Chapter Thirty-Two
Lori
Cole and I dress in work attire for the trip home to New York City to allow us to go straight to the office when we land, him in a blue suit and me in a simple, travel-easy black dress. We’re settled into the leather seats of a private plane, both doctoring our coffee when I have this surreal moment of this being my life. I’m living my dream, sitting next to the man I love who is my husband, on my way to New York City, where we will go to work, and I love my job. I’m doing what I wanted to do. I’m doing what I always wanted to do and I’m doing it with this man.
I reach up and stroke his cleanly shaven jaw and he catches my hand, kissing it, giving me an inquiring look. “What are you thinking?”
“That daring to have a one night stand was a really good decision.”
His eyes warm and soften. “Yes. It was.”
He kisses me, his hand coming down on my face in that possessive, wonderful way of his, his tongue licking into my mouth, only to have his cellphone ring. Cole groans this deep, masculine tormented groan that is sexy as hell, partially because it’s his distress at the interruption. “It could be Alex. I better take it.” He grabs his phone and glances at the screen. “Reid.”
“Oh, good,” I say. “Hopefully he finally finished negotiating with the DA.”
He answers the call and I listen in with little success, but thankfully I don’t have to wait long. The call is fast and Cole’s relaxed demeanor tells me the news is good even before he says, “It’s done. Reid’s emailing me a final look at the contract, it won’t be long before we sign and release the settlement proceeds to the victims’ families.”
“What about a press conference?” I ask.
“Reid will set it up quickly once we ink, that way we get the press attention off of us right after we make the deal,” he says. “I’d rather let them burn themselves out next week during working hours.”
“I’ll forgot about the press after the press conference,” I say. “I’m sure we’ll have a good week of hell, but it will be worth it. You did a good thing for the victims’ families, Cole.”
“We did a good thing,” he amends. “Now we hold Royce to his word and make sure he takes down the DA which,” he adds, “we’re going to need to share with Alex before this plane takes off. I should have addressed it at dinner and I didn’t. He needs to know the path we’re traveling.”
It’s right about then that Alex walks onto the plane, and a few minutes later, we’re sitting at a lounge table in the back of the plane with the DA bombshell hanging in the air. Alex smiles. “If you didn’t have balls of steel,” he says, “I wouldn’t be on this plane.”
From there, the rest of the ride only gets better. Alex and Cole get along well and soon the three of us are talking about their old cases, Alex’s current case, and the future of the firm. Alex is friendly with a good sense of humor, but I get the sense that I see this because he trusts me by way of Cole. I don’t believe many see this side of him. He’s hard beneath this friendly encounter with an edge that feels gritty in a street boxer kind of way. He’s a fighter in every way, hard to the core, ready for war. That has me wondering if that’s not exactly why I have no doubt he is an opponent to be reckoned with.
Once we land in New York City, we head straight to the office where Cole, Alex, and Reese hang out behind closed doors. I, in turn, sit down at Ashley’s desk and look for clues I know I shouldn’t look for. She’s gone now. She’s safe. I have to accept that. I find only one thing that feels significant. A piece of paper where she’s scribbled over and over: Why? Why? Why? I pray she has those answers now, that she at least has that peace of mind, even if the answers aren’t good answers. Maybe the man she loved really did love her.
With the party Saturday night, and Alex here now, I call my mother and arrange breakfast for Saturday morning at her new place. I then call a temp service and line up interviews to replace Ashley for Monday. I deliver this news to Maria, who arches a brow. “What happened to Ashley?”
“The relocation wasn’t the right one for her,” I say cautiously. “Which I hate, but we’ll suffer through it.”
She doesn’t look convinced, but I don’t give her a chance to ask more questions. I grab all of Cole’s messages and head back to his office, where I weed through the ones I can handle, and pull out the ones I know he needs to deal with today. Next, I sit down at his conference table and go through the caseload his team is handling and look for the red flags he needs to address. Most of the staff is gone when Cole walks into the office. “Alex and Reese just left for dinner alone. They need to make sure they connect one-on-one.”
“How do you feel about it?” I ask as he sits down next to me.
“Like it’s magic. This is what we need. He’ll take Houston to the places I would have had I stayed, which means taking on the state of Texas and beyond.”
His office phone buzzes. “Cole.”
“Yes, Julia?” he says to the receptionist.
“There’s a woman here asking for Lori, but ah—I think you both need to come here—” She lowers her voice. “Now. Come now.”
Both of our eyes go wide and we’re on our feet in two flat seconds. We cross the office side by side. “Do you think it’s a reporter over the Roger thing? Or maybe a reporter that found out I met with the DA?”
“A reporter wouldn’t surprise me,” he agrees.
We reach the lobby and find Julia standing, waiting on us. “She’s in the conference room. She says she needs immediate representation and she’s got blood down her neck. I don’t think she knows. Do you want me to call the police?”
I look at Cole, a question in my eyes. “We’ll call the police,” he says. “Just not yet.” He looks at Julia. “We’ll handle it.” He eyes me. “Let’s go talk to her. We’ll call the police with her, regardless of whether we represent her or not.”
I nod and we round the reception desk and walk down a hallway to enter the conference room. The woman is facing the window but turns at our entry. She’s pretty, brunette, petite, mid-thirties—maybe forty—but her hair is a bit wild and her pink blouse is missing a button. Cole shuts the door. “I want to hire you, Lori,” she says, glancing at Cole and then me. “I need a woman. Only a woman can understand. I need client-attorney privilege.”
“We need to know the facts of the case,” Cole says, “and we need to know before we commit to represent you.”
She cuts her gaze and when she looks at us again, tears welling in her eyes. “I’m Jenna Reynolds. My husband is Mike Reynolds, as in the famous sportscaster. I killed him. He was hitting me again—again, he just—he hit me all the time and I didn’t mean to do it.” Her voice lifts on the final words. She sucks in air and exhales. “I grabbed for something to get him off me and I hit him. I don’t even know what it was. I just reached. His head—his head started—bleeding.” She yanks up her blouse and there’s massive bruising down her ribs, some yellow and some dark black, like she’s taken multiple beatings at random times. “There are plenty more. My back. My head, but you can’t see that. He hit me in places that no one would see.” She grabs the back of a chair. “I didn’t call the police. I saw Lori on TV. I saw her closing arguments. I need help. He’s powerful. He’s friends with the police commissioner. Please help.”
I step forward and press my hands to the chair across from her. “Why didn’t you leave him?”
“He threatened to ruin my mother, to bankrupt her, and I believed he would. She—she has investments and—he could have done worse, I believed that, too. She’s all I have.”
My gut knots. Like my mother was for me before Cole. Cole’s hand comes down on my arm. “Let’s go talk.”
I nod. “We’ll be right back.”
I turn and exit the room with Cole on my heels. The minute we’re in the hallway and the conference room door shuts, I face Cole. “I want this case. I know the police commissioner might be a problem, but Cole—”
“It’s your case, Lori,” he says. “It’s the one. It’s your case.”
“She needs you. I’m still too green. I know this. I’m objective.”
“Anyone who has you or me has us both, but she wants you. This is your case to lead.”
“You want me to lead?”
“Yes. I do, and she does, too.”
“Am I ready?”
He kisses my hand. “You were born ready, sweetheart.”
“I need you on this,” I say.
“I’ll second.”
“You can’t second. You own the firm.”
“I will happily second to you and not because you’re my wife, but because she does need a woman. As another female, you’ll give her credibility. If you believe in her, the jury can, too.”
“I want to take it, but can we handle the police?”
“Damn straight we can handle the police.”
He pulls me to him. “This is your dream, Lori. This is your time to shine. Let’s go back inside and rescue this woman. The way you rescued your mother.”
“The way you rescued me.”
“You just let me come along for the ride. You rescued you. I just fell in love.”
“You did so much more,” I say, “and I’ll detail that for you tonight, when we’re alone. You saved me.” I kiss him, this man who is always lifting me up, never pushing me down, or holding me back.
“As you did me, Lori. Let’s go save someone else.”
And together we enter the conference room again to do just that: save someone else, to save a life the way we saved each other.