the office parking lot was well lit, courtesy of the all-night market adjacent to it. So all in all, the system had worked well for her.

Until today.

Opening the front door, she entered the apartment ahead of him and smiled proudly, reminded of the other reason she loved coming home to this tiny place. It was simply beautiful, with its gleaming hardwood floors, built-in shelves and cabinets and magnificent bay window in the eating area.

She had kept the living room furniture simple—two overstuffed chairs facing a matching sofa in front of a small brick fireplace, a brass trunk that served as a coffee table and additional storage and a pair of stained-glass floor lamps. Everything else, from the TV to the small desk accommodating her laptop and household files, was hidden behind cabinet doors.

“Nice place,” Justin murmured. “Sorta like a hideaway.”

She bit her lip, pleased by the description. “You can set up camp in the kitchen. I don’t have an office here, unfortunately.” Remembering the jigsaw puzzle scattered across the tabletop, she added quickly, “I’ll just clear my stuff away first.”

“I can work around it. Plus, when I want to take a break, I’ll do some of the easy pieces.” Still scanning the environment, he set his briefcase and duffel bag on a kitchen chair. “You’ve got yourself a busy schedule for a girl who’s supposed to be on vacation.”

“Pardon?”

He pointed to the large wipe-off board next to her refrigerator, where she had scribbled the date followed by a list of chores and appointments:

Court with Tony

Research, two hours

Confirm HA reservations

Reread P&P

Bubble bath

RS marathon

Call M&D

She knew her cheeks were flushed as she grabbed an eraser and got rid of the evidence. “Thanks to you, this list is irrelevant now.”

“M and D? Mom and Dad, right?” When she nodded, he smiled. “P and P?”

“Pride and Prejudice.”

“Are you running a marathon this week?”

Suzannah wasn’t about to admit that she had planned on watching at least a dozen episodes of Remington Steele. “RS is a guy I know. I wanted to remember that he was involved in a marathon.”

“And you actually schedule your bubble baths ahead of time? That’s kind of sad.” Justin’s finger tapped a piece of paper attached to her refrigerator by a magnet. “What’s this? More chores?”

“Not that it’s any of your business, but that’s my shopping list.”

“Looks more like an anti-shopping list.” He began to read aloud. “‘No cookies, No candy, No ice cream.’”

“Never mind.” She snatched the page, crumpled it and threw it into the trash. “I’m going to change out of this suit. Make yourself comfortable, but no snooping. I mean it,” she added over her shoulder as she strode into her bedroom.

“I’ll just work the puzzle,” he promised.

She closed the door behind herself, then leaned against it and sighed. He was a little too observant and way too intuitive. What was it the prosecutor had said? That he had “made a career out of seducing and conning people”?

She definitely needed to stay on her toes. And she didn’t dare leave him alone for too long, so she quickly peeled off her clothes and wriggled into a pair of soft, faded jeans. Then she added a hooded sweatshirt of soft pink cashmere, zipping it halfway to partially obscure a white lace camisole.

Her pink fluffy slippers seemed a little much, so she put on pale blue socks instead. After checking her hair and makeup, she opened the bedroom door and stepped back into the living room, then froze as the sound of her best friend’s recorded voice greeted her.

“…and she says the killer’s gorgeous, but the little creep didn’t give me any other details. So call me! I’m supposed to be your best friend, but you’d never know it from the way you act. Sheesh!”

Sprinting for the answering machine, Suzannah punched the stop button, then turned to glare at her houseguest. “What’s your problem?”

“She sounds like fun. What’s her name?”

“Never mind.” Suzannah grimaced. “Was that the only message?”

“She left two. The first one was about the Sperminator. You’ll never guess what he did.”

Suzannah stared into his laughing eyes, muttered, “You must have a death wish,” then rewound the recorder and pushed Play.

The machine announced, “Message number one,” then Noelle West’s voice began again: “Hey, it’s me. You’ll never guess what the Sperminator did last night, so I’ll just tell you. He proposed again. For real this time. He said, and I quote, ‘I know we were only getting married because we thought you were knocked up, but I got kind of used to the idea.’ Romantic, huh? So where the hell are you? We need to talk.”

There was an emphatic click, then the machine announced, “Message number two.”

It was Noelle again, saying, “Hey, what’s going on? Why aren’t you answering your cell? I’m dying over here. First the Sperminator, now this hot new rumor about you. My cousin was in the courtroom and she said the hanging judge almost locked you up. But instead he hooked you up. With some killer. And she says the killer’s gorgeous, but the little creep didn’t give me any other details. So—”

Suzannah stopped the tape again, shaking her head in amused disbelief. The Sperminator had actually re-proposed? That was big, big news. It was a little embarrassing that Justin had heard about it and downright mortifying that he had heard himself described as a gorgeous killer, but it could have been worse.

“If you’re going to be spending time here, you need to respect my privacy.”

“The light was flashing,” he explained. “So? What’s your buddy’s name?”

“Noelle. And obviously I need to call her right away. Excuse me, please? Just for a few minutes?”

“Sure. She sounds great. Best friends? For how long?”

Suzannah hesitated but could see he wasn’t going to let it go. “Her family lived next door to my grandmother. Every time my parents got divorced, I went there to live for a while. So we’ve been friends, off and on, forever.”

She liked the fact that he was speechless, at least for the moment. Not that she blamed him. She didn’t usually share her parents’ bizarre marriage history with strangers, but she had a feeling Justin would run a background check on her anyway, so he’d eventually find out about the divorces.

“How many times—”

“Twice. Which means I got to attend two of their three weddings.” She smiled in wry amusement. “If my mother were here, she’d tell you it’s romantic. That’s how nuts my parents are.”

“But they’re set now?”

“God, I hope so.” She rolled her eyes in mock frustration. “Anyway, living with Grandma next to Noelle’s family was crucial to my sanity, so in a way, it’s a good thing they were so…so whatever. They’re fun,” she added quickly. “And lovable. But they got married when they were just crazy kids and they’ve somehow managed to keep that childlike quality right into their fifties. Anyway…” She backed toward her bedroom. “I’ve got to get the details on this Sperminator development. And you need to work on clearing yourself of murder charges. So why don’t we both get busy?”

True to form, Noelle had Suzannah laughing within seconds as she recounted the Sperminator’s beer-induced but still amazing proposal. More stunning still was the fact that Noelle seemed to be considering it!

“We’ll have to start calling him Steve, you know,” Suzannah told her friend. “Just in case you guys go through with it.”

“Speaking of men, I need details. About the murderer.”

“I told you, he’s innocent. An FBI agent with a spotless record. He was framed, and hopefully I can help unframe him without getting myself charged with contempt in the process. Wish me luck. I’d better get back in there before he starts rummaging through my files.”

“Is he as good-looking as my cousin said?”

“Yep. Picture a blend of Highlander and a young Obi Wan.”

“Which Highlander?” Noelle asked, her tone challenging. “Yours or mine?”

“There can be only one,” Suzannah reminded her with a laugh, wondering for the umpteenth time how Noelle could prefer Christopher Lambert’s Highlander to Adrian Paul’s. “Anyway, I’d better get back to him. I’ll call you when he leaves.”

“Are you sure he’ll be leaving? He sounds pretty sexy. Maybe he’ll sleep over.”

“He’s a client. And a murder suspect. Plus, he’s not my type.”

“Give me a break,” Noelle drawled. “You said yourself he’s a cross between your two favorite heroes. Does he have an accent?”

“Well, not Scottish, that’s for sure. If anything, he’s got the tiniest hint of a cowboy twang.” She expected Noelle to react strongly, but she said nothing, so Suzannah prodded her. “Noelle?”

“Sorry, I just drooled all over myself.”

“You’re such a nut.” Suzannah grinned and repeated, “I’ll call you when he leaves. Don’t elope or anything before then. ’Bye.”

She hung up the phone, then braced herself for another round with Justin. She was getting used to the idea of being his attorney, but having her privacy invaded was something else.

He cons and seduces people for a living. So be careful….

Taking a deep breath, she returned to the living room and found him dutifully working the jigsaw puzzle, just as he’d promised.

He had draped his leather bomber jacket over one kitchen chair and had slung his shoulder holster over another. Just those few subtle touches, along with his not-so-subtle sexuality, had given her home a strong infusion of masculinity that she found disorienting.

So this is what it’s like to have a man around the house, she teased herself nervously. Next he’ll be opening jars for you and taking out the trash.

Shaking off the confused mood, she walked over and sat at the table. “I’ve got more questions about the case.”

“Shoot.”

“Speaking of shooting…” She eyed the shoulder holster, which was empty. “They confiscated your gun and your badge, right? I mean, temporarily. So…?”

“Force of habit. I can put it away if it bothers you.”

“It’s fine.” She arched an eyebrow. “Don’t you guys usually have backup weapons? Something with the serial numbers sanded off or whatever?”

“Are you sure you want me to answer that?”

“Good point. Never mind.”

“What about you?” he asked. “A pretty girl, living alone. How do you protect yourself?”

“I use the dead bolt whenever I’m home. And I have a can of mace in my purse whenever I’m out.”

“You should keep the mace by your bed at night, too.”

She hesitated, then nodded. “Good advice. Thanks.”

Her attention was attracted by a group of yellow self-adhesive notes he had attached in a row to the nearby wall. It appeared to be some sort of timeline.

His gaze tracked hers. “That’s my system. Must look pretty lame to an organizational genius like you, but it works for me.”

“Those look like Angel of Mercy notes. Shouldn’t we be concentrating on Gia’s murder?”

“They’re interrelated.”

“So you admit it’s possible that the Angel of Mercy killed Gia?”

Justin shrugged. “Anything’s possible. But it’s more likely that Horace Masterson’s murderer tried to capitalize on Charlie Parrish’s crime spree by committing a look-alike murder and hoping Charlie would take the rap.”

“Or—” Suzannah met his gaze directly “—Charlie killed them all. The three nursing-home residents out of a sincere but deranged belief that they wanted him to kill them. Then Horace. And then Gia because she publicly announced she’d never honor her father’s wish to have the plug pulled. Maybe Charlie found her attitude so arrogant and repugnant he wanted to punish her for it.”

“Gia said the same thing to me,” he mused. “The night she died.”

“What?”

Justin nodded. “She was nervous that night. More than usual. She kept saying she thought the Angel would come after her next because of the videotaped statement by her that was shown on the news after Horace was diagnosed. She said that was the kind of thing a truly insane man would never be able to forget.”

“Wow. What did you say?”

He shrugged. “I comforted her. Told her that wasn’t Charlie’s MO. He uses drugs, not guns. And he truly believes he’s helping the victims, not hurting them. He’s the Angel of Mercy, not Vengeance.”

“You talk about him like he’s rational. But I agree with Gia. He’s a nut. And probably getting crazier by the minute. All that killing—it might have made him feel powerful. Validated. Almost godlike.”

Justin grinned. “Very cool analysis. You remind me of a friend of mine.” He began digging in his briefcase and pulled out a manila envelope. “I meant to give this to you earlier. Don’t open it. Just put it somewhere safe.”

“It’s not a confession, is it?”

He laughed. “No such luck. It’s my friend’s phone number. If something goes wrong—if I get killed, for instance—”

“Killed?” Suzannah bit her lip. “You think the murderer might come after you?”

“I’m a loose end. Plus, I’m determined to solve Horace Masterson’s murder. And now Gia’s, too. The real killer would be smart to get rid of me.”

“Oh, God, I never thought of that.”

Justin flashed a reassuring smile. “The good news is, he’s also got a strong incentive to keep me alive. If he kills me, then everyone will know I was innocent. Right now the evidence against me is so strong the authorities aren’t looking anywhere else.”

“But you’re looking.”

And so am I….

He must have heard her thought, because he patted her hand and assured her, “The bad guys don’t have any reason to come after you. As far as they know, you’re handling the legal angle, not the investigation. And it was clear in the courtroom today that you were a reluctant participant. So I’m pretty sure you’re safe.”

She held up the envelope. “But if something happens…?”

“Right. If something goes wrong, call that number. It’ll connect you to SPIN. Have you heard of it?” When Suzannah shook her head, he explained. “It’s a backup agency for agents like me. The Strategic Profiling and Identification Network. They call themselves spinners and they’re effing geniuses. Literally.”

“Wait! Are you sure it’s okay to tell me all this?”

He laughed. “Yeah, it’s okay. The only confidential info is the actual identity of the spinners. Their whole system is based on anonymity. They use aliases, and our only contact with them is by phone.”

“So you have a friend, but you don’t know his name?”

“Her name.”

“Oh, right.” Suzannah rolled her eyes. “I should have guessed.”

“Her code name is S-3. I nicknamed her Essie.” He hesitated, then admitted, “I’ve known her real name for a while now, but I never use it. Anyway, she can get you any information you need. Plus, her instincts are stellar. Downright eerie, really. No matter how bad things get, she can always figure out a solution. So…” He squeezed Suzannah’s hand. “If something goes wrong—if I get killed or you get scared or start to doubt my innocence, anything like that—call S-3. Got it?”

“I’ve got a better idea,” she told him, pulling her hand free. “Let’s call her right now.”

“Huh?”

“She’s your friend. And she’s brilliant. We’ll brainstorm with her. Three heads are better than two, right?”

His eyes clouded. “It’s not that simple, Suzy. She’s not assigned to this case, so she’s not supposed to work on it. I’ve gotten her into trouble a couple of times over the last few years. I’ve promised myself I won’t do that anymore.”

“Too bad. We could use the help.”

“She’s got a tendency to go rogue, especially when her friends are in trouble.” He cleared his throat, then admitted, “I rely on her too much sometimes. It’s not fair to her. So I’ve gone cold turkey. I won’t call her. But if things go really wrong, I want you to.”

Suzannah studied his forlorn expression. “Are you in love with her? Even though you never met her in person? That’s so romantic.”

“I love her like crazy, but I’m not in love with her,” Justin said, chuckling. “I like my girlfriends to have bodies.”

“Like Gia?”

“Gia had one helluva body,” he agreed, fishing in his briefcase again until he found a folder containing a dozen or so photographs. “Here, see for yourself. The best rack money could buy.”

“Good grief.” Suzannah bit back a smile, wondering how such a tall, skinny woman had managed to carry herself upright with the giant breasts she had apparently bought for herself. “You said she was sweet. I’d say she was a little vain, too.”

“You’d think so,” he murmured. “But you’d be wrong. The boob job wasn’t because she wanted to look better. She just wanted to look different.”

“Pardon?”

“Look at this. It’s Gia nine years ago. Before she started having plastic surgery.”

Suzannah stared at the second photo, shocked to see a girl who only vaguely resembled the busty woman in the first picture. “She didn’t just have her breasts enhanced. She had—what? Her eyes? Her cheeks?”

“Eyes. Cheeks. Jaw. Bust. Six surgeries over a seven-year period.”

“She changed her hair color, too.”

“And wore blue contact lenses so her eyes wouldn’t look gray.”

“I don’t get it.” Suzannah shook her head. “She was so pretty.”

“So was her mother. So was her sister Mia.” His tone grew pensive. “Do you remember what I told you? That she was desperate for her father’s approval? But unfortunately she looked just like her mother and sister, the two females that had made him so angry. He apparently told her more than once that he could barely stand the sight of her.”

“Oh, my God. She actually did all this for him? And he didn’t try to stop her—his own daughter!—from mutilating herself? I mean, the end result was attractive, I suppose….”

“But it wasn’t her face. Or her body. She said that to me more than once. That she felt like a stranger to herself when she looked in the mirror. But at the same time, she kept having surgery. Breast implants. Then her eyes. Then the cheek implants—she had those after Horace went into the coma, by the way.”

Suzannah gasped. “Why?”

“She said she was sure he’d regain consciousness one day, and when he opened his eyes, she didn’t want the first face he saw to remind him of his unfaithful wife.”

Suzannah grimaced. “No offense, but that was one sick chick.”

“One sick father,” Justin corrected her. “The more I found out about Horace Masterson, the less sorry I was that someone had offed him. If it hadn’t been for the fact that his company did top-secret research, I would have considered his murder a petty crime.”

“Poor Gia.”

Justin nodded. “She was a lonely, frightened, sweet girl. It was pitiful. And it made her bizarrely irresistible. Not sexually but emotionally. I wanted to make her feel better. Feel loved. I screwed up, but it wasn’t what it looked like. Not lust, Suzy. Just…”

“Compassion?” Suzannah slid the photos of Gia back into the folder, then buried her face in her hands and peeked through her fingers. “What a mess.”

“Yeah, it’s rough. Maybe we should change the subject.”

“Okay.” Suzannah gave him a hopeful smile. “You said you’d give me more details about the Night Arrow project. Maybe now would be a good time for that.”

He beamed. “You’re fascinated by it, too?”

“Nope. Just fascinated by your obsession with it. There’s a difference.”

Justin’s cell phone began to ring, and he winced as he asked, “Do you mind if I take it?”

“No, please do.” Suzannah jumped up and went to the refrigerator for a bottle of water, glad for the chance to digest the information he had given her about Gia Masterson. The idea that any father could be despicable enough to contort his daughter’s affections the way Horace had done made Suzannah sick.

Then she scolded herself, remembering that Gia Masterson had been a wealthy, powerful woman who had turned her back on her little sister just when the girl had needed her most.

So get a grip, will you? Worry about Justin, not some crazy dead heiress.

He was arguing softly with someone, but his eyes were on Suzannah, and she realized he was looking a little guilty around the edges, which told her the caller was probably one of his girlfriends.

Did he really think she’d be bothered by that? What an ego!

“Okay, I’ll come over,” he muttered into the phone. “Just don’t do anything crazy. And don’t expect me to stay long. I’m not kidding, Mia. So…huh? Oh, okay…See ya.”

He closed the phone and laid it on the table, then gave his attorney a sheepish grin. “Hi.”

“Mia? As in, Mia Masterson? You’re in touch with her?” Suzannah eyed him sternly. “Do you want to go to prison?”

“I tried to get rid of her. But she’s freaked out about some premonition she had. She thinks whoever killed Gia is coming after her next.”

“Tell her to call 911.”

“I did. But she was crying….” He shrugged as if to say, Consoling beautiful rich girls is what I do. Don’t ask me to stop just because I’m on trial for murder.

Pushing back his chair, he stood and reached for his jacket. “I’ll be back in two hours, tops. I know we still have a lot to talk about—”

“We can talk in the car. You drive, I’ll lecture.”

“Huh?” He laughed warily. “You’re sure you want to come along?”

“Do you have rocks in your head? Or just in your pants?” Suzannah demanded. “Can’t you see what’s going to happen? You’ll go over there. Get your prints all over her and her house. Then after you leave, the Angel will swoop in and murder her, and Taylor the Jailor will lock me up. He released you into my custody, remember? You aren’t going anywhere without me except to your hotel room at night, and that’s only because I’m afraid to sleep with an accused murderer in the house.”

“In other words, it’s all about you?”

“Believe it.”

Justin laughed. “This is actually a great idea.”

Suzannah had to admit she liked it, too. Getting the facts of the case through Mia’s eyes, rather than just through Justin’s, made sense. And aside from Charlie Parrish, aka the Angel of Mercy, Mia was the prime suspect, at least in Suzannah’s mind. The younger Masterson daughter was inheriting millions of dollars from Gia, not to mention control of their billion-dollar corporation. Talk about a motive!

“Give me five minutes to change back into my suit—”

“Don’t do that,” Justin interrupted. Then he explained carefully, “Anyone can look professional in a suit. But you carry it off in jeans. Let Mia see that. It’ll drive her crazy and keep her off balance.”

“I don’t play games.”

“Trust me on this, okay? Sometimes a game is the best strategy.”

Because he cons and seduces people for a living, Suzannah reminded herself. And obviously he’s good at it, so…

“Can I wear heels at least?”

“Absolutely. The higher, the better.” Justin’s blue eyes began to twinkle. “You and Mia—man, this should be good.”

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