Love Irresistibly

Eighteen



A WEEK LATER, Cade sat across a conference table from Charles Torino and two of his defense attorneys. As the federal prosecutor who’d filed the charges against Senator Sanderson, Torino, and the other three defendants, Cade had made certain predictions to himself as to who the first defendant would be to approach him about a guilty plea. He’d gone with Torino, mostly because he’d guessed that a hospital CEO who lived in a four-million-dollar home would try to do anything to avoid serving time in a federal prison. And the fact that his lawyer had literally broken out in a sweat during the arraignment made Cade think that the Torino defense team wasn’t feeling all too confident about their case.

His suspicions were confirmed that Friday morning.

“We’d like to talk about the charges our client is facing,” said Owen Lockhart, the lead defense attorney for Charles Torino, who’d called Cade earlier in the week to request a meeting.

“Conspiracy to bribe a government official,” Cade said matter-of-factly. “And as I told you on the phone, Mr. Lockhart, I’m afraid there isn’t much for us to discuss.”

Lockhart gestured. “My client is considering changing his plea.”

“A wise idea, given the evidence,” Cade said. “We can call the clerk’s office and set up a change of plea hearing anytime you’d like.”

“But what am I going to get in exchange?” Torino blurted out, ignoring the looks of his attorneys.

Cade rested his arms on the table. “I apologize if this wasn’t made clear to you, Mr. Torino, but I’ve already told your lawyer that I don’t intend to cut any deals with respect to the charges against you.”

Torino’s other attorney, James Wheeler, was younger and seemingly more aggressive than Lockhart. “We know your primary target is the senator, Morgan. You seem to have a hard-on for politicians these days.”

“What I have a hard-on for, Mr. Wheeler, is making sure that justice is met against those individuals who willfully and flagrantly break the laws of the United States.”

Lockhart jumped back in, quick to appease. “What my colleague means to say is that Mr. Torino is a small fish in the very big pond that is this case. According to the FBI reports, you guys have been building your case against Senator Sanderson for months. Perhaps we can assist you in getting your big fish.”

Cade’s tone remained polite, but firm. “With all due respect, gentlemen, I already have everything I need from Mr. Torino.” He turned to address the hospital CEO directly. “I have recorded conversations between you and the senator, both on the phone and at Sogna. On top of that, we’ve got a video of the two of you at the restaurant, literally shaking hands as you agree to pay him two hundred thousand dollars in exchange for keeping Parkpoint Hospital open. That’s more than enough for the jury, regardless of whether or not you testify.”

Torino looked at the window and shook his head, as if he couldn’t believe any of this was happening. After a few moments, he spoke in a subdued tone. “I made a mistake, Mr. Morgan. One mistake. I’ve already lost my job and a three-million-dollar severance package. But worst of all, I’ve lost my reputation. And now I’m facing twenty years in prison because of this.” He swallowed hard, seeming to struggle to maintain his composure. “I have two daughters. Seven and nine years old. Even if the judge only sentences me to half the maximum sentence, I’ll miss out on so much time with them.”

Despite the fact that Cade heard stories like this all the time, he wasn’t immune to them. And while he certainly felt sorry for Torino’s two daughters, he’d learned a long time ago not to think about the families of the defendants he prosecuted. He had a job to do, one that he believed in, and he remained focused on that. “I’m sure those are factors the judge will take into consideration at your sentencing hearing, Mr. Torino.” With an efficient nod, he stood up from the table. “I think, gentlemen, that we’ve covered everything we need to discuss.”

“Hold on, Morgan.” Lockhart glanced at Wheeler, then at Torino, who nodded.

Cade knew instantly that something was up.

“What would you say if I told you there was another big fish in the pond?” Lockhart asked. “One you haven’t hooked yet.”

“I’d say that you probably should stop using fishing metaphors if you want to keep me in this room.”

“I’ll put it a different way, then.” Lockhart folded his hands on the table. “In exchange for certain guarantees, Mr. Torino could tell you about other . . . arrangements, shall we say, that he had with another government official.”

“Arrangements I made solely to serve the interests of the hospital,” Torino added.

Lockhart and Wheeler shot him a look, and Torino quickly shut up.

Cade kept his face impassive, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t curious. Another corrupt politician. Imagine that. “Another senator?”

Wheeler shook his head, no. “State representative.”

“How much are we talking about here?” Cade asked. This conversation wasn’t even worth pursuing if all they were talking about was Torino trying to schmooze some state representative by buying him a few steak dinners.

“Enough for you to be interested,” Lockhart said.

“Try me. I’m a finicky man.”

Lockhart paused. “About three hundred thousand dollars.”

Cade maintained his cool façade, but that was a heck of a big bribe. If this was good information, somebody in the Illinois House of Representatives was giving Senator Sanderson a run for his money in the sleazy-politician department.

Reluctantly, that meant that Cade wanted to hear more. Just as Torino’s lawyers knew he would.

“You understand, of course, that we’re telling you this solely in furtherance of plea discussions,” Lockhart added.

Yes, Cade knew that. Which meant, per the Federal Rules of Evidence, none of this conversation would be admissible at trial should Torino decide not to plead guilty. He leveled his gaze on Torino, seeing the hospital CEO in a very different light now that he knew the man had spent half a million dollars buying off not one, but two members of the Illinois General Assembly. “A onetime mistake, huh?” he asked, not bothering to hide his sarcasm.

Torino shrugged. “Figured I’d try the sob story first.”

Cade shook his head disgustedly as he pulled out his cell phone and dialed his secretary.

“Can you book this conference room for me for the next hour?” he asked Demi. “I’m going to need more time than I’d anticipated. And get a hold of Greg Boran from the Federal Defender’s Office and let him know that I’ll have to push back our call to later this afternoon.”

After thanking Demi, he hung up and faced off against Torino and his lawyers.

“Does that mean we’re going to talk?” Lockhart asked.

“No.” Cade tucked his cell phone into the pocket of his suit jacket, and then retook his seat at the conference table. “But it means that I’m at least willing to listen.”


* * *


“I’LL GIVE THE guy this: he’d covered his bases with both branches of the Illinois General Assembly.”

Cade sat across from his boss, U.S. Attorney Cameron Lynde, and relayed the information he’d gleaned during his two-hour meeting with Torino. “He had Senator Sanderson in one pocket, and as we learned today, Representative Bill Fleiss in the other. Together, Torino paid them roughly five hundred thousand dollars in bribes. Of course, he’ll tell you that this was all for the public good. He claims that because Parkpoint Hospital serves one of the lowest-income neighborhoods in Chicago, he was just doing what he needed to do to ensure that, quote “poor people had access to quality health care, too.’”

Sitting behind her desk, Cameron didn’t look impressed with that excuse. “He’s a regular Robin Hood out there in his four-million-dollar home.”

Cade wasn’t surprised by her sardonic tone. When Cameron had come on board nearly two years ago as the U.S. attorney for the Northern District of Illinois, she’d made it clear that she considered government corruption cases to be one of her top priorities. While likable and down-to-earth in person—characteristics Cade certainly appreciated in a boss—Cameron had earned a professional reputation of being tough as nails when it came to crooked politicians. As a result, she was well respected both inside and outside the office, and had quickly become a powerful woman within the Department of Justice.

“What are your thoughts on moving forward?” she asked.

Cade had been anticipating this question, and therefore had spent some time thinking it over before dropping by Cameron’s office to discuss these new developments regarding Torino.

“We obviously need to talk to the FBI about launching an investigation into Representative Fleiss. And, reluctantly, I think it’s in our best interests to cut a deal with Torino in exchange for getting his statements on the record.” He wasn’t pleased to see Torino get off with a lighter sentence, but sometimes that was how the game was played.

Still, he didn’t intend for the hospital CEO to get off scot-free. “I told Torino and his lawyers that I won’t drop the charge in the Sanderson case. I did say, however, that I would consider agreeing to petition the judge for a Rule Thirty-five reduction in light of Torino’s cooperation and ask for eighteen months’ incarceration in a minimum-security facility.”

Cameron mulled this over. “It’s sad, really. Torino served as chairman on two of the most powerful hospital lobbying organizations in Illinois. He could’ve used that influence for so much good instead of resorting to bribery.”

“Even if we don’t agree to the reduced sentence, Torino likely won’t get more than four years,” Cade said. “It’s his first offense, and his lawyers can point to all the supposed good he’s done in the community. This way, at least we get Representative Fleiss, too.”

Cameron toyed with a pen, taking her time to think through the options. She sighed. “As much as it leaves a bitter taste in the mouth, I agree. Make the deal.”

Cade gave her a nod. “Done.”

Cameron leaned back in her chair, studying him. “You’re making quite a name for yourself with these corruption cases. People are going to be watching you with even more interest.”

“Good. At least it gives them something to focus on besides the damn Twitter Terrorist case.”

Cameron laughed at the reference to the infamous computer hacking case, one that Cade had been assigned while working under Cameron’s predecessor. It was something of an inside joke between them, a reference to the days when they’d been AUSAs in the special prosecutions division together, working for an egomaniac boss who’d turned out to be corrupt himself. Thankfully for Cade and everyone else in the office, things were much better now that Cameron was running the show.

“I think you’ve given people plenty to be interested in besides the Twitter Terrorist case,” Cameron said. “Speaking of which, I’m glad you stopped by today. There’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

She folded her hands on top of her basketball-sized stomach, using it as a shelf. “Assuming all goes according to plan, Baby Boy Pallas will be here in about eight weeks. Which is a good thing—if it went much longer than that, I think Jack and I would be blacklisted at every baby store in the Chicago area.”

Cade chuckled. To say that Cameron’s husband, FBI Special Agent Jack Pallas, was a bit protective of his pregnant wife and unborn child would be an understatement. “What did Jack do now?”

“In addition to returning our third baby monitor in a row for having ‘questionable security controls,’ this weekend he interrogated the guys who delivered the baby furniture for forty-five minutes on their ‘training and special skills in the crib-installation arena.’”

Cade laughed at the image. He’d seen Pallas’s interrogation face—it wasn’t for the faint of heart. “Did they pass?”

Cameron shook her head. “Nope. So now I’ve got a box the size of a refrigerator sitting in the baby’s room instead of a crib. Jack asked Nick and Sam to come over this weekend,” she said, referring to two other FBI agents in the Chicago office. “Apparently, they’re going to put it together themselves.”

“What do McCall and Wilkins know about putting a crib together?”

“Exactly.” Despite Cameron’s wry tone, there was an unmistakable sparkle of happiness in her eyes. “Anyway, I’ve told the attorney general that I plan to take three months off for maternity leave, and we’ve agreed that the logical course is to name an acting U.S. attorney while I’m gone. The smoothest transition would be to temporarily promote someone from within the office, so the attorney general asked for my top recommendation. Which means . . .” she paused, with a sly expression, “that if you’re interested, the position of acting U.S. attorney is yours.”

Cade blinked. “I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”

“No thanks necessary,” Cameron said. “You’ve earned it. You’re an excellent trial lawyer, and we have the same agenda in terms of cleaning up Illinois politics. I’m happy—and, candidly, relieved—to know that you’ll be holding down the fort while I’m gone.” She pointed, her gaze firm. “But it’s just for three months, Morgan. I will be back.”

“Understood. I promise not to burn the place down in your absence.”

“I appreciate that. And I wasn’t being flippant when I said that people are watching. You’ve come up in more than one conversation between the attorney general and myself. I have a feeling this acting U.S. attorney position is going to open a lot of doors for you.”

Cade worked hard as a prosecutor and enjoyed his job, but there was no denying that he’d begun to think about the next step in his career. Most AUSAs stayed on for ten years or less, with the majority going to lucrative positions at large firms afterward. Based on the assumption that he would want to continue on as a trial lawyer after leaving the U.S. Attorney’s Office, he’d already put out feelers with two top-tier Chicago firms who’d expressed interest in bringing him on to lead their white-collar crime practices.

But, no doubt, this acting U.S. attorney position opened up even more opportunities. Assuming he didn’t screw up the job—which was a safe assumption since he planned to kick ass for those three months—this could very well be a springboard to higher-level political positions should he choose to continue on in the public sector.

He and Cameron began to discuss the logistics of the transition, and agreed that he would begin sitting in on status meetings with the AUSAs who were handling more complex cases, as well as meetings related to all new matters that came in over the next two months. Cameron also suggested setting up meetings with the heads of the Chicago branches of the FBI, DEA, Secret Service, ATF, and IRS to give him an overview of the open investigations their office was working on with each agency.

“When do you plan to tell the others?” he asked at the end of their meeting.

“Soon. I know people have been curious about what’s going to happen after I have the baby.” She placed one hand affectionately on her stomach. “Actually, I’m a little curious about that myself.”

“You know there’s a pool going around the FBI office, right? First person to get a photo of Jack wearing one of those baby-carrier things wins.”

Cameron laughed at that—then paused. “What’s the pool up to?”

“Last I heard it was five hundred bucks.”

“Hell, I want in.”

On his way out the door, Cade thanked Cameron again. “One thing. Do you mind if I tell Rylann before you make an announcement to the office?” He had a feeling he’d be seeing the other AUSA, who was finally back in the office after a two-week trial and weeklong vacation, in a short while for their daily Starbucks run. He preferred that she heard the news about the acting U.S. attorney position from him directly.

Cameron nodded in understanding. “Of course.”


* * *


WHEN HE GOT back to his office, Cade shut his door behind him, sat down at his desk, and soaked it in.

Acting U.S. Attorney Cade Morgan.

That had a real nice ring to it.

Deciding that a celebration was in order that evening, he scrolled through his options. There was Vaughn, of course—there was always Vaughn. And Huxley, too. He quickly ruled out any of his AUSA friends. Many of them were ambitious, like him, and he didn’t want to rub this promotion, even if temporary, in their faces.

So Vaughn and Huxley it was.

Unless . . .

Perhaps a text message to Ms. Brooke Parker of Sterling Restaurants might be in order.

Admittedly, after that weird moment last Sunday, when he’d felt compelled to drop by her office with the Brooke Burger, he’d wanted to put some precautionary distance between them. Just . . . because.

But he was fine now. Back on his game. And if he wanted to celebrate this good news with a hot date, he saw no problem with that.

With that in mind, he pulled out his phone and texted Brooke. He infused a little flirtation in his opening salvo, just to feel her out. YOU NEVER THANKED ME FOR THE BURGER. INGRATE.

He checked his work e-mail and fired off a few quick replies. About ten minutes later, he got a text message from Brooke.

SOMEBODY WOULD’VE BEEN THANKED IN PERSON, IF HE HADN’T STORMED OUT OF MY OFFICE AS PART OF SOME CRANKY-MAN TIRADE.

He smiled while replying.

OUT OF THE KINDNESS OF MY HEART, I’LL LET YOU THANK ME IN PERSON OVER DINNER TONIGHT. GOT GOOD NEWS TODAY, NEED TO CELEBRATE.

JUST HOW GOOD IS THIS GOOD NEWS? she wrote back.

Cade thought about that. ON A SCALE OF MEH TO HOLY-SHIT-I-JUST-WON-THE-ROSE-BOWL, I’D SAY THIS COMES IN AT REALLY DAMN COOL.

A minute later, his cell phone rang.

“I was typing out my reply and realized it would be faster just to call,” Brooke said when he picked up. “I’m intrigued by this ‘really damn cool’ news of yours.” Her voice turned contrite. “But unfortunately, I can’t do dinner tonight. I’m being wined and dined by the outside counsel we hired to assist with our EEO training sessions last week. Presumably, they intend to use this as an opportunity to hit me up for more business.” She paused. “I’m sorry, Cade. Of course, I would be stuck working.”

Like he was going to let her off so easily. “I can work around your schedule, Cinderella,” he teased. “How about if we meet for drinks after your dinner?”

There was a pause before she answered. “I’d like that. I should be free by nine o’clock, if that’s not too late.”

Cade realized then just how much he was looking forward to seeing her that night.

Pfft. Obviously, for all the sex he’d soon be getting.

“Nine o’clock it is,” he said. “I’ll pick you up at your place.”

“I’ll have a Denver omelette waiting.”

“That’s cute.”

She added one last thing before hanging up. “And, Cade, whatever this news is—congratulations.”

With a smile, Cade tucked his phone into his suit jacket.

“From that grin, I’m guessing that some defendant, or his attorney, is about to have a really bad day.”

Hearing the woman’s voice, Cade checked his watch and saw it was three o’clock on the dot.

Starbucks time.

He turned around in his chair and saw a familiar face standing in the doorway. “Well, look who’s back in town. How was the vacation?”

Rylann Pierce, one of the other AUSAs in the special prosecutions division, stepped into his office. “Much needed. If I never again see another ten-defendant, thirteen-count mortgage fraud case, it’ll be too soon.”

“I bet the week in Bora Bora helped,” Cade said. “People are saying that Rhodes whisked you off as soon as the guilty verdicts came in, to a helicopter waiting on the roof of the building.”

“People say a lot of things. And I don’t think they allow convicted felons to park their helicopters on top of the federal building,” Rylann said, referring to her boyfriend’s colorful criminal history.

A year ago, she’d created a huge stir around the office by going public about her relationship with Kyle Rhodes, a wealthy network security entrepreneur who also happened to be an infamous ex-con known as the Twitter Terrorist. Initially, Cade had been particularly surprised by their relationship, given that (A) he considered Rylann one of his closest friends in the office, and (B) he, personally, had been the prosecutor who’d convicted Rhodes and had him sentenced to eighteen months’ imprisonment.

Awkward.

However, despite the unusual circumstances, he and Rylann had managed to get past the fact that he’d once called the love of her life a “cyber-menace to society”—yep, awkward again—and had continued to be friends. Which was nice, because on top of being someone he enjoyed hanging out with, Rylann was an excellent prosecutor. As two of the most senior AUSAs in the special prosecutions group, they frequently talked shop, sought out each other for advice, and traded courtroom war stories. True, he and Rhodes weren’t going to be drinking eggnog together and singing carols at the annual office holiday party anytime soon, but for Rylann’s sake they kept a quiet distance from each other.

“So no whisking away, huh?” he asked her. “The office gossips will be crushed.”

“No helicopter, but . . . there may have been a limo waiting outside the courthouse after I got my guilty verdicts,” Rylann said. “With champagne chilling on ice.”

Of course there was. Cade got up from his desk and walked to the door. “You know that I’m now required to make fun of you for that for at least the next two weeks, right?”

They walked side-by-side down the hallway to the elevators. “Yep.” Rylann grinned cheekily. “And it’s worth every moment.”


* * *


AT STARBUCKS, CADE suggested they grab a table after he and Rylann got their drinks. He found an empty one in the corner of the café, where they could speak privately.

“There’s something I thought you should know,” he led in. “And I wanted you to hear it from me first. I had a meeting with Cameron this afternoon. She’s asked me to step in as acting U.S. attorney while she’s on maternity leave.”

He wasn’t sure how Rylann would react to the news. She was a great litigator, also in the special prosecutions group, and very dedicated to her job. He didn’t want this temporary promotion to be something that caused friction between them.

Luckily, her response alleviated his concerns.

“Congratulations, Cade,” she said enthusiastically. “That’s fantastic. And well deserved.”

He brushed this off modestly. “I suspect a lot of it came down to seniority within the Chicago office.” Although he and Rylann had the same level of experience, she’d previously worked in the San Francisco office and had transferred to Chicago only last year.

She took a sip of her Frappuccino, and then brushed a lock of raven hair out of her eyes. “I appreciate you saying that. And yes, the fact that you’ve been in Chicago longer than me should be a factor that Cameron considered. But more important, Cameron picked you because you’ll be great at the job.”

“Thanks, Rylann. That means a lot.”

“Don’t get me wrong, I would’ve been great, too,” she added. She swirled her drink, mixing up the ice. “But we both know that never could’ve happened. There’s no way the attorney general ever would’ve signed off on an acting U.S. attorney who’s in a relationship with a famous ex-con.”

She said the words matter-of-factly, without any trace of bitterness. And while Cade wouldn’t have said it as bluntly as she had, they both knew she was right. Rylann, however, had accepted a year ago that there would be limits to her career in the government sector in light of her relationship with Rhodes—and as far as Cade knew, she didn’t have any regrets about that.

In fact, her comment provided him with the perfect lead-in. He gestured to the huge diamond making its debut on her left hand. “Judging from that rock on your finger, I think you and Rhodes are a little past the “in a relationship” phase. I assume congratulations are in order?”

She blushed, glancing down at the ring. “I wanted to say something earlier, but, you know . . . given your history with Kyle, it felt a little weird.”

“It’s not weird.” Cade conceded when she threw him a look, “Okay, it’s still a little weird. But come on—tell me the proposal story, anyway.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Really. Just keep in mind that I’m a guy, which means I’m genetically predisposed to think that whatever mushy romantic tale you’re about to tell me is highly cheesy.”

Rylann laughed. “I’ll keep it simple, then.” She rested her drink on the table. “Well, you already heard how Kyle picked me up at the courthouse after my trial. He said he wanted to surprise me with a vacation because I’d been working so hard, but that we needed to drive to Champaign first to meet with his former mentor, the head of the U of I Department of Computer Sciences, to discuss some project Kyle was working on for a client.” She held up a sparkly hand, nearly blinding Cade and probably half of the other Starbucks patrons. “In hindsight, yes, that sounds a little fishy, but what do I know about all this network security stuff? He had his laptop out, there was some talk about malicious payloads and Trojan horse attacks—it all sounded legitimate enough at the time.”

“Remind me, while I’m acting U.S. attorney, not to assign you to any cybercrime cases.”

“Anyhow. . . we get to Champaign, which as it so happens, is where Kyle and I first met ten years ago. And the limo turns onto the street where I used to live while in law school, and Kyle asks the driver to pull over because he wants to see the place for old time’s sake. So we get out of the limo, and he’s making this big speech about the night we met and how he walked me home on the very sidewalk we were standing on—I’ll fast-forward here in light of your aversion to the mushy stuff—and I’m laughing to myself because, well, we’re standing on the wrong side of the street. So naturally, I point that out, and he tells me that nope, I’m wrong, because he remembers everything about that night, so to prove my point I walk across the street to show him and”—she paused here— “and I see a jewelry box, sitting on the sidewalk, in the exact spot where we had our first kiss. Then I turn around and see Kyle down on one knee.”

She waved her hand, her eyes a little misty. “So there you go. The whole mushy, cheesy tale. Gag away.”

Cade picked up his coffee cup and took a sip. “That was actually pretty smooth.”

Rylann grinned. “I know. Former cyber-menace to society or not, that man is a keeper.”