Counsel (Counsel #1) (23 page)

I'm holding up a silver photo frame when she re-enters. "Sorry, I didn't mean to pry," I apologize immediately.

"It's fine," she assures me, and I exhale, relieved that I haven't crossed some arbitrary line.

"Those are my parents," she says quietly. I look down at the man with eyes darker than hers and the same shade of hair. The shape of her eyes and face, however, echo her mother's. She's the perfect combination of her parents.

"Do they live in New York or Florida?" I replace the frame to accept the cup she's offering.

"Mom lives in New York. My dad passed away when I was seven," she replies, her eyes clouding over.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you."

"It's fine; it was a long time ago."

"I lost my mother when I was around that age," I find myself confessing. I've never volunteered information about Eleanor before, not to
anyone
, but I want to ease her sadness and have her know that I understand her loss.

"Oh…but Cait mentioned that your mother loves the ballet?" I have the unreasonable urge to kiss the tiny furrow between her brows.

"She does. I'm adopted. Cait’s my adoptive sister, and Emma, our mother,
does
love the ballet." She smiles in understanding, and we lapse into silence as we drink our tea.

"I can arrange for Jodi to accompany you to arrange the protection order tomorrow. I'd like to do it myself, but I have some meetings," I say after a few moments.

"Adam, it's fine, you have your job to do; I understand that. I really appreciate you coming over this late. I was just so scared, that's why I rang Samuel. I didn't expect him to call anyone, but I'm glad he called you… I can't believe Dieter found me again. I suppose the publicity from the trial let him know my whereabouts."

"I regret any role I played in bringing you to his attention," I say earnestly, allowing myself a moment’s pleasure at her confession that she’s glad Samuel called
me
.

"It was
my
decisions that brought this down on me," she responds to my apology.

"But you shouldn't have been harassed, Angelique. We'll put a stop to him, and as a start, please let Jodi help. Her presence and knowledge will speed up the process."

"Okay, thank you. I can make it anytime before eleven, my shift at Starbucks starts at twelve."

My phone rings before I can answer. "Two detectives are outside right now, they'll be there until eight in the morning. I've also arranged for someone to fit more secure locks at seven-thirty. Daniels, one of the detectives, will bring the guy up," Jon says.

"Thanks. I owe you one."

"You owe me nothing, buddy. I'll speak to you soon," he says and hangs up.

I turn to Angelique. "That was Jon. Two detectives will remain outside overnight. Is there another entrance to the building?"

"Just the external fire escape, you can see it from the street."

"I'll point it out to the guys on my way out. Jon’s also arranged for a locksmith to arrive at seven-thirty to better secure your door. Get him to check the locks on the windows too. Detective Daniels will bring him up. Remember his name, Angelique, don't let anyone else in; and please,
always
check who's at the door before opening."

"I will," she promises.

There’s regrettably no reason for me to stay now that Jon’s guys have arrived, so I get up to leave.

"Do you think you could give me your number so I can call about the protection order?" I hesitantly ask. She asks for my phone and keys in her number. I thank her, and she smiles; the first genuine smile she’s given me. Warmth blooms in my chest.

"I’ll send you a message, so you'll have my number too. Please use it if you need anything,
anything
at all…day or night." I hold her gaze so she can see the sincerity in my offer.

"Thank you," she says, her eyes misting over. I could lose myself in those pools of honey.

"You’re welcome," I tell her, reluctantly shifting my gaze.

I turn when we reach the door. "I'll call at eight tomorrow morning if that's all right? I should have had a chance to speak to Jodi by then."

"That's fine," she says, smiling again.

"Try to get some sleep, Angelique. Nothing’s going to happen to you; we'll make sure of it.
I'll
make sure of it."

"Thank you for the flowers, Adam, they're beautiful," she finally says, extending her hand. I glance down at her fragile one wrapped in mine; it looks so right there. Raising my arm slowly, I place my lips to her knuckles, hoping all the while that she doesn’t pull away.

She doesn't, and when I raise my eyes, her face is softly flushed.

"Thank you for giving me a chance, Angelique," I say before tearing myself away.

I feel exhilarated on the drive home and almost immediately after entering the front door, send Angelique a short message wishing her good night. I go to bed shortly after and fall into a deep and restful sleep.

I wake with a feeling of hope, and it's barely seven when I enter my office. Immediately after hanging up my jacket, I send Jodi a text asking her to contact me the moment she arrives.

"A bit anxious this morning, Thorne?" she asks from my doorway some time later.

"You've spoken with Jon."

"What makes you think that?" she asks cheekily.

"The afterglow you're sporting?" I return, and she has the good grace to blush.

"Shut up, Adam, and yes, Jon filled me in on last night’s events. It made me so damned mad!"

"Me too," I reply, tamping down my renewed anger. "Angelique needs a protection order. I know we wouldn't normally get involved in such matters, but I want to help her. I’d go with her myself, but I can’t get out of my meetings; I was hoping you could?"

"Of course. When?"

"She needs to be at work at twelve, so how about ten?"

"Ten's fine. Give me her number; I'll call her."

"I promised I would," I say, trying not to sound too desperate.

"Okay." Jodi gives me a teasing smile. "Tell her to meet me outside the Moakley."

"She needs a 258E."

"Adam, stop fussing. I
do
know what I'm doing, you know."

"Sorry, I'm just anxious."

"I’d never have guessed," she says with another smile.

"I need to call Angelique," I tell her pointedly.

"I'm going, I'm going. Sheez!" She walks away laughing.

I take a deep breath and exhale slowly before reaching for my phone.

"Angelique, it's Adam." I sound remarkably calm, given the state of my thumping heart.

"Hi," she answers and then falls silent.

"How did you sleep?" I ask.

"Remarkably well, thanks to you… and Jon, of course. I'm very grateful, Adam." I want to tell her that I don't want her gratitude, that I'd prefer her affection, but I don’t.

"You're very welcome. Please remember, you can call me for anything."

She’s silent again, and I just know she's blushing.

"Jodi will meet you outside the John Moakley Courthouse at ten o'clock. Does that time suit you?"

"It’s fine. Thank you again, and please thank Jodi for me."

"No need for thanks, Angelique. Would you call me when you get home this evening? I'd like to know that you've gotten there safely."

"I… I will," she replies before whispering goodbye.

"Bye," I say, knowing I'll be counting the hours till I hear from her.

Tess and I have another day of preparations for the start of tomorrow’s trial. I've written and checked my opening statement and will have a run-through and make any last minute changes at home. It’s six-forty, and I haven't had an opportunity to speak to Jodi to find out how she fared with Angelique, but she did, thankfully, send me a text to say the protection order’s been granted.

"I’m about to head home unless there’s something else you need me to do," Tess says, popping her head into my office.

"We’ve covered everything, thanks. I'll see you in the morning."

"Okay then. Goodnight, Adam."

"’Bye, Tess," I call out distractedly, my mind already on the call I need to make. Mom greets me cheerfully and asks about my day. When I tell her, she says I work too hard.

"No harder than anyone else, including you and Dad. It's good you'll be giving up that job soon."

"Good segue, darling, ever the prosecutor."

"You know me too well." I laugh at her perceptiveness. "I called to let you know I've heard back from the realtor. He has three places he wants us to see, and I’d like you and Dad to be involved."

"That sound wonderful, Adam, just let me know when. How did you go with setting up the foundation?"

"It's all in hand. My accountant’s done the research, and it makes the most sense, in terms of tax regulations, to set it up as a private operating foundation. The paperwork’s ready for lodgment, I just need to finalize a name. I was hoping we could get together over the weekend."

"That would be great, sweetheart. We’re all very excited."

"I want to get Angelique involved as soon as possible too." There’s a long moment’s silence before Mom responds.

"What are you thinking?" she asks.

"It might be a good idea to introduce you, and then you and I could explain our plans. I'll leave you to make her the job offer."

"Do you think she'd agree to meet me?"

"I really don't know, Mom. I'm speaking to her tonight, and I'm thinking of raising the subject then, but I’m not sure."

"It's something you need to discuss face-to-face, Adam. It's easy for miscommunication over the phone."

"You're right. I'll think about it some more."

We talk for some time before Mom says she needs to go. It's nearly eight by the time I hang up, so I decide to call it a night. I haven't heard from Angelique, and I'm starting to worry that she's changed her mind about talking to me, or that she may have run into trouble with Quandt. I consider calling her, but I know I need to let her take the lead about any continued contact.

I shower when I get home and force myself to have something to eat before working on my opening address. I constantly check the time, though, growing more anxious by the minute. It’s after ten when my phone rings. I scramble to get to it, mentally castigating myself for behaving like an over-eager pubescent. I take a deep breath before answering

"Adam?" she whispers.

"Angelique, are you okay?" I try not to let my anxiety seep into my voice.

"I'm fine. I'm sorry for calling so late, but Amy… umm, you know her, Amy Sanders… she came home with me. I hoped she would have left by now…"

"It's fine," I say, relief flooding me. "I'm glad you have someone with you. Did you see Quandt today?"

"No, but that may be because I wasn't alone."

"Well, that's good then. Is Amy staying the night?"

"No, she'll go…when she's talked herself out," she giggles delightfully.

"I remember just how loquacious Ms.Sanders can be," I say with some amusement. I’m also enjoying her lightheartedness.

"Adam, I'm sorry, but she's waiting for me, and I should probably get back. I just wanted to let you know I got home safely, and mostly, I wanted to thank you for arranging for Jodi’s help today. She was wonderful."

"You're more than welcome, and please… remember you can call me at any time," I reply, pushing down my feeling of disappointment at having to end our conversation.

"Angelique?" I ask nervously. "Would you like to meet for coffee or even breakfast on Saturday morning?"

"That would be nice," she says after a short, agonizing pause.

"
Thank
you." I finally breathe. "I'll call you on Friday evening to confirm. Enjoy your night."

.

.

I woke this morning feeling excited, not only because the day heralds the end of a grueling week and, hopefully, the penultimate day of the Moretti, Barnes, and McGill trial, but also because it’s Friday. I get to speak to Angelique tonight, better still; I get to see her tomorrow. I've never had a woman affect me the way she does. The nervousness about how she views me, the anticipation of speaking to her… seeing her, the constant, aching hope that she'll return my feelings; they're all new and unsettling. I've always felt in control, but now it seems that this beautiful, and at present, emotionally fragile woman, has robbed me of that control. It's like being on a runaway rollercoaster; all I can do is hang on and hope I survive.

The voice of the court officer calling order rouses me from my thoughts, and soon after, defense is invited to make closing arguments.

Attorneys for Moretti, Barnes, and McGill take the floor in turn. They argue eloquently, but the only defense each presents is that their clients were doing the bidding of the Cordi brothers. None of them have, throughout the course of this trial, produced evidence, compelling witnesses or a sound legal premise on which to base their arguments; not through ineptitude, but simply because none exists to outweigh the irrefutable evidence and witness testimonies pointing to their clients’ guilt.

When the last attorney returns to his table, Judge Eagon asks if the Commonwealth is ready.

"We are, Your Honor," I say, getting to my feet. I thank the court, counsels and members of the jury for their time and attention before making my argument.

"The three men before you, Your Honor, Ladies, and Gentlemen, have been responsible for trafficking cocaine and heroin on our streets. They acted collectively and as individuals to blackmail, entrap fellow citizens and in one instance that we know of, they kidnapped and tortured a man.

"Together, they have destroyed an unknown number of lives; not only the lives of the witnesses we have heard testimonies from, but also countless numbers of unknown victims. You have seen the indisputable, documented evidence of their crimes. You have heard how Mr. Walsh, a man who strived for most of his life to build an honest living, was blackmailed and threatened with violence and then forced to pay extortionate sums of money to the defendants’ masters. His sorry tale is but one of many.

"Mr. Ealy testified how Fico Moretti threatened the safety of his family, and how he forcibly took him captive, injected him with cocaine until he became addicted. You heard how he was then forced to perpetrate crimes in exchange for his family's safety and to feed his drug habit.

"Witnesses told about seeing the defendants traffic drugs and systematically terrorize and victimize their community. The defendants destroyed not only the lives of their victims; they also destroyed the lives of their families and friends. Wives and children suffered the loss of husbands and fathers, parents lost children in what should have been the prime of their lives, and friends lost meaningful relationships; all because of the drugs the defendants sold on the streets of our city.

"We have no idea how many victims of their crimes there are, victims such as the witnesses whose testimonies we’ve listened to. We have no idea how many people have died as a result of the drugs they distributed. All we know is that many people
do
die as a result of illegal drugs and that the defendants made them readily available. Through their callous and often brutal acts, Fico Moretti, Nathaniel Barnes and John McGill have cost our community greatly. They should be held responsible for their crimes of drug trafficking, blackmail, extortion and kidnapping.

"Defense Counsels assert that their clients were doing the bidding of their masters, but that is not a valid defense. The defendants
knew
what they were doing was not only illegal but that it was immoral, downright evil. These men were not victims, they
chose
to work for the Cordi brothers, they
enjoyed
their work, and they are
guilty
.

"Victims have related their suffering, witnesses have testified to what they have seen and heard, and you have heard both sides argue their case; the decision now lies in your very capable hands, Ladies and Gentlemen. The defendants’ victims now look to you for justice, and the Commonwealth asks that you find Fico Moretti, Nathaniel Barnes, and John McGill guilty of all charges," I conclude.

Judge Eagon instructs the jury, and they depart for however long they’ll need to deliberate.

.

.

It’s Saturday morning, and I’m early because I don’t want her waiting on me. Primarily, though, it’s because I’m anxious to see her. I offered to pick her up, of course, but she insisted on meeting me. She obviously doesn’t view this as a date, but I’ve tamped down my disappointment with a reminder that I’m making progress and to take it one step at a time.

I called Angelique last night and suggested brunch instead of coffee and felt like I’d won the lottery when she readily agreed to both it and South End Buttery where I’d optimistically booked a table.

I sense her presence before I see her and turn eagerly. My heart skips a beat at the sight of her. She's wearing dark navy pants and a silky top in a matching shade. They're not jeans, I can tell, but whatever the hell they are, they showcase her body perfectly. I could watch this woman move forever and never tire of the sight; it's like watching something fluid and graceful in motion.

She smiles tentatively when catching sight of me, and I hurry to meet her. We stop within arms reach of each other. I'm dying to kiss her pouty mouth but settle for extending my hand instead. She clasps mine and, as I close my fingers around hers, I experience the same sensation I did when touching her before. She stares at our joined hands, and I wonder, once again, whether she feels it too.

"It's good to see you; you look lovely," I greet her.

"Hi…." She blushes when she looks up at me. I force myself to release her hand, but hungry to keep touching her, I cup her elbow to usher her inside.

"I've never been here before," she says, glancing around the restaurant. We're tucked away in a corner near the back, not exactly hidden, but secluded enough so we won’t immediately be spotted and gawked at by anyone who may recognize either of us.

"I don't come often, but it's one of my mother's favorite haunts. She loves their organic menu. Personally, though, I'm a sucker for their huevos rancheros."

She smiles widely. "You know, my dad was such a traditionalist and adored all things Irish, but that's the one foreign food, as he called it, that he allowed himself to admit is good."

"Then your dad was a man of good taste," I say, looking at her meaningfully and then delight in her blush. It's so easy, when in Angelique’s company, to forget that she worked as an escort. Despite what she's experienced, there's an air of freshness, almost innocence, about her. It angers me even more to think of the men who trampled over and tried to destroy that part of her.

The waiter arrives to take our orders. She decides on orange juice and eggs Benedict with grilled zucchini and tomato, and I choose a Virgin Mary and the huevos rancheros. We both decline tea or coffee until after we've eaten.