Chapter Two
CHAPTER TWO
WAS THERE ANYTHING better at the end of a long, taxing day than being engulfed in warm, fragrant water with candles flickering in the background and a generous glass of wine waiting to be consumed?
If so, Talia had yet to experience it.
Okay, fine, some might argue that coming home to a hunky man who would cook her dinner and give her orgasms all night would be better, especially if they shared the steamy bath first. But she wasn’t convinced those scenarios existed outside fiction and fantasy, so she’d stick with her original claim.
Nothing beat a relaxing bath and a glass of wine at the end of a long day.
Air drifted from her lungs in a satisfied sigh as her muscles unwound. She closed her eyes and settled against the warm porcelain tub, letting the day in court float away. She’d done her best for her client, a nineteen-year-old young woman on trial for stabbing a man, resulting in the loss of his spleen.
Her goal had been to make sure the jury knew the fucker deserved what he got and more. She hadn’t phrased it quite so bluntly, but they learned her client had acted in self-defense by the time she’d been done. She’d saved herself and stopped the asshole from sexually assaulting her. As far as Talia was concerned, her client deserved a medal, not a criminal record.
But, again, she’d schooled her emotions and argued the objective legalities of the case on her client’s behalf.
And she’d won. After only two hours of deliberation, all twelve jury members found her client acted in self-defense and would not spend another day in prison.
Talia became a criminal defense attorney for two reasons. The first was to represent people like her client today, those thrust into impossible situations who faced horrifying choices and did their best to survive. The second was to defend those she truly believed innocent from the horror of wrongful imprisonment.
And she was doing it.
One client at a time.
Suds clung to her arm as she reached for the wine glass perched upon her tub’s ledge. She didn’t bother to open her eyes as she brought the glass to her lips. The chilled, crisp white wine contrasted with the warmth from the bathwater.
Heaven.
“God, I needed this,” she whispered against the lip of the glass.
That was the entire reason her phone rang with her boss’ ringtone. She’d inadvertently breathed her contentment into the universe and now must pay.
She couldn’t ignore that ring.
Water dripped onto the screen as she swiped the call and hit the speaker button. Her phone sat on the side of the tub, next to the wine glass.
Her boss didn’t bother to wait for a greeting before she dove in.
“Sorry to call you this late, but you asked for this, Tal.”
The amused voice on the other end of the line had Talia sitting up straight. Water sloshed down her back, leaving a soapy film from the bubbles.
“The MC?” she asked as her heart thumped with purpose.
“The MC.”
Yes .
“Last chance to back out. Are you sure you want this account? Those boys bring a fair amount of business, and, like tonight, the hours aren’t usually predictable. It can be a lot to handle. Plus, the women’s shelter opens tomorrow, and the club covers all legal fees for the women they serve. All that business will become yours as well. Your workload is about to go through the roof.”
A grin stretched across her face. Hard work didn’t scare her. She relished in it. Some might call her lack of life outside her job unhealthy, but she liked it that way.
She needed it that way. Focusing on work from the moment her eyes opened until she passed out at night kept her mind off other things. Painful things. Even relaxing in her enormous garden tub, she’d been about to run through cases in her mind.
“I want it. I can handle it, Margo.”
What was it someone had told her once? Idle hands do the devil’s work. In her case, an idle mind was far more dangerous than idle hands.
Her boss chuckled. “I have no doubt, Tal. I’m more concerned with your work-life balance. Sometimes, you get so wrapped up in your work that you forget there’s an entire world outside the courtroom.”
Was there?
She snorted.
“I appreciate the concern, Margo, but my life is balanced just how I like it.”
“Mm-hmm.” The agreement was heavy with doubt. “That’s exactly what I’m worried about.”
Talia stood as she rolled her eyes. Water cascaded off her body and into the tub. “I gotta hang up so I can get to the station. But you don’t need to worry about me, Margo. I’m fine.”
“Says every person who’s a hot mess.”
“Goodbye, Margo. See you tomorrow.”
“Bye, Tal. Oh! Before I forget, drinks tomorrow after work at Blu.”
“You’re on.” Margo might be her boss, but she was also her friend. They’d known each other since Talia’s first day of law school when frazzled, she’d appeared in the wrong class. In her final year, Margo had pointed her in the right direction. They’d been close friends ever since. When Margo called her two years ago to let her know she was opening a law firm in sunny Florida with all female partners, she hadn’t needed much seducing to leave her male-dominated firm in Rhode Island. Unfortunately, she’d signed a contract binding her to her old firm until six months ago. Now settled in Florida and working with Margo’s firm, she was happier than she could remember being.
Smiling, Talia hung up, then set the phone back on the ledge. She shivered as she climbed out of the tub and dripped water across the bathroom on the way to the shower. After a quick rinse to remove the suds, she was ready to choose her battle outfit.
It had to be something that commanded respect but let her feel good in her skin. It amazed her that even in this day and age, women in professional roles were judged harshly for their clothing choices. Talia was youngish. She had a good rack and an ass she’d hated when younger but learned to appreciate in her adult years. She enjoyed looking good and refused to hide beneath boxy pants and suits. That said, she wasn’t planning to walk into the station in a crop top and booty shorts either.
After a few minutes of hemming and hawing, she chose a leather pencil skirt and her favorite white sleeveless blouse. The ensemble was classic and professional but still feminine. Three-inch red heels capped off the outfit. Once dressed, she slicked her long hair back into a low ponytail and applied the barest makeup. Then, she grabbed her bag and left her house with quick, sure steps.
She used the twenty-minute drive to the police station to get back into work mode. Not that she ever left it far behind, but interactions at this particular police station always left her frustrated and a bit ragey, so she needed the time to prepare herself. A handful of dinosaurs worked there—the kind who pretended to talk under their breath when they made their sexist comments and went out of their way to make her job harder.
She loved facing those men in court. Nothing beat the looks on their faces when they realized the ‘girl working a man’s job’ had wiped the floor with them.
Her heart sped up as she whipped her Mercedes into a free spot between two official department vehicles. After killing the engine, she checked her lipstick in the rearview mirror. “Give ‘em hell, girl,” she whispered to herself.
They were the exact words her grandfather had told her every time she saw him. God, she missed that man. The only man she’d ever fully trusted.
With a swift exhale, Talia hooked her bag over her shoulder and exited the car. Bright lights gleamed from the police station, which was still bustling with activity at eleven p.m. As she approached, a baby-faced officer in uniform who had probably graduated from the police academy last week held the door for her.
“Thank you,” she said as she breezed into the building.
“You’re welcome, ma’am.”
Ah, the politeness of the South, combined with the politeness of low-ranking officers, never failed to make her grin.
“Good evening,” she said to the man behind the reception desk. He, too, wore a uniform but was much closer to retirement than the police academy. A pin on the left side of his uniform announced his last name as Blasetto.
He glanced away from his computer and the game of solitaire he had completed. When his eyes landed on her, he smiled. “What can I do for you, pretty lady?”
Inside, she cringed but somehow managed to keep it from her face. “I’m Max Vargas’ attorney.”
Instantly, the temperature of the conversation plummeted. The officer’s grin flipped to a frown, and his eyes hardened. “You?”
“That’s right,” she said with an overly sugared tone. “Me. I believe he’s in a holding cell. Can I please be taken to him? Now.”
Officer Blasetto shifted his attention back to his computer. He opened a program and clicked a few keys before reading what popped up on the screen. Was he planning to answer her or ignore her like a child?
With each passing second, Talia tapped her foot with greater force. “Officer Blasetto, I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and assume you didn’t hear me. I need to be taken to my client. You know, Miranda rights and all that.”
Not a question, and no ‘please’ this time.
He answered her with a low whistle. “You sure you want this?”
Talia gave him the same indulgent smile she’d give her niece or nephew if she had one. “Yes, I am sure. You see, that’s how the justice system works. Clients ask for a lawyer, and I show up.”
“Well, this one’s accused of beating the shit out of a hooker. Figure you ultra-feminist types might have a problem with that.”
Talia opened her mouth to blast the Neanderthal for, one, announcing Max Vargas’ legal business to the lobby and, two, daring to make judgments about her. Before any words could leave her mouth, a man in a crinkled suit stuck his head around a corner. “You Vargas’ lawyer?”
“I am.”
“Follow me.”
She smiled and flipped Blasetto off, earning a host of snickers from others in the lobby. Then, as requested, she followed the man.
There wasn’t any point in making friends in this police station. She had fantastic working relationships with some departments. They respected each other, and while the end goals of their jobs occasionally collided, they could have a civil and even friendly rapport. Since the men in this particular county office couldn’t see past the fact she had a vagina, she’d never be given a chance to prove her worth and ability to play nice, so she didn’t bother. How the few women who worked here tolerated the day-to-day misogyny was something she’d never understand.
“It’s Detective McGee, isn’t it?” she asked as she hurried to catch up with the fast-walking man.
He slowed until they were walking side by side down a long hallway. “It is, yes. I apologize, but I can’t remember your name.”
“No worries.” At least he seemed to have a modicum of respect. “Talia Davenport. May I ask what the charges are against Max Vargas?”
He hesitated just long enough to have her spine tingling.
“A prostitute was found beaten in downtown Tampa. It was nasty. He messed her up, but she was conscious at the scene. She called him out by name and perfectly described Max Vargas.” The detective shrugged but didn’t meet her eyes as he spoke, causing Talia to narrow hers. “Open and shut.”
“Hmm.” She pursed her lips. Something about this entire situation tickled her suspicious side. “We’ll see.”
They stopped outside a closed door. “He’s in here. My partner, Detective Wallace, is with him.”
“Not questioning him without his attorney present, of course?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Of course not.”
Detective McGee opened the door, and Talia strode into the room only to come up short at seeing a devastating man cuffed and on his feet, scowling at a slender woman in a suit.
McGee swore and jumped into action so fast Talia’s head spun. He grabbed his weapon and trained it on Vargas in under a second. “Sit the fuck down!” he shouted at a man she assumed was Max Vargas.
Rapid footsteps pounded behind her, and then a third officer shoved past her into the room, weapon drawn. “You heard the detective,” the new arrival, a woman with a short helmet of hair, yelled. “Sit your ass back down.”
Wild, furious, and yet gorgeous crystal blue eyes met Talia’s. They weren’t often seen in combination with his dark hair and olive skin, as though he had Hispanic blood. Talia nodded to him once. Hopefully, he understood she was on his side, but threatening whoever he was trying to murder with his eyes wouldn’t do him any favors.
After a second, he lowered himself to the metal chair bolted to the floor.
The woman he’d been snarling at stood. She had to be at least six feet tall and thin as a bean pole, with her light hair pulled back in a severe bun, making her slim face appear almost gaunt. “I’ll take that as my cue to leave.”
Talia frowned. Who the hell was she? And what was she doing harassing Vargas when he’d requested an attorney?
Time to get some answers.
“Well,” she said with a grin. “Seems I’m late to the party. Detectives, put away your weapons. I want a few moments alone with my client.” She didn’t bother saying please. They weren’t about to start this game with the detectives thinking she was soft or sweet.
Max’s distrustful eyes stared at her beneath a full head of dark hair that could have used a trim a few weeks ago. Dark stubble covered his strong jaw as though he hadn’t bothered to shave in a few days. He had sculpted arms littered with tattoos and wore a faded Led Zeppelin concert T-shirt. Had she met him anywhere else, she might have swooned, but his looks had nothing to do with why she was there.
Though they did holster their weapons, neither detective left the room, probably to goad her or get a sense of her technique. To see how she’d react if they pushed a bit. That was fine. She had no problem asserting herself or being a bitch if the situation called for it.
Talia cleared her throat as she set her bag on the metal table that separated her and Vargas from the detectives.
She stared straight at Detective Wallace. “I wasn’t asking. Clear out. I need five minutes.”
Wallace’s eyebrow arched, but she stood, and Talia swore she saw a glimmer of respect in the female detective’s gaze.
“Keep your ass in that seat, Vargas,” Wallace said as she motioned for her partner to leave Talia alone with her client.
“Turn the cameras off,” Talia called before they shut the door.
As soon as they exited the room, she glanced at the camera in the upper right corner. Once the recording light disappeared, she turned her gaze to Vargas.
“What the fuck is going on?”