The Defender

Caffeine overload was exactly her intention on this short trip from her office in the adjacent building. Considering sleep had eluded her most of the night, the double-shot latte might do the trick. Being the freak of nature she was, five hours of slumber each night was all she needed. Mostly. Last night she’d been woefully short. Apparently, being the victim of a crazed sniper wasn’t conducive to restful sleep.

Don’t think about it. She pushed through the revolving door of Erin’s Gourmet Coffee, where the frigid air—a lovely relief from the unseasonably vicious heat—and the aroma of fresh coffee welcomed her. Add Erin’s acclaimed hot scones and Penny went into sensory overload. Come to me, baby.

She stepped to the back of the four-deep line and glanced around. Not an open table to be had. Just as well. She’d told the receptionist she’d only be a few minutes. No time to dawdle. And since when did she like to dawdle? If this was what a lack of sleep did, she wanted no part of it. Building a great law career meant no breaks when she should be studying case files.

Her cell phone rang and she slipped it from her jacket pocket. Blocked number. This should be good. Being a defense attorney, blocked numbers always proved somewhat entertaining. Could be a paranoid client. Could be a potential client. Could be a whole host of things that would turn her ho-hum day into one heck of a humdinger.

She hit the button before the call went to voice mail, then stuck a finger in her ear to silence the echoing conversations of the packed shop. “Penny Hennings,” she said in her tough-as-nails lawyer voice.

“Ah, the lovely Penny Hennings. I’m surprised you took my call.”

“Well, you shouldn’t be, since your number is blocked and I don’t know who this is. If you didn’t expect me to pick up, why call?”

“This is Colin Heath.”

Penny shoved the phone away and stared at it. Had the thing shifted to animal form? Never before had she received a call from a man one of her clients was about to testify against.

Suddenly, her father’s voice boomed in her head, advising her to forget her nerves. To approach her subject in that cool, collected way she’d practiced for years and then, when the moment presented itself, to slowly lure her prey in and strike.

Even if her prey was a murderous madman.

She put the phone back to her ear. “According to you, this is Colin Heath, but theoretically you could be anyone.”

“Defense lawyers. Always so suspicious.”

Comes with the territory, buddy.

The woman behind her made an effort of clearing her throat. The line had moved, but Penny hadn’t. She turned to the woman. “Sorry.”

Needing to concentrate, she stepped out of line and walked to an empty corner near the pastry case. “What can I do for you, Mr. Heath?”

“Oh, my love, call me Colin. After all, I let you live yesterday.”

A slow burn curled inside her. “What do you mean, you let me live?”

“I’ve been watching Elizabeth Brooks. She’s talking to you. Advise her to forget my name. Her husband stole from me and he knew the risks that posed.”

Movement at the door drew her gaze and a dark-haired—and stone-faced—Russ Voight strode in. What the heck? He scanned the crowded shop, spotted her and beelined to her.

She threw her hand up before he spoke and pointed at the phone. “Mr. Heath, why are you calling me? If you’re looking for an attorney, obviously I can’t help you.”

Russ gawked. At any other time, she’d have laughed that the sexy FBI agent’s chiseled features had suddenly gone soft and horrified, but right now she was too freaked to consider it funny.

“Oh, but you can help,” Heath said. “Tell Elizabeth to keep that lovely mouth of hers shut and I will continue to let you live.”

What? Penny stood tall. “That’s the second time you’ve said that. Explain.”

“On the courthouse steps. That was my shooter, Ms. Hennings. He’s quite good. In all that chaos, he managed not to hit you or your dear father. Your options are these. You either stop working with Elizabeth Brooks or get her to keep quiet. If you do that, she and that boy of hers will stay alive. I’d hate to see him grow up without at least one parent.”

The slow burning inside Penny erupted to a full-blown volcano. Needing something to do—other than hunt down Colin Heath and strangle him—she latched on to Russ’s suit sleeve and twisted. Just a vicious grip that made her knuckles pop. To Russ’s credit, he took the assault on his person in stride.

This crazed lunatic thought he’d use her to threaten a client. Not. Ever.

Russ swiveled two fingers between her eyes and his. Focus, he mouthed.

She threw her shoulders back, breathed in and let calm, fierce lawyer Penny take hold. As lawyer Penny, no one could beat her. She pictured Colin Heath in the witness box, waiting for her to decimate him—to shred him.

Go.

“Clearly you’re aware that you’re threatening me. I could have you arrested. And it would be the least of your crimes.”

What? Russ mouthed.

Penny held her finger up. I got this, fella.

“But you won’t,” Heath said. “If you did, I’d have you killed. Even from prison I can make it happen. I could do it right now. Or when you leave the coffee shop.”

He knew where she was. Searing heat shot to her cheeks. Fear? Maybe. Because there was something incredibly weakening about a murderer stalking her.

Shifting sideways to peer around Russ, she studied each table. In the corner, two men sat in deep conversation. Couldn’t be Heath. The next two tables had been pushed together by a group of moms out for morning coffee with their toddlers. A young guy, maybe twenty, sat at one table, reading a magazine. Too young.

“What?” Russ finally said.

She put her hand over the receiver and got right next to his ear. “He knows I’m in here.”

“Don’t worry,” Heath said. “I’m not in the store with you. I wouldn’t be that foolish. Tell the FBI agent I see him, too.”

Heaven help her. Where was this man?

She looked up at Russ again, focused on his dark eyes instead of the fear making her tremble. He stuck his bottom lip out—thinking—and rolled his hand.

Keep talking. Easy for him to say. He hadn’t just been threatened by a psycho who’d decided opening fire on innocent people would be a good way to prove a point.

A woman squeezed behind Russ to peruse the offerings in the bakery case and he inched forward, shook his head. She understood. A packed coffee shop wasn’t exactly a great place to have this conversation, but she wasn’t about to step outside and make herself a target. Again.

Trapped in a damned coffee shop and she couldn’t even get any caffeine.

Russ glanced into the hallway behind them, where one of the coffee-guzzling moms had just exited the restroom.

He grabbed Penny’s wrist, dragged her down the hall, where her enormous heels clicked and clacked against the tile. Finally, she and Russ swung into the bathroom. The barely-big-enough-for-one bathroom left them a few inches apart, and the heady mix of his soap—spice and leather—brought the memory of Russ on top of her the day before, giant erection and all, to mind.

Too close.

She scooted back and bumped the toilet. Ew. Sideways. Only way to go. Russ must have sensed her discomfort, though, and, hero that he was, backed against the door to give her any available space.

“Lovely Penny?”

And how annoying was that whole lovely-Penny nonsense? Crush him.