The Donovans: Pleasured By A Donovan Part 3

"We will do everything we can, Mrs. Reece," Noah told her.

"You have our promise," Ben added.

CHAPTER 5.

Three Weeks Later The courtroom was already full with citizens, either eager to watch what they thought was a vicious killer sentenced to death or another victim being forgotten by the state.

For Ben, it was a coin toss. He knew this case inside and out, knew Ramone Vega as well as the victim-Congressman Theodore McGlinn and his wife Myrna. The Congressman and his wife had been executed, both shot three times to the back of the head. The Congressman had been stripped of his clothes, both of them lying face down on the floor of his home office. n.o.body had heard a sound, no gunshots, nothing. A woman in the cafe a block away from the Congressman's house claimed to have seen a gray car speeding around the corner around the time of the murders. She'd gone to the police station the next day, sure about fulfilling her civic duty, and signed a statement. Her name was Alayna Jonas and two weeks later she was gone.

Ben's defense had been to simply plant the seeds of doubt. The state didn't have a lot on their side to prove Vega did the murders. All Ben had to do was present more evidence that said maybe he didn't. And it had worked, that first go round. He wondered if Vega's new attorney would take the same tactic.

The letter Ben had received along with the one found at the scene of Ebony's death were circ.u.mstantial evidence. Nothing else was found at the scene, so pinning Ebony's murder on Vega seemed like a repeat of the congressman's trial. And that meant the DA's office wasn't jumping to file charges. Instead they were hoping by using the easily brilliant and certainly attractive Victoria Lashley, they would be able to put Vega in jail this go round.

That's precisely why Ben had decided to sit in on the preliminary hearing. Vega had hired another attorney, just as Ben had advised. And he hadn't contacted Ben since that letter on his car. But with Ebony's death, Ben knew Vega hadn't forgotten about him. It didn't seem plausible that his only motive for killing Ebony was that Ben wouldn't represent him. Then again, murderers rarely had good reasons for killing people. At least that's what Ben thought. He'd thought long and hard over the last couple of weeks about what other reason Vega could have had. All he could come up with was retaliation, which p.i.s.sed him off even more. In all his years working as a defense attorney, Ben had never endured violence from any of his clients, whether or not he won their cases. If Vega wanted to be the first, so be it. The man obviously had no idea who he was dealing with.

Upon entering the courtroom, his gaze automatically went to the prosecution table. She was already there. He should have known she would be.

They were in front of Judge Leontine Mercer, who was known around the Justice Center as the b.i.t.c.h on the Bench. She was a fifty-something year old African-American woman who'd been married five times and loved bossing men around as much as she loved cutting females down. She was also a known animal hater. It seemed there was no species on this earth that could please this woman. And she was notoriously strict about how her courtroom was run.

She could be expected on the bench at exactly 9:30, and for whatever attorney that wasn't already at the table waiting for her arrival, Ben could only pray for their survival.

It was a good thing Victoria Lashley was punctual. She was also kick-you-in-the-gut beautiful, fierce in the courtroom and s.e.xy as h.e.l.l. This was a combination she'd refined over the years and Ben had kept tabs. The question for him wasn't so much as why, as it was what he planned to someday do with all the information he'd gathered on her.

As he moved to take a seat on one of the back rows, the door behind him opened once more. Franz Melmer strolled in wearing a black pinstriped suit, dazzling black and white pointed toe shoes, a black shirt and bright white tie. He looked like a member of the mafia instead of a defense attorney and Ben knew why. If the jury were enamored by his flashy dressing and smooth talking, they were likely to miss key testimony and find his client not guilty. It was a lame attempt at influencing the jury. Unfortunately, it worked more often than not.

"Mr. Donovan, I'm surprised to see you here," Franz said with a bright toothy smile that came off more as a smirk that Ben tried to ignore.

Ben accepted his hand for a shake. "Good morning, Mr. Helmer. Just thought I'd sit in on the hearing before I have to be in another courtroom."

"You could have been sitting at the defense table," he said as he continued eyeing Ben suspiciously. "I wondered why you discharged a client in the middle of a trial."

"The trial I was hired to try was over," Ben replied. "Besides, I'm sure you'll do a great job heading up your own defense team."

Franz always worked with a team of younger attorneys. They actually did most of the work while Franz put on the performance. He had billboards and television commercials that also showed his acting abilities. Concentrating on all that promotion, it was no wonder he needed a team of attorneys to do the actual trial for him. Said attorneys had also come into the courtroom heading straight for the defense table.

"We'll get the job done," Franz said after turning to shake the hand of one of his team. "Sit tight, you might learn something."

Ben didn't even bother with a retort. It wasn't worth it. He was just about to take his seat when Vega entered the courtroom, his own entourage following closely behind him. One of the beefy wrestler-type men spotted Ben and taped Vega on the shoulder. Vega's gaze met Ben's.

And held it.

"All rise," the courtroom clerk announced.

Vega turned away first and Ben watched him head to the defense table.

When they were instructed to be seated, Ben caught sight of Victoria. He was now staring into more illusive eyes and the anger that had roiled through him at the sight of Ramone Vega dissolved into something hotter and much more primal, much more dangerous.

Finally, she could breathe a sigh of relief.

Victoria walked out of the courtroom first. Her files were in a box her law clerk would bring back to the office later. What she needed to go over tonight was in her bag. But she couldn't stay in there a second longer. He was driving her crazy. "He" being Ben Donovan, the arrogant and still fine as h.e.l.l defense attorney sent to her right from the devil himself. Okay, that was probably overreacting, but dammit, why was he here?

Initially she'd been excited about this trial. Then she'd found out he'd backed out-afraid of going against her! A nave possibility, but she hadn't wanted to consider another reason. And just when she'd resigned herself to not having to see him, he showed up.

He'd been in court this morning, at least for the first half of the hearing. At one point, when she'd stood to hand an exhibit to the clerk, she'd allowed her gaze to sweep the entire courtroom. He was no longer sitting on the opposite side, back row, fourth person. He was gone.

And for the next hour and a half of the hearing, she'd felt relief.

Now she was feeling a bit of confusion mixed with the swirl of adrenaline being in front of a judge usually gave her.

Ramone Vega was a killer. There wasn't an ounce of her that didn't believe that. His attorney, Helmer, was a self-centered a.s.s who loved the media about as much as he loved cream-filled donut. He would make this trial a circus, she was sure. There were already a crowd of reporters and photographers waiting outside the courtroom for them.

With her briefcase in one hand, Victoria lifted another arm to shield herself from all the microphones being shoved in her face. Cameras flashed and she blinked rapidly. Questions were fired at her and all she replied was, "No comment."

At some point, Jules or the DA would have a press conference. She'd be required to attend but she wouldn't talk. She never did. Her legs moved swiftly toward the elevators where she jabbed a finger into the b.u.t.ton, praying it could tell she was desperate and hurry up. A few seconds later she figured she should be partially thankful that part of her prayer was being answered, except it came with a price.

"Back up, back up," he said in that loud, commanding voice he had.

She'd heard it a couple times over the years as she'd walked past a courtroom that he was in. And yes, she'd sneaked a peek at those times because she couldn't resist the temptation. This, however, was a different circ.u.mstance and he was no longer across the room from her. No, this time Benjamin Donovan was standing right beside her.

The elevator door opened and he moved her inside with a hand to the small of her back and a little push.

"She said no comment, people. Can't you take a hint?" was his parting shot as he held a hand up to stop a reporter who was bold enough to try and board the elevator with them.

Thankfully the doors finally closed and Victoria leaned against the back wall. "Thank you," she murmured without looking at him.

"You're welcome," he said. "It's going to be worse when the trial actually starts. Maybe you should see if someone could sit second chair with you, preferably a man that can put some distance between you and the attorneys."

What? Did he really just say that?

Victoria took a deep breath, let it out slowly as she looked into the eyes of the man who had haunted her dreams for longer than she could remember. And yes, she meant haunted, because Ben Donovan was not the man for her, not the man she should be dreaming about, or secretly wanting. He just wasn't.

"I don't need a bodyguard," she replied in a frosty tone.

He didn't even flinch at her words. She'd actually had men flinch when she'd said things to them, usually when she was turning them down from some pitiful line they'd tried to use on her. But she should have remembered Ben Donovan wasn't the flinching type. Instead he smiled.

"Not a bodyguard, just somebody to deflect some of these people. I know the DA's office has a spokesperson. Maybe she could come down at the end of each trial to make a statement so they won't hound you."

"I can take it," she said, then saw that the destination of the elevator had not been selected.

She moved forward to do so, but that meant brushing past him. And when she did...oh, why the h.e.l.l did she have to do that.

"I'm just trying to help," he said, looking down at her.

Victoria looked up. She had no other choice. No matter the swirls of heat soaring through her body at the contact. Disregarding the flare of arousal at the simple scent of his cologne, she took another breath and refused to even blink in the midst of her discomfort.

"I didn't ask for your help."

He nodded. And still smiled, that amenable smile that always came across as too attractive to really be condescending. G.o.d, she did not like this man. Or at least, she did not want to like him.

"You didn't. But I like to look out for my colleagues and my friends."

"We're not friends."

"We could have been."

If she weren't such a b.i.t.c.h. He didn't say it but the words were clear in his eyes. It was okay, she could take it. What she couldn't take was what a man like him could do to her in the long run.

"This is my floor," she said when the elevator doors opened. Then, because she wasn't totally oblivious to what he was trying to do and how much sense his words had actually made, she paused, looked over her shoulder and said, "I'll call the administrative office to see about having a spokesperson on hand during the trial."

He didn't say another word, which he could have and which she actually expected. He simply nodded. And as she walked away, hearing the elevator doors close behind her, she thought about his smile and how it made her feel like forgetting all the promises she'd made and following the signals her body had given her for the years since she'd known him.

In the end, she wouldn't do that. The promises were more important, the person she'd made them to holding a much bigger piece of her heart than Ben Donovan ever could.

CHAPTER 6.

Tonight was bingo night for Naomi Lashley. Sure she lived in Las Vegas, had lived there all her life, so there were definitely more lucrative games she could play for money. But bingo was fun and it was affordable. She didn't have much and had learned to deal with much less after Porter's death. But she was content and that was all that mattered. She wished she could say the same about her only child.

Victoria was even more beautiful today at thirty-one years old than she had been when she was three minutes old. And she was just as stubborn as she'd been when she was three and sat at the kitchen table for the better part of six hours refusing to eat brussel sprouts.

"I'm not going to play bingo," she said with exasperation.

She had brought a plate of grilled tilapia and macaroni and cheese into the dining room that she kept impeccably clean along with the rest of her house and taken a seat. Clearly, she wasn't planning on leaving this house tonight.

"I have briefs to read and motions to go over. I don't have time to sit with you and Bobby Witkee while you battle it out at bingo."

"Bobby never beats me," Naomi said, holding her head high and reaching over to pinch off a piece of fish. Sticking it into her mouth, she moaned. "You're getting better, this is good. And Bobby cheats, the lying fart."

"Really mom? You were a teacher for thirty years. That's the best you could come up with while I'm eating?"

"I wanted to say something else, but I thought I was being tactful. You work too much," Naomi said with a wave of her hand.

"There's no such thing," Victoria replied. "When you have a job, you do it. Remember you told me that."

Naomi nodded. She had told her daughter that the day she graduated from law school. "You also have a life you need to lead and so far, you're not doing that. What you are doing is sitting in this house buying shoes like there's no tomorrow and getting older everyday."

"Mom! That is not something you should remind someone of. Do I remind you how old you are?"

"No. Because no matter how old I am, I'm still your mother. I've also had s.e.x in the last century. What about you?"

Victoria groaned. Her mother's candor was unlike any other she'd ever known. Whatever Naomi Lashley thought, she said. Depending on who she was speaking to, she would adjust her tone and wording accordingly, but she would always share her honest opinion.

"s.e.x is not the answer to everything," Victoria said with a sigh. She was fairly certain she was correct in that a.s.sessment, but she did remember s.e.x as being enjoyable. Sort of. At any rate, she was not going to discuss this with her mother.

"Maybe not, but it's great recreation. Why do you think I keep playing bingo with Bobby when I know he cheats?" Naomi asked matter of factly.

Victoria choked, putting her hand over her mouth because she wasn't sure what she'd put in wouldn't come flying back out. Naomi just waved her hand at her again. It was one of her favorite moves. It meant, You're wrong and I'm right, get over it. She wore a dark purple velour jogging suit, crisp white tennis shoes and her freshly dyed auburn hair pulled back into a ponytail that made her look about twenty years younger than she was.

"You keep right on sitting here reading your files and prosecuting your cases while cob webs grow-"

That was it. Victoria raised a hand. "Enough! Mom, I'm eating."

"Alright, whatever you say. I'm going," Naomi continued and stole another piece of Victoria's fish. "I'll call you tomorrow."

Her mother leaned over to kiss Victoria's cheek. "Have a good time," she told her even though she knew it wasn't necessary. Bingo was...probably like s.e.x to her...great recreation. And on some days, some of those long, dark days, Victoria envied her mother for her vivacious spirit, for her zest for life and her tenacity in living on even after her husband had died.

"Oh I will, and I'm going to win me some money."

"If you need anything..." Victoria said, getting up out of her chair to walk her mother to the door.

Naomi opened the door, then turned to Victoria. "I don't need anything. And if I did, I would get it myself or I would ask my wonderful daughter. Now go eat your food before it gets cold."

With a nod and a heart full of love, Victoria watched her mother move swiftly down the walkway to the little red Prius she'd just bought even though there had been nothing wrong with her old car. "Sometimes you just need to shake things up," Naomi had told her.

Closing the door, Victoria shook her head. Her mother was always shaking things up.

Two hours later, Victoria had long since finished her dinner but was still sitting at her dining room table, reading the Ramone Vega file. She'd read this file at least twenty times in the weeks since it had been a.s.signed to her. But today in court, she'd lost two key motions to Helmer and his glamour squad. The witness that gave her statement two days after the murders was still missing. City cops had no idea where she was and were reluctant to even consider calling in the FBI. Alayna Jonas was her name and she was nineteen years old with a three- year-old daughter who was now being raised by her grandmother. They hadn't said it, but the cops figured she was dead. Victoria didn't believe that. She didn't want to believe it.

It was almost 11:30 when Victoria yawned. Then yawned again. Four times in immediate succession. Slamming her palms down on the table, she sighed. "Alright, I get the message."

Standing, she didn't even bother to pull the papers back into the file because she'd simply pull them out again in the morning when she had breakfast. She did, however, take her gla.s.s and napkin with cookie crumbs on it to the kitchen. Coming back out, she switched off the lights in the dining room and walked through the living room to get to the front door. She'd just double checked the locks when she heard the gla.s.s crashing. To her credit she didn't scream-Victoria hated screaming and screeching or any of those overly played out female reactions to fear. Instead she gasped, clutched a hand to her throat.

More gla.s.s shattered, scattering across her living room floor as her entire front window caved in. She took a step, thinking to get to either her cellphone or her house phone, but the room filled with smoke. Her eyes watered as she coughed and fell to her knees, chest burning with the pain of not getting enough air. She hacked and crawled on hands and knees, praying she could avoid most of the gla.s.s, moving by memory to where she knew her purse was.

Silence seemed to invade the s.p.a.ce along with the smoke, but there was no more crashing gla.s.s and the lights were still out. Fumbling, she knocked her purse onto the floor and had to flatten her hand over gla.s.s to find the phone that had fallen out. When it was in her hand, she pressed the ON b.u.t.ton and hit 911. Throat burning, she was just able to give her name and her address before she collapsed to the floor, eyes closed, tears streaking her face.

"A call just came in. Units are heading to Victoria Lashley's place. Suspected vandalism," Noah spoke into the phone as he climbed into his truck. He wasn't a beat cop and this wasn't a homicide. What he was and was d.a.m.n proud of was a good detective. And as such he had a gut feeling this was no suspected vandalism. Victoria Lashley was in court this morning with a notorious killer. An attack on her tonight was no coincidence.

"I'll meet you there," Ben answered immediately.

Noah figured as much. There was history with Ben and Victoria. Well, not exactly history, more like "the one that got away" syndrome, and his good friend was even better at denying it. But Noah had no doubt that Ben would do exactly as he'd said. He would be at Lashley's place, probably before him.