Lust on the Rocks (13 page)

Which sucked.  He needed to be there and see for himself—were they or weren’t they interested in settlement?  And if either side made noises of coming together, he would step in to make sure it didn’t happen.

Vic strode down the empty corridor, resentment grating on him, but as he charged around the corner he stopped short.  There in the middle of the wood-paneled hall, Sam stood hugging their plaintiff, Mrs. Albright.  Anger fanned his temper.  Were they finished?  Did she accept terms for settlement?

He hoped to hell not and bolted toward the two women.

“Here’s my home number,” Sam said.  Face drawn, she flipped a business card over and pointed to the number scribbled on the back.  “If you need anything, anything at all, you call me.  Even if it’s simply to talk.”  She smiled, handed the card to her client and squeezed the woman’s hand.  “We all need an ear once in a while.”

A teary-eyed Mrs. Albright gazed up at her and appeared on the verge of crumbling.  “Thank you, Sam.  For everything,” she said, her voice breaking.

Fresh anger whipped through him. 
Goddammit
,
she settled!  Hope and fury rumbled together as he cast a glance toward the conference room.  Empty—as in business was finished. “Are we through in there?”

Both women looked at him.

“For now,” Sam said, a mix of irritation and question chafing her eyes.

With one hand Mrs. Albright dabbed a cloth handkerchief to her eyes, the other still securely enfolded in Sam’s.  Staid in her expensive gray dress suit, her blonde hair twisted into a neat bun, the woman could have been standing in a funeral home.  Sam mirrored as much in her black double-breasted jacket and trousers.

The sparkle from the band of diamonds on her ring finger caught his attention, reminding him why she was here.  Baker, Schofield was no funeral home, but the circumstances were close enough to the same.  Vic stepped back.

He’d wait until the client left before he probed further.

Turning her attention back to Mrs. Albright, Sam promised, “I’ll be in touch, okay?”  The older woman nodded, hesitant, as if unsure, unsteady.  “And take care of yourself.”

“I will.”

Sam gave Mrs. Albright another hug and with an arm around her shoulders, walked her to the front lobby.  She didn’t look at him, didn’t acknowledge his presence.

Only her client.

Vic waited until Sam returned, eager for an update.  But when she strode toward him, his sense of unease grew.

“Where were you?” she demanded.  “You missed the entire meeting.”

“Stevens sent me to the courthouse for trial motions.”

“Well, you didn’t miss much.”

The meeting
.  Disquiet mounted.  “You settled?”

“Why would you say that?”

“Well,” he started, but took a step back.  “Why would you hug a client?  It looked a little personal to me, like you were saying your goodbyes.”

“Ah...you mean the conversation you rudely interrupted.”

Vic felt a smack of chagrin.

“I hug someone who needs one and no, we didn’t accept their settlement.  It was paltry and insulting.”

Relief trickled in.  “But you would have considered it if it’d been substantial?”

“Maybe.”  Sam planted hands on her hips.  “Who knows?”

Alarm shot through him.  “So it’s a possibility?”

“I’m not saying we are, but it’s always a possibility.  If we negotiate it right we can meet the goal we set, save time and money in the process.”

“But these guys will walk!”

She shrugged.  “They’re walking anyway.”  She held a finger between them and said, “But they’ll pay, in more ways than one.”

Vic felt his control slipping.  She couldn’t do this to him.  Not now.  Not when he was so close.  “C’mon, Sam, that’s
bullshit
.  They don’t care about the money.  You let them walk and they win.  Again.”

She remained skeptical.

“What about California?”

“What about it?” she asked.  “Nothing we can do about those cases.”

“Have you looked into it?”

“Sealed, remember?”

“Cases can be unsealed, Sam.”

“Only if you have a good reason.  Otherwise, you’re wasting your energy.”

Vic’s temperature rose.
I do
.
A very good reason
.

“You have the power to make sure Perry doesn’t kill again.  You send Scaliano to jail, they’ll get the message.  Then and only then, will justice be served.”

Sam slid a thin black sleeve from her wrist and checked the time.  “I’ve got a client to think about, Vic.”

“You are,” he defended, glancing around for eavesdroppers as he hushed his raised voice.  “She wants justice, remember?  What better justice is there than hard time?”

“She wants it to be over,” Sam said, and rubbed her forehead, then dropped her hand, releasing a tired sigh.  “The woman is having a hard enough time dealing with life without her husband, let alone the prospect of court.  I don’t think she’s up to it.”

Witnesses disappeared.  Clients pulled out.  All too often cases were abandoned because the strain of trial was too much, too overwhelming.

Vic’s mind fell back through time to the clients he could not let go.  They had suffered the greatest loss a parent could endure; the loss of a child.  Had anyone really expected them to make it through trial?  Had anyone truly understood the pain and grief, the anguish they dealt with every day?  Not only during the trial but long after?

Despite himself, he empathized with Mrs. Albright.  More than he could admit, Vic understood the woman’s struggle.  And he couldn’t blame her.

But he couldn’t let go.  “Is that how you want to earn partner?” he asked.  “With a measly settlement?”

Sam stilled and the corridor became eerily quiet.  The collar around his neck grew uncomfortably warm. 
Damn it
, this wasn’t where he wanted to go, but he was losing traction.  He needed to convince Sam to
fight
, not settle!

 “A win is a win, Vic, and my partnership is about more than one case.  I’ve spent years working toward partner and my lifetime of achievements far outweigh this one case.”

 Vic could feel his grip slipping.  “But this one case should be the pinnacle of everything you’ve worked so hard to achieve, Sam.  Why not make it count?”

“It will count,” she fired back.  “Perry will be found liable and pay for their actions.”

“With money,” he spat.

“Yes, money.  And lots of it.  Hit a company where it hurts, Vic.  Corporate trial, 101.”

“And you think they care?”

“Hell, yes—if the price is right they will!”

“Bullshit.”  His patience snapped.  “They’ll turn around and jack up the price of membership.  It’ll be the members who pay, not Scaliano.”

Sam crossed her arms, her expression closed.  “That’s not my problem.  I don’t control the economics in the marketplace.”

“The guy is dirty, Sam.”  Vic reeled in his attack.  Keep to the objective, he warned himself.  Stay on course.

“They all are.”

“This one deserves jail time.”

“It’s not warranted.”

“It is.”  The walls started to close in.  “And it’s the only thing these bastards will pay attention to.”

“You can’t force the state attorney’s hand.”

“Then give him something to go on.  Turn over your evidence.  Let him know there’s a pattern of negligence and you want it to end.”

“Why would I do that?  Give me one good reason I should jeopardize an entire case for this Scaliano?  Convince me he’s ‘bad enough’ to risk losing the advantage I
do
have, because I don’t see it—at all.”

But Vic didn’t say a word.

Sam waited, but he couldn’t bring himself to connect the dots for her.  Not yet.  If she knew his connection to Scaliano, she would pull him from the case for sure.

And that was something he couldn’t risk, not when he was so close.

# # #

Maria’s eyes lit up as Sam returned to her office.  “I’ll let her know, Mr. Goldman.”

Goldman?  On the phone?

Sam was impressed.  It had only been a couple of days since she turned him down.  Hell, you’d think the man would have enough self-respect to at least
pretend
he wasn’t so eager to settle.

She smiled and nodded to Maria.  She’d take the call.

Waltzing into her office, she calculated the prospective negotiation.  How much was he willing to offer now?  How high had Scaliano authorized him to go?

She and Diego had run the numbers on Perry’s financials.  They knew exactly how much the company could afford before they felt the pinch.  Rather than answer, she eyed the blinking light on her phone, and sidled over to her window instead.

Let him squirm she thought, and gazed out over the bay and keys, the ocean of diamonds glittering beneath the hot summer sun.  Let him sweat a little.

That’s what her client’s had been doing.  Sam’s heart fell at the thought of Mrs. Albright.  She had been so strong, so stoic, until their last meeting when she confided in Sam her desire to quit.  She wanted it over.  She wanted to move on with her life and lay her husband’s memory to rest.

It was a goal Sam understood, respected.

With one deep inhalation of breath, she calmed her mind and turned to take her seat.  This case was about her client, and her client’s needs ruled.  Rolling her chair up to the mahogany desk, she plucked the phone from its cradle and answered with a crisp, “Harry, what a nice surprise.  I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon.”  Sam used his first name, because she wanted him to feel inferior, right from the start.  “What can I do for you, today?”

“Let’s talk price.”

“Okay.”

“Our offer stands—no public apology, no installation of equipment.”

“Surely you didn’t call to waste my time this afternoon.”

“Listen, Rawlings, I’m calling to make this easy on you.”

“On me?”  She thrust her gaze to the diplomas on her wall.  The awards, the recognitions.  She was no amateur, something he was about to discover.  “I think you have that one backward, Harry.”

“You’ve got a client who’s falling apart.”

Premonition bucked in her gut. 
How could he know that
?

“If I were you, Sam, I’d be a little nicer and start talking cash.”

How could Goldman possibly know Mrs. Albright was faltering?  Sam whipped her glance around the room.  Despite her misgivings, she had held herself together remarkably well during their conference last week.  There was no way he could have detected anything but calm, cool and collected.

Was he testing
? 
Trying to flush out information
?

“Quit shooting blanks, Harry.”  Sam steeled her voice and said, “I’m not in the mood to play games.”

“Who’s playing?”

“If there’s nothing else...”

“Don’t be so quick to dismiss my offer.  You should be working in your client’s best interest here.”

“I am,” she said, and hung up the phone.  Sam ground her jaw and pressed the intercom.  “Maria, get me Diego. 
Now
.”

Chapter Eleven

Sam opened her door and gaped in disbelief.  “What the hell are those?”

“What?” Vic asked, visibly taken aback.

“Your pants.”  She pointed to the olive drab cargos beneath his navy Polo, the customary white undershirt peeking out at his collar.  Then she noticed his hiking boots.  “You look like you’re about to begin an expedition.”

Vic smiled.  “City slicker.”  He pecked her cheek with a kiss and walked into the condo, bottle of Rombauer Chardonnay in hand.  “These are comfort and function rolled into one beautiful package.”

Sam emitted a low-bellied laugh as she closed the door.  It seemed for all they had in common, their clothes were compatibility-challenged.  Her attire for the evening was a pair of skinny jeans, silk tank lined down the front with petite buttons and some strappy gold heels.  Where Vic’s idea of casual said “let’s get working,” hers shouted “let’s go out and play.”

But the man did look good, despite his choice in clothing.  “Beautiful, I’ll give you.  The rest you can lose in the woods.”

“When you’re trotting that skinny ass of yours next to mine along the trail, I’ll be glad to.  Until then, get used to them.”

“Ugh.”

Vic looked around the living room.  “Where’s your sister tonight?”

Sam’s gaze shot to the ceiling and back.  “Down the hall.”  Same place she spent most of her time.

“She joining us for dinner?”

Sam noted the hesitance in his voice and cast her gaze out through the glass sliders.  Seeping into the horizon, the sky deepened from lavender to blue, mirroring the mood inside her home.  Despite her every effort, Jess still refused to talk.  Which didn’t make sense.  The two of them had always been close.  If she had a problem, Sam was usually the first to know.  “Doubt it.”  She was always welcome, but she’d been more sulker than socialite since she arrived.

Heading into the kitchen, Sam rounded the corner and Jess nearly ran into her.

“I’m leaving,” she blurted as she dodged around Sam.

Sam’s heart caught in surprise.  “Where to?”  Dressed in her usual jeans and faded T-shirt, the kid wore no makeup and her hair fell long and straight.

“A friend’s,” she clipped.

“You’re welcome to stay for dinner.”

With a sullen glance toward Vic, she replied, “No, thanks.  Three’s a crowd.”

“Jess,” Sam said at once, bothered by the tone her sister took with him.

Vic held up a hand.  “It’s okay.”

“I won’t be home any time soon,” she said to Sam.  “So don’t wait up.”

Sam’s held her breath.  There was so much she wanted to know, so much she wanted to say, but she promised she wouldn’t.  Jess asked for space so she was getting it.  She expelled a sigh.  “Fine.”  She was in no mood to argue.

Without another word, Jess left the two of them standing alone in an uncomfortable silence.

Sam turned and head for the refrigerator.  “Sorry about that.”  She didn’t need to offer Vic a seat.  He was becoming a regular.  “We’re having a few issues at the moment,” she said and grabbed a white-papered bundle of fresh dolphin.

“Don’t worry about it,” he said.  Setting the bottle of wine down on the counter, Vic slid onto a stool and pulled up to the bar counter.