Chapter 13
Wednesday morning inevitably dawned. Gabrielle felt like she was going to her own trial rather than her client’s hearing for dismissal of his case.
She hadn’t been able to resist being with Devlin the night before, but he’d left her place very early that morning to get ready for court.
Hopefully she could avoid him until they met in the courtroom.
Otherwise he’d be bound to wonder how she’d ever gotten a reputation as a competent attorney, let alone lived up to her nickname.
Jumpy, spacey, nervous as a cat on a live electric wire didn’t begin to describe her, and she had the gut-wrenching certainty she’d have another panic attack the moment she stepped inside the courthouse.
She stared at the long expanse of concrete steps stretching before her.
One foot in front of the other, she climbed slowly to the courthouse doors, each successive step becoming harder to take.
Her fingertips began to tingle. A tendril of tension crawled up her spine, a warning signal of more to come.
“Hi, beautiful,” she heard Devlin say from behind her.
The panicked feeling faded as she turned to smile and wait for him, remembering the first time he’d said that to her. Though he didn’t kiss her, his roguish smile and the expression in his eyes told her what he was thinking. She was thinking about it too.
“Seen Sabatino anywhere?” he asked, glancing around as he caught up to her. “He said he’d meet us here a little early.”
“Not a sign of him.” Thank God for small blessings. She didn’t want to be around Franco one more second than absolutely necessary. Checking her watch, she started up the stairs again. “We’ve still got half an hour, though.”
“Are you sure you want me to present the motion for dismissal?”
Surprised, she looked at him as he held the heavy door for her. “We agreed on that last night.”
“Yes, I know. But I—” He dragged her to one side of the hallway and said, “What’s going on with you? You didn’t even make a token protest to my presenting the motion. In fact, you insisted I do it. Is it because you missed the report? Is that what this is about?”
“Devlin, we hashed this out last night. It’s a minor point. What difference does it make who presents it?”
“Theoretically, none. But you and I both know that Sid’s watching this case with extra attention.”
Sid. The partnership. In the wake of everything else, she’d all but forgotten that aspect of the case. “Just do it, Devlin.”
He searched her face, seemed about to speak, then shrugged and continued down the hall.
Walking beside him, Gabrielle felt more like herself, more in control than she had in a long time.
Maybe because her crisis was finally going to end, one way or the other.
And she took heart from the fact that she’d beaten back the panic attack that had started outside the courthouse.
As they neared the courtroom she saw him.
Franco Sabatino stood motionless at the end of the hallway, watching them.
Dark, so dark. Black suit, black hair, black soul.
Waiting for her, her own particular hell on earth.
She looked into the dark eyes of his soul and knew she’d never be free of him.
Her heart started to pound. The tingling began again at the base of her neck, spreading tentacles from the top of her head all the way to her toes.
Furiously, she fought it back, but it advanced, insidious, persistent, nibbling at the edges of her mind.
She broke into a light sweat, and her heart slammed against her chest.
“Gabrielle, what’s—Oh, crap,” she heard Devlin say, as though from a long distance.
Mumbling an excuse, she bolted for the ladies’ room, thanking God it was just down the hall.
Devlin would know, of course, what had happened.
Now that he’d actually witnessed her having one attack, there was no way he wouldn’t recognize the warning signs of another.
Hiding in a stall, fumbling with her paper bag, the routine came back to her quickly because of the recent attacks.
Just as though she’d never had a break of several years.
Funny how quickly she’d become reaccustomed to them.
Closing her eyes, she bent her head and breathed into the bag.
Eventually, she dragged herself to the sink and splashed water on her face.
Taking a paper towel to wipe away the excess moisture, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and stared.
This was Gabrielle Rousseau, Queen of Sharks?
This pitiful excuse for a woman? With her haunted eyes, her shoulders slumped in defeat, her resigned, hopeless expression, she bore more resemblance to a minnow than to any self-respecting shark.
No, by God. I’m not going to let fear rule me. I won’t be Franco’s victim any longer.
When she emerged a few minutes later, Devlin was waiting for her. He took her arm, and his grip wasn’t gentle. “Are you all right?”
“Fine.” She met his gaze defiantly, daring him to argue.
He didn’t argue, but kept hold of her arm as he led her toward Franco. “We’ll talk about this later,” he said, and his tone brooked no argument.
“Ah, my esteemed attorneys,” Franco said when they reached him. “It seems I owe you my thanks.”
“Save it for later,” Devlin said. “Let’s go.” He held the courtroom door open, waiting for Gabrielle to pass through it.
Squaring her shoulders, she stepped inside the courtroom. Her nerve endings sizzled, this time with the familiar rush of excitement that facing a legal battle always brought with it. They took their seats, and she spoke to Devlin.
“I’ve changed my mind. I’d like to present the motion for dismissal.” It wasn’t fair of her to ask him, considering he had almost as much to gain from presenting the case as she did.
And considering that she knew if she asked, he wouldn’t deny her. Yet, unfair or not, she did ask him. If she didn’t face the fear now and conquer it, she would never believe in herself again.
He studied her for a long moment, then nodded. “It’s yours,” he said.
The case went like a dream. Gabrielle presented the motion for dismissal, with the police report entered as proof regarding a break in the chain of custody of the evidence.
The signature of the evidence room officer was clearly missing, and Gabrielle was able to cast considerable doubt that the prosecution’s primary evidence had been properly safeguarded.
The DA fought the motion, maintaining that since the evidence resided in the police station, the lack of signature was a mere technicality, but he knew as well as Gabrielle that that particular evidence was now worthless.
He was also unable to present any further evidence to prove the defendant’s guilt.
While clearly displeased to free a known Mafia gangster, the judge agreed with the defense’s logic. Half an hour after he entered the courtroom, the judge dismissed the case of the United States v. Franco Sabatino. Franco Sabatino was cleared of all charges.
“Congratulations,” Devlin said to Gabrielle as they gathered their papers. “You were impressive.”
Oddly enough, Gabrielle felt a quiver of pleasure at the victory. “Thanks.”
“My deepest appreciation,” Franco said, offering Devlin his hand. Devlin took it, though Gabrielle had the feeling he’d rather have punched him.
Franco turned to her. “And to you, mi bellisima avvocatessa, my eternal gratitude.” Before she could stop him, he’d carried her hand to his lips. “And devotion,” he murmured, turning her hand over and pressing a kiss into her palm.
Gabrielle jerked out of his grasp, glancing at Devlin for fear of his reaction.
His eyes had narrowed, and she saw his hands curl into fists.
She grabbed his arm and in its tautness felt his anger about to explode.
“Don’t. Come on, let’s get out of here.” She didn’t think Devlin would punch out his client in a court of law, but she couldn’t be positive.
After a tense moment, the three of them left the room.
No one said a word as they walked down the hallway.
Then a woman called out Devlin’s name. Gabrielle saw Marcie Field waving at him.
“Damn,” he muttered. “I’ve got to go see her a minute. Wait for me. I won’t be long.” He gave Franco a warning glare and stalked off.
“Convenient,” Franco said, watching him go. “I find him very much in the way.”
“You and I have nothing further to discuss,” Gabrielle said, confronting him. “I took your case, we got you off, and now you can go. And leave me the hell alone.”
“Ah, but Gabriela,” he said, his smile patronizing, “that’s where you’re wrong.”
“Let’s get this over with.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “What is it you want?”
“You, of course. Come back with me. Marry me and come home. Reconcile with your father.”
Her mouth dropped open as she stared. “You’re insane.”
“If insane means being in love?—”
“Love?” Thinking of Franco and love in the same sentence nauseated her.
“This isn’t about love…” Her voice trailed off as she thought over his words.
Reconcile with her father, he’d said. Of course.
Vito was the key. “What have you done? You’ve fallen out of his favor, haven’t you?
Has Vito finally figured out what you’re really like? ”
Franco’s expression darkened, and for a moment he lost the suave mask he wore. But only for a moment. “Come home with me, Gabriela. I want you. Vito wants you. You have no choice, not really.”
“Why is this so important to you? Tell me why you want me. The truth, not this drivel about love.”