Chapter 2 #2
He stood up. “Speaking of time, we’d better get over to the jail. Your car or mine?” he asked, smiling. Having learned the power of his smile early on, Devlin wasn’t above using it to charm a woman out of her secrets . . . or whatever else got between them.
“Both,” Gabrielle said, grabbing her keys. “See you at the jail, Sinclair.”
He shook his head ruefully, watching her leave. She didn’t seem to have any use for his fabled charms.
* * *
Gabrielle drove to the jail on autopilot, thankful that the traffic was only mildly hideous.
She wished she had the luxury of falling apart, but she didn’t have time—not with that sharp-eyed piranha watching her every move.
She had better tread carefully around Devlin Sinclair.
Dammit, she felt like a bug trapped in a glass jar.
How much had she given away in Sid’s office with her unguarded reaction? Thank God, she hadn’t fainted.
Franco Sabatino. Her hands tightened on the steering wheel. Why did he have to show up now, when her career was taking off? Fourteen years without a sound from him and now . . .
Calm down and think, she told herself. Franco couldn’t have singled out CG&S by accident. He had to know it was the law firm she practiced with. Of course he did.
Forgetting caution as usual, she scraped the bottom of her Mazda Miata when she pulled into the parking lot across from the jail. That stupid dip at the lot’s entrance had cost her more money than she liked to think about.
She took the only spot available, next to Sinclair’s silver-gray Beamer.
He was leaning against the car door, hands in his pockets and legs crossed at the ankles, blond hair glinting in the sun.
No wonder they called him Devil. Only a fallen angel could look so mouthwateringly good in hundred-degree heat.
A tingle of pure lust shot through her veins.
Idiot, she thought. This guy was her hottest competition.
Oh, he was hot, all right. Irritated at the stab of unwelcome attraction, she slid out of her car and scowled at him.
“You’re doing it again,” he said, taking her arm and walking beside her.
“Doing what?” Did he think she was going to fall down in the parking lot? She tried to remember the last time a man had treated her so courteously. If his manners hadn’t seemed so natural to him, she would have been more suspicious of his motives.
“Glaring at me,” he answered. “You’re about to give me a complex.”
“I doubt that,” she said, but she felt a twinge of guilt. Didn’t the man have any faults? He was supposed to be a piranha in the courtroom. Who would’ve thought he’d be so damned polite?
Smart. Sexy. Good-looking. His hand rested lightly, even respectfully, underneath her arm. Why was her skin tingling? What was it about this guy?
Well, for starters he was gorgeous. She glanced up at him and, seeing his smile, wished she hadn’t.
Talk about a dangerous attraction. He was the last person she needed stirring her up.
Even if he weren’t her prime rival, she wasn’t his type.
Leggy Miller beer models were more likely his taste.
Probably had one waiting for him now—wearing a slinky black teddy.
Did he have to be so damn sexy?
Forget that, Gabrielle. Your career is hanging by a thread. Pay attention to saving your butt instead of indulging your suddenly overactive libido.
* * *
Seated at the scarred rectangular table of the police station conference room, Gabrielle studied Sabatino’s file.
Beside her, Devlin studied Gabrielle. A woman of contradictions, or at the least, many adverse layers.
He hadn’t quite pegged her yet, and he was good at that.
Contradictions, he knew, usually had reasons behind them.
Her odd behavior at the office would bear further examination.
The door opened to admit Sabatino, striding in with a sublime disregard for his jailer. Devlin rose and thanked the police escort before turning to Sabatino. “I’m Devlin Sinclair and this is Gabrielle Rousseau. We’re your attorneys from Christian, Gilmer and Simmons.”
Sabatino ignored him, staring at Gabrielle instead. “Bellisima,” he said in flawless Italian. His mouth curved into a slow smile, not quite a leer. “Rousseau,” he added musingly, his eyebrows lifting. “Tell me, signorina, have we met before?”
“Not that I remember,” she said, her eyes flashing a warning Devlin could read as well as Sabatino. “And I have an excellent memory.”
She made it sound like a threat. Intrigued, Devlin watched both of them. Though pale again, Gabrielle didn’t look as bad as she had in Norris’s office.
Shrugging her statement aside, Sabatino spoke to Devlin. “About time you got your asses over here.” He took one of the rickety chairs and pulled it out to sit. “I’ve been in this stinking hole twelve hours already. When the hell are you getting me out?”
Some things never change, Devlin thought.
Exactly the attitude he’d expected. “If we get you out,” he said calmly.
If Sabatino thought to intimidate him, he could think again.
“The judge might not be inclined to grant you bail. Even if he does, it’s going to be high, given the charges against you.
Racketeering isn’t a penny-ante crime, not on the scale you’re into. ”
“Your job is to get my butt out, not to lecture me, pretty boy.”
Devlin quelled an urge to wipe the sneer off Sabatino’s mouth with his fist. “Call it what you want. Those are the facts.”
“What about you, cara?” he said, turning to Gabrielle. “Are you going to lecture me?”
“I’m your lawyer, Sabatino,” Gabrielle said flatly. “You can call me Ms. Rousseau or Gabrielle, but that’s as close as we get. You’ll be out in forty-eight hours, with a little luck.”
“I thought CG&S was supposed to be good.” His eyes narrowed, darkened. “That’s too long. I want out today.”
“Good is one thing. Miracles are another.” Devlin added a rider to pacify him a bit. “But we’ll try to expedite your bail hearing. Have you considered cooperating with the FBI?”
Sabatino made a crude gesture expressing his opinion of that idea. “Omertà,” he said simply.
“A code of silence won’t get your butt out of a sling, Sabatino,” Devlin said. “You should think about it.”
“It won’t get me killed, either. Besides, I’m innocent. The cops set me up. Entrapment.”
“You want to plead not guilty?” Gabrielle asked, her tone implying she didn’t believe his innocence for a minute.
“Sì, signorina. And you will defend me?” he asked with a suave smile.
“We haven’t decided yet which one of us will present your case,” Gabrielle snapped.
What was going on between these two? Devlin wondered. Sabatino was obviously jerking her chain, but still . . . A little too much tension for them to be the strangers they portrayed themselves to be.