Objection Overruled (20 page)

Jackie stared blankly at him. “I have no idea.” She reached up to the sides of her head and ran her fingers back through her hair, the roots wet with perspiration. “Can you check by name?”

“Sure.”

“Brandon Marshfield,” she said.

“Not here,” the man said without checking. “He left yesterday. I logged him out. Watched him cast off. Trust me lady. Everyone knows
La Paloma.
She’s a beauty. And, she’s not here.” He turned to leave.

Jackie grabbed the man’s forearm, determined to get her answer. “When exactly did he leave and where was he going?”

He shook off Jackie’s grip and took one step back from her. “He left last night around ten. As to where he was going, who knows. He’s not required to file a route with the harbormaster, but you can check there if you’d like. Sometimes people will pick up charts and stuff before shoving off. The harbormaster is in that building over there with the windows and the antennae on the top.”

“Thanks,” said Jackie, already trotting toward the harbormaster’s building. Clutching her briefcase and moving as fast as her pumps would take her, she started to cross the street.

The white sedan came out of nowhere and cut in front of her, blocking the street. The passenger window glided down. The driver leaned across the seat.

“Get in. Now.”

Brandon!

Given that she’d been stalking him for the last hour, getting in the car with him was a reasonable choice. However, her hand hovered on the door handle.

Her legs locked up. Her feet burned into the pavement. The realization that she’d just resigned from the biggest case in her life to avoid a conflict with him, and he’d apparently resigned too, hit her in the gut. Her blood heated, but not in a passionate way. Anger shot through her. “What the hell is going on?”

“Get in. Now.” Brandon’s voice rose.

She saw him grip the shifter and slam it forward, causing the car to lurch. “Jackie, get in.”

A visceral grip seized her around the throat, and she took a step back from the car. This was exactly the type of power trip Gary had played on her. She’d sworn never to let a man push her around again. Hands on her hips, she said, “Don’t tell me what to do.”

Another car rolled up behind Brandon’s parked vehicle. After about five seconds, the driver laid on the horn in typical Baltimorean competitive-driver mode. Brandon’s lips moved, but nothing was audible over the sound of the horn, which must have gotten permanently stuck.

Jackie threw her arms up in the air, took a step toward the car, and pulled open the car door. She wanted some answers. The thought of the fee she’d just stepped away from made her stomach burn.

She tossed her briefcase and purse on the floor of the car and slid into the passenger seat. After shooting an obscene gesture out the window to the impatient follower, she rolled up the window and smoothed her hair back.

“Well?” she asked. She determinedly fixed her gaze straight ahead despite Brandon’s magnetic pull.

“I’ll explain everything, or at least what I can explain. We need to disappear first.” His voice was calm, but his gaze darted nervously around.

Something was wrong. Seriously wrong.

Chapter Eighteen

Jackie lost track of their location after a series of turns and backtracks. Eventually, she recognized they were heading south toward Annapolis on the Ritchie Highway. The blacktop disappeared into a canopy of trees, lush from the spring rains and still fed by the summer’s humidity.

The artificial scent of freshly molded plastic and new carpet tickled Jackie’s nose. No personal items cluttered any of the cubbies or cup holders. It must be a rental. What millionaire drove a Buick?

What kind of car did Brandon drive? The fact that she knew so very few details about this man, yet she was sacrificing her career, or at least this case, to possibly be with him struck her as insane.

Utterly insane.

She crossed her legs.

Stark-raving mad insane.

She uncrossed her legs.

Certifiably, institutionalization insane.

She choked back the overwhelming fear that she was becoming her mother. This would have been the ideal time for one of those crazy, emotional rants her mother perfected to an art form. Jackie bit her tongue and willed herself to remain calm. She squeezed her hands together tightly and then let go and toyed with the various knobs within her reach. Door locks. Windows. Air vents.

Brandon reached over to her and guided her fidgeting hand off the air vent and onto his thigh. She pulled her hand away, but not before she felt his hard muscles under the soft, worn, khaki shorts. Hidden under her skirt, Jackie’s inner thighs tightened, and the now familiar throb echoed there. She willed her body not to react to him.

She looked out her side window. The impossible range of emotions running through her blurred like the green scenery outside the car. She was grateful for his safety, yet pissed beyond imagination that he’d gone rogue on her by resigning, and even angrier with herself for expecting that he’d communicate something so important to her before taking action. Had she let herself depend upon him? Rely on him? Hadn’t she learned all those years ago that she was the only person she could trust? Look where letting her guard down got her. She loathed herself for believing in him, in them.

She looked toward Brandon and studied his profile. His scruffy beard showed a day or two of stubble. A faded, pale blue T-shirt clung to his chest and arms. The edges around the neck and sleeves frayed and the shoulders were worn paper-thin. An electric current coursed from her heart down to her pussy.
Goddammit.
Why did he have to be so naturally gorgeous?

He’d discussed resigning from the case. Why? Could he, like she, have concluded that he wasn’t willing to pay the cost of being at odds with each other? How had he found her too? Again, why? Because he cared?

Her chest tightened. Jackie forced herself to breathe deeply. She’d gone for decades without an emotional meltdown—not since the last time her dad walked out when she was thirteen. She sure as hell wasn’t going to have one now. She wasn’t turning nutso like her mom.

No.

Brandon folded his hand over hers. “Are you okay?” He shot a quick look her way before returning his concentration on the road, but kept his hand on hers.

She fought against the sense of security and comfort his touch always gave her. “Of course,” she bit out, ignoring the increasingly tight sensation in her chest.

He moved her hand to his leg and traced circles on the palm of her hand with his thumb. “We have a lot to talk to about.”

The tightness in her chest progressed up to her throat. Her body said
go
, her heart warned her to
wait
, and her mind screamed
run like hell the other way.
“That’s an understatement,” she grumbled.

He laced his fingers with hers and squeezed her hand. Moisture formed between their hands. Was he stressed out too?

He said, “I don’t blame you if you’re completely pissed off at me. I’ve been incommunicado for several days, and then I show up out of nowhere and practically kidnap you.”

The tension exploded in her. “Let’s not forget the fact that you decided to resign from the case without letting me know.” She tried to pull her hand from his, but he tightened his grip.

“How do you—”

“How do I know? I just resigned from the case and found out accidentally. After.” This time when she jerked her hand out of his grip, it slid out. One or both of them was sweating bullets.

He put a death grip on the steering wheel.

“What do you mean you resigned from the case? That’s not the plan.”

Staring straight ahead, she crossed her arms over her chest. She spat out, “Well, sorry for messing up
your
plan.”

“My plan? None of this has been my plan.”

She kept her eyes glued to the road ahead. “Really? Then why don’t you start explaining?”

Except for the hum of the car’s wheels on the blacktop, silence filled the car.
Wait him out
.
He’ll start talking eventually. Every witness does.

“First, I’m sorry for leaving the case without telling you. There wasn’t time.”

“You being sorry isn’t going to bring back the fee I just walked away from in that case. Or my reputation.”

“I know,” he said in barely more than a whisper. “I know that matters more than anything to you.” He reached over and brushed the backs of his knuckles down her cheek.

The touch of his hand on her face softened the raging beast within her more easily than she liked. Before she could stop herself, she whispered back, “Not more than anything.”

He rested his hand on her thigh. He didn’t quiz her or push her. He simply let her be herself, like he did every time they were together. No one had ever been like that with her.

Whether she played the part of the responsible daughter or the killer lawyer, she always kept part of her hidden away. It was easier for her that way, and for others around her. The fact that she was a killer lawyer and a passionate yet vulnerable woman didn’t ruffle Brandon. She clasped his hand resting on her leg and leaned over to give him a soft kiss on his neck. His unique scent of wood and salt filled her head.

“I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean to be such a bitch.”

“No need to be sorry. I deserved it. I promise to explain, but I want to be able to look into your eyes when I tell you. For now…” He moved their hands over to his lap and steered her hand closer to the inside of his leg.

She wasn’t sure whether to thank him for lightening the moment or be pissed that he’d turned her angst into a sex grab.

He gave her hand a small squeeze. “I’m kidding, you know. Just trying to make you smile. I love your smile. That was the first thing I noticed about you that night we met. You don’t smile like a horse with too many exceptionally white teeth.”

“Wow. That’s probably the best compliment I’ve ever received from a man. Besides, unless you’re gay, no man notices a woman’s smile first. What was it? Legs, tits, or ass?”

He brought her hand up to his mouth for a soft kiss before laying it back down on his thigh. “Can I start over?”

“Please. I’m dying to hear how you might recover.”

“Everything about you is beautiful. And, true, I am not gay, so yes, I noticed all of the above.” He grinned and gave her a sideways glance. That warm yet impish smile melted her just like that first time she saw him on the dock.

“Go on.”

“There was something about that first night together. You were different from other women I’ve dated. You bubbled.”

“That was the gin.” She slid her hand a little farther up his thigh.

“It was not, and you know it.” He moved her hand to his knee. “I saw it again during the deposition. You were intense, but when we got going, tell me it wasn’t the same give and go we had on the dance floor? And, when we were going over the documents in your office and you practically took me out over the last cannoli? That’s passion. That’s joy.”

“I suppose. I never thought of it as joy. I do what I do because it’s just…” She shrugged. “It’s just the right thing, I guess. I don’t feel much joy now.”

He raised his eyebrows at her.

“It’s not because of you.”

He raised his eyebrows even higher.

“Well, yes, it is because of you. But I’m happy to see you. It’s just that nothing is working out how I planned it.” She pulled her hand away from his and pressed her fingers into her temples.

He softly stroked the back of her head. “Are you okay?”

She choked back the emotion. With her eyes closed tight, she pulled it all together. “I’m fine. Really.”

“I know you’re fine. But we all have those moments where we just need to release. God knows I’ve had mine in recent days.”

“You?”

“Oh yeah. Cried like a baby.”

“Over what?”

He pressed his lips together. “Over having to say good-bye.”

Who would he be saying good-bye to? Her? Was he breaking up with her? Breaking up? From what? It wasn’t like they were dating. Or were they?

Brandon took her hand again. “You know my parents are dead, right? And with all of that research you had on me, you’ve probably figured out that my college girlfriend is dead too. I needed to say good-bye to them. I never realized that I hadn’t.”

Jackie’s heart tapped as fast as a snare drum’s roll. Her breathing grew shallow and rapid. She looked at him and ran her fingertips along his jaw, then to his mouth. He kissed each of her fingers with soft lips, tender sucks, and an occasional flick of his tongue.

For the next fifteen minutes, they rode in silence, holding hands, innocently caressing each other like teenagers on a first date. The innocence built a fire in Jackie with each touch of his skin against hers.

Jackie twisted in her seat to get a better view of Brandon. Both of his hands were now on the steering wheel, indifferently cradled at the bottom. Despite the casual position of his hands, his forearms were contracted with long roped muscles. His biceps stretched the sleeve of his T-shirt.

“What?” He glanced at her.

“Taking a good look at one’s abductor is the first rule in self-defense.”

“What are you taking in? The color of my shirt? What kind of shorts I’m wearing?” He licked his lips and smiled without taking his gaze off the road ahead.

“Maybe.” She turned farther in her seat, her skirt tight against her thighs, and pulled her left leg underneath her.

“I thought you were supposed to memorize physical features. I do have other clothes in the backseat I might change into.”

“Who said I wasn’t taking in physical features?” Her gaze caressed the hard line of his jaw. An attached, unpierced, earlobe peeked out from underneath his shaggy mop of sun-kissed hair. The mirrored aviators kept his eyes hidden, but tiny lines at the corners crinkled. The long nose with a small bump near the top flared at the end as he took in deep breaths. Dark pink lips parted slightly. Stubble densely covered his jaw and chin and wrapped around his mouth. She guessed it was beyond the scratchy-sandpaper stage but not brush-bristle soft yet.

An ache surged between her legs at the thought of his rough beard scraping against her tender skin. She reached over and ran her fingers through his hair to cup the back of his head just above the nape. “You’re right. I need a better view. More comprehensive, you might say.”