She swallowed and shoved through the doors of the Thurgood Marshall United States Courthouse. It was a bit like coming home. She hadn’t spent her childhood here, but her profession had grown up in walls like these. Echoes of the past hugged her in a warm embrace, stretching out arms from every direction. Intricately patterned marble covered the floors. Vaulted and etched archways adorned with bold murals hung overhead, perennial reminders of how far they’d come. The sheer number of proceedings that had taken place inside this historical location boggled the mind. It offered Genevieve a peace she’d never felt in any other place.
Justice was served inside these walls. And justice separated humanity from the animal world. Justice was life.
“How does it feel, counselor?”
Genevieve couldn’t see the owner of the voice, but she recognized the deep baritone. In the past six months, it’d become heavily laced with sarcastically mocking undertones. More so with each lobbed insult and veiled threat. She slapped on a sultry smile, begged her body to cooperate, and turned.
Damn her, but her breath caught.
Detective Owen Graham strode from a dimly lit catacomb. There were so many darkened hallways in this massive expanse of concrete. Were it not for the open pack of peanuts he shook into his thick palm and the extra pack hanging from his pocket, she’d think him a vengeful wraith on a mission to steal her soul. Though wraiths didn’t possess the faces of angels. Seriously, the thing was too perfectly formed.
“Winning?” Gen cocked her head to the side. “It feels great.”
He stopped several feet away. His thick brows narrowed, turning his fiery blue eyes into quick shooting lasers. “You haven’t won yet.”
He popped a handful of nuts into his mouth. The pronounced muscles in his jaw went to work, drawing attention to the carved structure of his neck. Gen followed the line to the pointed collar of his gray button-up. For the first time ever, she’d caught him less than camera ready. The buttons on his sleeves were unfastened, and the wide cuffs flipped up. Under the smooth fabric, a hint of deep color marked the taut skin covering his forearms. She’d never expected the always-on-his-game, always-on-duty detective with an angel’s face to sport ink. Then again, knowing they existed made his haircut make sense. The buzzed on the sides, long on the top, and slicked back do didn’t match his all-business persona either.
Most people could be marked from twenty paces. Wall Street asshole. Yuppie. Detective asshole. Jock asshole. Lawyer asshole. It seemed there was more to Detective Graham than he let on.
“Sure, I have.” She winked. “They’ve deliberated for five days. A quick turnaround and Perry would’ve been facing a lifetime of appeals. Now, I’m just waiting to pop my cork.” Gen let the innuendo hang in the humid air that snuck in from the entryway and condensed between them.
He strangled the top of his open peanut bag and straightened. His stature in a slight slouch dwarfed her, so at his full height and breadth, forget about level playing fields. She banked the urge to stomp his toe with the stiletto of her pump and bring him down to her level.
“How does it feel to trade your high and mighty morals?” He licked his lips, seemingly satisfied with himself.
Maybe she’d rethink the stiletto to toe decision. The things she could do with lips like those. A low and sultry laugh rumbled up Gen’s throat. “My morals have always been questionable, and my record squeaky clean.” She lifted her arms. Damn, her briefcase was heavy. “Search me, officer.”
“Detective.” His voice was even, unaffected. “And I have.”
“What a shame. I don’t remember it.” Genevieve let her hands fall to her sides.
Detective Graham gulped the distance between them and leaned his head down from the great mountain that was his shoulders. Lord, the handles those things would make. A nice anchor for a wild ride. Heat radiated through her chest and swirled low.
“You think you can throw me off the scent of a murderer with your provocative mouth and cheap bedroom banter?”
What she could do with her provocative mouth. Several scenes took turns playing through her indecent mind. Of all the men she’d come into contact with since the beginning of this trial, for the love of God, why was this the one her body responded to?
Gen bit her lower lip and leaned in, leaving only a scant inch between them. “I know I can.” She let her gaze drop to the bulge in the front of his slacks. “But, officer, I don’t need to. The evidence exonerates my client.”
“Detective.” When he growled, his perfectly aligned white teeth gnashed together. “The evidence was placed. Perry defended Edger Sanchez two years ago and got him off.”
“Are you upset because no one is getting you off, detective?” Gen tilted her head.
Graham’s nostrils flared. “Perry had access to Edger Sanchez’s DNA, and Sanchez had no motive for an attack. Perry got him off.”
This man was persistent. He had been on the stand, adding things to cross examination that she hadn’t prepared for. Things that made her client look bad. Gen was nothing if not more dogged. She drew a deep breath and blasted him.
“Sanchez couldn’t pay his bill. Perry put the collectors on his tail, and he foreclosed on his house. His family ended up in shelters on good nights and on the streets on the bad while Perry and his family lived in a house so big they didn’t use half of it.”
His head shook before she finished. “Bull. If you know anything about crime scenes, and from your record of prosecuting pieces of shit for eight years, I’d bet my pathetic salary you do, you know it’s too clean. Too perfect.”
Did the man never look in the mirror? Things that were too perfect existed, and they wreaked havoc on those around them.
Genevieve abandoned the innuendos and games and went with the only thing she had left. The truth. “I know Perry didn’t murder his family in cold blood. I know he couldn't have looked into his son’s eyes and carved out his heart while it still beat inside his chest.”
“Which is why he cut them out.”
Imagining that poor child and the hellish horror he endured rose the tide on her barricaded emotions. The only solace she’d found was that the boy’s eyes had been removed post-mortem. She didn’t blink. No way would she give Graham the satisfaction.
He straightened and stepped back. “Huh.” The plastic wrapper crinkled in his hand. He tipped the package and poured another heap into his palm.
She shifted her briefcase and jacket into her other hand and glared at him. “Huh, what?”
“You really believe he’s innocent.” His head shook, but it didn't stop him from tossing back the handful of nuts. There weren’t many left in the package.
“Because he is. Attorneys make enemies all the time.”
“Do you have enemies, counselor?”
“If you want to make a list, I hope you have unlimited storage on your phone.” She grinned.
He grinned right back. “And how many of those enemies actually seek retribution?”
She’d walked right into that one.
The doors to the courtroom opened behind them. “Genevieve!” She recognized the panicked voice of her assistant. “They’re starting!”
“I’m on my way.” Gen waved a staying hand to the frantic woman and then turned back to Graham. “A very dangerous few, detective. A very dangerous few.”
