Chapter 12
Gabrielle took a sip of coffee and sighed, wondering how police station coffee could taste two days old at eight o’clock on a Monday morning.
Didn’t they ever make it fresh? “Here,” she said to Devlin, thumbing through the stack of police reports and slapping a pile down in front of him.
“These are some of the ones I was reading when I started feeling ill.”
She’d made sure to give him the file that held the police error. It would be better, she decided, if Devlin found it himself, and she had no doubt he would.
He sipped his own coffee, made a face, and started looking through them, while Gabrielle pretended to do the same with her own stack.
She flipped the pages now and again, but her mind was on other things.
Such as the previous day’s near disaster with Franco.
If she could only tell Devlin the truth . . . But how?
She looked over at him, and her heart swelled with love.
It was crazy that she could be so in love with him after such a short time.
And even more unbelievable that he had fallen for her too.
They’d only known each other a matter of weeks.
Though she had to admit he was gorgeous, and her attraction had begun with that, she hadn’t fallen for Devlin because of his looks.
The day Marcie Field came into his office, she’d realized she was in serious trouble.
Not because he’d helped Marcie, though that had surprised and touched her.
No, it was when he’d tried to give Marcie some money on the sly and she had thrown her arms around his neck and cried.
The expression on Devlin’s face had been priceless.
And Gabrielle had fallen in love with him.
If she told him of her past, what would he do, what would he think?
That she was a liar, certainly. God only knew what he’d think about the fact that she’d kept so much from him.
Pertinent information that he had a right to know as her partner on the case.
Would he think she’d withheld the truth to further her career at the expense of his?
And how could she deny her actions had been intended to save her career?
The thought of telling Devlin the whole sordid story about Franco and Vito was too much right now. She’d lose him. The first man she’d loved since that long-ago day when Franco told her that her father had bought off her fiancé for ten thousand dollars. No, it didn’t bear thinking of.
Devlin caught her staring at him and gave her one of his knee-weakening smiles before returning to the reports.
Those smiles of his were lethal, she thought, remembering the previous afternoon.
They’d gone to his place, an apartment in a beautiful Highland Park high-rise, so that he could change clothes.
The elevator ride had been memorable. They’d barely made it out of the elevator and into his apartment before making love again.
The man was definitely dangerous. She had no business thinking of lovemaking when disaster stalked her every move.
“If you don’t stop looking at me that way,” Devlin murmured, “we’re not going to get very far with these reports.”
She managed to toss him a saucy smile. “Hold that thought.” Looking him over, she added, “Until after work.”
“I’ll do my best,” he said, and winked. A few minutes later he spoke again. “I found something.”
“What?” Nerves had her knocking over her cup of coffee. Gabrielle swore as she and Devlin grabbed up papers, barely avoiding the river of brown liquid seeping across the table and dribbling onto the floor.
“Are you okay?” he asked, giving her a keen glance.
“Fine. Just clumsy,” she said, willing her hands to stop shaking. “What did you find?”
He gazed at her for a few seconds longer, then looked at the paper in his hand. “This one. Looks like a break in the chain of custody of the evidence.”
“Let me see,” she said, holding out her hand.
He gave it to her, and she ran her gaze over it, pretending to read.
She felt like slime, like gutter refuse, lying to him like she was.
But the alternative to lying was impossible.
She raised her eyes to meet his. “They never signed the evidence in at the evidence room of the station.”
“Nope.” His eyes gleamed bright with the rush of discovery.
Gabrielle recognized the look, knowing she’d worn it herself many times.
Devlin was gearing up to spring the trap on the DA’s case.
Leaning over her to point to the paragraph in question, he continued, “Everything’s tidy until the transportation officer left the seized evidence at the evidence room.
The officer in charge of the room never signed the form testifying to what time it passed into his hands. ”
“Which means . . . ” Her voice trailed off.
“This—” he waved the report “—means we can get Sabatino off. Request a hearing with the judge and the DA, ask the judge to allow the case to be dropped. The evidence in question is the prosecution’s primary case against him.
They don’t have jack to support the charges without that evidence. We may not even go to trial.”
Not go to trial. Get Franco off and not have to go to court over it.
Surely Franco would leave her alone then, once he was free of the charges against him.
He’d slink back to New York, if she was lucky, and she’d never have to see him again.
And she could forget about her past as if it had never happened.
Devlin would never have to know a thing.
If she told herself that enough times, maybe she could even begin to believe it.
* * *
Later that night Devlin tracked Gabrielle to her office, reminding him of another night he’d found her working after hours.
But tonight he wouldn’t go home alone and frustrated.
Not sexually frustrated anyway, though the nagging certainty that she was lying to him was wearing him down.
He knocked and shoved open her office door, expecting to find her buried in papers, but she was sitting with her chair turned toward the darkened window and apparently hadn’t heard him come in.
Brooding over missing that police error?
In her place, he’d be mad as hell at himself, but maybe Gabrielle had managed to blow it off as simply the effect of illness. Still, it had to rankle that an attorney with her reputation had missed something a second-year law student could have picked up.
And Devlin had found the weak link within ten minutes of looking at those reports.
Being lovers didn’t mean they weren’t still rivals at CG&S.
How was that going to affect their future relationship?
He knew they would have to deal with the issue, but since he didn’t have any answers he wasn’t particularly eager to pursue the topic right now.
“The hearing is set for day after tomorrow,” he said, and closed the door behind him.
At his words, she spun the chair around and looked at him. “Day after tomorrow? That’s quick.”
He shrugged and walked over to her, propping a hip on her desk. “Judge Gray had an opening. I’ve told Sabatino.”
“You saw him?”
“No,” he said, and laughed shortly. “Called him. I was afraid I’d punch his face in if I saw him in person.”
“Don’t do it,” she said, fear flashing in her eyes. “Promise me you won’t.”
Curious, he leaned over and traced his forefinger down her cheek. “Why does he frighten you so much, Gabrielle?”
She grabbed hold of his hand. “Devlin, he’s Mafia. That’s enough to frighten anyone. I don’t want you getting hurt.”
“As long as he leaves you alone, there’s nothing to worry about,” he said, squeezing her hand and releasing it.
“I can deal with him.” She angled her chin up.
“Yeah. So can I.” His hand curled into a fist as he thought about the satisfaction he’d get wiping some of those pretty Italian words out of Sabatino’s mouth.
“Devlin,” Gabrielle said sharply. “Promise me you won’t fight with him.”
Rather than lie, he ignored that. “You know—” he pushed himself away from the desk and paced across the floor with a restless energy “—this is the first time in a long time that I wouldn’t have minded losing a case.
If it meant Sabatino would have gotten what’s coming to him .
” Regretfully, he shook his head. “Now the feds have no way of getting him to talk. Not that he would have, anyway. Only a fool would face Donati after ratting on him. Whatever else he is, Sabatino is no fool.”
“There are lots of other known criminals that Sabatino’s had dealings with. Donati isn’t the only one the feds want him to talk about.”
“No, but he’s one of the big ones, even if he has toned his operation down in recent years. And from what I’ve heard, Sabatino’s the closest thing Donati has to a son.” Snatching at a memory, he frowned, but he couldn’t quite grab it. “There was some story?—”
“You’d never throw a case,” she said, interrupting him.
Surprised by the abrupt statement, he stopped pacing to stare at her. “No, I wouldn’t. But that’s not to say there haven’t been cases I wished I hadn’t won.” He thought of Celine, his mouth twisting in a bitter smile. “And cases I should never have taken in the first place.”
Gabrielle gazed at him for a moment, then leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs. “Who was she?”
“How do you know it was a woman?”
“An educated guess,” she said, smiling wryly. “Want to talk about it?”
Did he? He wasn’t sure. He stalked to the window, leaning an arm against the frame as he gazed out at the night.
“Her name was Celine. Charged with murder one in the death of her husband. It happened during my public defender days.” Silent for a moment, he let the memories seep back.
“God, I still can’t believe how dumb I was,” he muttered.
“I got her off scot-free. Not even a manslaughter charge. The DA screwed up his case against her or he’d have had her cold.
It was quite a coup for me, even considering the prosecution’s screwup. ”