A sly, sexy grin spread over Penny’s mouth. “You don’t trust me?”

“Not one bit.”

She batted her eyes. “Oh, Russell. Flattery will get you everywhere.”

At that, he had to laugh. “You’re a piece of work. I’m glad I saved your life today.”

She picked up a pen and threw it at him. “No fair bringing the whole saving-my-life thing into it.”

The pen hit him in the chest and he snatched it up. Mont Blanc. For what that sucker cost, she shouldn’t be throwing it around.

“I’ll make you a deal. You don’t try to play me and I won’t remind you I saved your life.” He held out his hand. “Deal?”

She glanced at his hand and pursed her lips.

After what felt like another solid minute, she reached her hand out. “Fine. Deal.”

Russell didn’t know if it was the thrill of having her agree or just the touch of her hand, but he was suddenly reluctant to let go.

The Defender
Adrienne Giordano

www.millsandboon.co.uk

USA TODAY bestselling author ADRIENNE GIORDANO writes romantic suspense and mystery. She is a Jersey girl at heart, but now lives in the Midwest with her workaholic husband, sports-obsessed son and Buddy the Wheaten Terrorist (Terrier). She is a cofounder of Romance University blog and Lady Jane’s Salon-Naperville, a reading series dedicated to romantic fiction.

Please visit www.adriennegiordano.com. Adrienne can also be found on Facebook, at www.facebook.com/AdrienneGiordanoAuthor, and on Twitter, at www.twitter.com/AdriennGiordano. For information on Adrienne’s street team, Dangerous Darlings, go to www.facebook.com/groups/DangerousDarlings.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Extract

Chapter One

Standing on the Cook County Federal Courthouse steps, special agent Russ Voight decided Penny Hennings deserved a star on the Perfect Posteriors of America wall of fame.

Maybe that was sexist, but since his meeting with Penny had been put on ice while she and Gerald Hennings—her legendary defense-attorney father—held an impromptu press conference, Russ needed a way to distract himself. And Penny’s rear provided a great distraction.

Months ago, his coworkers at the Chicago FBI field office had dubbed her Killer Cupcake for her aggressive cross-examination skills, but to Russ’s way of thinking, she might be Killer Cupcake for other reasons. Those reasons having nothing to do with a courtroom and everything to do with her, his bedroom and lots of free time.

Ah, distractions. How he loved them.

Bang. A gunshot cracked the air.

Gerald ducked. Penny didn’t. Blood roared to the front of Russ’s brain. He snatched his sidearm from his holster, pushed off the iron railing he’d been leaning on and spotted Penny—not ten feet away—frozen on the steps as the reporter in front of her crumpled. Hit.

Loud, ear-blasting screams erupted. Pedestrians dived to the ground—dead-last thing they should do—or ran like hell, exactly what they should do. Russ sprinted toward Penny, still glued to her spot, and did a quick recon. Where’s the shooter?

Bang.

Across the street. High up.

“Run!” Russ shouted.

But Penny didn’t move. She just stood there in the streaming sunshine while her red power suit made one hell of an amazing target. One step below, her father had dropped. Whether he’d been hit or not, Russ couldn’t tell. Get there. Three more steps. He latched on to Penny’s arm, dragging her behind him. Gerald Hennings lifted his head. Alive. “Move!”

Penny turned back to her father. “Dad.”

“You’ve got to move,” Russ yelled.

But Penny dug in, yanking free to go to her father. “I can’t leave him.”

Bang.

Another shot pierced the step next to Gerald and a hunk of cement flew.

Penny’s perfect porcelain skin went white. Game over. If he didn’t do something, she’d be dead on the next shot.

His brain in full overload, he plowed into her, wrapping his hand around the back of her head to break the landing. They hit the cement and a rush of air exploded from his lungs.

“Oofff,” Penny said.

Bang.

Right side. Find the shooter. With Penny trapped under him, he lifted his head an inch and glanced across the street. Parking garage.

The shooter had to be on one of the top floors of the parking garage.

Onlookers continued to scatter, their shouts clanging together. From the courthouse doors, armed guards charged out, weapons drawn. Pedestrians on the sidewalk had either fled or taken cover. Some huddled behind trees or garbage cans or any other solid object.

Gerald was still sprawled beside them. He faced Russ and Penny, and his blue eyes were loaded with fear that Russ had seen too many times. We’ve got to move.

Suddenly, the air went still and Russ lifted his head another inch. A slight wind rustled leaves and the bright blue of a May sky taunted him, because some psycho decided today would be the day to go stone-cold crazy on a bunch of civilians.

Under him, Penny moved. Now she wanted to move?

“Stay down.”

Keeping low, she reached for her father’s hand. “Daddy?”

“I’m okay,” he said.

She shifted again and Russ pressed his body weight into her. On the middle of the expansive and now-empty courthouse steps, right beside a wounded reporter, they were a beautifully open target.

He swung his head, searching for anything that would provide cover. Nothing. Not one damn thing. Run. They’d have to risk it and hope one of them didn’t get popped. Below them, the woman who’d been hit whimpered. He needed to get her out, too.

“Hang in there,” he yelled. “We’ll get you to a hospital.”

Having no idea how badly she was injured, he didn’t know if she could even understand him.

Sirens blared as Chicago P.D. cruisers stormed the area. “Parking garage!” he hollered at what looked like a detective jumping out of an unmarked car. “High floor. Right side.” He went back to Penny still under him. “Are you hit?”

She lifted her head. “I don’t think so. But something is poking my butt.”

A punch of relief ripped into him. Damn, she’d scared him by freezing up like that. He eased her head back to the ground, hoping she’d forget about the thing poking her.

An armored BearCat screamed to the curb and SWAT guys funneled out, loaded with combat gear, ready for battle. “Shooter in the garage!” Russ yelled.

* * *

SOMEONE SAVE US. Someone save us. Someone save us.

Penny’s pounding head would not let up. Over and over the screams and the crack of shots and the sirens replayed in her mind, the sounds pummeling her, making fear a ripe sting against her body. She closed her eyes. One second. To focus.

Now that she knew her father was alive, they’d figure out a way to safety. With an FBI agent on top of her, they’d manage a plan.

The pounding eased a fraction and she opened her eyes. Just below her, Dad stared at her, his face stacked with terror she didn’t know her warrior father could feel.

“Russell, we need to move.”

“No kidding, Penny. Give me a sec.”

She rolled her eyes. Alphas. Always needing to be in charge.

“What’s...what’s poking me? Could I have gotten hit?”

“The parking garage,” he hollered at the SWAT team.

He waved his right arm and the bit of movement increased the pressure on her butt. What the heck? “Russell, I think I’m hit.”

“I don’t think you’re hit.”

“Then what’s that damned poking?”

“Uh, sorry,” he said. “That’s, uh...ah, cripes...it’s...me. It happens sometimes. Adrenaline.”

What? She focused on Russ’s body, the weight of it, the location of their various body parts and— Oh, stop it.

Men.

“You have an erection?” she muttered, hoping her father wouldn’t hear. “Now?”

“Hey, it’s involuntary.”

Some nut was shooting at them and the FBI agent, the one who had just saved her life, had an erection. Unbelievable. “Well, get. It. Off.”

“Penny,” her father said, “quiet.”

She’d never understand men. Never. She didn’t understand a lot of things right now. All she and her father were doing was talking to reporters, trying to get a sound bite for their client, and suddenly everything exploded. Instead of herding her father to safety, she’d stood there, lost in the paralyzing fear of her thoughts, a wimpy girl, not knowing what to do. Pathetic. Truly pathetic.

And Russell Voight, a man who normally sparked all kinds of fantasies in her mind, on top of her with a giant—really giant—erection, wasn’t helping her current state of confusion.

“It’s okay,” Russ said to her father. “She’s scared. People babble.”

“I don’t babble.”

“Yeah, you do. On three, we’re all bolting to the building. Stay low. And get rid of those heels. You need to haul.”

She nodded, kicked off her spiked heels and touched her father’s shoulder. “Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

“We’re good, then,” Russ said. “One, two, three.”

He jumped up and the sight of all that quick movement stunned her. He squeezed her hand with enough force that a knuckle popped, and then he dragged her to her feet and sprinted toward the building. Wait. Dad. Penny glanced behind her, spotted her father a foot behind and reached back for him.

“Go, Penny. I’m fine.”

The safety of the lobby was just ahead and Penny stared at the back of Russ’s head, focused on all that thick dark hair because the man had amazing hair and it was so much better than thinking about gunfire.

He swung open the lobby door and shoved her through. “Find an interior room and stay there. I’ll find you.”

“Russell!”

“Go. I’ll find you. I have to help out here.”

Chapter Two

Three hours later, after helping secure the crime scene, Russ rode the elevator to the tenth floor of the swanky downtown building where Hennings & Solomon was housed. Penny had already been questioned by investigators at the scene, but for some reason—who was he kidding? he knew the reason—he needed to put eyes on her. The woman’s aggressive defense-lawyer attitude and sharp tongue drove him insane, but deep down, when confronted with his baser needs, he had an itch for her.

So, yeah, apparently he was a sick, demented freak, because Penny Hennings was a viper. Five months ago, she’d murdered him on a cross-examination that left him exhausted, frustrated and with a battered ego. Thus, the Killer Cupcake moniker. Without a doubt, she was a looker. Blond hair, blue eyes and a face so perfect he wanted to run his fingers over it just to say he’d done it. Easy, boy. At first look, her petite size fooled people, but that mouth made up for anything she lacked in stature. Russ watched the numbers on the elevator blink off and he laughed.

Sick, demented man.

The elevator door slid open and he was greeted by a thickly carpeted waiting area, where the typical hot, young receptionist cooed into her headset, “Hennings and Solomon, how may I help you?”

You can get off the phone and point me to Penny. Russ waited. It was well after five, but the receptionist remained at her post fielding calls, probably press people wanting a statement about the shooting. Everyone wanted a statement.

Already tired of waiting, he badged the receptionist, who put her calls on hold to direct him to Penny. Nothing like an FBI badge to get someone’s attention.

Having never been at this office, Russ counted down the doors and glanced at nameplates as he strode by. Most of the doors were closed, but a few remained open. The occupants glanced up at him, noting his rumpled navy suit and the unbuttoned shirt collar. After the day he’d had, the FBI would have to deal with his loose tie.

Two open doors stood at the end of the long corridor. Penny’s, the receptionist had told him, would be the second one from the end, and as he drew closer, the long hallway suddenly echoed with the sound of her voice.

“No,” she said. “I’ll bring him in. I’m not letting you guys parade my client in front of a bunch of news cameras. He’s a businessman, for crying out loud. Get over it.”

Even after getting shot at, she continued to do her job. Viper status aside, he admired that. Sick, demented man. He wasn’t the only one, because the poor schmuck on the other end of Penny’s phone call obviously didn’t realize he wouldn’t win.

Russ paused outside the half-open door. Not to listen, but to get his head together and organize his thoughts and emotions. To shake off the exhaustion sitting on him like solid cement. What a damned day.

Penny had almost gotten blown away. If one of those rounds had connected, that pretty head of hers would have disintegrated. Poof!

Gone.

Incinerating heat zinged up the back of his neck. He couldn’t be emotional about her. Not when it might give her, the lawyer defending a woman who could be a key witness in his multimillion-dollar fraud case, the upper hand.

“Fine,” Penny said. “Get back to me. I can have him down there tomorrow. No perp walk. He’ll just quietly turn himself in.”

A smack—the phone hitting the base—came from inside the office.

“Idiot,” she muttered.

He knocked lightly and pushed open the door. “Hey, I saved your life today. Don’t call me an idiot.”

Shockingly enough, those perfect bow lips eased into a smile. “Not you. Idiot.”

Russ grinned and stepped inside the office. She sat back, rested her head against the cushion. Her perfume, something light and fresh, not flowery or overpowering, hung in the air and he tried to place it. No idea. He liked it, though. Reminded him how much he loved a woman’s scent.

Her red suit jacket—that blazing target that almost got her killed—hung on the back of the chair and she’d pushed up the sleeves of her white blouse. A few strands of long blond hair had busted free of her hair clip and hung down the sides of her drawn face. The look suited her, gave her an edgy, just-rolled-out-of-bed appearance, and Russ decided thinking about Penny and a bed at the same time could get a man in trouble.

He dropped into the fancy leather guest chair in front of her desk. “You okay? Relatively speaking.”

“I’m not in the morgue, so I guess I’m okay.”

“Scary as hell.”

She rolled her lips together and breathed deep. “I froze. How ridiculous.”

After what she’d been through, she questioned her reaction? Killer Cupcake didn’t just shred witnesses—she shredded herself. “You were terrified. I’ve seen seasoned agents react like that. Don’t think too hard on it.”

“How’s the reporter?”

“Still in surgery.”

“That poor woman. And the shooter? Did they find him yet?”

Russ shook his head. “No. The crime-scene guys are on it. We’ll find him.”

“You think so?”

“I’d be a crummy FBI agent if I didn’t.”

She shrugged.

“How’s your dad?”

“Rattled, but fine. My brother came by and we double-teamed him. Forced him out the door.”

She stared straight ahead, blinked a couple of times—uh-oh—and slapped one hand across her eyes. Damn, he didn’t want to see Killer Cupcake cry. He resented the hell out of it that some psycho reduced this fiery woman to tears. “Penny—”

She held her other hand up and Russ stopped talking. Finally, she slid her hand away and focused on him with an intensity that had him shifting in his seat. He’d seen that look five months ago from the witness stand.

“I’m sorry, Russell. I almost got you killed today.”

Not what he’d expected. Score one for her on the surprise attack. “That’s not on you. You were standing on the steps. How is it your fault some nut decided shooting innocent civilians would solve his problems? Whatever the hell they are.”

“But—”

“Penny. Stop.”

She closed her mouth. No. Really? If he’d known it was that easy to keep her quiet, he’d have done it months ago.

She threw her hands up. “Russell, I was trying to take responsibility for my actions.”

There we go. Much better. Killer Cupcake returns. “I don’t want to hear you apologize. Not for this.” He grinned, shifted forward and focused on those hot blue eyes of hers. “If you want to apologize for something, apologize for beating the hell out of me in court five months ago. My ego still hasn’t recovered.”

She scoffed, “Never. Besides, that was an excellent cross. Probably my best work.”

“Congratulations. I was the victim.”

She scooted forward in her chair, her smile drifting wide. “You held your own. As I recall, you rather enjoyed the battle.”

Some truth there. Maybe he would have enjoyed it more had he not been the guy in the witness box, but in a seriously twisted way, he got off watching her stalk around the courtroom, hurling impossible, well-developed questions at him.

“You’re tough, Penny, but I’m not afraid of you.”

“Too bad. I suppose.”

He cracked up—couldn’t help it. Wanting this woman was a death wish. Simple as that. Also a damned shame, because he couldn’t have her. Not when her job required her to dismantle months—sometimes years—of work that guys like him busted their tails on. He wholeheartedly believed every American deserved a fair trial, but at the end of some seriously rotten days, he wondered how defense lawyers justified getting murderers off.

“Anyway,” she said. “Why are you here? More questions?”

“No. We never had our meeting from this afternoon.”

Before the shooting, they were scheduled to meet after her court appearance to discuss a deal for a witness Russ needed on a stock-fraud case.

In one smooth motion, Penny bolted straight and threw her shoulders back. Battle mode. “Elizabeth Brooks. You still want to discuss it after today?”

“If you’re up for it.”

Penny cocked one of her perfect eyebrows. “Oh, Russell, I’m always up for it.”

Didn’t that get him thinking about things he shouldn’t be thinking? Things like Penny Hennings sprawled naked in his bedsheets. Sick, demented man. And what was up with the Russell business. She always called him by his full name when everyone else called him Russ. Or various other four-letter words.

He smacked his hand on his armrest. “Then let’s do it.”

“You’re on. Elizabeth is willing to testify, but she’ll need protection.”

“She’ll give me everything?”

Penny nodded. “All she knows.”

As defense lawyers went, Penny Hennings was as smart and slick as they came. Worse, she was beautiful and knew how to manipulate men. An all-around excellent package. Had she not earned a living trying to decimate his cases, he could probably love her. But if he gave her even the slightest edge, she’d gut him.

A sly, sexy grin spread over Penny’s mouth. “You don’t trust me?”

“Not one bit.”

She batted her eyes. “Oh, Russell. Flattery will get you everywhere.”

At that, he had to laugh. “You’re a piece of work. I’m glad I saved your life today.”

She picked up a pen and threw it at him. “No fair bringing the whole saving-my-life thing into it.”

The pen hit him in the chest and he snatched it up. Montblanc. For what that sucker cost, she shouldn’t be throwing it around. He set it back on the desk. “I’ll make you a deal. You don’t try to play me and I won’t remind you I saved your life.” He held out his hand. “Deal?”

If she agreed to this it would be the second miracle of the day. The first being that no one died in that hellacious shooting on the courthouse steps. She glanced at his hand and pursed her lips.

Russ dropped his hand. “You’re afraid you can’t do it.”

“Oh, please!”

So damned hot.

After what felt like another solid minute, she reached her hand out. “Fine. Deal.”

The handshake was nothing and everything he expected. Penny had a firm grip, but her hand was small and delicate and smooth, and he took a second to consider other delicate and smooth areas he’d like to touch.

Hokay. Rough day. Clearly, lascivious thoughts were a coping strategy. Russ cleared his throat.

Penny got up and asked, “Are you okay? Let me get you water.”

What he really needed was a Scotch. She strode to the minifridge in the corner and Russ’s gaze shot to her feet, where she’d lost the crazy heels she’d been wearing earlier. Now he wasn’t sure which was more of a turn-on: Penny in heels or Penny in bare feet. Either way, he had no argument.

She handed him a water bottle, then took the seat next to him. Interesting, that. Some women would stay behind the desk to remind him that (a) he was the guest and (b) she had control.

And suddenly, much to his consternation, he liked Penny Hennings a whole lot more.

Russ slammed half the water bottle—could really use a Scotch—and replaced the lid. “Elizabeth Brooks. I want everything on Heath and her involvement in the pump-and-dump scheme.”

The woman in question was the widow of a stockbroker involved in a hundred-million-dollar fraud scheme. The broker and his partner, Colin Heath, created shell companies and then issued the stock for themselves. They publicized how great their companies were through press releases, industry newsletters and any other form of communication they could find. When their victims went crazy buying their stock, thereby pumping up the price, the broker and Heath dumped their shares and made a killing. They also bankrupted thousands of innocent investors.

When the broker decided he’d had enough of screwing people out of their life savings, Colin Heath arranged for him to have a timely and torturous death. It was a murder carried out by Heath’s number-two guy, a real leg-breaker who’d been dumb enough to get caught. Only the guy wasn’t talking and the FBI didn’t have enough to nail Heath.

Nailing Heath was what Russ wanted. And apparently what Elizabeth Brooks, via Penny, could give him.

“She’ll talk,” Penny said. “She needs immunity. And protection.”

“Why is she suddenly willing to talk? Her husband’s been dead for months.”

Penny hesitated. Already their deal crumbled. Russ stood, set the water bottle on Penny’s desk, more than ready to walk away. He wanted Colin Heath, but Penny wouldn’t play him.

He took one step and she tugged on the back of his jacket. “Don’t go. I was thinking. That’s all.”

Turning back, Russ stared down at her, took in those amazing blue eyes and decided he was cooked.

* * *

DAMNED RUSSELL VOIGHT. Completely infuriating. Always brewing for a fight with her. At least, that was what it felt like. Still, Elizabeth Brooks was in trouble and had come to Penny hoping to make a deal with the FBI. It was Penny’s rotten luck that the lead agent on the Colin Heath case happened to be one she’d previously dismantled in court. Not that it had been his fault. During her research, she’d discovered an exemplary investigator and had prepared for him like no other witness.

Now, from his side of this deal, special agent Russell Voight could create all sorts of chaos for Penny’s client.

“I have a client to protect. As you know, Russell, Colin Heath is dangerous and Elizabeth has a son to raise.”

He gave her the hard stare. He probably didn’t like being called Russell. Too bad, because calling men by their given names with just a hint of sarcasm had been a trick Penny used to maximum effect. She called it the Mommy Game and she hadn’t met a man yet who could withstand it.

“Which is exactly why I won’t let you screw around. We’re either making a deal, Penny, or we’re not. No games. Are you in or out?”

Huh. Maybe the Mommy Game wasn’t so surefire with this particular man.

“Of course I’m in. You need to give me assurances, though. I won’t have the feds leaving my client—or her son—to face a murderer.”

“What’s with the son? That’s the second time you’ve brought him up.”

Because I’m terrified for him. Penny sighed. Blame it on the madman who’d opened fire on the courthouse today, but the plan she’d mapped out for this conversation had evaporated, simply imploded under the terror that came with watching those around her, including her father, drop to the ground. Standing on those steps, for a few brief seconds she’d thought her father was dead, shot down in front of her eyes. The panic from earlier whipped inside her, curling her stomach into tight knots, each one of them squeezing, squeezing, squeezing.

She glanced back at Russ, hands on his lean hips, all chiseled face and alpha among alphas, and her stomach let up. She’d guessed his height to be around five-ten, but he carried enough power and presence to fill a giant. With Russ came a sense of strength. Control. She didn’t doubt he could be a hothead, but he also understood how to maneuver a conversation.

She let out a breath. “I have to be able to trust you.”

“Be straight with me and you can trust me. I’ve been working this case for over a year. Don’t waste my time. Don’t waste the bureau’s time. If my guess is right, Colin Heath is running this scam in multiple states. We’ve got agents all over the country chasing leads on this guy.”

Penny held her hand to the chair, but he stared down at her, eyes a little squinty. “Please sit. I’ll tell you everything I know.”

He sat. Woo-hoo! At least she’d kept him from leaving. Back to work here. “As you know, Elizabeth Brooks is a licensed stockbroker.”

“Correct.”

“After the husband’s murder, Colin Heath realized there was money unaccounted for.”

“You’re telling me Sam Brooks was ripping off Heath?”

She nodded.

“Of course he was. What do these animals expect? They rip off innocent people and then expect their partners not to make off with the profits?”

Penny waited a moment. Russ remained silent. Her turn to speak again. “Right. So, Colin went to Elizabeth soon after Sam’s death and told her the money was missing. Obviously, he wanted it, but she didn’t know anything about it.”

“Come on, Penny.”

Seemed the FBI agent trusted no one. Probably a good trait in an investigator. “It’s the truth. She loved her husband. Maybe she suspected a few of his stock deals were off, but when she questioned him, he schmoozed his way around it. She made the mistake of trusting her husband. Women can’t be convicted for that.”

That got her the hard look he’d leveled on her five months ago from the witness stand. “They can when they’re involved in criminal activity.”

Penny rolled her eyes. “Heath is as cynical as you are and thought she was lying about not knowing where the money was. He told her she’d have to work off her husband’s debt by doing trades for him. She refused and he sent her a photo of her son with an X over his head.”

“He threatened her son.”

Russ let out a long breath and his shoulders dipped forward. The man had a soft spot for kids. Good to know. Suddenly, she wondered if he had children. None of her previous research had indicated such. From what she knew, he was in his early thirties and had never been married. Didn’t mean he hadn’t had a relationship that resulted in a baby. She could have overlooked certain aspects of his personal life.

“Unless she agreed to do the trades,” Penny said, “the photo implied her boy would be in danger. So she did it. What devoted mother wouldn’t break the law to protect her child? Let’s not forget she’s a grieving widow. Until last week, she’d been unable to go through Sam’s things. When she finally worked up the nerve, she found multiple safe-deposit-box keys hidden in the attic. Those safe-deposit boxes contained five million dollars in cash.”

Russ’s eyebrows flew up. “Not bad.”

“Assuming it was the stolen money, she cleaned out the boxes and took the money to Heath. She figured the debt would be paid and that would be the end of it.”

“How naive is this woman?”

Penny shrugged. “More desperate than naive. Heath took the money, but told her she’d have to continue making trades or else... Fearing she’d be prosecuted if she went to the FBI, she came to me.”

“And here we are.”

“Yes. She wants out. She can give you account numbers, how the scheme works, everything. She just wants a new life somewhere safe.”

Penny sat back and waited. She’d done her job and presented her offer. Now the FBI would have to decide how to handle it.

Again, Russ drummed his fingers, his gaze on her, unyielding, analyzing. Trying to figure her angle. No angle. Just an attorney trying to give her client peace of mind.

Penny leaned forward, touched the arm of his chair. “She’s a mom, Russell. Her husband is dead and she’s trying to make a life for her son. She knows she broke the law. She wants to make it right. Can you help her?”

Russ glanced down at her hand on the armrest, then brought his gaze back to her face. She wouldn’t attempt a guess at his thoughts. Cynics tended to surprise her, so she’d long ago given up trying to figure them out.

“Let me talk to my supervisor,” he said. “Elizabeth is willing to give us everything? No screwing around?”

First step complete. Go, Penny. “No screwing around. I promise.”

Someone rapped on her door and she glanced up to see her brother Zac and his girlfriend standing in the doorway. They’re back. “Hey, guys. Is Dad okay?”

“He’s fine. I figured we’d check on you and take you home.”

Zac slid a questioning gaze to Russ, then came back to her. Right. Introductions. “Special Agent Voight, this is my brother Zachary and his girlfriend, Emma. Zac and Emma, meet Russell Voight from the FBI”

Emma made an oh face. “Are we interrupting?”

As usual, the sight of Emma, her dark hair pulled back in a way that resembled a cute third-grade teacher, settled Penny’s rattled nerves. Which was saying something, because not many people in Penny’s world had that kind of influence. Funny in an easy, disarming way, she carried a reserved calm about her. Emma, being the complete opposite in all matters concerning looks, fashion, outspokenness and Penny’s general affection for chaos, was special.

And considering she’d started out as Penny’s client when she’d thrown herself into proving her wrongfully convicted brother’s innocence, Penny liked to brag that she’d found Emma before Zac. Depending on the day, Penny either took credit for bringing them together or accused her brother of being a pig for seducing her then client and now close friend.

“I think we’re about done here,” Russ said, turning toward Zac and Emma.

Zac adjusted his posture, squeaking out a few more millimeters of height while he took stock of the other male in the room. Fascinated, Penny shifted her gaze to Russ’s back and the excellent fit of his jacket. At first glance, the differences between Russ Voight and Zac Hennings weren’t hard to miss. Where Zac was tall and broad-shouldered with blond hair, Russ Voight’s short dark hair stood out. His height clocked in over a few inches shorter than Zac’s and maybe his body was more compact, but the set of his shoulders, that thrown-back I’m-in-charge stance, not to mention his predatory grace, indicated all male, all the time. Something churned low in Penny’s belly. Maybe it was lower. Lower than her belly, higher than her thighs. Pure sexual attraction.

Russ shook Zac’s hand. “You’re the Cook County ASA. Criminal Prosecutions Bureau, right?”

Knows Zac. Interesting. Not nearly as interesting as watching these two size each other up the way idiot males often did in their attempt to establish who’d be the lead gorilla in the room.

“Yeah.” Zac said.

“Uh-oh, Zachary. The FBI knows who you are. Maybe they’re watching you.”

Zac shrugged. “Let ’em watch.”

Russ glanced back at her. “You’re half-right.”

“Excuse me?” she said.

“It’s part of the shooting investigation. We’re looking at motive as to why someone decided to open fire on innocent civilians. Your brother’s job—as well as yours—makes him a possibility.”

Emma straightened from leaning on the doorframe and stepped fully into the room. “Come again?”

Without moving from his spot, Zac nodded. “People threaten ASAs all the time.”

“Correct,” Russ said. “We’re looking at everything. Including the case your father is currently working.”

“Hang on,” Penny said. “You think the shooter was aiming at my father?”

“Didn’t say that.”

“Russell!”

He shifted back, tilted his head and gave her a flat-mouthed look. “Can I answer the question before you start hollering?”

Sufficiently chastised, Penny sat back. “Sorry.”

Zac folded his arms and grinned. “This, I’m enjoying.”

“No kidding,” Emma said.

But Penny had had enough of them. “Knock it off, you two. Go ahead, Russell.”

Russ swung his gaze to Zac and Emma, then came back to Penny. “Anyway, we’re looking at every angle. Everything is a possibility.”

“You’ll keep us updated?”

“Of course. Until we figure this out, though, don’t go having press conferences on the courthouse steps. Lay low and stay safe. Got it?”

And—hello, sexy eyes—the power in that dark-chocolate stare set her body to churning again. Normally, she’d say something snarky about being bossed around, but Russ didn’t look in the mood to play. She didn’t know him well enough to know what he was in the mood for, but if the shadows under his eyes were any indication, sleep might be at the top of his list.

“I’ve got it,” Penny said. “I’ll be careful.”

“Thank you. We’re all set here, then?”

She nodded. “You’ll get back to me about that other matter?”

“As soon as I have something, I’ll call you.”

“Thanks. And thanks for today, too.”

Their eyes connected for a few short seconds, that focused and unmistakable recognition of sexual attraction. If Penny would let it happen, Russell Voight could completely unglue her. Which wouldn’t necessarily be a bad thing, because heaven knew it took a lot for a man to work her up. Part of being an aggressive woman meant finding a man willing to do battle when necessary. And even when not necessary. Call her crazy, but Penny hungered for the pull of a heated argument. Most of the men she’d come across didn’t understand her need for debate or came off as arrogant and unbending.

Thus, the shrinking pool of male candidates strong enough to survive her continued to be a challenge. One thing about Penny Hennings, good or bad, she knew how to bring a man down.

Russ smiled at her, just a small quirk of his lips that let her know he knew her mind had gone somewhere other than Elizabeth Brooks. Dirty dog.

“You are very welcome,” he said. “I’ll call you.”

Penny cleared her throat. Gah. Quit acting love struck.

“I’ll walk you out,” Zac said.

The minute the men left the room, Emma swooped in. “Wow.”

Play dumb. Penny motioned Emma to the chair Russ had just vacated and the two of them sat. “Wow, what?”

This earned her a rather obnoxious snort from her dear friend. “Come on. You think I didn’t notice you looking at him like he was a giant pile of white gummy bears?”

Penny scrunched her face. “Hey, now, don’t say that.”

“Why?”

On the list of Penny’s all-time favorite candies, white gummy bears claimed the top spot. She didn’t just love them; she craved them with a ferocious yearning that kept her up at night, dreaming of the quick shot of sweetness hitting her system. No matter how many times she’d sworn them off, they always lured her back, teased her into submitting. When it came to white gummy bears, she was no better than the crack addicts swarming the South Side of Chicago.

“Because they make me feel weak. I don’t want a man making me feel that way.”

Emma tilted her head and puckered.

“Please,” Penny said. “Now you’re psychoanalyzing me? Listen, Freud, it’s nothing deep. I’m just saying I don’t want to feel needy when it comes to men.”

“Yeah, but you said you don’t want to be weak. You’ve never been weak a day in your life.”

“Exactly my point.”

Emma scoffed. “Maybe that’s your problem.”

Problem? She didn’t have any problems. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I always knew you were a little nuts, but until now, I didn’t realize how deep your level of nuttiness ran.”

Only Emma could get away with saying that. And worse, rather than being insulted, Penny laughed. What had she ever done without Emma? Truly, it would have been a travesty if this woman hadn’t come into her life.

“You’re lucky I love you, Emma Sinclair.”

“I love you, too, which is why I will risk bodily injury and say this to you. Relationships are about partners. One is vulnerable when the other is strong. Then it switches back. It’s about balance. You think your brother doesn’t feel vulnerable sometimes? That guy worries about his job like no other. Makes me crazy, but I also love that about him. And trust me, he’s far from weak.”

Why were they even discussing this? “I see your point. It doesn’t matter, though. Russ Voight is off-limits. He’s working a case involving a client. And, unlike my pig of a brother, who got involved with you while working your case, I’m not doing it. Uh-uh.”

Emma laughed. “You know he’s not a pig. You just say that to get him riled.”

Penny did a fast clap. “I know. It’s such fun.”

Zac swung into the room. “What’s fun?”

“Nothing,” they both said.

He eyeballed them. “You’re talking about me again?”

“We are,” Penny said.

For what might be the thousandth time since Zac began seeing Emma, he threw his arms up. He didn’t like his girlfriend talking to his sister about him. Too bad, big brother. “Relax. Is Russ gone?”

“Yeah. He seems like a good guy. Some of those feds are cocky SOBs.”

“He’s good. I destroyed him on the stand a few months back and he still talks to me. Heck, he saved my life today. Some of the guys I’ve gone against probably keep a bullet with my name on it.”

Her brother poked his finger at her. “Exactly why you need to follow Voight’s instructions and lay low.”

She didn’t want to believe her father had been the target of a shooting. Could someone hate them that much?

American citizens deserved to have their constitutional rights protected and that was her job. Invariably upon meeting someone, she’d be asked what was known by defense attorneys as the “cocktail party question.” The old “How can you defend them?” and nothing provoked Penny like that blasted question. For her it was about judgment, and implying that being a defense lawyer was somehow less worthy than being a prosecutor. As if she took joy in defending a man accused of murder. In truth, many nights she lost sleep over it.

Reality was she couldn’t resist the job. Call her a masochist but she loved the unwinnable case. Loved the inevitable problems and the intellectual challenge.

The war.

“This may shock you, Zachary, but I will follow his advice. I may be crazy, but I’m not stupid. Still, the idea that Dad was targeted because he defended someone’s rights seems hypocritical. Not that I understand the criminal mind.”

“Amen to that,” Zac said. He rapped his knuckle on the door. “Get packed up. I’m hungry and I’m tired.”

“A deadly combination,” Emma deadpanned.

Zac threw her the king of hairy eyeballs. Oh, boy. Knowing just how crabby her brother could be when his sugar crashed, Penny closed her laptop, unplugged it and shoved it into her messenger bag. “Don’t fight. Please. I’ve had enough conflict for one day. I mean, seriously, it’s not every day someone tries to kill me.”

Chapter Three

Russ badged his way into Gerald Hennings’s office, parked in one of the guest chairs and waited for him to get off the phone. It was 10:00 a.m. and the day had already gone to hell. As of 7:43 a.m., after surviving a surgery that would have killed most, the reporter who’d been shot on the courthouse steps was no longer among the living.

This development had Russ reprioritizing his caseload just when he’d gotten traction on Heath. He wanted to nail that guy and send him away for a good long time.

For years, Russ had been chasing guys like Heath, guys who would rob senior citizens and hardworking people of their life’s savings. His own parents had been victimized by a mortgage scammer, and from the day his childhood home had been foreclosed on, Russ let his hurt and anger fuel him on the job. On the days he got sick of the lowlifes, he thought of the morning, at age twelve, he’d stood on the front lawn watching his father turn over the keys to their home. A sight like that didn’t leave a man.

Ever.

Hennings set his phone in the cradle and relaxed back in his chair. Fit for a man his age, he was legendary in Chicago for his pristine appearance. Rarely had his expertly cut salt-and-pepper hair been seen out of place. Add to that his custom shirts and flashy suspenders, and reporters all over the city now referred to him as Dapper DL, short for Dapper Defense Lawyer.

“Good morning, Agent Voight.”

Russ leaned over the desk and shook his hand. “Morning, sir.”

“You have an update for me?”

“I do. I’m not sure if you’ve heard, but the reporter involved in the shooting died this morning.”

“I did hear that. Tragedy. We’ll send our condolences.” He shook his head. “I’ll never understand what drives someone to do this.”

Yeah, well, maybe you shouldn’t defend these monsters. That was another conversation, though. Right now he had news and, figuring Gerald Hennings liked his bad news brief and to the point, he dived in. “I’m not at liberty to give you details, but we’ve seen enough evidence to suggest you may have been the target of the shooting yesterday.”

To the man’s credit, he didn’t react. His face remained neutral. No raised eyebrows, no frown, not even a blink. Russ supposed years of defending scumbags had honed his body-language skills.

“I see,” he said. “And you’re sure it was me? Not Penny?”

That, Russ couldn’t say. “We’re not a hundred percent. You and Penny were in close proximity to the shooting and reporters generally aren’t targeted that often. With the location involved, there is likely a bigger issue as opposed to a random shooting.”

Hennings finally gave him some body language and rolled his bottom lip out. “Something tells me that’s not the only reason you’re here.”

Smart man. Russ nodded. “We’re arranging protection for you, Penny and Zac.”

“You think that’s necessary?”

“We’d rather play it safe while we’re investigating. You can expect more questioning today, and we’re coordinating with the U.S. Marshals to get you protection.”

If the man had any issues with the plan, he gave no indication of it. Too bad he was a defense lawyer. He’d make a damned fine FBI agent.

“I appreciate that,” Hennings said. “When can we expect someone? I need to tell Zac. And my daughter.”

Lucky him. “It’ll be today.”

“Good.” He propped his elbows on the desk, ran both hands over his perfect, albeit thinning, styled hair, then cracked a smile. “Would it be considered bribing an officer if I paid you a hundred dollars to tell Penny?”

And damn if he didn’t like this guy. “You’re apprehensive about the protection?”

“No. I’m apprehensive about telling my stubborn daughter a marshal will be tagging along wherever she goes. You’d better find someone with stamina. She’ll debate everything.”

Don’t I know it? Then again, an assignment like this, minus the hundred bucks, might be one Russ could cherish. He’d hold this sucker in his heart for the rest of his life.

“Sir, five months ago, your daughter subjected me to the most brutal cross-examination I have ever endured. She whipped me so hard I’m still bleeding.”

Hennings’s smile went full-blown. Clearly the man adored his daughter. “I taught her well.”

“You did. Which I should be ticked at you about, but I’m going to help you out here. You keep your hundred bucks, because after that beating she put me through, I’d love nothing more than to tell her that when it comes to her safety, she’ll have to do exactly what I say. That will be the most fun I’ve had in years.”

* * *

PENNY HUSTLED ACROSS the flooded Chicago street barely beating the walk signal and almost getting plastered by a cabbie who’d obviously had too much caffeine.

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.

“Let me get this straight,” she said to Heath. “You want me to convince my client not to testify against you. In exchange you will leave her and her son alone. Why not just kill them both?”

Heath laughed. Not that she expected him to answer that question. As an attorney she was ethically bound to report any crime she’d been made aware of. Worse, he’d been careful not to give Penny specifics about the threat he’d made against her. Yesterday alone she’d threatened to kill someone five times. Didn’t mean she’d do it. Right now, she had nothing worth reporting. Oh, this was a calculating man. He knew exactly where the line was.

“My offer is on the table, lovely Penny.”

“You realize if I try to talk her out of testifying she could get another attorney.”

“She could, but people might get hurt. With this sudden guilty conscience of hers, she couldn’t live with it. But, alas, you won’t let that happen. Too many lives at risk. Yours, hers, the boy’s. Even your family.”

Her family. She slapped her hand over her head, stared hard at Russ as a wave of emotion so raw and ravaging tore into her, made her skin burn. What would keep Heath from going after them? Her mother, her father. What about Zac, Mr. Predictable? He stopped at the same coffee shop every morning on his way to work. Every morning. Same time. Same location. One by one, this maniac could pick off her family.

Gently, Russ set his hand on top of hers and squeezed. “Breathe,” he whispered. “Relax.”

Closing her eyes, she focused on next steps. On getting this psycho locked up. Yes. That was what she’d do.

“I understand,” she said into the phone.

“How many lives will be lost, Penny? It’s up to you. I’ll phone you in twenty-four hours. Give me the right answer.”

The line went dead and Penny sucked in a massive breath, and the tight walls pressed in and the shiny white tiles swayed and danced. The phone slipped from her fingers, clattered to the floor. She’d have to sterilize the thing. Or throw it out. Russ bent low, scooped it up, and she scrunched her nose. The germs alone... He hit the button, obviously to be sure the call ended.

He shoved the phone into his jacket pocket and grasped her arm. “You all right?”

“I may throw up.”

“You’re in the right place.”

She nodded because, well, he had a point there. Only, she didn’t want to be on her knees in this bathroom. Who knew the last time the floor was washed?

The pattern on the wall behind Russ looped and swirled and Penny swayed. Massive head rush.

Grasping her arms, he held her steady. “Uh-oh.”

She leaned forward, rested her head against his shoulder. She needed a minute. Not even. Just a few seconds to let the dizziness pass and consider facing such a catastrophic situation.

Russ ran his hands up and down her arms, a gentle reassurance that allowed her to close her eyes—only for a minute—and get herself together.

Finally, she backed away, met Russ’s gaze. “You know he’s insane.”

* * *

“I DO KNOW THAT.” He squeezed her arms. “If I let go, you’re not going to face-plant, are you?”

Penny scoffed. “On this floor? Not on your life.”

A few minutes ago, her skin had turned that ashy-gray that preceded going lights out, and he’d take no chances on her smacking her head against the john and getting a concussion.

Slowly, he lifted his hands from her arms and held them out.

Only slightly annoyed at her own weakness, Penny waved him off. “He ordered that shooting yesterday. To scare me.”

“He said that?”

She nodded.

He snatched his phone from his pocket and scrolled through his contacts. When he’d entered the shop, he’d had every intention of tearing into Penny for walking across the street alone. He’d told her the night before they were looking into the idea of either her or her father being targets and clearly she’d blown that off. She was damned lucky the receptionist squealed on her whereabouts or she’d be dealing with this Heath garbage on her own. In the middle of a crowded coffee shop, no less!

Crazy woman.

“Who are you calling?”

“My office. I want marshals on you ASAP. We’ll get Elizabeth protection also. How the hell did he find out she wants a deal? And why the hell are you walking around alone when you almost got shot yesterday?”

Penny’s face stretched into an appalled openmouthed gape. “You have lost your mind, Russell. I’ll go wherever I want. And I have no idea how Heath knows about Elizabeth. Aside from my coworkers, you’re the only one I spoke to about it. And I’m sure Elizabeth hasn’t told anyone. At least, no one outside her immediate family. And she’s so nervous, I’m not sure she’d have done even that. He said he’s watching her, though. Maybe he took a shot and got lucky.”

“Yeah, well, that lucky shot just earned him extortion and obstruction charges to go with his landslide of financial-fraud issues. And if I can prove it, murder. The reporter died this morning.” Penny reeled back and he held up a finger when Guy Hawkins, one of his squad mates on the CID—Criminal Investigation Division—answered. “Voight here. Where are we on those marshals for Penny and Gerald Hennings?”

“They’re on their way over. Should be there anytime.”

At his hip, the door lever moved. Someone trying to use the john. “One second,” he said to the person on the other side. He went back to Hawkins. “Good. Thanks. Put me through to Everly.” Russ looked back at Penny, who stared at him with dead eyes. The reporter thing rattled her. Rightly so. “Trying to reach my ASAC. Voice mail.”

Not a break to be had. He left a message. Only thing to do.

“Okay,” he said. “We’ve got to get out of this bathroom. I’m not taking you out the front door. Who the hell knows where Heath is, but he had a view of the entrance. We know that.”

“And what? We’re going out the back?”

“I’ll have one of the marshals pick us up in the alley. Wherever Heath is, he won’t see you leave.”

“Where are we going?”

“To find Elizabeth. We’ll stash her away somewhere. This guy is soiling himself over whatever she knows. And if he orchestrated that shooting, she knows enough to put him away.”

The person in the hallway knocked. “Only one bathroom, chief,” a man said.

Russ turned, yanked open the door and flipped his badge up. The young guy, the one he’d spotted reading a Sports Illustrated when he’d walked in, stared at the giant letters that read F-B-I and his eyes widened. “Oh, wow.”

“Yeah,” Russ said. “Give us a second.”

The kid nodded and Russ shut the door again. Sometimes his love of flashing his badge was borderline perverse.

“I totally need an FBI badge,” Penny cracked.

“It’s handy. You ready?”

She nodded and Russ opened the door. Sports Illustrated guy looked at Penny, then to Russ and back to Penny again. His mouth curved into a sarcastic grin that Russ would have liked to pound away at, but hell, two people spending extended time in a single bathroom conjured all sorts of thoughts. Nothing he could do about that.

Penny stepped into the hallway and jerked her head at the young guy. “All yours. Chief.”

Nice. Why he was surprised at her sarcasm, he’d never know. Despite being followed, threatened and shot at, Penny Hennings still had fight in her.

If he could get over the fact that she put criminals back on the street, she might be the love of his life.

Penny stopped in the hallway and turned to him. She bit her top lip, then blew out a breath, and that was so not good.

Ushering her out of the path, he leaned one shoulder against the wall. “You’re thinking. What about?”

“My family. He could go after them.” Her voice squeaked like the last neglected wheel.

No, no, no. She was not turning tail on him. Not Killer Cupcake, who never shied away from conflict. At least, not that he knew of. He’d worked too long and hard to nail this guy. Between the fraud charges and conspiracy to commit murder, this guy was toast. All they had to do was prove it. The widow’s testimony would help them win this. And he wasn’t about to let Penny—the defense attorney—wreck it.

“You’re not backing down on me, Penny. This case is too important. We’ll get all of you protection.”

Her mouth dropped open. “You think I’m backing down? That’s what you think? I happen to be tired. Doesn’t mean I’m letting that nutcase dictate how I should live, but I need my family safe. That’s what I’m thinking.”

Could be he blew that call. Could be? With the cremating stare she gave him? Yeah, he’d definitely blown it.

Sports Illustrated guy came out of the john, spotted them and averted his gaze. At least he’d learned his lesson about the beautiful blonde and her sharp tongue. He didn’t want any piece of her now.

Neither did Russ. By his estimation, he needed damage control here. He nodded toward the guy. “I think you scared the hell out of him.”

Penny rolled her eyes and boosted off the wall. “Don’t even try it, Russell. Admit you screwed up. Feeding my ego won’t replace that.”

Sick bastard that he was, this could definitely be love. “I screwed up. Shouldn’t have assumed. And you know what else?”

A noise from the café drew her attention for a second and her ponytail flew over her shoulder when she came back to him. “What?”

Gently, he swept the blond strands over her shoulder, let the backs of his fingers linger a second. Maybe two.

She shifted and he smiled at the punch of physical attraction. Or maybe he needed sex. Hot, sweaty, knock-him-sideways sex that he hadn’t had in way too long. Getting busy with a woman had never been a problem. Getting busy with the right woman proved to be a challenge.

Penny Hennings—defense lawyer or not—might be the right woman.

She shifted again, made snoring noises, and he ducked his head closer. Slowly, she lifted her chin, and if he pushed it, if he nudged a little farther, he’d be close enough to kiss her. “Yeah, you might be the right one.”

Drifting closer, she blinked up at him, those big blue eyes questioning. “I’m sorry?”

A shrill beeping filled the hallway. Phone. The boss returning his SOS call. He shook his head and let the annoying beep get him back in line before he did something beyond stupid.

Sex with Penny Hennings. He’d never survive.

Chapter Four

Once in the unmarked car driven by Brent Thompson, her newly assigned U.S. marshal, Penny and Russ were driven to an FBI safe house near New Buffalo, Michigan, for crying out loud. Hey, boys, I have nothing whatsoever going on today—let’s drive to Michigan. Anything happening at her office would have to wait. It wouldn’t make her clients happy, but her choices were limited.

They’d spent over an hour looping around the lake, and now, as they drove along this quiet road, miles and miles of sparkling Lake Michigan water laid a perfect path against a bright blue sky. It seemed all that water led straight to Heaven. She didn’t visit the beach often, but driving along this road, watching sunbathers and toddlers playing in the sand, the sunlight shimmering off the lake, all of it gave her a sense of calm she didn’t often feel. Maybe she should make more of an attempt to spend time at her parents’ lake house in Wisconsin.

“You’re too quiet back there,” Russ said from the front passenger seat. “That scares me.”

“Poor baby. Relax, Russell. I was thinking about going to the beach.”

“I didn’t peg you as a beach person.”

“I’m not. Might be time for that to change. Are we almost there?”

According to Russ, Elizabeth Brooks and her son would be meeting them at the safe house, where they’d stay under guard of the U.S. Marshals. At least she’d be safe while Penny tried to figure a way out of this mess.

She reached into her bag for her phone, then remembered Russ had taken it from her. Maddening, this man. He didn’t trust her to not make calls and literally confiscated the phone. Then he promptly removed the battery to ensure the phone couldn’t be tracked. Colin Heath had gone to great lengths to get her attention. After the brazen shooting on the courthouse steps, his being able to bribe someone at the phone company for her location didn’t seem like a stretch.

Penny sighed and Russ spun to her. “Problem?”

“I stink at being idle. All this doing nothing makes me twitchy.”

“We’re almost there. You need to call someone? You can use my phone.”

She’d already checked in with her dad before they left the city. Last he’d seen her, she’d walked across the street for a latte, one she never did get and still desperately needed. Her dad had promised to either move or cover her client meetings for the day, but still, she felt like a slacker.

“No. Thank you. You have people watching my family, right?”

He nodded. “I’m on it. Trust me on this, okay? You all have protection. If we find your family needs to be in a safe house, we’ll deal with it.”

Penny swung her gaze to the back of Marshal Thompson’s—Brent’s—head. Smart man that he was, he kept his eyes on the road, pretending he couldn’t hear any of this conversation. “If I didn’t trust you, I wouldn’t be sitting here.”

With that, Russ turned front again and didn’t speak for another twenty minutes until they pulled into the driveway of a white beach cottage with large, covered windows. The house didn’t look all that big, but she knew from her parents’ lake home there might be a ton of property behind it where the house cascaded onto the beachfront. Heck of a safe house. This baby had to have been seized during an investigation. She’d grill Russ about it later.

A curving brick walkway led to the porch, but Russ jumped out, punched in the garage-door code on the keypad and Brent pulled in.

This would be Elizabeth’s new home until the FBI figured out how to save her life. Or maybe Penny would figure it out first. Either way, Colin Heath would be brought down.

Brent killed the engine, and Penny, needing freedom, yanked on the handle. The door didn’t move. Seriously? They’d locked her in. As if she was the criminal.

“You boys think I’m going somewhere?”

“Nope. Waiting on Russ to close the garage door so no one sees you. Smart-mouth.”

Penny hooted and—wow—it felt so good to laugh. Even if Brent had struck her as a little pushy and overbearing with the way he’d ordered her into the car at the coffee shop. She preferred verbally sparring with someone who didn’t confuse her—the way Russ did. She didn’t know what she wanted from Russ. She liked bickering with him, but sometimes she wanted something else. Something quiet and calm and...and...protective. She squeezed her eyes shut. Protection from a man. When did that stop being the plague?

“Nothing to say?” Brent cracked.

“Oh, I have plenty to say. And you and I will get along just fine.”

Finally, Russ opened her door and she nearly knocked him over leaping out.

“Head inside and stay there while we check the perimeter. We had agents clear the inside already, but I want another look outside.”

Penny snapped to attention and saluted. “Sir, yes, sir. Why don’t I just wait here until you do your thing? Make it easier on all of us.”

He held a finger up. “Even better. Don’t move.”

Sure. Fine. What she needed was a barrel of gummy bears. Sugar right now would be excellent.

The two men walked to the back of the garage to the solid wood door—no windows to be broken by would-be intruders.

Ten minutes later, in the suffocating heat of the closed garage, the back door opened and Brent stepped through. He whirled his finger at her. “We’re good. Perimeter is clear.”

“Where’s Russ?”

A loud sucking noise came from the opposite corner of the garage and she spun backward. What’s that? Russ stood in the doorway kicking at the weather stripping—terrorized by weather stripping?—on the bottom of the door leading to the house. She slapped her hand over her chest.

“Scared the hell out of me, Russell!”

He snapped his head up and jiggled keys at her. “I went in the back door. We’re all set in here.”

Penny marched up the three wooden steps and swung by Russ into a mudroom the size of a small office. “How far out is Elizabeth?”

“Twenty minutes.”

Russ waved her through the second door into the sunny yellow kitchen and its cozy breakfast nook. Cute, but the real deal was straight ahead, where hand-carved walnut floors led to an open living room and floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the lake. Penny wandered the room, running her fingers over stuffed pillows and shelves holding clay pitchers and bowls. She imagined snuggling up on the huge sofa. And if a sexy FBI agent wanted to join her, that wouldn’t be a problem.

Gummy bears. Think about the gummy bears.

She glanced back at said agent. “This place looks like a Pottery Barn catalog. You feds know how to treat a witness.”

“We seized it last year. Stockbroker turned Ponzi schemer.”

She’d hit that one right. Russ flipped a switch on the wall and sent the drapes sliding closed. No. The man was killing her fantasy of the two of them curled up, watching the afternoon sun skitter across the lake.

“Can we leave those open? The view is amazing.”

“If we can see out, people can see in. They shouldn’t have been open in the first place.”

Point there. So much for fantasies. Penny sighed.

“Now my life is complete,” Russ said.

“How’s that?”

“You being...wistful.”

“Wistful?”

Please.

But he stared right at her, those dark eyes devouring hers. So-oh-oh sexy.

“I liked it. The softer side of Penny Hennings. Another facet to a fascinating package.”

As if she believed that. “You think I’m fascinating? The FBI agent who hates defense attorneys.”

He propped a hip on the arm of the sofa and crossed his arms. Casual, but guarded. “I don’t hate defense attorneys.”

“You said—”

“I hate that defense attorneys get criminals off. I don’t hate you. In truth, I rather enjoy you.”

Hello, fantasy. If he kept this up, she’d have those curtains open in the next ninety seconds. There they’d be, the most unlikely pair the justice system ever saw, sprawled across that sofa, doing things she hadn’t done in a very—very—long time.

“Russell—”

The hum of a motor—garage door going up—sounded and Russ turned. Don’t kill this moment. Except Brent appeared, his hulking body filling the kitchen doorway.

“Elizabeth Brooks and her son are here. Kid’s going nuts over the lake.” He glanced at Penny. “Kids are tough. Always wandering. I’m going to check the upstairs again before they come in.”

Brent disappeared upstairs and Russ waved Penny to the couch. “Have a seat. Want something?”

Oh, she wanted something. For a brief second, the room went silent, not a breath to be heard while Russ stared at her and she stared back, the two of them charging the current streaming in the room. Her stomach clenched. Maybe other things clenched, too. At this point, Brent and the entourage that had just pulled up were about to get booted for ten minutes.

Whew. Hot in here.

“Penny?”

“Caffeine. Anything with caffeine. And some white gummy bears. I love gummy bears.”

Not that her system needed any more activity, but she still mourned the latte she never got at Erin’s.

“Gummy bears will have to wait. I’ll see what else we’ve got.”

Russ came back with two cans of cola—one diet, one regular. Smart man to not assume she’d want the diet.

She took the diet. It wasn’t a double-shot latte, but it would do. Another marshal—this one not as big—came through the mudroom, followed by Elizabeth and her son, Sam. The boy’s eyes were big and round and dark like his father’s had been—at least from the pictures Penny had seen. In those eyes there was sadness no twelve-year old should know.

And just seconds ago, Penny had been entertaining wicked thoughts about Russ. How awful could she be? She had clients to care for and she was acting like a high-school twit.

She leaped off the couch, went to Elizabeth and, setting the lawyer persona aside for a second, hugged her. They’d given the woman a rushed explanation and thirty minutes to pack. She probably needed a friend as well as an attorney right now. “I’m sorry for the short notice.”

“It’s okay. If it came from you, I knew it was necessary.”

Penny backed away, spotted Brent on the stairs. He gave a thumbs-up. She set a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “Hey, pal. My guess is there are a few bedrooms up those stairs. How about you and your mom go up and pick a room?”

“Really?”

“Yep. You’re going to have a little vacation here.”

One in which you will barely be allowed outside. She wouldn’t say that, though. Certain things were better left unsaid.

Penny turned to Brent. “They can go up, right?”

“All clear. We’ll be outside. Everyone stays inside. Holler if you need anything.”

Elizabeth and Sam made their way upstairs, their footsteps clunking on the wood and echoing through the ceiling.

Russ flopped onto the sofa and stretched his arms across the back. “What do you need?”

She needed a lot of things. Things she wanted him to give her. She cocked her head, then took the chair across from him. No chance she’d risk being on the same sofa. Not with the heat they’d conjured a few minutes ago. That kind of heat had no place in this house when there was a woman and her son who needed their lawyer to be focused. No, sirree.

“You’re thinking,” he said. “I can see it. You do this thing with your eyebrows. They sort of come up and together. It’s your tell.”

“Really? Huh.”

“I saw it in court that day. Right before you fried my intestines.”

“Russell, get over it already.”

He smiled, all sweet-talking, good-looking boy, and her stomach hitched again. He did that to her. Made her feel things she shouldn’t feel about a man who only wanted to clear a case. Focus on your client.

“I like reminding you,” he said. “It gets you stirred up and you’re fun when you’re stirred up.”

Men. Pigs. Every one of them. “Heath will call me tomorrow. I have to tell him something. I’m not sure what that is. So, to answer your question, what I need is to come up with a plan.”

“You want my opinion?”

Here’s a first. Defense attorney Penny asking an FBI agent—any law-enforcement officer, for that matter—for his opinion. Most law-enforcement members would happily offer an opinion, but it might be more along the lines of Penny taking a trip to hell. She supposed she couldn’t blame them, but she knew how to do her job. A job that protected the constitutional rights of American citizens.

Penny leaned her head against the chair cushion. “I’m thinking I should tell him I’ll do it. I’ll lie to him. Tell him I’ll need time to slowly warm Elizabeth up to the idea of not testifying so it looks legit. He can’t argue that. He knows she’s smart and will be suspicious if I’ve suddenly changed my mind about her testifying.”

“When he calls tomorrow, tell him you’ll convince her not to testify. It’ll buy us time to question her. Meantime, we’re looking for Heath and his shooter from yesterday. We’ll talk to people, shake up his contacts. When we find him, we’ll lock him up.”

Penny pushed her palms into her forehead. “This is insanity. I have to tell my family. We’re all in danger.”

Russ rose from the sofa and edged around the coffee table, testing his weight on it before sitting down.

A vision of the table collapsing under him flashed and she clucked her tongue. “I’d have loved to have seen you fall flat on your bum if that table collapsed.”

He glanced at the table and wiggled on it before grinning at her. “It stinks that you’re a defense attorney.”

Oh, that playful smile of his might undo her altogether.

“I’ll help you with your family,” he said. “I’m close to getting this guy and now he’s admitted he set up that shooting yesterday. He’s desperate. Otherwise, he doesn’t make that call.” He touched her arm. “It may not seem like it, but you’ve got the power here. You can destroy this guy.”

She barely knew Russell Voight and he’d managed to figure out what she needed. She didn’t need to be coddled or patronized or babied. What she needed was to be reminded of her strength. Most men would rush in and tell her what to do. Russ? He told her she had power.

Then he touched her arm and the gentle press blazed inside her. She looked up at him, into those dark eyes that were at once so expressive and yet so distant and she wanted to jump him.

Fast.

Right in this Pottery Barn house with Elizabeth and Sam upstairs and two U.S. marshals outside.

What the hell is wrong with me?

“You okay?” he asked.

No. Wow, she was in deep doo-doo here. She lowered her voice and leaned closer. “I’m totally thinking X-rated thoughts about you.”

* * *

OF ALL THE WOMEN Russ shouldn’t want, Penny Hennings charged him up like no one he’d ever experienced. She drove him out of his mind with the snarky comments and her general distrust of law enforcement. And he still wanted her. Seriously twisted. “How X-rated?” he whispered.

“Russell!”

“Is it triple X or just single?”

Penny slapped her palm against her forehead. “I wasn’t thinking that detailed. It was a few seconds. That’s all. Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

“Hey, these things are good to know.”

She shook her head. “But I shouldn’t be thinking that way. We’ve got a lot going on here and the distraction won’t do anyone any good.”

“Can I fill you in on something?”

“Sure.”

“It’s probably a reaction to your string of incidents over two days. I’m the lucky guy here when it happened.”

“Says the man who had an erection yesterday?”

He closed his eyes. She had to bring that up.

Finally, he opened his eyes, kept his gaze focused and steady. “Part of it was adrenaline, but part of it wasn’t. The part that wasn’t is the problem. I’m close to bringing this guy down and your client can make that happen.” He ran a finger down her cheek and over her jaw. Something he’d wanted to do every day since he’d first seen her from the witness box.

“Russell—”

“Shh. From the day you shredded me on the stand, I’ve thought about you. You’re beautiful and sexy and mouthy and—freak that I am—that’s a huge turn-on. Except the risk is too high.”

But, yeah, he wanted to roll in sheets with her. Naked and sweating and exploring.

His presence in her life revolved around Elizabeth Brooks and Colin Heath. Getting emotional about a case created no issues, but he wanted it to be the right emotions. The ones where he went to the wall to lock up the bad guy. Penny in his bed wouldn’t make that happen.

Sam’s voice sounded from the upstairs hallway and Russ boosted off the table. “We shouldn’t talk about this now.”

Penny glanced at the staircase, then tapped three fingers against her forehead. “You’re right. I’ll check on Elizabeth and Sam and we’ll get started.”

It took twenty minutes for Russ to bring Elizabeth Brooks up to speed. It was all fairly simple. Penny would take the Colin Heath heat while Elizabeth and her son stayed in the safe house, under the protection of U.S. marshals. During that time, she would share with the FBI everything she knew about Heath’s pump-and-dump scheme.

Penny, sitting next to Elizabeth on the sofa, touched her hand. “Are you okay with this? If not, we’ll figure something else out.”

Uh, no. They wouldn’t.

If Russ had to go to war with Penny, no matter how physically attracted to her he was, he’d do it and it would be bloody. He’d busted his tail getting his superiors to sign off on this operation, one that would cost the U.S. taxpayers a nice chunk of change, and he wasn’t about to let the lawyer blow his case for him.

“There’s nothing else to figure out,” he said.

Slowly, Penny angled her head toward him, her nostrils flaring only enough that, had he not studied her body language since the day he’d met her, he would have missed it. That look? The Killer Cupcake look.

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