Czytaj książkę: «Without You»
“Why are you calling me at home, Jackson?”
“I take it that’s a no-no.”
“I’d rather you didn’t.”
He hesitated several beats, then said, “Okay, I’m sorry. But I couldn’t remember if I thanked you for taking my case.”
“I haven’t taken your case exactly, but yes, you thanked me.”
Silence.
“It was good to see you, Hallie, after all this time.” His voice had grown low and husky.
She crossed her legs and tried to control her labored breathing. Would she ever get over the hots for this man? Even through the phone lines the heat fizzed. She suspected he felt it, too. Yet she was loath to end the conversation.
“It was good to see you, too.” And it had been, though she was loath to admit that, as well.
“I know I shouldn’t say this—”
“You probably shouldn’t,” she responded in a weak voice.
“If you don’t want to hear it, then you’ll have to hang up.”
She stayed on the line.
“I’ve missed you like hell.”
Without You
Mary Lynn
Baxter
www.mirabooks.co.uk
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
My sincere appreciation to Lance McFaddin for
his assistance with the information on private
clubs that I used in this novel.
Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Prologue
The wheels on the cleaning carts squeaked as they lumbered along the otherwise silent hallway. Once the carts touched noses, the two housekeepers grinned at each other.
“How many more rooms you got to clean today?” Myrtle Tittle, short and plump, reached up and straightened her askew blond wig.
Clara Means, equally plump but taller in stature to Myrtle, pursed her thin lips, deepening the Howdy Doody lines around her mouth. “A lot. How ’bout you?”
“I’m in the same boat.”
“Me and my old man are supposed to go dancing tonight,” Clara said, “but it don’t look like that’s gonna happen. After today, I’ll be ready to drop. I’d sure like to know where all these folks come from.”
Myrtle scratched under the wig. “Me, too. This hotel ain’t ever been this crowded. Something going on we don’t know about?”
“Probably something to do with Elvis and that great big old house of his.” Clara gritted her teeth. “I just wish they’d let him rest in peace.”
“That’s not going to happen,” Myrtle replied with a sigh. “The poor man’s been dug up and replanted so many times, he’ll never get no peace.”
“Good thing it’s not our problem. Guess we’d best get to work before we get caught visiting. You know how Connie hates for us to stop and talk.”
“Maybe if she had a man, she wouldn’t be so uptight.”
Clara chuckled, then sobered. “She can have mine. He’ll whip her into shape real quick-like.”
“So would mine. Look, I’ll check you later.”
Clara nodded, then shoved her cart on down the hallway. “See ya,” she threw back over her shoulder.
The blonde turned and knocked on the door, then called out, “Housekeeping.”
No answer. She pecked again. When another silence greeted her, Myrtle breathed a sigh of relief. There was no Do Not Disturb sign visible, so at least she wouldn’t have to return. Not only was the hotel full, but the visitors were plumb lazy.
Once she had propped the door open and walked inside, she pulled up short, her feathers wilting. The woman occupant was sitting at the table with the side of her face resting on the top. Must’ve tied one on last night, the maid thought to herself, disgust charging through her.
“Ma’am,” she said in a soft tone. When she received no answer, Myrtle upped her volume.
Not only didn’t the woman answer, but she didn’t so much as twitch a muscle. The maid stepped closer. “Ma’am, it’s housekeeping.”
Still no reaction. Frowning, Myrtle did something she’d never done to a guest. She touched her on the arm, then watched in horror as the woman slid off the chair onto the floor.
Stumbling backward, Myrtle muttered, “Oh sweet Lord.” Then turning, she ran back out into the hall. “Help! Someone help!”
One
Jackson Cole started his day off with a five-mile run. He’d need the stamina the run provided to get him through the grueling hours that lay ahead. More than anything, he enjoyed his morning ritual.
Fall in Memphis was glorious, and he made every effort to take advantage of it. Mother Nature usually chose the last few weeks of October to start painting the leaves their brilliant colors. This year was no exception.
He jogged in a park near his home, where the trees had exploded into fiery colors; his favorites were the huge red oaks. A cool front had blown in last night, and his shoes slapped the fallen leaves. He guessed he could run all day. Only because his desk at the club had been piled high with work did he quit.
Now, hours later, as he stood at the window in his plush office and stared out on to Beale Street, he felt the afternoon sunshine on his body. It radiated through the glass with warmth and light. He moved his tense shoulders up and down, feeling the heat relax him. As predicted, his day had been a mother.
He loved Elan, his upscale restaurant and bar on Beale Street, with a passion. But lately, things had not been going his way, and the timing couldn’t be worse. He’d been well on the way to scaling back on his work, trying to get a life outside the club, when the trouble had started.
The problem was, he didn’t know what to do about it. So far, he’d kept his mouth shut and tried to deal with things on his own. How long that ploy would work was anyone’s guess. But he knew he was taking a chance by playing such a dangerous game.
A sigh filtered through Jackson as he moved his shoulders again, keeping his muscles loose. He turned and stared at his desk, relieved to see that some of the paperwork had been dealt with even though he’d been mentally distracted.
The only item on the day’s agenda left hanging was searching for a new band. The dance floor at Elan was one of the largest and best maintained, which allowed the club to attract top-notch entertainers. Without them, the floor would be empty, thus greatly reducing his clientele. He couldn’t allow that to happen.
However, his assistant and friend Terrance Mayfield, could take care of finding the perfect group. All Jackson had to do was give the final okay.
“You got a minute?”
Jackson swung around and faced his assistant as Terrance sauntered into the room. He motioned for him to take a seat. “Your timing’s on the money.”
“How so?” Terrance asked, plopping down in one of the fine leather chairs adjacent to Jackson’s desk. “Looks to me like you’ve tackled the pile of papers like you were fighting a war.” He paused with a grin. “A war you’ve obviously won.”
For a minute, Jackson didn’t speak, thinking how lucky he was to have Terrance. His body was toned but solid, bearing testimony to his long hours in a gym. His groomed mustache and beard surprisingly didn’t detract from or hide his charming smile. When it came to fraternizing with the customers, he was a smooth operator.
Although Jackson paid him out the kazoo, money didn’t necessarily buy loyalty. And loyalty was Terrance’s trademark. When he left Terrance in charge, Jackson never worried about the day-to-day operations.
“I didn’t quite cover everything,” Jackson finally said.
“Anything I can handle?”
“Yeah, finding us a new band ASAP.”
Terrance’s dark eyebrows rose in a question. “Aw, hell, don’t tell me The Jammers quit?”
“They did. Apparently they had a squabble that couldn’t be resolved.”
“Damn, what a crock. They were the best we’ve had in a long time.”
“I agree, but we have no choice but to move onward and hopefully upward.”
“I’ll get on it pronto.”
“When you’ve narrowed the choice to two, let me know.”
“Will do.” Terrance rose and walked out the door, only to return a minute later, his features scrunched in a frown.
Jackson was already back at his desk, going through the ledger. Looking up, he asked, “What?”
Terrance cleared the threshold, then eased the door shut behind him. “You have a visitor.”
“Who?”
“A Detective Gomez.”
A matching frown marred Jackson’s features. “What does he want?”
“Wouldn’t tell me. Said he needed to see you.”
Jackson shrugged. “Then, send him in.”
“Want me to hang around?”
“Nah. I’m sure it’s nothing. You just tend to the band business.”
Moments later, the detective strode through the door. Coming around his desk, Jackson met him in the middle of the room and they exchanged handshakes.
Jackson sized Gomez up quickly: young, good-looking and cocky. Though he couldn’t say why, the hairs stood up on his neck. Perhaps it was the way Gomez was eyeing him, like he was fresh meat about to be devoured.
Jackson smiled politely and asked in a cool tone, “What can I do for you, Detective?”
“Answer a few questions.” He paused. “If you don’t mind.”
“I’ll let you know after you’ve asked them.”
From the expression on Gomez’s face, the answer didn’t sit well with him, though he said, “Fair enough” in an even tone.
“Care to have a seat?”
Gomez shook his head. “I prefer to stand.”
“Suit yourself.”
For a moment, silence prevailed in the room as though each man was sizing the other up. Jackson had already done as much and decided Gomez didn’t like him. That in itself didn’t mean anything, except that it made this visit more awkward.
“I understand Roberta Klein is a friend of yours.”
Jackson hadn’t the foggiest idea what this interview was all about, but in his wildest imagination, he wouldn’t have connected it to Roberta. “You’re right,” he said with caution. “Has been for years. Why do you ask?”
“When was the last time you saw her?”
“What’s this all about, Detective?”
“If you don’t mind, Mr. Cole, I prefer to ask the questions.”
Jackson was a master at hiding his emotions. If Gomez thought he was going to rile him with his brash tactics, he couldn’t be more wrong. “Fine. Fire away.”
“So, again, when was the last time you saw Ms. Klein?”
“Last evening, though I suspect you already know that.”
“It appears you were the last person to see Ms. Klein alive.”
Shock rocked Jackson. “Are you saying she’s dead?”
“That’s exactly what I’m saying.”
A weakness invaded Jackson’s system, making it impossible for him to remain standing. He sat down and stared at the detective. Impossible. Roberta couldn’t be dead. A million questions blazed to mind, but he kept his mouth shut. The truth was, he didn’t know what to say. And this was Gomez’s show—he’d made it clear he intended to run it.
“Care to comment, Mr. Cole?”
“When I left her, she was alive and well,” Jackson responded in a dazed voice.
“That so?”
Jackson suddenly wanted to knock the condescending smirk off his face. Instead, he managed to keep his cool even under the unexpected assault. “How did she die?”
“She was found slumped over the table, apparently strangled to death.”
Jackson felt sick to his stomach. At the same time, blind fury charged through him. If he got his hands on the person who had so cruelly snuffed out Roberta’s life, he’d save the justice system a lot of time and money.
“Know anything about that?” Gomez asked.
“Am I under arrest, Detective?”
“Not at this point. You’re one of many we’re questioning, though I have to tell you, you have the inside track.”
“Which means I need a lawyer.”
“It’s your call, of course.” The detective paused. “However, I’d like for you to come voluntarily to the precinct and answer a few questions.”
“When?”
“Now.” Gomez’s gaze pinned Jackson like a trapped rat. “If that’s convenient.”
Jackson knew Gomez didn’t give a damn if it was convenient. Voluntarily or not, he was in a heap of trouble.
“I’ll be there. With my lawyer.”
“Thanks,” Gomez responded. “I’ll expect you.”
With that, he turned and left the room. Jackson’s stomach roiled again as he splayed the palm of his hand on the top of his desk to hold him steady. He couldn’t believe Roberta was dead. And in such a brutal manner. Who would do such a thing? And why?
The Roberta he knew didn’t have any enemies, he thought, only to correct himself mentally. She had at least one, one who hated her enough to kill her. A shiver darted through Jackson, and he was chilled to the bone for more reasons than one.
The fact that he was a prime suspect sent another chill through him. He couldn’t ignore that, pretend Gomez and his suspicions would simply go away. They wouldn’t. He was in deep trouble.
What should he do? That was where things got sticky, especially when an answer jumped readily to mind: he could pay a visit to his ex-fiancée. Only, he wasn’t willing to pursue that option.
Yet did he really have a choice? No. He was desperate and desperate people often did stupid things. But this was not just about him. He couldn’t forget about Roberta. He had to find out who killed her. He owed her that much.
He didn’t remember when he hadn’t known Roberta. They had grown up in the same neighborhood. She had been like a sister to him and he’d spent a lot of time at her home, since he had not had one of his own. But like everyone else, Roberta had had her share of problems. She was a “needy” person whom he’d continued to help. Until he realized there was no helping her.
“What was that all about?” Terrance had entered the room.
“Roberta’s dead,” Jackson said in a dull, lifeless tone.
Terrance’s mouth fell open. “What?”
“You heard me.”
Terrance slammed his mouth shut and shook his head. “How? I mean…” His words faded.
Jackson told him.
“Surely the detective doesn’t think you had anything to do with her death.”
“Apparently he does, as I’ve been issued an unofficial invitation to appear at the precinct for more questioning.”
“Man oh man, that’s unbelievable.”
If you only knew the half of it, Jackson thought grimly. Combined with his other growing problem, this was getting close to becoming more than even he could handle. And he could handle a lot.
Terrance rubbed his mustache, then his beard. “So, what are you going to do?”
“See Hallie.”
Again, Terrance’s mouth gaped. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
Jackson’s features darkened even more. “I don’t recall asking for your opinion or your approval.”
Terrance flushed, but he stood his ground. “I know you didn’t, but why Hallie, who’s not even a criminal lawyer? Though I’m sure someone in her firm is. If that’s why you’re seeing her—”
Jackson cut him off. “Look, I have to go.” At the door, he whipped around. “I’ll call you. Meanwhile, see to things.”
Terrance lopped a leg over the bar stool, his features pinched.
“What’s with you? You look like someone just stepped on your dick.”
Terrance threw Clyde Latham, the bartender, a disgusted look. “You have a mouth problem, Latham. You’d best not let the boss hear you talk like that or you’ll be in the unemployment line. You know how he feels about offending the customers.”
Undaunted, Clyde grinned. “You’re not a customer.”
“Then, you offend me personally. How’s that?”
Latham was a big, burly guy who was as competent as he was good-looking. He, too, had a gift for gab with the customers, and his big grin and laugh brought a lot of business to Elan. Still, Terrance didn’t much care for him, though he hadn’t said so. He had learned long ago to keep his mouth shut.
Latham shrugged, then asked, “You want a drink?”
“Not right now. I have too much on my mind.”
“If you’re talking, I’m listening.”
He shouldn’t vent to Clyde, but since his girlfriend, Jessica, wasn’t available, Clyde would do in a pinch. Besides, what had just happened affected everyone at the club. “Jackson might be in a bit of a tight spot.”
“How?” Clyde was wiping some glasses, but he stopped mid-action and stared at Terrance.
“Roberta Klein was found dead this afternoon.”
“You’re joking.”
“Not hardly.” The remark irritated Terrance and he didn’t bother to hide it.
“So, what are you saying? That Jackson had something to do with it?”
“No,” Terrance snapped. “But the police obviously think he might have.”
Clyde’s eyes widened, then he whistled.
“The guy who just left was from Memphis PD. He told Jackson he was the last one to see Roberta alive.”
“Man, I hate that she’s dead. She was a nice lady.”
“I hate it, too. But I hate Jackson’s involvement more.” Terrance scratched his head, a habit he had when he was nervous. And was he ever nervous. “Maybe I will have a drink, even though I’m about to be on full-fledged duty.”
“Scotch on the rocks?”
Terrance nodded.
After he’d felt the liquor hit his stomach with a burn then a punch, he felt better. Jackson would skin him alive if he knew he was drinking when the yuppie work crowd was due. Big drinkers, all of them, which meant they needed to be watched.
Still, he wouldn’t let his drink go to waste, not when he needed it so badly. What a turn of events. If Jackson… Terrance shut that thought down. Underneath his smooth facade, Jackson was tough as nails. And a fighter.
But if he was really a suspect, then things could get tough. If worse came to worst, Terrance knew Jackson would depend on him to keep the club running up to par. With that in mind, he pushed his unfinished drink away.
“So has he been arrested?”
Clyde’s deep voice pulled him out of his dark thoughts. “Not yet. He went to the station of his own free will.”
“Still, the fact he’s a suspect ain’t good.”
“It’s downright scary is what it is.”
“Hope he’s got a good lawyer.”
Now, that was the kicker, Terrance thought, but he couldn’t say as much. By making a beeline to Hallie, Jackson showed that where she was concerned, the little head was still overruling the big head. But that wasn’t his problem, he reminded himself.
After looking at his unfinished drink with yearning, Terrance got up and made his way back to his office to get ready for the evening.
Two
“So how’s the case progressing?”
Hallie Hunter looked straight into her boss’s eyes and quipped, “Like your worst nightmare.”
Winston Bastrop pushed back in his chair and chuckled. “I can always depend on you to tell it like it is.”
Hallie’s grin was short-lived. “Isn’t that one of the reasons you hired me?”
“Absolutely.”
Normally her private meetings with the founder and senior partner of the firm Bastrop, Tate, and Jones were not this amicable. Though she knew Winston admired her and her ability to get the job done, they didn’t always agree on her method. In fact, he could be a pain in the ass because of his unbendable attitude. He looked unbendable, too.
Winston, a crusty-voiced gentleman in his late sixties, was tall and regal with a thatch of white hair and see-all green eyes. He had a keen mind and was a law scholar, and Hallie admired him.
Admiration aside, though, the two of them squared off more times than not, as he wasn’t wild about her feistiness and in-your-face approach to the job. But since she was the firm’s number-one divorce attorney and brought in the lion’s share of clients, he guarded his tongue and cut her more slack than normal.
“While this might be a case from hell,” Hallie said, closing the silence, “I’m not giving in or up. The Dryers will abide by the rules or I’ll send them packing.”
Winston chuckled again. “What says the other attorney? It’s Rich Philmon, isn’t it?”
“Yes, and he’s about as fed up as I am. When I agreed to represent Cynthia, she was in agreement on property, children, money—the whole nine yards. But along the way, something went awry.”
“Maybe she decided to bleed him for more money.”
Hallie sighed. “I’m not sure. I think it’s more than that. Something personal, though she won’t confide in me. But when she and Bill are sitting across the table from each other, the venom is suddenly free-flowing.”
“I have every confidence that you’ll sort it all out.”
“Like I said, Cynthia will either play by the rules or out the door she goes.”
“Leaving her money behind.”
Hallie picked a piece of lint off her light wool slacks, then looked up. “That’s the deal and she knows it.”
“I’d like to be kept posted on this one. Her father is an old friend of mine with a lot of money and clout. I wouldn’t want our firm to do anything that would offend him. Most of all, I’d like to see this work out for her.”
“My concern is the children.” Hallie paused with a sigh. “I suspect that’s where the new problem stems from. But again, I can’t say, not until Cynthia confides in me.”
“I guess we’ll soon see.” Winston paused, then changed the subject. “Are you happy here, Hallie?”
His question took her aback. She hadn’t known why she’d been summoned into the inner sanctum and she really hadn’t cared. Good or bad, she was capable of handling it.
However, this afternoon she’d sensed a difference in the atmosphere and Winston’s attitude. When he hadn’t addressed anything significant thus far, she had thought she’d been mistaken. Now she knew her first instinct had been correct. Something was up.
“If I weren’t, I’d be gone.” A smile tempered her bluntness.
Winston’s chuckle deepened. “Wasted question, right?”
“Depends on why you asked it.”
“All right, I’ll get to the point. We’re considering taking you in as a shareholder in the firm. A partner, if you will.”
Hallie could barely contain her excitement. She felt the urge to lunge out of her chair and sing the Hallelujah Chorus. Instead, she remained still and calm. “I’m both humbled and honored, Winston.”
“Poppycock,” he muttered. “Honored, yes. Humbled, no.”
Hallie gave him a glittering smile that deepened her dimple, then sobered. “I’ve hoped for those words for a long time, even though thirty-eight is young to make partner.”
“That’s true. But if we didn’t think you had potential, the position wouldn’t be in the offing.”
“I know, and again I’m honored. But I have devoted my life to the practice of law and to this firm.” She didn’t add that she’d sacrificed a home and family for the firm, in order to reach this stage in her career.
The phone on Winston’s desk rang. When he reached for it, Hallie rose and signaled that she would see him later. He nodded.
Hallie headed straight for the ladies’ room, an added spring in her step. She was ecstatic and wanted to tell everyone about the sudden turn of events and her good fortune, but under the circumstances, that wouldn’t be wise. Anyway, she didn’t have a close friend and confidant in the firm. Since she was the only female in a good old boy’s network, she had to tread lightly.
Besides, she hadn’t gotten the partnership yet. She’d best remember that. After it became a reality, that was the time to celebrate.
On her climb up the partnership ladder, she had garnered more than her share of enemies—especially Nick Skinner. He seemed to want everything she wanted, whether he’d earned it or not. Nick would be a constant thorn in her side, if she allowed it. Unless they were forced to work together on a case, she ignored him, which unfortunately seemed to make matters worse.
Hallie could imagine his reaction when he heard the news. Some of her giddiness waned. Maybe he was also being considered as a shareholder. If so, that would make things more difficult for her. She fought constantly to prove that she was as good as any male attorney on staff. To her way of thinking, she’d met that goal. But again, that wasn’t her call.
Once in the ladies’ room, Hallie glanced in the mirror. She didn’t look any different, except that her translucent skin appeared more flushed than usual. And there was a gleam in her chocolate-colored eyes that heretofore hadn’t been there.
Indeed, things were looking up, and she couldn’t be more pleased.
That thought was very much on her mind as she walked into her scenic office.
“Hello, Hallie.”
She pulled up short and felt her stomach drop to her toes. “How did you get in here?” Hallie knew that was a foolish question and didn’t deserve an answer. Her secretary, Pearl, wouldn’t have any qualms about letting this particular man in.
“How are you?” His beautiful lips moved, but she barely realized he’d answered her with a question.
Since her throat was too tight to speak, she simply stared at her former fiancé. Jackson Cole was standing in front of the huge window that dominated her office. Every nerve in Hallie’s body kicked into overdrive.
His black hair was now flecked with gray, and his vivid blue eyes were deeper in color and more compelling than ever. To label him tall, dark and handsome sounded trite, but it fit. Add the word charming, and he was instantly upgraded into the unforgettable category.
She wanted to turn and bolt, but of course she didn’t. She dug her heels into the floor and her nails into the palms of her hands. Even the sensation of pain failed to draw her attention.
It hit Hallie like a blow that he still had the ability to push her sexual buttons like no other man. Another blow followed that one—Jackson Cole was the only man she had ever loved.
How could she ever have let him go?
Fearing she had already let him see how his unexpected presence had affected her, Hallie walked forward and smiled, but didn’t dare extend her hand. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound so abrupt.” She ignored the fact that her voice had a slight huskiness. She hoped he would, too.
He nodded, then said in his deep, smooth voice, “Apology accepted.”
For a split second, silence fell between them. As their eyes met and held, the electricity bouncing between them made more noise than any conversation could have.
“I’m assuming you have a reason for being here,” she said, having regained most of her composure. At least that huskiness was gone.
“As good as it gets.”
Now that she was past the initial shock of seeing him, she noticed that he appeared a bit subdued, that his usual charm wasn’t in evidence. And his voice had a rough, almost sarcastic edge to it, not at all in character for him. Or it hadn’t been, she corrected mentally. People could do a lot of changing in two years.
“What’s wrong, Jackson?” she asked, fighting the desire to sink into the nearest chair. But as long as he stood, she would, too. She couldn’t allow him to get the upper hand in any way.
“I’m in trouble, Hallie—” He paused, his lips thinning.
Her gaze lingered on them for a moment before she forced her eyes back to his.
“Or at least, I think I am,” he added.
“Trouble, as in needing an attorney?”
“That’s why I’m here.”
Trying to pretend he was just another client off the street, and not someone with whom she’d been uninhibitedly intimate, was one of the hardest feats she’d ever had to pull off. “Suppose you sit down and tell me what’s going on.”
When they were both seated, he blurted out, “Roberta’s dead.”
Later, Hallie would realize he hadn’t even bothered to give Roberta’s last name, because he’d known it wasn’t necessary. “When did she die? How?” Shock forced her to clear her voice.
“She was found this morning in her hotel room. She was strangled. And I seem to be the prime suspect.” When she didn’t speak, he went on, “Don’t look at me like that, Hallie. Surely you know I had nothing to do with it. But that’s not what the police think. They’ve asked me to come in for questioning.”
Questions that she had no right to ask circled her brain like vultures over a dead animal’s carcass. When had Roberta Klein come back into his life? But she refrained from voicing that personal thought, aghast that Roberta was dead and that Jackson was considered involved.
“You came to the right place,” she said, clearing her throat again. “Nathan James is the best criminal defense attorney in Memphis, maybe in the entire South.”
Jackson rose abruptly to his feet and stared down at her from his six-feet-plus height. “I don’t want Nathan James or whatever the hell his name is.”
Hallie’s eyes widened as she peered up at him.
“I want you to represent me.”
This time Hallie rose, shaking her head. “I can’t.”
“Why?”
“You know why.”
“No, I don’t. You’ve done plenty of criminal work, and as I remember, you were damn good at it.”
“You’re missing the point. The past two years, I’ve focused on divorce law. That’s become my expertise.”
“Please, Hallie.”
Those softly spoken words, backed by emotion, tore at her. Still, she held on to her resolve. “Jackson, you don’t know what you’re asking. If you’re in the kind of trouble you think you are, I’m not the attorney you need.”
“Yes, you are.”
“Okay, let me put it this way. Regardless of whether I’m qualified or not, I wouldn’t feel comfortable representing you. I don’t know how to make it any plainer.”
His mouth worked and he stared deeply into her eyes. “Please,” he said again. “I trust you, and you have to help me.”
Hallie opened her mouth, but the words froze in her throat.
Three
But I don’t trust you.
Though Hallie wanted to utter those words, she couldn’t; they dried up in her throat. Still, she was angry that Jackson had so brazenly appeared in her office, opening old wounds with both his unsettling presence and his raw demand.
“Hallie?”
The unspoken plea in his voice refocused her mind. Yet she stopped short of giving him a definitive answer, even though she knew this situation was grave and could spell disaster for him.
“I need time, Jackson,” she stalled, which was not like her at all, and he knew it. She had always been admired for her ability to think quickly on her feet, in an unpleasant situation or otherwise.
Right now, however, she was having a difficult time even thinking, much less thinking rationally. Apparently Jackson wasn’t having any qualms, or he wouldn’t have approached her. Or else he was desperate. With that thought jumping to the forefront of her mind, Hallie lifted her slender shoulders as if preparing for battle.
“I need your answer now,” Jackson said before she could break the heavy silence.
Chocolate-brown eyes met blue ones, and for a moment, Hallie couldn’t find her next breath. Jackson must have experienced the same smothering reaction, for his features darkened even more and he shifted his gaze.
“Why are you a suspect, Jackson?”
He rubbed his chin, which was beginning to show a slight stubble, further enhancing his sex appeal. “I was with Roberta last night.” His voice was brusque.
Hallie didn’t know why that blunt admission still had the power to prick her heart, but it did. She should feel bitterness and contempt. Instead, her response was far more personal. Ignoring those thoughts, she said, “You need to be more specific. With her could mean a number of things.”
Jackson’s eyes were bleak. “It’s not what you think.”
“You have no idea what I think,” she countered with quiet dignity. She was determined to keep this conversation professional and impersonal, until she could convince him that Nathan was the lawyer who could best serve him.
“You hate me, don’t you,” he said out of the blue.
Her stomach dropped, but she didn’t let on that his tortured words got to her. “Of course I don’t hate you.”
She didn’t hate him, but she did hate every second of his presence and this conversation. She didn’t want to know why he had been with Roberta and what they did. Two years ago, that woman had been a bone of contention between them, and now she was again, even in death.
“Sorry,” he muttered. “I didn’t mean to make this personal.”
“About Roberta,” she pressed, ignoring his apology.
“She showed up at the club after a long absence. She was in a mess.”
“A mess, how?”
“A mental and emotional wreck.”
“And you felt sorry for her.” Hallie paused. “Again.”
“Okay, so I felt like I owed—” His jaw stiffened, cutting off his sentence.
“I know how you feel about that,” Hallie said, “so there’s no use repeating it.”
Jackson flushed but he didn’t comment. Instead, he said, “I took her to dinner to try and calm her down.”
“Seems like I’ve heard that before.”
This time, Jackson’s face drained of color. She had struck a nerve and it showed. Hallie reminded herself of the reason for her question. All she wanted was to get enough information from him to warrant calling the firm’s heaviest criminal gun. Nathan didn’t take kindly to having his time wasted. Perhaps Jackson wasn’t in as much trouble as he thought. Once she proved or disproved that, then she’d know where to go from there.
“Sorry, I was out of line.” Her tone was much huskier than she would’ve liked.
“In hindsight,” Jackson said, “I know that taking her out was not a smart move. After dinner, she seemed calmer, and I took her back to her hotel. That was the last time I saw her.”
Hallie remained silent, battling a dull roar in her head.
“You know me, Hallie. I could never have done such a heinous thing.” His eyes were dark and pleading.
“I know, Jackson. That’s why you’re still in my office.”
“But I want to explain about Roberta, especially if—”
She held up her hand, cutting him off again. “Your personal relationship with her is no longer my concern.” He was free to boff anyone he wanted, including Roberta Klein.
“It’s your concern if you’re going to represent me.”
“I haven’t said I’d represent you.”
They stared at each other hard and long.
“Please,” he said, stopping just short of begging.
She heard the break in his voice and it got to her. Again. Jackson might be many things—he was a liar, for sure—but a murderer, no. A man with such a capacity for giving and loving could never bring bodily harm to a woman. So did that mean her resolve to not get involved was weakening? Heaven help her if it was. But when he looked at her like that, she couldn’t deny him anything.
“Look, I’ll take over for now, but only if you agree to meet with Nathan.”
“Fine. I’ll do whatever you say.”
“I’m not finished yet. If it looks like there’s going to be a trial, Nathan will have to take my place in the pecking order.”
At the word trial, he blanched, then asked, “Why?”
“That’s the deal, Jackson. Take it or leave it. I’m not about to jeopardize your life by my lack of experience.”
“I’ll take it.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “What choice do I have?” A tinge of bitterness had crept into his tone.
“Plenty. For starters, you can go to another firm.”
“You drive a hard bargain, Hallie Hunter.” He paused, sighing deeply, though his features seemed to have become less gaunt since he’d won the first round.
“I told Detective Gomez I’d avail myself for questioning.”
“Are you talking about today? Now?”
Jackson grimaced. “I’d like to get it over with—if you can spare the time, that is.”
She couldn’t, but she would just have to make the time. He was right; to postpone the trek to the police station wouldn’t make it any less palatable for either of them.
“What’s this detective like?” she asked, unfamiliar with Gomez.
“He’s cocky and self-assured.”
During her court appointments on criminal cases, she’d gotten to know many of the ranking detectives and for the most part had developed a good rapport with them. But since she’d been out of the criminal loop for a while, she’d lost her contacts. This Gomez must be a new kid on the block or a transfer.
“Then, we’ll just have to un-cock him,” she said with her usual self-assurance.
For the first time since she’d walked into the room, Jackson smiled. The change was as sudden as it was shocking. Her breath caught as the flush of unwanted heat swept through her.
If he noticed her reaction, he didn’t show it, for which she was most grateful. “Are you ready?” she asked in as normal a voice as she could muster.
“As ready as I’ll ever be.”
Hallie paused at the door and looked up at him. “Let me handle things. Until I know what Gomez has, we’ll play our cards close to our chest.”
“I’ll do whatever you say.”
Swallowing a sigh, Hallie squared her shoulders and walked out of the room, fully conscious of Jackson matching her step for step. As long as her commitment wasn’t set in stone, what she was about to undertake would be tolerable. Otherwise…
Hallie shook that thought aside as they left the building and headed for his BMW, hoping for the best and fearing the worst.
“Thanks for coming in so soon, Mr. Cole.”
“No problem.”
Detective Gomez turned to Hallie and extended his hand. After introductions were completed, Hallie decided Jackson’s opinion of the detective was right on target. Cocky. Young. And good-looking.
Gomez smiled at Hallie—a smile that rubbed her the wrong way, maybe because it was as smug as it was suggestive.
“I’ve heard of your firm.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Hallie said in a cool tone.
He seemed to think for a second, then his smile disappeared. “No need to be defensive. Some of my friends are defense attorneys. Like Ernie Sanders, for example.”
“Mr. Sanders must not have been that good a friend, Mr. Gomez,” Hallie replied, “or you’d know he died last month.”
“Oh, that’s when he became my best friend, ma’am.”
Hallie stiffened at the direct slam, but before she could make a suitable comeback, Gomez seemed to remember his manners.
“Please, have a seat, both of you. Then perhaps we can get this matter cleared up quickly.”
Once they were seated in his shoebox of an office, he asked, “Can I get you something to drink? Some coffee? Or a Coke?”
Their “no, thank you” came simultaneously.
Gomez shrugged, then helped himself to a cup of coffee. He seemed in no hurry to bring this session to an end, despite his claim to the contrary.
Hallie could feel Jackson’s unrest. He appeared coiled and ready to spring. It was going to be an effort for him to keep his mouth shut and let her do the talking. She sensed right off that the detective and Jackson would tangle if there was no one to referee.
She would have to keep Jackson on a short leash; words said in frustration in a detective’s office had a way of taking on more meaning in the courtroom, and she did not want her client hanging himself because he got angry.
Silence. Two, then three minutes, without a word. Gomez sat across the desk from them, sipping coffee and watching Jackson. When he finally spoke, it jolted Hallie out of her reverie.
“So, were you sleeping with the dead woman, Mr. Cole?”
“No, I was not. And I didn’t kill her, either.”
More silence. Although Hallie didn’t want to look at Jackson, didn’t want to see his face, she had no choice. This was a murder investigation, and no matter how difficult this line of questioning was for her personally, she couldn’t back down. Better to get the ugly question out in the open early.
Jackson’s face had darkened, and he muttered an obscenity. Hallie reached out and placed a hand on his arm. It was hard and rigid, but her touch seemed to calm him immediately.
Another minute passed before Gomez spoke again. “So, tell me about Roberta Klein, Mr. Jackson.”
Jackson looked at Hallie and she gave him a nod, indicating that he was free to answer.
“We are…were…lifelong friends,” Jackson said.
“Then, you saw her often?”
“Not really, at least not in the last year.”
“Oh? Lover’s spat, and she moved out?”
Hallie spoke up. “I think my client has answered that already, Detective. He told you they were not…intimate.”
“For one thing, she didn’t live in Memphis,” Jackson said. “As you know.”
“So she just showed up on your doorstep like some baby wrapped in a blanket, so to speak?” Gomez made no effort to hide his smirk.
Jackson nodded. “That’s exactly what she did.”
“Was she in the habit of doing that? Just showing up at any old time she pleased?”
“In the past, yes.”
“So she felt comfortable—completely at ease—just dropping by out of the blue?”
“One has to assume so.”
“We’re discussing you, Cole.” Gomez’s tone was sharp. “Did she assume so, too?”
“What’s your question, Detective?” Hallie asked in a cold, firm voice, her patience wearing thin.
As if he sensed that, Gomez said, “I understand you took her home.”
“That’s right. I dropped her off rather early, then I left.”
“How was she?” Gomez paused. “When you left.”
Jackson ignored the rich sarcasm in the detective’s voice and asked, “What do you mean?”
Another smirk at the double entendre. “Had she been drinking?”
“A little. Some.”
“Did anything…unusual happen?”
“No,” Jackson said.
More silence. Hallie sensed Jackson’s desire to fill the time with words, but when she laid her hand on his arm a second time, he remained quiet. After two minutes, Gomez got up and poured himself another cup of coffee, his eyes still on Jackson.
Finally, he sat back down, took a slurping sip and set the cup down. “Are you sure, Cole, that the two of you weren’t making it? Doin’ the deed? Wrinklin’ the sheets? Swappin’—”
“Enough, Detective,” Hallie said, already on her feet. “We’re out of here this minute.” She knew a fishing expedition when she heard one. “Do you have any evidence against my client, Gomez? It’s neither a crime nor a sin to be the last person to see someone alive.”
“But I’m not through questioning Mr. Cole.”
“Yes, you are. If you intend to scrape a case together, Gomez, you’ll have to do it without our help.”
Gomez’s already dark features darkened further as he focused his attention on Jackson, who was standing so close to Hallie that she could hear his labored breathing.
“I was hoping for more cooperation from you, Mr. Cole.”
“He’s been more than cooperative, Detective. You chose the low road, but we’re not taking it. If you want to see Mr. Cole again, bring some evidence—a warrant. And just for the record, he will answer no more questions for you.”
“Oh, I’ll bring my warrant, all right, Ms. Hunter. But all in good time. There’s no statute of limitations on murder.”
Hallie fastened the middle button of the jacket of her pants outfit. “You have your job, Detective. Go to it. Mine is to see that you don’t violate my client’s rights, and I take that just as seriously as you do.”
“No doubt the three of us will meet again,” Gomez said.
“Possibly, but there won’t be any questions the next time.”
“So you’re absolutely refusing to allow Mr. Cole to talk to me again?”
“I never say never, Detective,” Hallie said. “If you brought a fresh attitude and a smattering of knowledge about the Bill of Rights to our next session, I might reconsider.” Then, turning to Jackson, she added, “Are you ready?”
Together they left the building. Outside, the late afternoon air had turned chilly, but it was a lovely evening. A perfect night to spend with a lover next to a smoldering fire sipping on a glass of wine, Hallie thought.
Although mortified at the sudden image, Hallie knew the reason for it. Jackson. He had awakened old and buried yearnings. During the time they were engaged, they had done that very thing more times than she could count. The result had always been a sweet but fiery tumble between the sheets.
“Beautiful night, isn’t it?” he commented in a husky voice.
“I wouldn’t know,” she snapped.
“Hallie?”
“What?”
Jackson’s eyebrows rose. “Why are you angry at me? Did I say something wrong in there?”
“No. It’s just been a long day and I’m tired.”
His lips thinned.
“Be in my office first thing tomorrow morning,” she said. “I want you to meet Nathan.”
“Then, you’re not interested in joining me for a cup of coffee?”
She faced him then and their eyes met. Tension, hot and heavy, leapt between them. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, do you?”
His sigh was deep and ragged. “You’re probably right. It isn’t.”
“Just take me back to my car. Please.”
Four
Jackson parked at the rear of the club and slipped in through his private back entrance. He didn’t want to see or talk to anyone—which was not his usual modus operandi.
As much as he trusted and looked to Terrance for help and guidance, Elan was his baby and he made it a point to be hands-on. Usually a mere stroll through the premises was exactly what he needed to make it through his long days. However, he had started cutting back on the hours he spent at the club, determined to finally get a “normal” life. But the transition was difficult, if not impossible, especially of late.
Since his breakup with Hallie two years ago, he had gone through the motions of living—feeling nothing, touching nothing. That way he’d been off the hook emotionally, which had been the only way he could hold body and soul together.
And his strategy had worked, enabling him to awaken each morning without that burning pain in his heart. But then things started to backfire, and once again his life seemed to change faster than a crashing stack of dominoes.
Jackson walked to the bar in his office and helped himself to a drink. It didn’t help, so he set the empty glass down and went to his desk. But sitting wasn’t the answer, either. He felt like ants were crawling through his insides; he walked to the window and stared outside.
The evening, like the day, was magical. The trees, swayed by the brisk wind, sent their multicolored leaves cascading to the ground. He watched the soothing sight for a moment, then turned around. He should call Terrance and let him know he was back. He owed it to his assistant to inform him of what had transpired at the police station, but he wasn’t ready. He needed more time alone to get his jumbled thoughts in some kind of logical order.
Murder.
Such an ugly word. It made him shudder to his core. The very idea that he could be accused of such an act was incomprehensible. So too was the image of Roberta’s lifeless body. She had been his lifelong friend, for heaven’s sake.
He rubbed the back of his head and muttered an expletive. Brooding over his present predicament wasn’t doing him any good. By seeking Hallie’s counsel, he’d taken the necessary steps to head off this impending disaster. The best thing he could do now was to visit with Terrance, then mingle with the customers.
But he still didn’t feel like facing anyone. That feel-nothing, touch-nothing mood had invaded his system again.
The phone suddenly rang, jarring him. He grabbed it and said, “Cole.”
“Ah, I’m glad I caught you.”
At the sound of the low, familiar voice, red hot fury boiled inside him. “I told you to stop calling me, you bastard.”
“Now, now, is that any way to talk to someone who has your best interest at heart?”
“Heart?” Jackson gave a harsh laugh. “You wouldn’t know about that, since you don’t have one.”
“If you persist in refusing to sell,” the caller continued, “we’ll find a way to take over, to force you out.”
“Then, I suggest you give it your best shot.” Jackson slammed down the receiver. But so much for his bravado. He felt gutted on the inside, a feeling he despised as much as he despised them and their bullying tactics.
Damn them, the organized crime faction that was determined to bring him down.
Lately the pressure had increased relentlessly. They seemed more hell-bent each day on buying him out, chipping away at his resolve.
Why him? Why his place? Why not one of the countless other clubs on the drag? He’d wrestled with those questions until he’d come up with several reasonable answers. Elan was slightly off to itself, making it more secluded, yet still accessible. In addition, the building property had more square footage and more land.
No matter. He’d dug his heels in and had no intention of budging.
He wondered suddenly if his implication in Roberta’s murder wasn’t Mafia related. They had the resources and connections to frame him. Having reached that conclusion, shouldn’t he tell Hallie?
Not yet. He had no intention of involving her in a dangerous game with the mob. Besides, she had enough to do looking after his legal worries. Too, handling this crisis was a responsibility he wasn’t about to put off on anyone else. He would take care of things himself. He always had.
None of the success he had obtained had come easy. Life had dealt him some cruel blows, beginning with the death of his mother in an auto accident when he was eleven years old.
Left with his father, an alcoholic who owned two bars, Jackson had very little home life and virtually no parental love or supervision. He spent most of his out-of-school time hanging around bars, until he met Roberta’s mother, Ruby.
In the evenings, she often frequented one of his father’s clubs, yet Ruby had used restraint in her drinking. Jackson had met her one evening when she had approached him to play a game of pool.
From then on, she had taken pity on him, and often invited him to her house to share pot roast dinners with her family. Ruby had a son, Edgar, who was never there, and Roberta, who was several years Jackson’s senior. He, Ruby and Roberta, three misfits, had become firm friends. He would never forget the fond times he’d spent at their home, even though the environment was certainly no June Cleaver haven.
At the time, however, he was grateful for any crumb of womanly compassion he could get. Ruby and Roberta had helped buffer his acute loneliness and build his self-esteem.
Once he graduated from college with a degree in business, he was determined to make something of himself away from the nightlife. But when his dad died unexpectedly, he found himself saddled with the responsibility of the bars. After selling one, he had borrowed more money and turned the other into Elan on Beale Street.
He had been successful beyond his wildest expectations. Yet there was something missing from his life—a sense of real belonging, a sense of roots. At one time, he thought he had found the answer to those needs in Hallie, only to lose her by betraying her trust.
Granted, he had been less than honest with her about his relationship with Roberta. After the fact, he rationalized that he and Hallie would not have made it anyway. Her career was going full steam ahead while his was winding down. And she hadn’t been particularly eager to have children, while he was.
Nonetheless, he had never stopped loving her or wanting her. He carried with him every sound, smell and taste of her. Though he hated that weakness, he was powerless to shake it.
“So why ask Hallie for help?” He realized he’d spoken aloud when his voice penetrated the silence in the room.
It was an insane move; he was far too vulnerable where she was concerned. Just seeing her had made him throb with that old intense longing. But a desperate man did desperate things.
And like he’d told her, he trusted her. Even if he hadn’t known her personally, hadn’t had a hot, intimate relationship with her, he would have sought her out. Her reputation as a tough officer of the court was widespread. She was both respected and admired. When it came to her clients, she was feisty and fearless in defending them.
He had met her by accident, or maybe it had been fate. They had both been at a party for the rich and famous at a rival nightclub. He hadn’t wanted to go, but Terrance had insisted, reminding Jackson he needed to get out of his cocoon and see what the competition was up to.
He had agreed, though with no real enthusiasm.
He hadn’t been interested in a permanent relationship with a woman. Nonetheless, he suspected that was what Terrance’s urging was all about. For sure, Jackson had had plenty of women. A man didn’t reach forty without having had his share of affairs.
But that was exactly what they had been—affairs. None of the women he’d been involved with had been what he considered “wife material,” though he wasn’t sure he knew what that meant. He’d been too busy with the club to think in those terms. Besides, tying the knot had scared the hell out of him. He’d been alone too long to take a waltz down the aisle.
The second he had walked into the club, where a band was playing a waltz, he’d felt out of place. Terrance had left him on his own almost immediately, having spotted a woman whom he’d dated. Jackson was about to turn and walk out the same door he’d come in, when he saw her. He’d stopped dead in his tracks.
He thought she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. He couldn’t take his eyes off her. She was tall and thin with spectacular chocolate-colored hair, a lovely face and shapely legs—a Southern beauty in all her glory.
When she smiled, the effect was electric. He had fallen madly in love on the spot.
If she’d been with a man, perhaps he wouldn’t have had the courage to approach her. She appeared to be alone. As though his legs had a will all their own, he moved toward her. Something made her turn and face him directly. He paused for a second and their eyes met. An electric current seemed to instantly connect them. It hadn’t been his imagination, either. That radiant smile on her face had slipped a bit while something unidentifiable jumped into her eyes.
Finally, he reached her and, without mincing words, said, “Would you like to dance?”
“I don’t make a habit of dancing with strangers.”
Her voice was as sexy as her body—husky and warm. He felt himself turn hard and prayed she wouldn’t notice.
“I can take care of that. I’m Jackson Cole.” He held out his hand. At first she appeared reluctant to touch him but then she did. When he grasped her thin hand, that current shot all the way up his arm. He knew she experienced the same sensation—she withdrew her hand immediately, her eyes wide.
“And you are?” he asked into the blistering silence.
“Hallie Hunter.”
He smiled. “Since we’re no longer strangers, shall we dance?”
“Suppose I don’t want to dance with you?”
He peered deeply into her eyes as he lowered his voice. “Only you do, don’t you.”
“You’re awfully sure of yourself, Mr. Cole.”
“Jackson,” he corrected.
Before she could answer him, he reached out and pulled her gently into his arms, then onto the dance floor.
Heady stuff.
The feel and smell of her body against him penetrated his skin and went straight to his heart. She was utterly captivating, and he prayed the song would never end, so he wouldn’t have to let her go. Yet when it ended, she made no effort to leave his arms.
“I like your style, Mr. Cole,” she said with a confident smile, displaying her delightful dimple.
“Jackson,” he reminded her.
She laughed. “All right, Jackson.”
“So when can I see you again?”
She gave him a sassy look. “How do you know I’m free?”
“Are you?”
“Yes.” That tiny word came out a whisper.
“So am I, which means we have a green light.”
“For what?”
“To make love,” he whispered. “Tonight.”
She gasped. Then he did something he’d never done spontaneously before. He drew her even closer and lowered his lips to hers with explosive force.
From then on, they were inseparable, and within weeks they were officially engaged. And all was well in paradise, until Roberta reentered his life and ripped the bloom off the rose.
Now, disgusted with the direction his thoughts had taken, Jackson shook himself and walked back to the bar, then poured himself another drink. But he knew that drinking wasn’t the answer.
Regardless of how much booze he put in his body, it couldn’t override his thoughts of Hallie. She had set up housekeeping in his head and heart forever. He still loved her; her absence in his life hadn’t changed that.
But he couldn’t think about Hallie in those terms. She had moved on and up and was totally lost to him. In order not to lose himself, he had to concentrate on getting out of this latest trouble. With the mob breathing hot and heavy down his neck, there was no way he could afford to be charged with murder, arrested, and detained indefinitely. Suddenly he felt as though he had a ticking time bomb strapped to his body.
He must remain completely focused, no matter how much he would like to concentrate on Hallie and what might have been.
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