Willful Violation (Lawyers Behaving Badly Book 3) (9 page)

T
hursday night
, Maisie met Trent outside the skyscraper housing LB&B Law’s new condo.

She’d been there once before. The building wasn’t even finished, but the condo on the top floor had been completely furnished…

Right down to the BDSM dungeon that included medieval torture devices.

Like the rack. She shuddered.

Well, the men were unlikely to drag her there tonight. They’d probably want to have one of their private little meetings after Byron left.

An hour later, she was sitting at the enormous table. Beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city was a carpet of sparkling lights.

Ethan had gone downstairs to meet Byron. Maisie was sitting quietly, her hands folded. She couldn’t wait until this was over.

Byron entered the room. He was wearing an expensive suit and carrying a briefcase.

With Ethan beside him, he was a lot less intimidating, but his true danger wasn’t his size.

He ignored the men and stared Maisie down. “I’m impressed you were able to get here so quickly. The pool hall is closer to your apartment.”

She swallowed. It wasn’t surprising that he’d seen through their ploy.

Trent sat next to her, and a moment later, the side of his shoe touched hers.

She pressed her leg against him and wished she could sit in his lap. The few times she had, he’d made her feel protected and safe.

“Can I offer you a glass of water?” Raphael asked.

“I’ve seen what happens to people you share water with,” Byron said. He pulled a laptop and a couple of folders out of his briefcase.

Maisie glanced over at Trent, whose expression was troubled.

Byron opened a video clip. “So you know, I’ve got backups. In case you get any ideas.”

The image was in muted color. As far as Maisie could tell, she was looking at an upscale den, with a large TV and several hard-looking divans. Elephant statues stood on either side of the fireplace like sentinels.

Hadn’t someone said that Norm hadn’t fully moved in yet? Rich people really did live in an alternate reality. Though she supposed Norm wasn’t living anywhere at the moment.

A low hiss leaked from the speakers as Byron turned up the sound.

A man who could only have been Norman Ballystock entered the frame, followed by three men. Maisie recognized them immediately.

“Maisie, you don’t need to watch this,” Raphael said.

But she wasn’t going to leave, not unless they ordered her to.

Byron was watching her reaction. Watching and mentally taking notes.

“I’m fine,” she said.

“Yes, let her see what kind of men you really are,” Byron said with a sneer.

* * *

T
he four men
on the screen took seats. Norm sat at the edge of the couch, his elbows resting on his knees. The angle of his body suggested that he wanted to take off running.

“Anyone thirsty?” He jerked to his feet and left the room, then quickly returned with four bottles of water that no one opened.

“You know why we’re here,” Ethan said on the video.

“I’m not letting Davina go. She’s my wife. Do you understand what that means? She wants to come back, but you bloodsuckers are filling her head with nonsense.”

“You should be in prison,” Trent said.

“I never touched her.” But the way Norm hunched forward contradicted his denial. Then he looked up. “She wants to come back. If you continue to interfere, I’ll sue you for malpractice.”

“If she really wanted to come back,” Raphael said, “nothing we said or did could have stopped her. Face it, Norm. It’s over.”

“You came all the way out here to tell me that?”

“No.” Ethan held out his hand, and Raphael removed a folder from his briefcase and passed it over. “We came out here to show you this.”

Ethan opened the folder and spread the contents on the coffee table. “She was fifteen, Norman. A child.”

Norm looked at the pictures and glanced away quickly. “Never saw her before.”

“She got pregnant, you know.” He tapped another photo. “This girl was only twelve.”

“Where did you get these from?”

Ethan stood. Raphael collected the photos and returned them to his briefcase.

“We’re not asking nicely again, Norm,” Trent said. “You’re going to move far away from Davina, and you’re going to stay away from underage girls. Otherwise, these photos will end up on the desks of people who will make it their life’s mission to destroy you.”

Norm buried his head in his hands, then looked up. “I could have you all killed. No one will miss a bunch of scumbag lawyers.”

“You have twelve hours to sign the divorce papers and leave town. We’re not even asking you to give Davina your entire fortune.”

“No, we’re not,” Trent said. “We’re allowing you to keep your business, and you will make substantial and continued donations to charities that help children who’ve been raped. Or you can go to prison, if you prefer.”

“I never raped anyone,” Norm said, his voice full of indignation. “And the girls I did date were all of age.”

“I’m sure you know that statutory rape is a strict liability crime,” Ethan said. “If you think you haven’t done anything wrong, then you won’t mind if we release what we have.”

“I’ll kill you,” Norm said.

Ethan was on his way out of the room, but he turned back. “Keep threatening that, and your hours on this planet are numbered.”

* * *

B
yron slammed the laptop closed
.

He looked at Maisie. “Did you hear that?”

“I heard that your brother was a pedophile creep,” she said. “You should release this footage.” She couldn’t bring herself to say something disparaging about her bosses even though she was supposed to be acting like she hated them.

Blackmailing Norm was illegal, but she would never condemn them for it.

She took a deep breath. “I’m glad your brother is dead. My former bosses went too easy on him, if you ask me.”

“Maisie,” Trent said quietly, and touched her shoulder.

Byron sneered. “You should listen to the guy who used you and then threw you away. I knew you were fucking one of the bosses, honey, but I never thought you’d go for a dink.”

Maisie had no idea what a dink was, but apparently Trent did, because he went stiff, then slowly, very slowly, leaned toward Byron. “That’s your one and only strike, friend.”

“Or what? I’ll end up like my brother?” Byron asked.

“I don’t make threats,” Trent said, his voice low.

Raphael slapped the tabletop with an open hand. “No one is threatening anyone. Can we all take a time-out, please?”

“All right,” Ethan said. “You’ve got us on tape giving your brother a talking-to.”

“Let’s catalog the laws you broke. Blackmail. Extortion. Accessory after the fact—”

“We all saw the video,” Raphael said. “But you have to ask yourself why, if our plan was to kill your brother so our client would inherit the totality of the marriage assets, we would have bothered talking to him.”

“You entered the room calmly, but I saw high tempers and death threats as you were leaving.”

“Let’s say you enter that video into evidence,” Trent said. “We’ll get into trouble, sure. Your brother will be reviled. It will absolutely make national news. Your nephew will have to bear the shame.”

“As will you,” Ethan said. “Your job has a political aspect. In any event, less than thirty seconds after we left that room, we were in our cars, and we never saw him again.”

“Maybe you didn’t, but I know one of you killed him.” The
gotcha
grin spreading across his face made Maisie feel sick to her stomach, and when he reached into his bag and pulled out a few photos, she had a feeling she really didn’t want to see them.

“What’s this?” Ethan asked.

“I didn’t want to bring the phone. You can’t be too careful when you’re dealing with a murderer. You can keep those, by the way.”

Trent picked up one of the photos. Maisie stole a glance. It was a shot of a cell phone screen, a text conversation from the night of Norm’s disappearance.

Davina had written:
Rot in hell, asshole. No one will miss you. I can’t wait to spend your money. Fuck you!!!!

Maisie didn’t bother looking at the other photos. She chewed on her lower lip.

Byron leaned forward to stare at her. “The truth will come out, Maisie. Is there anything you want to tell me?” The rigid set of his jaw did little to hide the grief trying to break through. “Anything at all?”

Maisie actually felt bad for him. She shook her head. “If I had evidence that they killed your brother, I would tell you. Like I said, I think he deserved to die.”

Trent touched her shoulder. “Maisie—”

“I’m just being honest. And I’m also being honest when I say that I wouldn’t cover for a murderer under any circumstances.”

She glanced over at her bosses.

“And I’m also not going to make things up to destroy my former bosses just because they fired me unfairly,” she said. “They’ve done some bad things, but so have you.”

Her final words hung in the air for a few seconds.

A cunning smile spread over Byron’s face. “Maybe you have, too.”

“Mr. Ballystock, my life has been a shambles ever since you showed up. I wish I’d never heard of your brother or Davina, and I especially wish I’d never met you. I honestly don’t know what you want. We can’t bring Norm back. As soon as this meeting is over, I’m leaving, and I hope to never see you again.”

She’d intended to be dispassionate, but anger was seeping into her voice, so she sat back and grew quiet.

Byron stood and began collecting the things he’d spread all over the table. Because he was looking down, Maisie could see the patch of thinning hair on the crown of his head. He’d tried to comb over it.

It humanized him, and she couldn’t help feeling sad. He’d probably thought his brother would be a continuing presence in his life. Now he’d been robbed of that, and despite all his power in the police department, justice likewise seemed far away.

Byron looked up and fixed Ethan with a steely stare. “Here’s the thing,” he said. “You can manipulate the law—”

“Who’s not manipulating the law?” Raphael asked.

It was a good question. There weren’t any saints in the room.

“Know this,” Byron said. “You can manipulate the law, but I can manipulate the evidence. A pound of cocaine might turn up during a routine traffic stop. You will bring your client in for questioning.”

Maisie gasped.

“If you don’t cooperate, expect war. I’ll show myself out.”

He shoved the rest of his things into his bag.

The room was very quiet as he left. Then Ethan stood. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t accidentally leave something behind.”

Like a recording device, Maisie assumed.

“What if Davina hired someone to kill Norm?” she asked. “You have to admit it’s looking like a real possibility.”

“It’s not your concern.” Raphael stood. “Tomorrow is a busy day for us, so we’ll have our date on Saturday. Go to Scoops-a-Lot at seven, and eat a light dinner beforehand.”

“But, what about Byron?”

“We’ll take care of it,” Trent said. “You handled yourself perfectly. Now, let it go.”

M
aisie awaited
Saturday night with a mix of anticipation and nervousness.

She changed her clothes four times, and finally settled on a dark blue cocktail dress that she usually reserved for weddings. If she’d been meeting Trent, she would have chosen something sexier, but this felt right for Raphael.

She was picked up near Scoops-A-Lot in a chauffeured sports car that the men had sent for her once before, and the driver took her out to Lattimore Meadows. He bypassed the main house and stables and came to a stop in front of a second, smaller house.

Maisie stepped out of the car, her nerves tingling. Her senses felt hyper-acute.

The night was filled with a chorus of chirping crickets. A mild breeze rustled through the grass and the trees, stirring up a fresh, clean fragrance.

She wrapped her arms around herself even though she wasn’t cold.

Raphael emerged from the house. She watched his approach, cataloging the breadth of his shoulders. He was wearing black pants and a short-sleeved, button-down blue shirt that was open at the neck.

Hot
. She ached to trace her fingers over his hard chest, to lean in and inhale his familiar scent.

“Thanks for coming,” he said.

“Thanks for having me.” She smiled, feeling foolish.

“This way,” he said.

After glancing back toward the main house, which was now a lighted outline in the darkness, Maisie followed Raphael.

This house was only small in comparison to the newer mansion.

“Are these servants’ quarters?” she asked as they entered.

“Actually, this used to be the main house. About eight years ago, my grandfather decided he wanted something more accommodating, so he had the other house built.”

“Accommodating?”

“His youngest sister, who moved in with him after a divorce, has crippling arthritis.”

“How old is she?”

“Sixty-five. She’s been disabled for most of my adult life. A bad roll of the genetic dice.”

“It’s a lovely home,” she said, thinking about all the fields and trees. “This house feels solid, like it could outlast the apocalypse.”

“Oh, it could. The stone was sourced from a local quarry, and the walls are twice as thick as they need to be. My grandfather wanted to raze the house and plant an orchard here.”

“Why didn’t he?”

“I asked him not to,” Raphael said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world for a man to defer to his grandson’s wishes. Maisie wondered if it had to do with Raphael inheriting the estate one day.

She couldn’t imagine going through life thinking about who was going to get her stuff once she was dead. That part of being rich she could do without.

“Do you drink beer?” Raphael asked.

They were standing in the middle of a large living room. If Maisie had seen this room first, she never would have thought this was servants’ housing. The entire building was much, much larger than she’d first believed.

She nodded, and Raphael smiled. “Wait here.”

He returned a few minutes later carrying four beers.

“This way,” he said.

They passed through a long but narrow hallway lined with beautiful, carved wood antique chairs that probably hadn’t held the weight of a person in centuries. Classical paintings of landscapes hung on the walls.

One of those paintings would pay off her student loans several times over. Hell, the elaborate wood frames alone might do the trick.

She folded her arms even tighter around herself.

Her bosses were wealthy. She’d known that from the beginning, but it was one thing to know it, and another to be walking through one of their homes at night.

It made her feel like an outsider.

Spending her days working for janitorial services wasn’t helping, either. The gulf between her social station and that of her bosses had never felt so wide.

“All right,” Raphael said, coming to a stop in front of an open door. The room behind it was dark. “I’ve thought a lot about how to make up for our earlier misunderstanding.”

He handed her the beers.

“I don’t regret fucking you in the limo, Maisie. That was one of the hottest scenes of my life. But I do regret that it began as a punishment you didn’t deserve.”

“You don’t have to apologize.”

“Apologies have their place,” he said. “As a lawyer, I know they’re often not sufficient. So, here’s what’s going to happen. In a few minutes, I’ll come back here for you. You can ask me one question—any question—and I’ll answer it. Then I have something to show you.”

He brushed a hurried kiss across her cheek, then disappeared into the darkened room, closing the door again behind him.

Maisie’s mind was racing as she perched on the edge of one of the chairs. The beers were sweating, dampening her fingers.

Any one question?

She wondered if he really meant that.

She had so many questions. About their plans for Byron Ballystock. About her bosses’ previous relationships with other women. About the contents of the envelope that she’d hidden in the back of her closet.

She could ask Raphael for the name of his band. Or for the story behind his tattoo.

Her heart skipped a beat.

She knew what she wanted to ask—about Ethan’s scar.

If anyone knew what had truly happened that night, it would be Trent or Raphael.

She heard a man’s voice. At first she thought it was Raphael, calling her through the door, but then she realized it was coming from back the way they’d come.

Slowly, she stood, her neck craning, her eyes narrowing in concentration.

A man’s deep voice laughed.

That was Trent’s laugh. She smiled. She would have known it anywhere.

A few seconds later, Trent and Ethan came into view.

She waved her fingers shyly and smiled, but inside, she was conflicted. There was no way she could ask Raphael to tell her the truth about Ethan’s scar when Ethan was standing right there.

Well, she could… If she wanted to piss Ethan off.

Which she did not.

No, at the moment everything in the relationship was stable, and Maisie was not
going to rock that boat again. Absolutely not.

“Is it me,” Ethan said to Trent, “or does our submissive not look happy to see us?”

“Now I know why Raphael brought four beers,” she said. “I thought I was getting two.”

Trent’s gorgeous smile spread across his face, melting her heart. “You can have as many beers as you like,” he said.

Raphael opened the door. “You’re early,” he said to the other men.

“There was no way we were gonna miss this,” Trent said.

Maisie frowned.

“Have you settled on a question?” Raphael asked.

She shook her head. “Can I ask it later?”

“You’re giving her a question?” Ethan asked. All traces of his earlier humor had vanished.

“Yes,” Raphael said, his tone a little short. “I fucked up. I’ve never understood the point of pretending that doms are omnipotent gods. If the only way I can keep respect is to pretend to be infallible, then it’s not really respect, is it?”

Ethan glowered. “There’s a difference between admitting you made a mistake and letting the submissive walk all over you. Maisie needs a firm hand.”

“We’ve been dealing with her firmly,” Raphael said.

The two men were still several feet apart, but they might as well have been standing toe-to-toe.

Maisie wanted to say something to diffuse the situation, but she didn’t know what that would be.

Finally, Ethan threw up his hands. “Fine,” he said. “You’re making this harder on all of us. Even Maisie.”

He turned toward Trent as if looking for support.

“We’ll have to agree to disagree,” Raphael said quickly. “Tonight is my night. You two will have your dates.”

More dates? Maisie smiled.

“Maisie, you have two days to ask your question.”

Ethan groaned.

“Make it a good one,” Trent said. “I don’t think any of us will be crazy enough to offer that deal again.”

“All right,” Raphael said. “I guess I’ve got a real audience.” His gaze rested on Maisie. “This is my apology,” he said. “It’s bigger than you’re probably expecting, but when I fuck up, I’ll always make it right, Maisie.”

Trent leaned over and brushed his lips against her ear. Excitement jittered along her skin. “We’ll always make it right. All three of us. No matter what happens, you can count on that.”

When he straightened up, Raphael was gone. Ethan’s troubled expression had eased somewhat.

The two men each took one of her hands and led her through the door.