Eva Watts [plaintiff] is hereby suing John T. Merrick [defendant] and the Chicago Police Department [defendant] in a civil suit for the amount of two million dollars for the wrongful death of DEA agent Franklin Watts.
Two million dollars.
Jesus Christ.
A second letter was a formal notification from the Chicago PD informing him of the suit. He was to call the legal department as soon as possible. It was strongly advised that he obtain legal representation. Get his cards in order. His life was about to be ruined a second time.
John tossed the letters onto the coffee table and brooded. He wanted to believe he didn’t give a shit. His life was already ruined; why sweat something small like two million dollars? He didn’t have it. Not even close. What were they going to do? Take it out in blood?
But the reality of what his life had become struck a hard blow. The lawyers for the department had warned him that this day would come. It wasn’t enough that his life was ruined. It didn’t fucking matter that he couldn’t sleep. That most days he was lucky just to get out of bed. Now they were going to financially ruin him, too.
Par for the course when you shoot a cop, a little voice reminded.
John didn’t have much left. He hadn’t drawn a paycheck in two months. Over the years he’d put aside a nest egg, a small 401K, a checking account that was dwindling at a rapid rate, the Mustang. He would probably lose it all. If he ever worked again, everything he owed would go toward paying for lawyers, the bereaved widow and her two fatherless children.
He thought about the kids and realized there was nothing on this earth that would give them back what he’d taken away. Franklin Watts would never see his children graduate from college. He would not be there to give away his daughter on her wedding day. He would never hold his first grandchild.
At that moment, like a thousand other moments before it, John would have given his own life to rectify what he’d done. But he couldn’t bring back Franklin Watts. He couldn’t change any of what had happened that night. He was going to have to deal with this. Find a way to get through it. Get on with his life.
Yeah. Right.
Scrubbing a hand over his jaw, he looked around the derelict apartment. Like the rest of his life, the place was a piece of shit. A pigsty. Already, he could feel the walls closing in. The memory of that night descending. The guilt squeezing like a giant snake wrapped around his throat.
For the first time in a long time he wanted to call someone. But for the life of him he couldn’t figure out who. He didn’t want to call Mitch. Didn’t want to talk to his former partner from Chicago. The only person who came to mind was Julia Wainwright. Pretty, sweet, gypsy-eyed Julia. As of late she seemed to be the only person left in the world he looked forward to seeing. She was the only ray of light in a life that had become black with despair. The only person capable of lifting him out of the deep, dark hole he’d fallen into.
He wanted to believe his feelings for her were only the result of his sex drive kicking back in after a two-month hiatus. He knew it would only make things worse if he came to rely on her for anything. That he was only fooling himself by thinking her feelings for him were anything but friendly sympathy.
He’d always been good at keeping things in perspective, particularly when it came to women. As far as John was concerned, a relationship with a woman meant sex on a regular basis. He’d never had a female friend. He’d sure as hell never gone off the deep end and gotten the two confused. Then along came Julia Wainwright with her pretty smile and kind heart and he’d started getting all kinds of crazy ideas. Like maybe this was the real deal.
He’d done the right thing earlier when he’d turned down her invitation. The last thing he wanted to do was hang out at the bookstore with a bunch of old codgers and eat hors d’oeuvres he couldn’t pronounce. He’d done the right thing by practically hanging up on her earlier. He didn’t want her gratitude. He sure as hell didn’t want her sympathy.
Goddamn it, he didn’t want to want her.
But he did.
He wanted to sleep with her. He wanted to act on the impulses running hot in his blood, even though he knew in the long run it would cost him something to walk away.
If he were a stronger man, he might have had the moral character to stick to his guns. Do them both a favor and stay the hell out of her life. Keep her out of the muck he couldn’t seem to climb out of himself.
But when it came to Julia, John was a long way from strong. Snagging his bomber jacket off the chair back, he left the apartment and set off for the French Quarter, hoping he found a bar before his discipline crumbled and he ended up at the Book Merchant.
Julia wasn’t going to let herself think about him.
If John didn’t want to be here, so be it. She wasn’t going to get caught up in something she had no control over. Damn it, she was going to have a good time if it killed her.
Except for her own misguided expectations, the impromptu get-together was a success. Everyone she’d invited had shown: her father; his assistant, Parker Bradley; Claudia’s beau, Rory Beauchamp. Even Jacob had stayed late to socialize and celebrate the end of what had been a tough week for everyone.
Absently, Julia listened to the conversation around her as she replenished the tray of chocolates.
“I told you John Merrick would come through,” Benjamin Wainwright was saying. “His daddy was a good man, and John certainly has the potential to follow the same path.”
Parker Bradley nodded vigorously. “His references were glowing. Well, except for the Chicago incident.”
Rory Beauchamp spread Brie on a cracker. “So what happened up in Chicago? He get fired, or what?”
Julia sipped her Chianti and tried not to look at the clock. It was nearly ten o’clock. John wasn’t going to show. Damn it, she wasn’t going to do this to herself . . .
“He was involved in a friendly fire incident a couple of months ago,” she said.
“Claudia told me he accidentally
shot
someone?” Rory shook his head.
Parker grimaced. “Terrible thing, the guy was a cop. Died at the scene.”
“Whoa. That’s heavy.”
Jacob shook his head. “I hate to put a damper on the praise for this guy, but in my opinion John Merrick has a drinking problem.”
“I know he has a drink now and again.” Benjamin Wainwright’s eyes sharpened on Jacob. “What makes you think it’s a problem?”
“Half the time he was here at the shop he was drunk,” Jacob said. “The other half he was accusing me of being the stalker.”
Julia had been hoping Jacob wouldn’t go down that road, but he’d never been one to keep his opinions to himself. The worst part about it was that John wasn’t here to defend himself.
“I think John is struggling with what happened in Chicago,” she said.
Parker leaned closer and lowered his voice. “While I was checking him out, I heard rumors of an impending lawsuit. The widow of the dead cop was considering filing a civil suit against him for negligence and endangerment. She had children, you know.”
“I had no idea,” Claudia said. “How terrible for everyone involved.”
Benjamin Wainwright grimaced. “Very difficult situation to say the least.”
“Hopefully, he wasn’t drinking when it happened,” Jacob put in.
Julia shot him a hard look. “I believe the drinking is a result of the tragedy, not the cause of it.”
He looked contrite for a moment, but he wasn’t deterred. “Look, Julia, I’m not saying he shot anyone on purpose. But some of the things I witnessed when he was here make me wonder about his competence.” He looked at Benjamin. “Frankly, I was surprised you hired him.”
Julia counted to ten. “I think that’s enough idle gossip for one evening,” she said. “And just in case any of you have forgotten, John is the one who apprehended the stalker.”
Benjamin Wainwright nodded at his daughter. “Well said, Julia.”
Parker nodded solemnly. “Maybe you should counsel him, Benjamin.”
The elder Wainwright nodded. “That’s a good idea. I’ll give him a call when we get back from Baton Rouge. He’s a good man. I’d hate to see him go down the wrong road.”
Julia didn’t think John would willingly let her father “counsel” him. But she agreed that it would be good for him to talk to someone about the shooting. If not her father, then someone else.
“So, Julia, have the police ascertained the reason why this guy targeted you?” Parker asked.
Her father grimaced. “We were wondering if it had anything to do with the ministry.”
Julia had been raised never to lie, so she wasn’t very good at it. At the moment she wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. “From what I understand this guy is a serial stalker. He had already served prison time for stalking a radio talk show host. I don’t believe it had anything to do with the ministry.”
“There are a lot of troubled souls in this town,” Benjamin said.
Parker nodded in agreement. “We’ve got our work cut out for us.”
“Indeed.”
“I’m just glad it’s over,” Julia said.
Claudia raised a stemmed glass. “I think this calls for a toast.”
Six glasses rose. Glass tinkled. “Here’s to the good guys,” Benjamin Wainwright said.
Julia was thinking about John when a pounding sounded on the front door. She knew it was unnecessary now that the stalker had been caught, but a chill passed through her nonetheless.
“Did you put the CLOSED sign in the window?” Jacob asked.
“I did,” Julia said.
“There’s always someone who chooses not to read it,” Claudia put in.
“Or doesn’t care,” Jacob added.
Setting her glass on the counter, Julia started toward the door, but Jacob stopped her. “You hang with your dad,” he said. “I’ll get rid of them.”
She smiled. “Be nice.”
He smiled back. “I’m always nice.”
She returned to where her father and Parker were in the midst of a conversation about the upcoming convention. “My keynote,” Benjamin was saying, “promises to be controversial, but if I’ve learned anything in the last sixty years it’s that change isn’t easy, even when it’s past due.”
Parker nodded. “I’m halfway through the speech and it’s really powerful.”
“I wrote a rough draft. But when I step up to that podium, I’m probably going to wing most of it.” He rapped his hand against his heart. “What I have to say comes directly from here.”
Out of the corner of her eye Julia watched Jacob cross to the front door. She was aware of him mumbling something beneath his breath. The rustle of the blinds as the door opened.
Claudia was speaking to her. Something about a new restaurant in the Quarter. But Julia’s attention was on the visitor at the door, because at some level she knew who it was.
“What are you doing here?” came Jacob’s voice.
She turned to see John push his way inside. “Where is she?”
His gaze clashed with hers. An unwanted thrill barreled through her when his eyes skimmed down the front of her. She could feel her heart thrumming against her ribs. Something primal inside her calling out to something even more primal inside him. But she was keenly aware of the other people in the room. The eyes on her. On him. The speculation this unexpected visit would bring.
“Oh. John. Hi.” Brilliant greeting.
He didn’t even acknowledge anyone else in the room. “I need to talk to you. It’s important.”
He ran the last two words together, and with a keen sense of disappointment Julia realized he’d been drinking. “Is everything all right?” she asked.
“Everyth’ns fine.” Blinking, he looked around the room as if realizing he’d walked in on something. “Mr. Wainwright.”
“John.” There was no censure in her father’s voice, but his eyes were watchful.
Shaking his head, Jacob stepped back, his questioning gaze going to Julia. “I can ask him to leave.”
Julia wasn’t sure why she felt compelled to keep John from making an ass of himself. Maybe because she cared. Because she knew he was a good man and that in spite of that fact he was going to make a bad impression on people whose opinion mattered to her.
Parker crossed to where John and Jacob stood just inside the door. “Maybe someone ought to drive him home,” he said.
“I don’t need anyone to drive me home.” John didn’t even spare the other man a glance. His eyes were on Julia. “I need to talk to Julia. Now. In private.”
She stared back, wondering if he could see the hard beat of her heart, because it was going wild inside her chest. He didn’t look very coplike standing there in his faded blue jeans, biker boots and black leather bomber jacket. He looked dangerous. For the life of her she couldn’t fathom why he’d come to see her.
“We can talk in the storage room,” she said.
“Maybe you ought to talk out here.” Parker tried to sound casual, but Julia didn’t miss the concern in his voice. “After all, you’ve got all this food.”
John said nothing. Didn’t even acknowledge the other man.
“Excuse us just a moment.” Wiping palms that had suddenly become clammy on her skirt, Julia turned and started toward the storage room.
Her knees were shaking when she walked in. She turned to see John enter. She started when he closed the door behind him. Her heart began to pound out of control when he locked it.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Making sure we don’t get interrupted.”
“Interrupt what?” She was sorry she asked the question the instant the words were out. She saw his intent in his eyes as he started toward her. An unnerving intensity radiated from him as he moved. Julia sensed danger; the instinct to flee barreled through her.
She didn’t even realize she was moving backward until her back came in contact with the shelf behind her. All she could think was that there was no place to run. That she wasn’t equipped to handle this man, this situation.