chapter 2
Two weeks later...
Anyone who had ever witnessed a felony arraignment calendar knew it just didn’t live up to the grandiose images portrayed on TV. Anyone who’d ever worked in criminal law knew it was a crap assignment. But it was a crap assignment everyone did and, judicial campaign or not, Linda Delaney was no exception. To avoid the arraignment calendar in her office, you had to have risen to the rank of senior assistant, at least.
Loaded down with her files, Linda strode toward Courtroom Five, weaving around the throngs of people waiting for court to begin. Most of them were dressed well in hopes of making a good impression on the judge and gaining leniency for themselves or another. Others just looked pissed or hopeless. There were several kids crying or running around, too. She knew most of them, like the fancier clothes people wore, had been brought along in hopes of eliciting sympathy, as well.
And don’t you just sound optimistic about life? one part of her asked.
The other part of her shrugged. The truth was the truth, no matter how unsavory. Didn’t mean she was completely jaded. In fact, her ability to see things for what they were without letting it affect how she treated others would serve her well as a judge. If the citizens of Sacramento County elected her, of course. Although her boss, District Attorney Norman Peterson, believed she was a shoo-in and had finally convinced her to join the judicial race, Linda’s past might be more of a sticking point than he believed.
People often asked Linda how she could do her job, day in and day out, and still maintain some level of optimism about the state of humanity. It wasn’t easy. Felony arraignment calendar was a morning-long runway show of the most desperate, dangerous and sometimes stupidest human beings possible. It was a constant reminder of the frailty of life and how it could be changed forever by a crackhead in need of a fix or a husband enraged by his wife’s relationship with a coworker.
Beatings. Shootings. Robberies. Rapes. Thefts. Gang crimes. Committed every day by everyday people with jobs, friends, families and pets. You learned that the age, gender and the socioeconomic class of victims ran the gamut. No one was safe when it came down to it.
Not Linda’s father. And not even Tony, the sweet-faced man she’d once loved to distraction. So much so that she’d stayed with him far longer than she should have.
Linda cursed softly and swiftly shook her head as if doing so would actually keep thoughts of Tony at bay. It had been difficult to keep him from her mind on his birthday last month. It was even more impossible now.
Mark Guapo, the drug lord Tony had informed on two years ago, the same drug lord whose men had almost beaten Linda to death six months later, had recently been released from prison. The reversal wasn’t based on anything that had happened at trial, but on a faulty search warrant. Guapo could still be retried for his crimes, but the tainted evidence would have to be excluded. Linda had already spent the past few days trying to determine if they had enough for a retrial, but understandably, she’d also been plagued with concerns about her own safety.
And that of Tony.
Despite Linda’s best attempts to protect Tony, Guapo had still managed to figure out that Tony was the CI who’d helped put him away. They’d gone after not just Tony, but Tony’s family, too. Now, Tony, his sister Mattie and his niece Jordan were in hiding in the Witness Security Program; Guapo wouldn’t be able to find them.
As for her? Recently free, Guapo would likely be on his best behavior, so chances were she was probably safe, too. Safe but still furious. She’d worked so hard to get Guapo behind bars. And Tony had risked his life, given up so much of it. It seemed the height of unfairness that Guapo had managed to play the system and was now walking the streets as a free man.
Not for long, she thought. Not if she had any say in it.
She paused at the courtroom doors, pushing away thoughts of the past and lost second chances. She’d almost gotten used to lugging around the heavy banker’s box filled with files, but opening doors was always tricky. She balanced the box on her hip and reached for the outer courtroom door just as a male hand reached over her shoulder to pull it open.
It was Neil Christoffersen, one of her fellow deputies.
“Good morning,” he said with a smile, before taking the box from her. He immediately handed her a cup of coffee. It was the way he normally approached her. He’d proffer her coffee and they’d end up talking about work or debating some legal issue or two. Then he’d try to make things a bit more...personal.
Linda took the cup, wrapped her cold fingers around it and closed her eyes at the heady aromatic smell. The box was heavy and she could use a little treat. No harm done, right?
Well, so long as she discounted the subtle flutter in her stomach. A slight flutter that evidenced her growing attraction to him. She was just thankful the attraction was slight and nothing more. She wasn’t open to starting another relationship again. Not when she still dreamed about Tony. Not when she so often second-guessed her decision to break up with him, as well as her failure to reverse that decision even after he’d informed on Guapo, putting his life at risk to do the right thing. She’d been tempted, so tempted, of course. She’d almost convinced herself that she’d been wrong about his inability to change. But then Guapo’s men had attacked her and she’d woken in the hospital only to find Tony and his family gone.
He’d left her. For very good reasons, as he’d explained in a goodbye letter, but he’d still left her.
Just like she’d previously left him.
“Good morning,” she replied to Neil as she walked deeper into the courtroom.
“So what did you wear?” he asked.
Linda frowned. “Excuse me?”
“To your friend’s party. It was the reason you couldn’t go out to dinner with me last week, remember?”
His grin and the twinkle in his eyes told her he knew it had been just another excuse to decline his dinner invitation.
He didn’t know the half of it. Guilt and shame quivered through her, but she reminded herself that while she’d lied about going to a friend’s party, she hadn’t done anything worse than that. She’d gone dancing. At a perfectly respectable club. By herself. That wasn’t anyone’s business, nor was the fact that she liked to go dancing so she could remember how she and Tony used to fit so well together—on the dance floor and off it.
She was entitled to a social life. Dancing at nightclubs wasn’t illegal and it wasn’t contrary to the judicial position she was seeking. But she had to say something so...
Before she could reply, he said, “I was trying to imagine what you wore. You’d look beautiful in red.”
Her skin warmed at the compliment and the accompanying glow of appreciation in Neil’s eyes. The urge to tease and flirt back prodded at her, surprising her. She smiled. “Sorry to disappoint you but it was black. A plain black dress.”
“Huh,” he said, sweeping his gaze down her suit as if he was imagining her wearing a dress instead. “Black’s good. Short?”
“Midcalf,” she said drolly. “With long sleeves and a high-necked collar.”
He looked doubtful. “In June?”
“Hey, I get chilly.” She quickly took a sip of coffee to mask her own smile. She pictured the sexy black dress she’d worn. Simple, but by no means puritanical. Linda felt a small thrill, trying to imagine what Neil would have thought of the black lace camisole set she’d worn underneath. Or of the red set she wore today.
But the thrill quickly vanished. She tried—really tried to imagine herself disrobing for Neil, but although she once again felt a small flutter inside her, she didn’t feel anything else. Instead all she could remember was how Tony had loved buying her sexy lingerie. In fact, he’d loved buying her lots of things, and not necessarily expensive things. Sure, he’d bought her lingerie and jewelry, and often surprised her with dinners out or theater tickets, but he’d just as often written her a poem or sketched her a picture or baked her his famous chocolate-chip cookies with the secret ingredient he’d sworn he’d tell her—but only on their wedding night. Tony had spoiled her in so many ways, big and small, and had never failed to make her feel special. But despite all that, despite his kindness and generosity and sense of humor and the incredible physical connection between them, it hadn’t been enough. Because she hadn’t been enough. Not enough to overcome his cravings for drugs. And even worse, not enough to stop him from getting hold of those same drugs—bringing those very drugs into their home—with every intention of using them.
“I’m sensing a fashion intervention is in order,” Neil said, jolting her from her thoughts. “But you know what they say,” he joked. “Being flawed doesn’t mean you’re not lovable. I’m sure you looked beautiful,” Neil murmured. He watched her steadily. Warmly.
And that warmth eased some of the chill in her bones in a way the coffee hadn’t been able to. Linda smiled and seriously reconsidered accepting one of his dinner invitations. What harm could it do?
Maybe she wasn’t bowled over by passion right now, but that could change.
They chatted about work for a few minutes longer before court began. As Linda took her seat at the prosecutor’s table, she saw movement out of the corner of her eye. Allie Ranch, one of the law-school students interning at the D.A.’s office, smiled and waved to her. Next to her sat Brian Heald, a fellow prosecutor who’d just returned from vacation. Right now Brian seemed to be checking out a brunette across the room. So what else was new? Since his divorce the guy had been chasing everything in skirts, Linda included. She just hoped he had enough sense not to hit on Allie.
Lunch? Allie mouthed.
Allie was only a few years younger than Linda. She’d been an accountant before going back to law school and Linda admired her for being willing to pursue her dream. Linda nodded, confirming they’d have lunch, then turned toward the bench. After routine introductions and instructions to the courtroom audience, the court session began.
“Larry Moser,” the court clerk recited. “Charged with assault with a deadly weapon, resisting arrest and assault upon a police dog.” Linda opened up Moser’s file, reading it quickly as Mr. Moser stood up in the jury box. As was always the case, she didn’t know the contents of the files in her box but the notes the charging deputy had left were all she needed to handle this phase of the proceedings. Once things progressed to plea bargaining or trial, she’d obviously know the file inside and out.
Moser’s muscular six-foot-eight body dwarfed the inmates seated around him. He grinned wildly at his audience as they gaped at his bald head and the tattoo smack dab in the center of his forehead. A swastika.
According to his file, officers had chased Moser into a nearby residence after he had assaulted a man with a bat. Officers had surrounded the house and sent in one of their K-9 dogs when Moser had refused to come out. To their dismay, Moser had walked out of the house clutching the dog by the throat and laughing like a maniac. Officers had managed to subdue him and save the dog, but Moser had made his point. Unfortunately for him he had a long history of priors, including manufacturing and selling drugs, and if convicted of his current crimes, he’d be facing a three-strikes sentence. As expected, he issued his not guilty plea just like the twenty defendants before him, and the clerk rattled off the date of his next pretrial conference.
For the next hour the calendar progressed and Linda was just about to ask for a bathroom break when the clerk called the next case.
“The next defendant is charged with the first degree murder of Mark Guapo.”
Linda’s head snapped up. But before she could react any further to the news that Mark Guapo was dead, the clerk gave her another shock.
“The defendant’s name is Anthony Cooper.”
The name echoed in Linda’s head for a moment, disorienting her. She stiffened when she saw the next defendant rise. He was seated in the jury box along with the other in-custody defendants. He sat right next to Moser, and despite the differences in their size, he looked even more ruthless.
Tony.
Her knees jerked up involuntarily, rattling the table and spilling her cup of coffee all over her and her files. Linda hardly noticed the tepid liquid soaking into her skirt.
Oh, my God, she thought.
She and Tony stared at one another, though she saw none of the same shock she was feeling in his expression. He’d obviously watched her as court had gone on while she hadn’t even seen him. Why would she? It wasn’t like she spent a lot of time ogling the defendants during arraignment. Quite the opposite. And it wasn’t as if he looked anything like the man he’d once been. That man, while desperate enough at times to have taken drugs, had still managed to look boyish. Charming. His inherent kindness had shone in his eyes for all to see.
This man?
Tony’s brown hair was shaved, creating a clean frame for his penetratingly dark eyes and sharp cheekbones. Even devoid of expression, he looked hard. Cruel.
Cruel enough to kill even a hardened criminal like Mark Guapo.
Automatically she looked away.
“...all right, Ms. Delaney?”
The judge was calling her name. Shaking, Linda forced herself to her feet, holding on to the table for support. Feeling nauseated, she crossed her arm against her waist. “Excuse me, Your Honor, but could I have a moment?” she asked shakily. The court clerk announced a five minute break and Linda rushed from the courtroom.
* * *
As Tony sat in the jury box, chained to two other men in matching orange jumpsuits, he tried to stifle the overwhelming urge to run after Linda. He could feel the audience staring at him, looking at him as if he was part of some freak show in a circus.
Just like Linda had done.
He smirked to cover for the bitter taste in his mouth. He couldn’t blame the poor woman for her horror. She had to hate him for what Guapo’s men had done to her. Just like part of her had hated Tony for the drug addiction that had caused her to break up with him. Leaving town had been the best thing he could have done for her.
Too bad for both of them he hadn’t been able to stay away.
At least Mark Guapo was dead. The man couldn’t hurt anyone anymore, and that included Linda. Of course that didn’t mean she was safe, especially now that Tony was here, in her world, which made it all the more possible that Tony and all the crap he’d gotten hooked up with lately could be linked to her.
Tony closed his eyes, praying no one could see the longing and indecision on his face. No, Guapo’s death didn’t change anything. Despite Tony’s best attempts to get it out of him, the man had indeed taken the name of the Rapture supplier to the grave. That meant Tony still had a job to do, and part of that job included keeping Linda out of harm’s way. To do that, he needed people to believe she meant nothing to him. That she never would.
And that included the people she worked with.
According to the men Tony was working for, Guapo had bribed his way not only into police stations and judge’s chambers, but into the D.A.’s office, as well. Why else would so many of his men have avoided prosecution or been given such lenient sentences over the past few years? Even though ferreting out those moles wasn’t Tony’s responsibility, he sure as hell wasn’t going to do anything to call their attention to Linda. And if anyone found out about their past, how much she’d once cared about him, or how much he still cared about her, it would definitely call attention to her, possibly placing her in danger and making it harder for a drug supplier to trust Tony.
Still...playing his part was hard—so much harder than he’d anticipated—when Linda was almost close enough to touch. To smell and taste.
To love.
In the past year and a half, he’d toughened up. He hadn’t magically transformed into the badass he was trying to project, yet the threat of death didn’t shake him anymore. Nor did the thought of what various criminal elements would do to him if they ever got the chance.
But the woman who’d just run from the room, averting her gaze and pretending she didn’t know him? Didn’t see him?
She was a different matter altogether.