Dare to Love Again (The Heart of San Francisco Book #2): A Novel (27 page)

“Have it your way,” he mumbled, her panicked objections trailing him as he stormed down the hall. Jaw grinding, he honed in on a brass plate with Logan McClare’s name, and with a meaty fist, he pounded twice on the cherrywood door before flinging it wide.

“What the—” Pen in hand, McClare peered over wire-rim reading glasses with obvious displeasure while Miss Peabody’s protests echoed behind.

Nick slammed the door in her face, his scowl going head-to-head with McClare’s. Striding forward, he plucked an envelope from his jacket and slung it on Logan’s desk.

“What the devil is this about?” Logan said, ignoring the envelope.

“Blood money, McClare, every filthy cent.” Hands on his hips, Nick loomed over the desk like a thunderhead. “You need to know I have feelings for Alli and I plan to act on them.”

A flicker of surprise registered in Logan’s eyes before he eased
back in his leather chair, gray eyes hardening into slits of pewter. He slowly twirled the pen in his hands, the view of the bay outside his six-story window far more serene than the tension that crackled in the room. “I’m afraid you can’t do that, Mr. Barone—we have a contract.”

“So, sue me, counselor. But either way, I have designs on your niece.”

Logan chucked his pen. “Or her money,” he said, tone casual.

Nick jerked forward, palms flat on the edge of the desk. “So, help me, if you weren’t Allison’s uncle, I’d lay you out right here and now. As it is, I’ll thank you to shut your mouth—she’s too special of a woman for you to imply my interest is motivated by money.”

“Yes, she is,” Logan said with a fold of his arms, gaze shrewd as he eased back into his chair. “Which is why I will do everything in my power to protect her from the wrong men in her life. I let her down with Roger Luepke—you can bet it won’t happen again. Which means, Barone . . .” He picked up the envelope and riffled through the stack of bills inside before tossing it back on the desk with a cold smile. “Not only am I going to pursue legal action, I plan to rattle any skeletons in your closet if I have to look under every rock to do it.”

A nerve pulsed in Nick’s jaw as he stared, the acid in his stomach churning along with his guilt. Never in a million years had he intended to fall in love with Allison McClare, but against his will, he was well on his way. It had taken Alli herself defying convention with a kiss, but the moment her lips had touched his, she branded his very soul, unleashing a desire buried so deep, it jolted when he realized just how much he cared. A man of his word, he’d gently held her at bay, body so tight with desire, he feared he’d give in and break the promise he’d made.

“Let me talk to your uncle first,” he’d said in a strangled voice,
“to tell him that our agreement is off.” He’d swallowed hard then, barely able to believe the words about to part from his lips. “I want more than friendship,” he’d whispered, feathering her mouth with his thumb, “and he needs to know that.”

Tears had welled in those almond-shaped eyes, and when she’d lunged to kiss him again, it’d taken every ounce of willpower he owned not to give in and devour her on the spot.

The same iron will steeled him now as he stared at McClare, wondering just how deep the supervisor would dig into secrets Nick couldn’t afford to share. Was he bluffing or was Nick jeopardizing the revenge he’d worked so hard to ensure? The plan for vengeance he’d promised both his uncle and himself.
And retribution
for my parents as well.
Sweat licked the back of his collar as thoughts darted through his mind. Was his trail cold enough that McClare wouldn’t catch the scent? Or would something trip him up, destroying his chances with Alli as surely as he planned to destroy those who had ruined his life?

As if sensing Nick’s hesitation, Logan picked up the envelope and pitched it across his desk, landing it on the edge where it teetered along with Nick’s temper. “I’ll triple that if you cut your losses now, Barone, and stay out of her life.”

“I told you, it’s not about the money,” he hissed, teeth clenched as tight as his fists.

“Sure it is, Nick.” Logan’s smile was as steely as the gun strapped beneath Nick’s arm. “You’re a penniless plainclothes cop who mysteriously shows up a year ago with no history, no background, and no friends. Nothing but a friend of a friend in New York who begs Harm to give you a job.” His smile eased into a sneer. “Not exactly marriage material for a niece I’d protect with my life.” Elbows cocked on the arms of his chair, he rested his head on the back, two fingers tented against his mouth. “I’m telling
you again, Nick—take the money and run or I’ll expose you and shatter you in front of my niece.”

His heart thundered in his chest while he considered the risk, well aware a man of Logan’s means could do that and more, sabotaging everything Nick had worked for over the last five years. His eyes strayed to a picture of the McClares on a credenza over Logan’s left shoulder, and Allison’s beautiful face captured his gaze. He thought of the last two and half months he’d known her—the best of his life—and knew she was worth fighting for. Knew he couldn’t let another high-society kingpin win once again. He thought of Ming Chao, and bitterness tainted his tongue.
Especially Logan
McClare.

Straightened to his full height, he squared his shoulders. “Well then, I’ll just take my chances,
sir
,” he said with the same disdain he saw in McClare’s face, praying he’d hidden his tracks well enough to keep him away from the truth.
Until I can pull the trigger. . . .

Logan shot up, palms knuckled white on his desk like Nick had done earlier. “You’re going to regret this, Barone,” he said. A nerve pulsed in his jaw. “I’m going to take you down.”

Nick’s lip curled in a hard smile that matched the steel glint in McClare’s eyes. “Sorry to break it to you, Supervisor, but money lords like yourself have already taken me down, and I doubt I can go any lower.” Shoving a chair out of his way, he strode to the door.

“Barone!”

He glanced over his shoulder, hand on the knob.

“Before I’m through, you’ll be so low, flames’ll be licking the soles of your fancy shoes.”

“Yeah?” Nick arched a brow. “And you’ll be right beside me, counselor, demon director of greed, corruption, and bribes.” And without so much as a look back, he slammed the door hard, already feeling the heat on his way down the hall.

21

D
ash
it
all
,
can
this
day
get
any
worse
?
Logan leaned back in his chair with eyes closed, kneading his temples with the pads of his fingers, hours of prep yet to go tonight on the worst case he’d taken to trial in years. He hadn’t needed this—Barone barging in, threatening to woo Allison and her bank account—not on top of losing a big case to Andrew Turner last week.
And
not seeing Cait in almost a week due to a horrendous workload. He exhaled a heavy breath. “Confound it—the only way this day could get any worse—”

Knock, knock.

“Excuse me, Mr. McClare.” Miss Peabody stuck her head in the door, an apology in her tone, “but the district attorney is here to see you, sir.”

Yep, that would be it.
Logan groaned, face pinched in a scowl. “What’s he want—to gloat over the Delmonico case?”

She offered a sympathetic smile. “I don’t know, sir, but he did say it was personal.”

He huffed out a noisy sigh. “Tell him I have five minutes to spare and no more.”

“Yes, sir.”

She left and Logan studied a report until the door opened again after a knock, admitting the bane of Logan’s existence. “What do you want, Turner—gloating rights?”

Andrew Turner entered and closed the door behind him, his all-American smile—the one that earned him favors from women and juries—grating on Logan’s nerves. “Appreciate your time,” he said, ignoring Logan’s jab in that fluid, easy manner that had won him many a friend in school, including Logan, with whom he’d been inseparable. The two of them had been a formidable team in the fraternity—two handsome and wealthy heartbreakers, able to turn the head of any girl they wanted. Until the day came when they wanted the same one—beautiful Caitlyn Stewart, the woman who ruined Logan McClare for any other. And apparently Andrew as well, given his frequent visits to Cait’s house of late. He nodded to the cordovan chair in front of Logan’s desk. “May I?”

“Help yourself,” Logan muttered, “you usually do.” He tossed his pen on the desk and sat back in his chair, arms folded and smile flat. “So, what do you want, Andrew?”

Turner laughed, a sparkle in pale, blue eyes that tended to captivate the opposite sex, his wheat-colored hair stylishly slicked back as he rested palms on the arms of his chair. “That’s what I’ve always liked about you, Logan—a bottom-liner who goes straight to the punch, whether in the courtroom or in friendship.”

One edge of Logan’s lip curled in a cold smile. “As I recall, you were the so-called friend who inspired the ‘straight to the punch’ mentality.”

He laughed again, the sound not as self-assured as the man appeared to be. “Yes, well, I earned that punch fair and square, no doubt about that.” Smile sheepish, he stroked his jaw with the back of his hand. “And although I’ve apologized over and over, I’ll continue to do so till you finally believe me.” The smile sobered into an intensity Logan recognized from the courtroom, when Turner was trying to sway a jury with his sainted piety—the
righteous, churchgoing district attorney out for the good of man. His voice resonated with a sincerity that most people believed. Logan issued a silent grunt. Or at least those he hadn’t double-crossed. “I never meant to break you and Caitlyn up, Logan, I swear. Her best friend badgered until it just slipped out.”

Logan’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Sure it did, Turner, and I’ll just bet it broke your heart when she skittered back to tell Cait her fiancé was seeing another woman behind her back.”

Turner leapt to his feet. “It did, blast you! You were my best friend, Logan, and it tore me up to lose our friendship.”

“But not as much as it tore you up to lose Cait, did it, Andrew?” Logan sat up, knuckles white on the arms of his chair to keep from slamming them into Turner’s face. “Especially when Liam turned the tables on both of us and married the girl of our dreams.” A nerve flickered in Logan’s jaw as he snatched his pen from the desk, jerking his papers forward. “Sorry, old boy—I don’t believe you now any more than I did then, so save your double tongue for the juries.”

Turner expelled a weary breath, mouth compressed as he straightened to his full height. “I’d rather have done this as friends, Logan, but since that isn’t possible, I’ll come straight to the point.” His chin lifted a degree as he fiddled with his tie, tightening his Windsor knot before nervously adjusting his sleeves. “I intend to court Caitlyn and was hoping for your blessing.”

Logan stared, jaw distended before he laughed out loud. “You’re joking.”

A ruddy color bled up Turner’s neck. “I assure you I’m not. I have fond feelings for your sister-in-law, Logan, and I hope to pursue them.”

Logan launched to his feet. “Over my dead body,” he shouted. “Get out—now!”

“I was hoping we could be civil about this, McClare, amicable for Caitlyn’s sake.”

“You want civil?” Logan stormed around his desk, fists itching to take a swipe. “I’ll show you civil, you lying letch. Cait and I have an understanding, so keep your filthy hands off.”

Turner held two palms up and stepped back. “Look, McClare, I didn’t come here to fight, I came to clear the air and advise you of my intentions in an honorable manner. Cait and I have had many a discussion, and never once did she mention any ‘understanding’ with you.”

Logan all but singed him to the spot, his own four-in-hand tie and high-starched collar about to choke him to death. “That’s because she doesn’t know it yet, you clown, but she will soon. The woman was mine twenty-seven years ago and she’s mine today, and so help me, I will bloody you good if you even think of standing in my way.”

Anger glinted in Turner’s eyes, the amiable manner suddenly as cold as their friendship. “That’s Cait’s decision, not yours.” His smile was chilly. “Or are you afraid you’ll lose again?”

Logan lurched, jerking Turner up with two fists buried in his buttoned-down suit. “I’ll see you dead before I lose her again,” he breathed, inches from Turner’s mottled face.

Turner shoved him back, eyes glittering. “Is that a threat, counselor?”

“Consider it a warning.” Logan took a step forward, hands knotted. “Now get out.”

Smile hard, Turner moved to leave, head cocked and hand on the knob. “I’d rather consider it a challenge, if you don’t mind,” he said, his unruffled self-assurance getting on Logan’s nerves. He gave a tip of his hat as he opened the door. “And may the best man win.”

“Count on it,” Logan shouted before the door slammed in his
face. He returned to his desk to stare out the window, body shaky but his confidence rock-solid. He and Cait were getting closer all the time, he could feel it, their friendship deepening by the day. It was only a matter of time before their partnership in loving and nurturing her family would ripen into more. He gazed across the city in the direction of Nob Hill, never more sure of a win.

“And so help me,” he whispered, seeing Andrew Turner clearly in mind, “you will eat both your heart out and your words, prosecutor, when Cait returns to where she was meant to be all along.” Picking up a frame, he stared at the only woman he’d ever loved, beseeching God for the only thing he ever really wanted. Mrs. Caitlyn McClare.

Wearing my ring as well
as my name.

“Hold the elevator, please.”

Jamie stopped the elevator with a hand to the door before the operator could even flip the lever, grinning while Andrew Turner loped down the hall and slipped inside. “So that’s how you condition to give us a run for our money in the courtroom, sir, sprinting for elevators.”

Andrew laughed and extended his hand to shake Jamie’s while the attendant closed the doors. “That and duking it out with your boss, I’m afraid.” He grinned. “Something I imagine is common enough with Logan.”

It was Jamie’s turn to laugh as he buried his hands in his pockets, hip to the wall. “Oh, yes, sir, I guarantee every single one of us has gone a round or two with Mr. McClare, including Mr. Rupert and Byington.”

“Friend or foe, he’s a formidable opponent.” Andrew paused, his smile warm. “And exceptional teacher, apparently, given your
trial wins thus far, counselor. You seem to have his moves and mannerisms down in that courtroom, Jamie, which is a high compliment, indeed.” He slapped Jamie on the back just as the elevator jolted to a stop. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were a chip off the old block, son.”

Heat thundered up Jamie’s neck. “Thank you, sir—that’s the ultimate compliment, I assure you. I respect and admire Mr. McClare a great deal.”

“Lobby,” the attendant called, and the doors creaked opened, jolting Jamie at the sight of his mother and sister waiting for the elevator.

“Jammy, wait—can we take a tour of your office—please, please?”

The district attorney smiled as Jamie’s sister, Jess, bounded forward to give Jamie a hug, her black curls bouncing. “We have time, you know—our reservations aren’t till noon.”

“Is this your sister?” Andrew Turner offered a broad smile.

Jamie hooked an arm to Jess’s waist with a proud grin. “Yes, sir, this is my little sister, Jess, who, I’m ashamed to admit, is a chess prodigy who wallops me regularly.”

Mr. Turner offered his hand, and Jess shook it heartily, her bubbly personality and glowing face making her seem more thirteen than seventeen. “A pleasure to meet you, Miss MacKenna. Your brother has stolen many a case from me and my colleagues, I assure you, so it’s rather nice to hear someone can trounce him at home.”

Jess giggled and gave a short bob of her head. “Thank you, sir.”

“And this is my mother, Jean MacKenna, with whom, it’s safe to say, I argued many a case before I ever darkened a courtroom door. Mom, Jess—this is the district attorney, the honorable Andrew Turner.”

Extending his hand to Jamie’s mother, the D.A. paused as he stared. “Excuse me, Mrs. MacKenna, but have we met before?”

Jean MacKenna tilted her head, as if to study him with a squint of her eyes. “I don’t believe so,” she said openly. “This is the first time Jess and I have ever ventured to Jamie’s office before, as we seldom wander too far from home.” She reached for his hand to shake it with a warm smile. “But it’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”

“Likewise,” the district attorney said with a slow nod. “It’s hard to believe you’re Jamie’s mother, Mrs. MacKenna, as young and beautiful as you are.”

Jamie’s mother blushed. “Why thank you, Mr. Turner—what a lovely thing to say.”

He shifted his keen gaze to Jamie, a crimp buckling his brow. “You just graduated last year, Mr. MacKenna, so that would make you . . . ?”

“Twenty-six, sir,” Jamie said with a clear of his throat.

The D.A. laughed. “Well, that settles it, then. This woman is entirely too young-looking to have a son your age, so I’m afraid no one would believe it in a court of law.” He bowed. “An absolute pleasure making your acquaintance, ladies. Enjoy your lunch, and make sure Jamie picks up the bill.” He gave Jamie a wink. “He can afford it working for Logan, no doubt.”

“What a nice man,” Jamie’s mother said, gaze following Andrew Turner out the door.