For those few insane minutes when they’d made love, she’d been completely open to him, unguarded. For the first time, he thought he’d seen the real Raleigh.
He’d liked it. As he’d stared into those guileless green eyes, so trusting, he’d felt something blooming in his chest besides desire. Something that felt a lot like love, or at least the potential for love.
That was new. Most of his relationships had involved him trying not to say or do anything that implied commitment. A couple of times he hadn’t been clear enough, and he’d ended up breaking some poor girl’s heart and feeling like a heel.
With Raleigh, he’d almost told her he would always be there for her—and meant it. He’d censored himself, though, not because he feared being misunderstood, but because he wasn’t quite ready for her to see what was in his heart.
Thank God he’d stopped himself. He was in no position to make promises. He’d chosen a lifestyle that didn’t accommodate happily ever after.
He had to get his head back on straight. His work had always been his top priority. That hadn’t changed just because one beautiful, intriguing, vulnerable woman had let him past her defenses. Once.
He heard the shower running and decided it would be better if he was gone when she finished bathing. If not, if he saw her all rosy-pink from the warm water, smelling of whatever fancy shampoo Daniel undoubtedly provided, he might be tempted to bundle Raleigh right back into bed.
Griffin quickly pulled on his boxers and T-shirt, though probably no one would be roaming the halls. As far as he could tell, he and Raleigh were alone in the guest wing.
He paused on his way out the door. Raleigh’s briefcase sat open on a small, antique writing desk, and sunlight glinted off something inside, drawing his eye.
Taking a couple of steps closer, he saw that it was a small, framed photo of Jason.
They had escaped her apartment with little more than the dog and the clothes on their backs, yet Raleigh managed to have a picture of her dead husband with her. She probably kept it in her briefcase, and when she’d arrived here, the first thing she had done was open the case and look at that picture.
Damn. Disappointment pressed against him from every direction. He had thought maybe Raleigh had made a breakthrough. But it was clear who took precedence in her life. Yeah, she’d made love with
him
this morning, not Jason. But only because Jason wasn’t available.
He should have questioned her more closely. Her change of heart, the fact that she had initiated sex when last night she’d been firmly against it, should have tipped him off that something wasn’t right.
Now he understood what she’d meant about her body making the decision, rather than her brain. Nothing had changed. And unless he wanted to play second fiddle to the sainted Jason, he needed to make sure this did not happen again. He didn’t particularly like the feeling of being Jason’s surrogate.
He should have been able to simply shrug and walk away. But it was time for him to admit that what he felt for Raleigh was more than lust, more than mere affection. She had become a priority in his life, and protecting her was more important than anything else—including his story.
Including his career.
His dedication to finding out who wanted to hurt her wouldn’t change. He
would
find out, and stop them. But he would no longer press Raleigh for more than she could give.
She was starving. She hoped Daniel stayed true to form and fed them a huge, greasy breakfast. Her usual fruit and yogurt did not sound appealing in the least.
Daniel had provided every cosmetic or toiletry she could possibly wish for, including a mango/grapefruit body lotion that smelled fantastic. She slathered it over every inch of her skin, brushed and flossed and dabbed on a bit of makeup.
She plugged in the blow dryer, then straightened her hair as she always did.
Her hair didn’t really matter that much, did it? The only person she would be meeting with was Garrett. But somehow, the habitual act of taming her mop helped her to feel more in control. She clipped it back into a ponytail and smoothed back any strays from her face.
She had no idea what sort of clothing she would find in the closet, but she felt pretty sure it would fit. Daniel—or perhaps Jillian—had a magic touch when it came to anticipating guests’ needs. She still couldn’t believe Griffin had found condoms.
She opened the bathroom door. “Shower’s all your—” The room was empty. Griffin was gone.
Sinking onto the rumpled bed, Raleigh tried to tamp down her disappointment. What had she expected? That he would stick to her side 24/7? He’d probably wanted his own shower, his own things. In fact, yes, she could hear his shower going.
In the closet she found a variety of casual clothes. Nothing like she usually wore for work, but she was officially on vacation according to Daniel. She chose a pair of stone-washed jeans and was amazed at how well they fit and how comfortable they were. Her closet at home held a couple of pairs of old jeans, but she seldom wore them.
She made a note of the size and brand, intending to purchase a pair for herself. She went to her briefcase to find the notebook she knew was there, and stopped cold when she saw Jason’s picture, smiling up at her in that frozen, timeless way. “Oh, Jason.” She picked up the picture and touched the glass over his face. “Are you terribly disappointed in me?”
She felt sure he would have been okay if she’d started seeing someone. He’d been a generous man in life; no reason to think he would be stingy and possessive with her after his death.
But she didn’t know what he would think about hot, frantic sex with a man she wasn’t even dating.
“It was a little much, I guess. I underestimated how much I’d be tempted.” She sighed and tucked Jason under some books, wondering if Griffin had seen the picture and, if so, what he’d made of it.
Minutes later, with her cell phone stuck in her pocket, she headed downstairs. Copper greeted her effusively, and Raleigh picked him up and held him close. “Are you having a good time visiting your uncle Daniel?” she asked as the dog licked her on the chin.
“I heard that.” Daniel appeared in the doorway of the formal dining room. “I am not your dog’s uncle.”
“Good morning, Daniel.”
“We’re having breakfast on the patio today. It’s a beautiful morning.”
“Wonderful.” She set Copper down, and the dog ran off, probably to find his new playmate, Tucker. The two dogs, though comically mismatched in size, seemed to get along famously.
“The police didn’t find any sign of the shooter,” Daniel said. “Just an open window in a vacant office across the street. No bullet casings, no hair or fiber, no witnesses.”
“That’s bad.” Actually, she’d expected as much. Whoever was out to get her was very good at not getting caught.
“Where’s Griffin?” Daniel asked.
Raleigh stepped carefully, worried that anything she said regarding Griffin would give her away. “I heard a shower running down the hall from me a while ago. I’m sure he’ll be down shortly.”
Breakfast was exactly what Raleigh was craving—fried eggs, pork sausage, toast slathered in butter, orange juice and strong coffee.
“We have all kinds of cereal, oatmeal, granola, fresh fruit—would you prefer something like that?” Daniel asked as Raleigh took her seat at the large glass-topped table, shaded by the biggest umbrella she’d ever seen.
“Oh, no, this is fine.”
“Really? I remember that you were kind of a health nut.”
She didn’t think of herself that way. “Usually I’m—sensible when it comes to my diet. But hey, I’m on vacation, right? Besides, something about almost dying has made me crave cholesterol.”
Daniel smiled. “Plenty of that here.” On his own plate, though, she noticed he had fresh melon, a whole-wheat muffin and a dish of plain yogurt. She supposed he couldn’t eat the greasy stuff every day, even if his cook was happy to put it in front of him.
Jillian joined them, looking daisy fresh in a polka-dot sundress, a teeny black cardigan and black sandals. Daniel apparently didn’t require a dress-for-success wardrobe from her so long as she did her job.
“Good morning, Raleigh. I hope you slept well.”
“Very well, thank you.” In part because of her warm, muscular pillow. Her heart sank a bit as she thought about Griffin. When she saw him again, she had to be prepared for however he chose to play it.
She hoped he didn’t give them away, not yet. She still hadn’t come to terms with what she’d done—what they’d done. She wasn’t ready for anyone else to know about it.
What the hell was that about? Did he have regrets? He was the one who’d been pushing for something more, and she was the one who was supposed to feel guilty and remorseful.
She didn’t feel guilty. More…worried. About the future. About whether she’d made a mistake, and would lose Griffin altogether, even as a friend.
Not even a smile for her?
Daniel filled Griffin in on the police investigation into the shooting.
Griffin took a few notes.
Conversation at the breakfast table veered toward lighter topics after that. Daniel and Jillian talked about his schedule for the day. Daniel and Griffin discussed college football—for need of a topic of discussion, rather than any real interest from either of them.
Raleigh mostly said nothing. The nourishing but heavy food she’d craved only a few minutes ago now sat leaden in her stomach. She had no idea how to act toward a man she’d just had wild, unexpected sex with.
After a few more minutes, Griffin wiped his mouth with his napkin and pushed his chair away from the table. “I’ll need a ride to my car,” he announced. “Can you provide one, Daniel? Or I can call a cab.”
“I’ll have Randall take you wherever you need to go, of course. But are you sure you want to leave?”
“The shooter is after Raleigh, not me. I have a job, and no one is giving me paid vacation. Plus, I have some leads to follow.”
Raleigh was crushed. He was leaving? But she absolutely would not behave like some clinging vine. Just because they’d had sex didn’t mean she had a claim to him. She did, however, want a minute alone with him, if she could manage it without making it a big deal.
“You’ll be careful, won’t you?” she couldn’t help asking.
“As careful as I know how to be.”
“Why don’t I loan you a car,” Daniel said. “One our homicidal friend won’t recognize.”
“He can take mine,” Jillian said. “I don’t need to be anywhere today.”
“That’s very generous—both of you.”
Raleigh was relieved that Griffin was taking at least some precautions. Then something he’d said a few moments earlier hit her. “Leads? You didn’t say anything about leads.”
“I’ll let you know if anything pans out.”
He was holding out on her. But he was under no obligation to share everything with them. She felt sure he would speak up when it was appropriate.
Raleigh managed to loiter near the kitchen as Jillian handed over the keys to her Range Rover. “Third gear sticks a bit.”
“Thanks, I’ll watch out for that.”
Feeling like an idiot, Raleigh followed him down the hallway toward the garage door. “Griffin.”
He turned. “Oh. Ah, hi.”
“Are you acting like a bastard on purpose, or is it an accident?” She hadn’t meant to come on so strong, but really.
He at least had the good grace to look guilty. “I’m sorry, Raleigh. I wasn’t sure what you wanted, but I’m guessing you didn’t want to announce to the whole world that we’d had sex.”
“No, you’re right about that. But a smile or a friendly word wouldn’t have been out of place.”
“Okay, point taken. But I’m feeling a little confused. What happened this morning—I don’t believe it changed anything for you.”
How could he think that?
“Well, it apparently changed things for you. You got what you wanted from me, and it’s time to move on to the next conquest. Is that it?”
He rolled his eyes. “God, Raleigh, it’s not that either. I’m talking about…your situation.”
“You mean because I might get killed?” she asked, confused.
“Not that. And you aren’t going to get killed. Don’t talk that way. I was referring to…to Jason. You’re still emotionally attached to him.”
“The feelings don’t just magically go away.”
“I don’t expect you to forget him,” Griffin said gently. “But I don’t think your marriage is over at all. In your heart, you’re still with him. You keep his picture with you all the time and at your apartment you have a shrine dedicated to—”
“A
shrine?
”
“Yes, honey, a shrine. That’s exactly what it is. I can’t compete with a saint. Raleigh, you’re a wonderful woman. I don’t pretend to know what was going through your head this morning—if anything. I’m happy if I was able to offer you some comfort or release or distraction. But let’s leave it at that.”
Is that what he thought of their lovemaking? That it meant so little to her? Yes, maybe she hadn’t thought it through when she’d started touching him this morning, but—
Why was she arguing with herself, when he was turning to leave?
“Griffin, wait.”
“Relax.” He turned and pressed a finger to her lips. “Have a low-key day today. If I find out anything, you’ll be the first to know. We’ll talk later, okay?”
She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Okay.”
Then he walked out the door.
Well, that hadn’t gone as well as she’d hoped.
She supposed she couldn’t heap too much blame on him. She
was
too preoccupied with Jason. And that table in her apartment with all the pictures and the mementos—sometimes she
did
burn a candle there. Maybe it was a shrine.
But she was changing. Or at least, she was willing to change. She had a right to live a full life, and that meant having a man. A partner in life. Okay, maybe even a husband. Jason would never begrudge her that. If he was even watching over her, which she was coming to doubt.
He was probably on some heavenly beach with a bikini babe on each arm. Before he’d started dating her, he’d been quite the player. If he was in heaven now, he wouldn’t be living like a monk.
The thought actually made her smile. She didn’t want to think of Jason as eternally yearning for her, miserable.
She was no longer willing to see herself that way, either. She was moving on. She cursed Griffin and blessed him for making her see the light.
“Raleigh?”
Startled, Raleigh whirled around to find Jillian, clipboard in hand, looking worried. “Yes?”
“You have a phone call. Beth has been trying to get hold of you.”
“That’s odd.” Raleigh fished her cell out of her jeans and stared at the blank screen. “Guess I forgot to turn it on,” she said sheepishly. It took a whole lot of distraction for her to forget that, but Griffin qualified.
Jillian led Raleigh down a flight of stairs to the basement. Hardly anyone in Houston had a basement. The city was barely above sea level, and anything built underground was damp and seepy. But somehow Daniel had managed.
Managed very well. The lower level was just as luxurious as any other part of the mansion, with thick Oriental carpets and antiqued bronze light fixtures with art glass shades.
“I could have grabbed the extension in the kitchen.”
“Anything to do with Project Justice, Daniel is fastidious about privacy. In here. Your call is on line one.” Jillian showed her into a private office equipped with the latest computer, a phone, bookshelves, even live plants. And…a window?
Raleigh couldn’t resist pulling back the curtain. The window was fake, with its own light source to make it seem as if the sun was shining right outside. Daniel thought of everything.
Jillian closed the door as she left, and Raleigh grabbed the phone and hit the flashing button for line one.
“Hey, Beth, what’s up?” She found a pen and notepad.
“Raleigh! I’m so glad nothing happened to you. You could have been killed! Is Griffin really okay?”
“He is now. He claims it’s a minor wound.” Raleigh shuddered. “I’ll tell him you asked.” If she ever spoke to him again. She was awash in confusion where Griffin was concerned.
“I’m really relieved. But that’s not the only reason I called. I’m afraid I have some bad news.”
What now? Raleigh sank into the leather chair behind the desk. “Lay it on me.”
“Lieutenant Comstock called. It seems he can’t find the bullet that killed Michelle Brewster.”
“What?”
“He says he found the evidence files, but the bullet is missing. With closed cases, where they have a conviction, sometimes things get tossed or lost. He says it happens all the time.”
“It does happen all the time, but it shouldn’t. Of all the incompetent, slovenly, careless, idiotic…” She ran out of adjectives.
This was her whole case. The bullet comparison could have proved that gun was the murder weapon, Raleigh was sure of it. And then she would have been able to track the gun to someone other than Anthony.
“I’m sorry, Raleigh. Lieutenant Comstock sounded frustrated and angry about it, too, so don’t come down too hard on him.”
“Beth, you’re way too trusting. Comstock is probably dancing a jig as we speak. He doesn’t want us to exonerate Anthony. He probably pocketed the bullet himself, and now it’s at the bottom of Buffalo Bayou. What about tracing the gun registration? Any progress there?”
“He said they were working on it.”
“How long does it take? You plug some numbers into a computer and it spits out the answer.” She knew it wasn’t quite that easy, since the number had been incomplete. But if she could get a list of names—a hundred names, five hundred names—she would have somewhere to start looking.
“Why don’t you ask Mitch to run the number?”
Because it would be illegal. Project Justice was not a law-enforcement agency and they didn’t have legitimate access to the ATF database. But Mitch probably knew how to get in, or he had a friend somewhere who could help. If it led her to a suspect…
“Never mind,” Beth said. “You’re an officer of the court and all that.”
Which meant Beth would ask Mitch herself.
Fine, Raleigh wouldn’t discourage her. She was desperate.
“Do you know when you’ll be back in the office?” Beth asked.
Raleigh sighed. “When Daniel says it’s okay.”
The office door opened and Jillian stood there, looking frantic and apologetic all at the same time.
“I have to go, Beth. I’ll call you later.” She hung up and focused on Jillian. “Trouble?”
“Daniel wants to see you right away.”
Now
what? Raleigh followed Jillian down the hall to another door. When she entered Daniel’s office—his lair, some people called it—her eyes almost popped out of her head.
She’d heard about this place, but she’d never actually been here until today.
It looked less an office and more a control center. Or the deck of the
Starship Enterprise.
She counted four TVs, mounted high on the walls, all of them broadcasting multiple screens of a news program. A huge, U-shaped desk dominated the room; it held two computers plus a small laptop. Daniel sat in the center, actually typing on two keyboards at once, one with each hand. He also had a Bluetooth headset in his ear.
He looked up when she entered. “Raleigh. Come in, please. Sit down.” His face looked grim.
On the periphery of the huge desk were several comfortable chairs. She chose one at random and sat. “Is someone hurt? They didn’t go after my parents, did they?” Her parents lived far away, in Iowa, but anything was possible.
“No, it’s nothing like that. But I’m afraid you’ve become the subject of some sensational press coverage. The story came over CNI a few minutes ago. I record everything continuously with DVRs on a twenty-four-hour loop, in case I need to review a report—like this.”
He pointed to one of the TV screens, rewinding through a recording until he got to the segment he wanted.
A sober-looking woman began her report with a hint of relish. “Project Justice, the Houston foundation that frees those unjustly convicted, is embroiled in yet another controversial case—this one involving notorious crime-family member Anthony Simonetti, currently on death row for the brutal murder of his girlfriend, Michelle Brewster.”
Oh, no. Raleigh had known it was only a matter of time before the media glommed on to this story, but it still disturbed her, especially given the bad news she’d just received.
“At the center of this case is attorney Raleigh Shinn, who only a few weeks ago successfully argued to free convicted millionaire Eldon Jasperson when his son—whom he supposedly murdered—turned up alive and well.”
A rather unflattering photo of Raleigh flashed on the screen. Did she really look like that?
“Regarding the Simonetti case, the supposed murder weapon has turned up, and Shinn is shepherding the evidence through a series of high-tech analyses, confident the results will prove her client, the son of notorious ‘machete man’ Leo Simonetti, is innocent.”
Raleigh’s picture was replaced with one of Leo Simonetti, who had absolutely nothing to do with this case.
Raleigh held her breath, knowing the worst was to come.
“But apparently not everyone is pleased with Shinn’s efforts. She’s been the target of threatening phone calls, and late last night, Shinn’s apartment was showered with gunfire, shattering the windows and injuring a guest staying at Shinn’s home.”