“Have you called the attorney yet, spoken with Camden?” he asked.
“No. Since you were the one who recommended him, I don’t see how I can trust that he won’t just tell me what you want me to hear.”
Bryson chuckled, seeming to enjoy their sparring. Her body relaxed involuntarily, and she leaned back and lifted her glass, her tongue darting out to run along the rim. She took full advantage of the coolness in her hands.
When his eyes darkened instantly, her own widened. Wow. The tension was back, and it was so thick, it could be cut with a paring knife.
“I have another card here. You have Internet access, right?”
She nodded her head. “Yes.”
“Good. Then run a search on the guy. He’s in Montana, where the case is being tried, but I know he’ll be willing to come down here and speak with you. Yes, he wants this bastard behind bars as much as I do, but he won’t lie to you, won’t falsify information to get what he wants. I won’t, either.”
“Couldn’t I just talk to him on the phone?” The thought of having another man come to her place didn’t please her. This was her haven, and she didn’t want to share it.
“We could go up there,” he suggested, as if he had read her mind.
“Wouldn’t that be unsafe?” That was where Jesse was. Going back there wouldn’t be good for her piece of mind.
“How about we meet at a neutral location down here?”
“Why do you have to be there? I can’t get honest answers if you’re there,” she said, and for just a second, so quickly that she knew she had to have imagined it, hurt flashed across his face.
Then, in a blink, his smile reappeared.
“Of course. I will set it up but stay back. I want you to feel confident after the meeting with him. His name is Camden Whitman, and he’s been a friend of mine for over fifteen years. You can trust this man with your life.”
She saw truth shining in his eyes, but how well did anyone really know anyone else? Bryson might think that he could trust this lawyer, but why did he feel that way? The more pressing question was this: Why did she feel as if she could trust Bryson? She didn’t want to, and she had her guard up, but the bottom line was that she thought he was telling her the truth. Or at least her gut told her he was speaking the truth — not that her gut had always led her in the right direction.
Maybe it would clarify things if she just met with the lawyer, got it out of the way. She’d agreed to testify, so putting off the next step was only postponing the inevitable. Besides, if she could help get Jesse off the streets, how many women would that save? How many people would sleep better at night?
Sipping her tea, she glanced up, trying to be casual, hoping to gauge his expression without his noticing. Nope. His eyes were still locked on her as he sat there — quite still — not saying anything more. Just waiting on her.
“I guess it wouldn’t hurt to talk to him…”
“Great!”
For some odd reason, she liked that she’d pleased him. This was another bad sign.
“What happens if Jesse doesn’t go to prison?”
This was the ultimate fear. If she got on that stand, testified against him, let him know how much she really knew about him, and then somehow the justice system failed and he was released, she had no doubt that Jesse would never stop coming after her. He was the sort of man who could never allow a woman to betray him without seeking what he deemed justice in his sick mind.
“Then I will shoot him myself.” The level look in Bryson’s eyes let her know he meant what he said.
The thought was almost as frightening to her as it was of Jesse being free.
This man, sitting so nonchalantly at her kitchen table, wearing a light-colored shirt, drinking a glass of her tea, had killed before. She had no doubt about it.
“Wouldn’t that make you just as wrong as him?”
He looked at her, some of the coldness leaving his eyes before he answered. “He would leave me no choice, Misty. I wouldn’t shoot him in the back. But he would go after you, after all of the witnesses, and I would be left with no choice but to take his life.”
His words were spoken so matter-of-factly. It was just another day on the job. Misty had no idea how people could reach a point in their life where they could talk of such a thing as killing another so cavalierly, as if they were discussing nothing more meaningful than peanut butter and jelly. But Bryson had obviously reached that point.
There was no turning back.
“It’s never easy to take a life, but sometimes it has to be done for the greater good of society,” he told her.
She got that, even believed in the death penalty, but she didn’t think she could be the one to flip the switch in the execution room, didn’t think she’d be able to fire the weapon.
“You think you wouldn’t be able to do it, but you’d be surprised what you can do when the will to survive is at its greatest,” he said, shocking her. “I can’t read minds, if that’s what you’re worried about. I can just read your thoughts through your eyes.”
“I guess that’s something I need to work on.”
“Don’t change it.” His voice was passionate, and he leaned forward, his mouth mere inches from her own. She licked her lips as she glanced down, and that feeling in her stomach ratcheted up tenfold this time.
When he cleared his throat, she jerked back, realizing she’d been lusting after him.
“I really should get a few chores done before I go to sleep. I have to work tonight,” she murmured, feeling suddenly claustrophobic in her own house.
“I’ll leave for now, but I’ll be back soon,” he promised, or threatened — however she chose to look at it. At this point, she had no clue.
All she really knew was that she needed to get her wits together.
Bryson stood, and she didn’t realize that he’d walked out the front door until she heard his vehicle start. After getting shakily to her feet, she moved to the front window, and then their gazes met through the glass pane of the passenger side window, leaving her standing there frozen. He smiled, turned away, and pulled away from the curb onto the quiet street.
The fates seemed to be forever against her, so she’d bet every last dime she had to her name, which wasn’t much, that preparations for this trial were going to drag on for a long time, a very long time, leaving this man almost a fixture in her life.
Sliding to the floor with her glass clutched tightly in her fingers, Misty groaned.
Yes, a very long time, she thought again. Trials and tribulations.
Gardening time was over. Right now, she had to cool off, and then she had an attorney to speak to.
Chapter Six
Misty’s nerves were stretched thin as she walked into the luxurious hotel and looked around at the gleaming lobby. Men and women seemed to be gliding across the polished slate flooring on their way to the high front desk.
She felt woefully underdressed in her plain black skirt and white top, certain that she stood out like a broken finger around these men in hand-tailored suits and women in dresses that cost many times what her last car had. None of the attire could be purchased at the local mall — that was certain.
This had been a mistake — stepping into a world where she didn’t belong. This was the sort of place people with money frequented. People with serious money.
Her fingers shaking, she turned her head and looked toward the doors. It wasn’t too late to escape. Sure, Camden Whitman had flown in from Montana to meet with her, but he would probably be relieved if she didn’t show. How useful could a girl like her really be to this case? Yes, a girl. She felt like a girl, not a woman.
Misty was sure that if they did put her on the stand, she’d fail epically. Yes, she was capable of answering a few questions, but when the cross-examination started, who was to say she wouldn’t immediately fall to pieces?
“Ms. Elton?”
Misty froze, fear in her eyes. She wasn’t Ms. Elton here. That wasn’t her name. She was… What was her name again? It wasn’t used all that often, and she easily forgot. Oh, yes, Magnolia Linhart. She shouldn’t acknowledge the person addressing her.
“I’m sorry. It’s Ms. Linhart, isn’t it?”
Yeah, this person knew who she was. Turning, Misty caught sight of a dark gray suit with a splash of blue against a stark white shirt. She tilted her head, up, and up, and up.
Then she was meeting the icy blue eyes of one of the most stunning men she’d ever seen before. Were all the males on this case required to have a certain GQ look? This was absurd. His dark blond hair was cut short but styled in a way that only the rich could afford, his jaw solid, chiseled, masculine, and his mouth — wow, that mouth must have inspired many nights of fantasies for more than a few ladies.
She gulped and remained standing in front of him, stock still and utterly speechless.
“I’m Camden Whitman,” he said, and he held out his hand.
Common manners kicked in and Misty found her arm rising and then her small hand was clasped in his for a few seconds as she swallowed her natural fear of having a new man take hold of her — even in such an innocent fashion.