15. CHAPTER ELEVEN
On Monday, I slog into my office, still sore from the pounding my pussy got on Friday night. I keep checking my phone for a message from Eoghan, but he never asked for my number.
I launched the City Sinners app, but it must be processing my profile because, even though Trista promised my phone would blow up with offers, I haven’t gotten a single hit.
Moments after I fire up my computer, Daniel’s assistant, Abigail, appears at the door to my office. “Mr. Vance wants to see you.”
I eye the coffee I haven’t even sipped and debate bringing it with me. I’m his sister after all. Sighing, I figure it’s not worth it. I push away from my desk and follow Abigail, wondering if she’s a size 2 or a size 0.
Tugging my skirt, feeling the waistband pinch my skin, I reach Daniel’s office and let my eyes wander inside. Through hard work, and no sex life, I worked up to deputy of this division. When Daniel was moved from Domestic Crimes to Organized Crime, I cringed, but also hoped since he knew me, knew how hard I worked, he’d groom me for his job.
Forcing me to give up the Cormac O’Rourke case knocked that down a peg.
“You wanted to see me?” I smile sweetly.
I’ve also kept our secret that we’re related.
“Close the door and have a seat.” His stoic voice worries me.
But I close the door and smoothly sit down. “What’s up?”
He narrows his eyes at me, they’re mud brown, while our mother has beautiful blue eyes and my father green ones. “I’m using an outside counsel on the Borgia money laundering case.”
Everything seizes inside me. “Outside counsel?”
“Statute closes in less than two months. Their lawyers are drowning us in motions. I found someone with in-depth knowledge of their operation. Someone who can write counter briefs to shoot them down, so we can start this damn trial.”
“Who?”
“A cornered pit bull.” He waggles his eyebrows at me. “You wanted to work on this case.”
“To prosecute it. Not sit on the sidelines anymore.”
His eyes flare at my boldness. “Do what I need you to do, and you’ll be rewarded.”
“Do… Do what?”
“You’re going to meet with my cornered pit. Let him read all our files and then bring them back.”
“Bring them back?”
“I don’t trust this guy. I don’t want him making copies, or taking too many notes.”
I shoot to my feet. “You’re making me a file babysitter?”
“You’re protecting classified information,” he bellows.
I resist an eyeroll at his twisting of the importance of our case files. Chain of custody and all that. Folding my arms, I say, “If you can’t trust him, why are you working with him?”
“That’s my business.”
What are you up to, dear brother?
Sitting, I say, “Let me get this straight. I’m lugging boxes of case files—”
“You look like you can use some exercise, Jillian.” His comment about my weight rattles through me, killing the confidence I muster every morning to leave my apartment, knowing I don’t look like a model.
His eyes soften, like he realizes he just insulted me. Maybe he thinks because he’s my brother it doesn’t hurt the same.
“Jillian, go through the files and find Borgia’s latest motions including the discovery for each.”
“How many times am I to meet with this lawyer?”
Daniel slips on his glasses. “As often as it takes.”
“You recall, I have other cases and court dates.”
“He’s a busy man, too. I trust you both to work it out. Pull all-nighters if you have to.”
I’d suggested in strategy meetings to just let the judge see right through Borgia’s ruse of litigious abuse. Write up a simple and elegant brief that counterpoints their mountainous ravings.
Daniel supported that. But didn’t give me the assignment. Instead, he hauled in this insider lawyer to usurp my chance at a promotion. Again!
“Here.” Daniel hands me a box.
I grab it. “A Chromebook?”
“He’s to use this. It’s not Wi-Fi enabled. It can’t be hacked.”
I hold it, a sinking feeling pulling me under. “Fine.”
“Watch this guy carefully. Don’t let him photograph or scan anything.”
Him.
Sad, how I already knew it was a man.
“When do I meet him?”
“Tomorrow. He’s expecting you.” Daniel scribbles something on a piece of paper. “Here’s his address.”
“A villa at the Charter Hotel?”
Daniel shrugs. “That’s the address he gave me.”
I slog away, and then turn back to ask the guy’s name, but Daniel is already on the phone signaling for me to close the door.