The Navy SEAL's Rescue
Autore
Jo Leigh
Letto da
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Capitoli
29
Chapter One
“MS. SHAW, YOUR weekly delivery is here. Should I send Arnold to your office?”
At the sound of Felicity’s voice coming from the intercom Jessica looked up from her laptop. Ignoring her assistant’s blatant attempt to get a rise out of her, she said, “I believe you still have tip money in the envelope I left with you.”
“I do. So would you prefer he leave the flowers with me?”
Jessica sighed. “Please.” A headache threatened from reading briefs most of the day and she wasn’t in the mood for her assistant’s teasing. Not just that, but encouraging Arnold in any way wasn’t a good idea. Ever since he’d become Jessica’s regular deliveryman, he’d had a crush on her. If you could call it that—the guy had to be in his late twenties. It hadn’t turned into anything...it wasn’t as if he was stalking her. But six months of trying to engage with her was too long.
A few minutes later she heard a light knock at her door.
“Come in, Felicity.” Jessica stood and moved last week’s flowers off the corner of her desk.
The door opened and the young woman entered, holding a glass vase filled with cheery yellow daffodils and pale green chrysanthemums. Huh. Interesting choice for the middle of June in Chicago. It did the trick, though, and boosted Jessica’s spirits.
“Sorry about earlier,” Felicity said, setting down the bouquet. “I shouldn’t have been joking around today of all days.”
“Why? Because I had only four hours sleep last night and I’m cross-eyed from reading briefs? Or did something happen that I don’t know about?”
“No.” Felicity smoothed her blue skirt. It was unusual to see her without a blazer. She tended to mimic Jessica in her manner of dress and hairstyles: conservative suits, hair pulled back in a neat twist or upswept. The staff often referred to her as mini-Jessica, only Felicity was a blonde and Jessica had dark hair. “It’s been raining steadily since this morning. You’re usually in a funk on gloomy days.”
“Am I?”
“Maybe subdued is a better description.” Felicity shrugged. “I’ve always assumed it made you a little homesick.”
Jessica supposed that was partly true, although the weather in Rhode Island could get cold and nasty in the winter. Still, the pleasure of growing up with sand between her toes, the sun’s warmth on her skin and the tangy smell of salt in the air wasn’t something one could easily forget.
And her dad of course... Ronny still lived in the old beach shack they’d shared for ten months out of each year until she’d left for college. As long as the surf was up he was out there on his board, along with his groupies who worshipped him. To pay the bills he gave surfing lessons to tourists or took groups out on fishing charters. But only when he absolutely had to. He was a true free spirit, her dad. For him, there was no place on earth that could top Temptation Bay. Some days she tended to agree with him.
The moment she sat down, her gaze caught on the wastebasket under her desk, where just this morning she’d dropped the invitation to her fifteen-year high school reunion. She regretted making the decision not to attend the event. She’d vacillated for over a month about whether or not to go. Most of the girls she’d hung out with at Roger Williams Prep had gone off to college, then moved on just as she had, and she would’ve loved to see them. Catch up on what everyone was doing with their lives. But in the end her workload had made the decision for her.
Her career ran her life. Not that she was complaining. Being recruited by a prestigious firm like Burrell, Scoffield and Schultz right out of law school had been crazy lucky as well as a personal victory.
“So...” Felicity nodded at the flowers Jessica had moved to the credenza. “Are you going to take those home? They still look fresh and pretty.”
Jessica laughed. How many times had they done this dance? “Take them,” she said.
“Excellent.” Felicity scooped up the vase quickly. “By the way, still no card.”
Jessica already knew that, and the tiny amused satisfaction she got out of keeping the secret that she sent the flowers to herself wasn’t a big deal. In fact, the truth was so much more mundane—she loved getting flowers so it was a treat she indulged in. When the office staff assumed she had an admirer, she’d let them.
Felicity shook her head on the way to the door. “You’d think just knowing you have a secret admirer would be enough to discourage poor Arnold.”
“Hey, about that...” Jessica picked up her mug, then remembered she’d thought about getting a refill an hour ago. “Don’t tease him anymore.” She held up a hand at the first sign of protest. “I know you don’t do it openly, but I don’t want this thing with him escalating.”
Felicity nodded thoughtfully. “May I get you some coffee? I can make a fresh pot.”
“Thanks, but I need to move.” She arched her back and glanced at the time. “Oh, great, I missed lunch.”
“I have some yogurt in the fridge.”
“No thanks.” Stretching her neck from side to side, Jessica followed her assistant out of the office and headed for the break room. She hadn’t actually felt hungry until she realized she hadn’t eaten. If she could manage to leave at a decent hour—anytime before seven would do—she’d pick up dinner from Max’s Take Out.
The whole floor seemed quieter than usual. Which was saying a lot. At least now she’d acclimated to the atmosphere at the firm. Being one of the top fifty law practices in the country, the attitudes and mores of the senior partners were still nestled in the stuffy long ago. Which included not rubbing elbows with the lowly associates.
At first she’d been put off. After all, she’d graduated third in her class at Yale. She was a damn good contract lawyer. Despite her skill and commitment, moving up in the firm was a slow and opaque process. But all in all, she liked it here. Everything was very...tidy. Organized and compartmentalized.
“Hey, Jessica.”
Grant Herbert, who was a junior partner and quite a few rungs above her on the ladder, called out from his office, and while he wasn’t actually her boss, she often worked on projects for him. Grant was a friend. Sometimes a little more than that. And he had an amazing office with a window view of Lake Michigan. While it wasn’t the Atlantic Ocean, it made her think of home.
In fact, her gaze was drawn instantly to the glorious reds and oranges of the late afternoon sun, fighting to make it through the dark clouds coming in from the lake. She let out a breath, and felt her mood lift just looking at it.
“Someday, you’re going to come in here and look at me the way you look out that window.”
She smiled, knowing he understood that at work, it was all work, and nothing more.
“You wanted to talk to me?”
“I was about to call you,” he said, leaning back in his leather chair, looking a little too handsome with his shirtsleeves rolled up on his toned arms. His dark hair could have been longer, but at least the top was at the stage where she could tell he’d been running his fingers through it. “You working late?”
“I was hoping to leave before seven.”
“How about we order in some sushi? I’d like to talk to you about Burbidge.”
“Has something happened?”
He nodded. “And it’s a doozy. You want your regular?”
“Sure. Anything else going on? It’s too quiet around here.”
“Big meeting upstairs.”
“Ah.” She should’ve guessed. The top floor was occupied by the senior partners and two conference rooms that looked more like penthouses. “I’m surprised you aren’t up there.”
“I was.” Looking grim, he rubbed a hand over his face. “How long before you finish up?”
“An hour?”
“Good. I’ll have Gretchen order the sushi now before she goes home.”
Jessica hurried back to her office, her curiosity flying high. Their client, Alan Burbidge, was one of their biggest assets. His billable hours made up a large percentage of the firm’s income. He dealt primarily in real estate, although he owned over a dozen companies, from manufacturing to insurance to media outlets. A good deal of Jessica’s workload consisted of reviewing contracts and cases for Burbidge, her current focus on a lawsuit that was pending over a violation of Title II of the Hart-Scott-Rodino Antitrust Improvements Act of 1976. It was interesting, and had led her to a great many precedents for both sides. But it was hard to believe anything could be a doozy about this particular case.
Yet Grant had looked worried, even though he didn’t rattle easily. So something was definitely brewing. Having landed Burbidge’s subsidiary accounts had put Grant on the fast track to senior partner.
After forty minutes she called it quits, too jumpy to stay focused. She quickly cleared her desk and headed back to Grant’s office. The scent of soy sauce and vinegar hit her before she stepped inside his office, making her stomach rumble.
“Hope you don’t mind but I need to take a few bites,” she said, grabbing her bento box before she sat across from him. “I haven’t eaten today and I’m starving. So, what’s this all about?”
Instead of answering her, he got up and closed his door. Unusual. When he took his seat, he opened both bottles of Kirin beer. “Burbidge Jr. has done it again.”
Jessica moaned. “Oh, God. What this time?”
Grant’s expression told her this wasn’t just another DUI. “He’s been accused of rape.”
She set down her dragon roll. “No. Please tell me Burbidge doesn’t want us to make this disappear.”
“He does. And he’s adamant about it. Threatened to walk away from the firm if we don’t provide a winning defense.”
“I’m surprised he isn’t demanding we get the charges dropped.”
“Oh, that’s his first preference.”
Losing his business would be a huge price to pay, but letting a rapist off the hook, especially one with money, happened far too often. To be any part of that kind of travesty was unconscionable. “I don’t know how I feel about this. I mean, the poor girl—”
“He’s still entitled to a defense.”
“Do you—does anyone know if he actually did it?” She studied Grant’s face, but couldn’t read him. “Personally, I think the kid is narcissistic and stupid enough to admit it if not brag about it...at least to his daddy’s attorneys.”
Grant shrugged. “If it’s at all possible there’s DNA evidence, he’ll claim it was consensual. I’m not a defense attorney, but that’s how I’d advise him.”
A chill ran down her spine. “You were, though. Early on.”
“Yeah, for about a year after I passed the bar. That’s it.”
“Who’s being assigned as lead counsel? David Crawford?” Jessica didn’t care for the newest senior partner, mostly due to his reputation for being ruthless. But with his win record, he seemed the logical choice.
“Look, Burbidge isn’t being entirely rational at the moment. He seems more concerned that Sanford is going to be branded as a rapist.”
Jessica searched Grant’s eyes, wondering if he’d purposely ignored her question, which wasn’t like him. “Great. That means he’ll do anything to avoid a trial. Has he suggested paying off the victim yet?”
“I understand this is a sensitive topic. Just don’t forget we’re still his attorneys. It’s not our job to pass judgment. Innocent until proven guilty, remember?”
“Not having to work with rapists is one reason I never wanted to be a criminal attorney. And we both know he’s got the wherewithal to manipulate anything that can be bought.”
“There’s no wiggling out of that. Two witnesses have come forward. Money alone won’t let him walk.”
“So, what then?”
“Burbidge is handpicking a legal team that he thinks can pull this off.”
“Wait. You mean, personally? He’s choosing who’ll be—”
Grant nodded. “I told you he isn’t being rational.”
“You’ve known him for a long time. Can’t you reason with him?”
Grant set his beer down and leaned forward. “He wants both me and you as co-counsel.”
Jessica lurched back in her chair. “That’s not funny.”
“It’s not a joke. He specifically asked for you.”
“What part of me not being a criminal attorney doesn’t he understand?”
“I’m not one, either. But he trusts me. And he insists on you.”
“Well, you’ll just have to work harder to get him to see he’s being an idiot.”
Grant’s temper bled through, but only for a second. “Naturally we won’t tackle this alone. Crawford will be lead in every way that counts. And Lister and Ulrich are joining the team.”
Jessica stared at the man she thought she knew. Did he really think she’d want any part in this? “Why on earth would Alan Burbidge ask for me? I’ve hardly had any personal interaction with him. But I have dealt with Sanford Burbidge a number of times, as you know. What I haven’t mentioned is that twice he’s bordered on inappropriate.”
“Well, damn.” Grant stared blankly past her for a long while, then he leaned forward, his elbows on his shiny teak desk. “Alan thinks you’ve got the right stuff to handle a jury. Possibly because Sanford put a bug in his ear, but that’s immaterial because he’s already hired Roger Eastman—arguably the best jury consultant in Chicago—and they came back with a profile that fits you to a T.”
“I understand why they’d want a woman at the defense table for a rape charge, but it’s a moot point, anyway. The prosecutor’s office would have a field day with me at the table. For God’s sake, I’m a contract attorney. Even if I did agree to join the team, I’m not equipped for the job. There are excellent women criminal lawyers in the firm, so asking me is ridiculous. I’m not getting on board with this, Grant.”
“I hear you. I do. I told Crawford you would strenuously object, but he wasn’t particularly interested in your moral objections to the case.”
“That’s too bad. I won’t do this.”
Grant pushed his uneaten sushi aside before he got up so he could sit in the second visitor’s chair. He caught her gaze and held it. “I’m having to do a lot of thinking about this myself. But the reality is, Burbidge is going to get what he wants, even if it means finding another firm. And if he walks over this, you and I will be out on our asses. No question.”
“I can live with that.”
“Really? Just think. It would mean giving up everything you’ve been working for since you started here. You’re a step away from junior partner. You know this would do it. Having Burbidge request you personally is huge. The partners would owe you big-time. It could mean the difference between a good career and sky’s the limit.”
“And it wouldn’t do you any harm, either.”
He didn’t even blink. “True. It’s a lot to consider. You won’t walk away with sterling references either. You’ll be considered a problem, not a team player.”
“It sounds as if you’ve already made a decision.”
“I’ve got a lot of years and sweat invested in this firm. Not to mention the chunk I fork out for child support and alimony every month. I know it sucks, but part of this job means representing causes that aren’t our own.”
“I’m not judging you,” she said, although she was disappointed. But she did understand. Her own predicament was less clear-cut. “So I’m not only supposed to help the bastard get off scot-free, when I’m not even qualified to be anything more than window dressing, but be blackmailed into doing it?”
“The partners have to protect the firm’s reputation. They can’t let Burbidge jump ship. If he goes, that will send a signal to other clients. Major clients.”
She felt sick. The scent of the sushi was making her stomach churn. It would be a crushing blow to lose this job, to get a bad name so early in the career she’d worked hard for, but how could she do anything else?
“Listen,” he said. “I know your reunion is coming up this weekend.”
“I’m not going.”
“I think you should. Get out of here. Take a long weekend. Think it through. You know I’ll stand behind you on this, whatever you decide.”
“Will you?”
“I won’t throw you under the bus. But this is too important not to consider all the angles. Take my advice. A break would do you good. Think about your options. I’ll get the firm to pay for the weekend.”
“No, you won’t. I don’t want their money, not for this.” She stood up. “Keep me in the loop, Grant. Seriously. I’ll need to know if anything changes.”
“Of course.”
She turned to go.
“Don’t forget your food.”
“I seem to have lost my appetite,” she said and didn’t look back.
