“Let me get the door open, then get inside fast. But act natural once you’re inside,” Garrison instructed.
Garrison climbed out of the van, swiped his security card at the front door and as soon as it was open Bryce darted from the van to the lobby. It was one of the newly renovated downtown buildings with a tile foyer.
Garrison pressed the elevator button, and when it came, he, Bryce, and Pollack rode up to the third floor.
“Is this your safe house?” Bryce asked.
“No. Friend of a friend owns it,” Garrison answered. “He’s out of town.”
It turned out to be a comfortable two-bedroom apartment done in a modern scheme. A little too much chrome for Bryce’s taste, but the leather chair looked buttery soft. He took off his jacket and sank gratefully into it.
“How long do you think it will take?” Bryce asked.
Garrison was foraging in the fridge.
Pollack checked the windows. “I wouldn’t expect to go back until after lunch. With your recent history, they’re taking no chances.” His cell chimed quietly and he answered it. “Yeah?” His brows pulled together in a fierce frown and he moved down the hall.
“Want a soda or something?” Garrison asked.
“Does this friend of a friend want you rummaging in his fridge?”
Garrison smiled like a barracuda. “Yep.”
“Is there a Coke in there?”
Garrison brought him a can. Bryce popped the tab and gratefully took a swig, realizing he felt safe for the first time since Ciara’s condo. Funny that he’d felt safe with her despite thinking she worked for Steele.
Pollack walked back into the room pocketing his phone. “There was a shooter on a rooftop across from the courthouse. It was a setup to flush you out into the open. He’s dead though. Resisted arrest.”
Bryce shivered with cold. But for the quick thinking of these men he’d be dead. “Is he part of Steele’s organization?”
“We’re checking.”
“Thanks for saving my life.”
“You could thank us by turning States’ evidence. Give us that envelope your friend has.”
“Soon.” Bryce took a deep breath and a chance. They’d saved his life. He could trust them. “I’m going to try to get Steele convicted without him realizing what I’m doing.”
The Feds’ eyes widened. Garrison sat down with a plop on the leather sofa. “He’ll kill you if he suspects.”
“I know. The U.S. Attorney only needs two counts to convict. If I don’t discredit two counts, I lose the case.”
“But when was the last time you lost a case?” Pollack asked.
“It’s been a while,” Bryce admitted.
“So you don’t think Steele will recognize a mediocre performance?”
“I didn’t say it’d be easy or foolproof. I just wanted someone to know what I was trying to do, you know, in case. The items in the envelope would make it easier to convict Steele, but then it would be obvious I wanted to lose.”
“All you have to do is ask for witness protection,” Garrison said. “You don’t have to risk your life where there’s no guarantee.”
“I have to do this. This is my last defense. I’m done either way.”
“My God.” Pollack sat in the other leather chair. “You’re trying to be a damn hero.”
“No. I didn’t become a lawyer to defend scum like Steele. I don’t know how I got on this road. This is the only way I know to find my way back.”
Garrison nodded. “That’s good enough for me.” He raised his Coke in a toast.
Pollack added, “We’ll do what we can to keep you alive so you can do your thing. I think it’s sheer suicide though.”
“Life is risky business,” Bryce replied. Only he hadn’t taken a risk since college. Not until Ciara.
• • •
Where was Bryce? Ciara paced her hotel room. They’d sent everyone from the visitor’s gallery home with a phone number to call to let them know when trial would resume. She’d called it five times already only to hear the recording to call back later.
She’d nearly screamed when the two men grabbed Bryce outside the courtroom until she’d recognized the FBI agents. Then there’d almost been a gun battle with the man she assumed was Bryce’s bodyguard.
It had been two hours. Was Bryce safe? Had the FBI gotten him away without an incident? She had the TV tuned to a local station. Other than a brief report of the bomb threat repeated on all the local networks, the stations had returned to regular daytime programming.
Ciara wrapped her arms around herself, pressing them against her aching breasts. Her whole body ached to be held in Bryce’s arms. She felt sick with worry for him. She wanted to beg his forgiveness for spying on him, for lying to him, for doubting him. If he could forgive her, she’d do everything in her power to win his trust. Whatever it took for as long as it took.
He needed her and she needed him. He made her feel alive, challenged yet safe. He was a man like her brother-in-law Esteban, a man who could be trusted, a man who when he committed to a woman would give her his all.
She had Bryce’s complete attention. She’d broken through his cool veneer. He’d looked shocked to see her in court, not angry or hostile. His gaze had been almost hungry. She was sure he felt the need that she felt now. They’d made promises that had gone unfulfilled. They weren’t done with one another.
And Bryce had to stay alive so they could finish what they’d started … if it took the rest of their lives.
Her cell rang and she snatched it from the counter. It was the attorney general. “Talk to me.”
“The FBI killed a rooftop sniper staking out the courthouse. They’re keeping it under wraps for now.”
Ciara’s breath whooshed out and she sank into a kitchen chair. She felt lightheaded. “Is Bryce all right?”
“Gannon and the Feds are off the radar. I’ve been on the phone with the U.S. Attorney. He’s going to delve into police corruption in Detroit when this is over. If the agents who took Gannon can be trusted — ”
“I think they can.”
“Then they don’t trust their own to say where they’ve got Gannon stashed.”
“God, everybody’s gunning for Bryce. We’ve got to help him!”
“It gets worse. Bombers don’t normally become shooters. So I think the bomber is still out there. It could be that Steele’s rival is sending in different types of hitters. But the bomber seems focused. I think he’ll try again.”
Helpless rage curled Ciara’s hands into fists. She needed to protect Bryce. She wanted this faceless bomber stopped, but she had no training in threat prevention, no skill with guns or explosives. What could she do other than throw herself between Bryce and danger? But she didn’t want to die.
“I wish you weren’t in the danger zone,” he said.
“I wish none of us were. Thanks for the info.”
In half an hour she found out court would resume at one-thirty. She’d see Bryce in a few hours. She prayed wherever the agents had him stashed they’d keep him safe. And that they’d get him to the courtroom safely. Steele’s people and the bomber would be watching for his return. So would she.
Bryce was safe! Ciara felt such relief when she saw him flanked by the two FBI agents that she would have fallen had she not been seated. She ate him up with her eyes — his cold, almost hauteur demeanor; the perfection of his navy suit with the ever-present white shirt, the ruthlessly controlled hair.
His gaze snagged hers and clung. Her body heated to a melting point, her heart raced, and her breathing hitched. She needed to be alone with him in the worst way. His gaze spoke volumes, and yet he only said one word in passing.
“Ciara.”
“Bryce.” Did he hear the neediness in her voice, the apology — the regret?
The FBI agents faded to the walls. Bryce shook hands with Steele. They spoke in low tones. Both men looked equally cold, yet Ciara felt Steele was cold to the core, while Bryce had a core of hot passion.
A caramel-colored suit cut off Ciara’s view of Bryce. She waited for the person to sit down, but they continued blocking her view as they moved towards the front. The suit resolved itself into perfect curves, perfect legs, and perfect blonde hair. Ciara felt irritated at seeing Monique Dennison here. She seemed to be everywhere they went. Ciara hadn’t realized Bryce and Monique moved in the same circles but she should have. They’d dated for a year. All the gossip rags thought the two would marry because they seemed so suited.
Jealousy licked at Ciara. What she and Bryce had done together — those marvelous matings — he’d done those things with the perfect blonde.
Monique caught Bryce’s attention. For a moment he looked irritated, then his face smoothed covering his emotions.
Ciara felt a spurt of glee. Bryce didn’t want to see Monique. She wasn’t so perfect after all. In fact, that ugly black purse looked hideous with the tight suit. Ciara had thought the woman had better taste than that.
Monique unzipped the dreadful purse. Then she adjusted the open bag in front of her as she moved through the swinging gallery gate.
Every alarm in Ciara’s body went off. She catapulted to her feet, her heart thundering. Unfortunately, her movement drew Bryce’s startled gaze to her and away from Monique. Ciara hurtled forward. She had to be in time! She saw the bodyguards’ gazes snap to her, but they’d be too slow.
She was a giant leap away when she screamed, “Bryce, get down!”
Monique was lifting the purse and turning when Ciara’s palms slammed into her back with the force of her five-foot-ten muscle behind them. Bryce dived to the right as Ciara shoved Monique to the left. As she fell, Monique knocked down Adam Steele, like dominoes tumbling. White powder exploded into the air in a high rooster tail circling up and over Monique and forward over Steele. Ricin!
Ciara held her breath as she skidded to a stop. Then she lost her balance and fell on her butt. The cloud of white powder was spreading outward over her legs as someone grabbed Ciara’s arm and dragged her backwards.
“Ciara!”
Bryce! Oh God. Ciara turned towards him. “Bryce, it’s ricin! Don’t inhale it!” she shrieked, fear for him overcoming all else. But he continued to drag her clear.
Women’s screams filled the courtroom. Bodies were in motion. It was a contest between the people trying to get out of the courtroom and those trying to reach the front.
Adam Steele lay on his back, gasping, his face covered with a thick coating of white powder.
Monique lay face down in the white powder. Her blonde hair and the back of her suit were white. She screamed, “You bitch!” Then huge racking coughs claimed her.
Ciara saw agent Garrison step forward, a phone in his hand. Bryce’s bodyguard and Steele’s big bodyguard leaned forward towards Steele.
“Get back!” she screamed. “It’s ricin. It’s a lethal poison! Don’t breathe it in!”
Garrison and the spectators around them jerked back. The bodyguards looked down at their gasping boss. Monique’s body spasmed. Ciara was pretty sure Monique was dying, but there was nothing Ciara could do to help until the white mist settled. She didn’t know how much ricin contaminated her, but there were white spots on her left arm and hand, and on her skirt as high as her hips. She didn’t know if she’d breathed any in when she screamed at Bryce or the Feds.
“Bryce, get back. I don’t want you exposed to this.”
He held on tighter. She’d have a bruise on her bicep. “If I lose you, I’d rather go too.” He sounded slightly winded.
Ciara gave him an exasperated look. “Bryce, you fool, I have no intention of dying. I have some major apologizing to do and then you and I made some promises we haven’t kept yet.”
He went completely still. “Apologies? Promises?”
“Yeah. Now move where it’s safe.”
“Yes, Counselor.” He rose and moved to stand with the U.S. Attorney. He took out his inhaler and used it.
Ciara stared at him for one long, hungry moment. He looked a little rumpled, but she didn’t see any white powder on him, thank God. Then she turned back to the victims. Monique lay still. Steele’s breathing had slowed. Each breath was a noisy struggle. Was this what Bryce had looked like when he’d received the letter bomb? It was hideous to watch. And then the sound stopped. Steele’s chest ceased moving. His huge bodyguard looked down in horror. The other man, Bryce’s bodyguard, lifted his head and slowly smiled at Ciara. With two fingers he gave her a mock solute, turned, and walked away.
The rival! Oh, God. The man worked for Steele’s rival. He’d been alone with Bryce last night, probably frustrated that he couldn’t kill Bryce without Steele knowing who did it. Earlier today he would have herded Bryce out to the sniper. Her breaths came fast like she’d been running.
Ciara looked at Steele again. God, that could have been Bryce! Had Ciara not acted as quickly as she had things might have been horribly different. Tears blurred her eyes. She turned to Bryce as to a lodestone. His lips pursed as he glanced at Steele and spoke to the U.S. Attorney.
Then he approached and hunkered down a few feet from her. “Don’t cry. You saved me.”
“I had to. I think I love you.”
His face worked. “Thank God, because I know I love you.”
Ciara felt her heart expand like the Grinch in the Dr. Seuss tale. “I don’t want to lose you, Bryce, ever. I want to spend the rest of my life telling you how much I want you.”
Pollack squatted down next to Bryce. “Nine-one-one responders will be here in a minute.” He looked at Steele. “Good work, Miss Alafita.”
Ciara began to cry in earnest. She’d killed two people. She hadn’t intended to, but they were dead all the same. She hissed at Bryce when he reached for her and he drew back.
“That man, your bodyguard, he worked for Steele’s rival. He would have killed you.”
“How do you know?” Pollack demanded.
“He smiled at me. He saluted me. Goal achieved.”
“Then you’re safe, Gannon. They’ve got no reason to come after you now. He’ll report to his boss that Steele’s dead.”
Bryce nodded. “Good, because I’m tired of crowds around me. I want my life back.”
Ciara blubbered, “I don’t want to be sick.”
“I’ll be there with you,” Bryce promised. “Every minute. From now on.”
“Bryce, I don’t want to spend the night in the hospital. I want to spend it with you.”