Jackie ran her fingers through her hair, then spread her arms wide. “As a matter of fact, I don’t understand. I don’t understand anything anymore.” She turned toward the door with her head hung low. The floor’s colored specks blurred.
The scrape of a chair screeched. She stopped and turned back. The ball-cap agent stood at the table, fingers splayed out on the surface. “Ms. North, I can’t promise you anything, but by tomorrow, or rather later today, we’ll be able to explain more in detail. Go home. Get some sleep. Don’t talk to anyone about what has gone on tonight. Someone from the office will call. We’ll send an agent by to pick you up. Hopefully by then things will be clearer.”
The big agent escorted her out of the building through the back loading dock. They drove past the front of the building, where cameras and reporters crowded. Dawn was breaking over the Chesapeake, but gloomy skies portended a wet, sticky day.
She’d never been a disciplined housekeeper. The abyss she called a home had deteriorated in the last few weeks into something that warranted intervention by a reality TV show.
Her stomach screamed for sustenance, unlikely to be found in the battlefield of a kitchen. Coffee cups and water bottles lay here and there across the countertops, victims of her lost battle against clutter. Using two fingers, she lifted the end of a banana, disturbing a family of fruit flies.
She surrendered to caveman hunger and headed for her linen closet with her fingers crossed that her secret stash of Zingers had not been depleted. An open box of Suzy Q’s sat on the top shelf. Although not her top pick, it made the saliva in Jackie’s mouth pool.
The box was disappointingly light in her hand as she pulled it down. “Shit,” was all she could muster when the empty white cardboard box came into view.
She hadn’t slept in twenty-four hours, and she’d perpetrated God knew how many acts that could cost her not only her law license but also her freedom. And there wasn’t one good snack cake in the entire house.
Worst of all, her heart ached for Brandon. It actually hurt. The heaviness in her chest reminded her of all those times when she was young and her mom or dad or both let her down. Hurt her. Left her.
Where was Brandon?
Had he left her?
Two small sniffles preceded a drawn-out intake of breath. The expected onslaught of tears didn’t come, though. She was simply empty. The hole inside her told her what she’d been trying to deny for days if not weeks.
She wanted Brandon. Wanted love.
And hated herself for wanting something that could hurt her so deeply. Yet even though she mustered her energy to stop wanting him, she couldn’t.
She loved the way he wore those faded T-shirts with the fabric worn thin and soft at his broad shoulders. She loved the subdued intensity of his intellect. She loved the power of his body next to hers while they danced. She loved his bold confidence. She loved that he didn’t need to control or manipulate. She loved that he loved her for being strong.
Did he love her?
She wanted to believe it, but the image of him with that blonde wouldn’t go away.
In spite of the FBI agent’s warning not to talk to anyone, she rummaged through her bag for her cell phone, which still held a remnant of a charge. She punched in Brandon’s number, but his voice mail picked up immediately. Her heart sank a few inches in her chest. She texted him and then stared at her phone, waiting in vain for a response. After thirty minutes, she gave up. The empty hole inside her opened deeper. She turned off her phone and crawled into bed.
A buzzing on her building intercom woke her from a dreamless sleep. A dull light invaded her loft. She looked out the window at steam rising from the streets. The sky glowed greenish gray. Ninety-ninety. It must be at least ninety degrees out and at least ninety percent humidity.
The intercom buzzed again. Jackie slogged over to the front hall and pressed the button. “Hullo?”
“Ms. North, Agent Weaver here. I tried calling, but your phone did not pick up. As soon as you can be ready, the US Attorney would like to see you.”
The US Attorney? It was never good when the Justice Department came knocking, but if
the
US Attorney here in Maryland was involved, that meant something serious and criminal was going down. Her practice focused on civil, not criminal, cases. For her, dealing with a criminal matter would be like asking a dermatologist to do a knee replacement. What was she going to say?
She licked her lips and swallowed to get moisture back into her mouth. “Right. If you don’t mind, I’ll jump in the shower and get changed. I’ll be fast.”
The voice squawked through the box. “I’ll be in the black Buick out front.”
Black Buick! Guess he wasn’t undercover. That ubiquitous black midsize American sedan was about as undercover as red neon flashing OPEN at a strip club. She couldn’t contain her laughter, however inappropriate.
After a speed shower, she combed her wet hair back into a ponytail and dressed in business clothes. She grabbed her purse and ran down the stairs.
Agent Weaver leaned against the black sedan parked in a no-parking zone in front of her building. He was compact and only a few inches taller than she. Either he had an internal cooling unit in that gray suit or he was an alien. Not a bead of sweat pearled on his forehead.
“Ms. North, I’m Jeff Weaver.” He adroitly whipped out his credentials from his suit-jacket pocket and showed them to Jackie. She caught a glimpse of his gun in the process. Those FBI guys were always showing their guns.
Jeff was solo. He escorted her to the passenger side. She crossed off “under arrest for federal crime” from her list of worries. The drive wouldn’t be long, but the silence stretched forever. “So, the US Attorney wants to see me, eh?”
Weaver nodded, his eyes focused on the road, mouth in a straight line.
“What’s going down?” Jackie asked as innocently as possible, keeping her voice light.
Weaver’s head and eyes darted quickly in her direction. He shrugged.
“Right. So, in other words, you’re just playing fetch for the US Attorney.”
The corners of Weaver’s mouth twitched up in a smile.
“Come on, Jeff, surely you’re not the US Attorney’s gopher. And we both know this involves Robert Ashe and his buddies. Can you give me a break before I sweat through my shirt and pants and tell me if the Justice Department sees me as friend or foe?”
Weaver turned the car into the gated access area of the Department of Justice’s building in downtown Baltimore. The guard raised the gate arm, and Weaver guided the sedan into a reserved parking space. He turned off the car and turned to her with no hint of the smile he’d cracked earlier; however, she caught a twinkle in his eyes. “Friend. Maybe even a BFF. Let’s go.”
“Oh, Jeff, you do have a sense of humor.” Jackie exited the car, relief washing over her.
The building was sterile and threatening. The agent led her to the elevators and up to the fifth floor. They entered through frosted glass doors, which were etched with the unit’s name: Fraud and Public Corruption Unit.
Gazes flickered up from desks and around cubicle corners. Numerous figures were discernible behind the frosted glass and vertical blinds, but she could not see details.
The agent opened the thick glass door. As soon as she walked into the conference room, her stomach fluttered like it did every time she stepped into a courtroom. It was full of suits, men and women, but Jackie’s gaze immediately flew to Brandon, who stood at the far end of the room. He wore a suit but didn’t wear a tie. His unruly hair, now tamed, gave him a professional and intimidating image.
The butterflies in her stomach settled, but her heart beat so fast her breath caught.
He was alive. Safe.
Someone at her arm spoke to her, but the words were muffled to her ears. All she could focus on was him. He smiled warmly at her and lowered his chin just a hair to send his amber gaze directly at her. He winked.
Warmth spread through her body. She smiled broadly back at him.
The voice at her right rose in volume. Jackie turned to the familiar-looking middle-aged woman. “Ms. North, I’m Beverly Talley, the US Attorney for the District of Maryland.”
Jackie shook the woman’s hand. Talley was a legend. She’d survived administration changes to maintain her post as the top federal prosecutor for the Maryland area. She’d turned down numerous offers of appointment for high-ranking jobs at Justice in DC, and her name had even been tossed around for a Supreme Court seat.
Her hand felt remarkably smooth and comforting. “I’m honored to meet you, assuming you haven’t brought me here to arrest me.” Jackie laughed nervously.
The US Attorney clasped Jackie’s hand in both of hers. “Not today. I’m sure you know we’re here to discuss the Ashe matter. I’m only here for the press conference. My Assistant US Attorney for Fraud handled this investigation, along with Agent Weaver, whom you’ve met, and they will conduct the briefing. Have a seat next to Mr. O’Malley. We wanted both of you here to coordinate your pending civil case with our criminal charges.”
Jackie took her seat between the US Attorney and Simon. The players around the table introduced themselves. Most of them were attorneys at Justice or FBI agents. When it came to Brandon, he smiled and waved at her. “Brandon Marshfield, innocent bystander caught in the crossfire.”
Jackie couldn’t help but roll her eyes. She waved back to him and mouthed a
hi
. She elbowed Simon, leaned in to him, and whispered. “That’s the expert who disappeared.”
“I know,” Simon said, then leaned in closer. “If you’re game, we’ll file the motion tomorrow to put you back on the case.”
“Deal.” Jackie’s cheeks burned. She turned her attention to the head of the table.
Agent Weaver stood. “We’ve been closely watching Ashe Investments for some time, concerned with some suspect practices. Ms. North, when you filed the lawsuit on behalf of the Kovels and other investors, our investigation took a whole new level. We suspected that the claims brought in your civil suit were only the tip of an iceberg of fraud. When Mr. Marshfield came to us with the Boyers Report, we uncovered the largest Ponzi scheme in Maryland’s history.”
Jackie struggled to put all of the facts together as the FBI and US Attorney’s office began explaining the investigation. A grand jury turned in a fifty-count indictment yesterday to be announced in a press conference before the end of the business day.
The door opened, and a tall, statuesque blonde with bright lips and a tight red suit glided in like a model walking the catwalk in Milan. She sat in the empty seat next to Brandon. It was the same woman from the W.
Jackie’s blood pressure skyrocketed. Veins were surely protruding in her neck. She clutched her hands together.
Weaver introduced the woman as a special agent from the DEA. Jackie narrowed her eyes and craned her neck around the line of people down the table to get a better look at this special agent and Brandon. Brandon looked right back at Jackie, completely oblivious to the work of womanly art next to him.
She leaned back in the chair and grinned. The briefing droned on for another half hour. They discussed how the civil and criminal cases would be litigated. It might take longer, but a victory seemed like a slam dunk at this point.
When the meeting finally adjourned, Jackie rose and turned in Brandon’s direction. She harnessed her willpower not to run to him. With only a few long strides, he was at her side.
He wrapped his arms around her and held her close.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Brandon held Jackie’s face in his hands. He pressed his lips to hers and kissed her hard. Her mouth opened eagerly. He slid his tongue in and tasted her. Sweet and spicy, as always. Her tongue met his and pushed impatiently into his mouth. She stroked his tongue with hers and nipped at his lower lip with her teeth.
He pulled away but continued to hold her face in his hands. He pressed his forehead to hers. Nose to nose, he stared into her eyes. “Ready to get out of here?”
“Please.”
“I need to tell you something,” he began, but her index finger to his lips silenced him. He jutted his tongue out just enough to lick the pad of her finger, then bit playfully at her fingertip.
“No biting allowed,” she admonished him. She tickled his lower lip with light brushes of her fingertip. “Can we go?”
He stood his ground against her tugs. “The blonde woman—”
Jackie faced him and grasped his hands. “I know. There was nothing between you. I knew deep down when you showed up at Stone’s office. Then you saved me. He almost killed you. I was a fool. A pigheaded cowboy. I’m sorry.”
He looked into her face, open and trusting. “If I’d been stronger, stood up to Ashe at the beginning, none of this would have happened.”
She cupped his chin with her hand. “Brandon, I can out analyze you all day and all night. None of it matters now. We’re both alive and neither of us is in jail. And—”
Her voice caught, and she turned away from him with closed eyes. He took her hand in his and kissed it.
She opened her eyes and looked deep into his. “And we’re together.”
Brandon took her hand and pulled her out of the conference room, through the building, and out the front door. A wall of misty rain enveloped them as they cleared the building’s overhang and started down the steps. Crews of media stalked the sidewalk in preparation for the press conference. Brandon pulled Jackie behind him as he pushed through the sea of umbrellas shielding microphones and cameras from the rain.
The way parted easily. The press was oblivious to them. Thank God he remained an unknown commodity here in Baltimore. He could get used to that.
Jackie pulled him back. “Where are we going? I am not setting foot on your boat in this weather.”
His grip on her hand slipped in the rain, but he held tight. “No boat.” With his free hand, he brushed wet hair out of his eyes and blinked away the raindrops caught in his lashes.
Jackie jerked his arm so hard that not only did he lose his grip on her, he lost his balance, nearly falling down in the crosswalk. After steadying himself, Brandon turned to face Jackie.