died,” she whispered to herself. “She just now died. Tracy didn’t know how to have pleasure, how to do anything but hate, and hide, and hurt. She’s dead now. You are Emery.”
Slowly, her mouth curled into a smile and she closed her eyes, tipping her face back. “Emery…”
And Emery wanted Joel.
* * * * *
The apartment was almost a mirror image of the one he’d grown up in. A little newer. It didn’t stink of Mom’s cigarette smoke or her alcohol.
But it had the same bland beige walls, the same threadbare carpet.
Walking through the door, Joel glanced at the two feds outside the door.
“Any idea how long I’m going to be stuck here?” he asked. He had been given a reprieve. He didn’t feel he deserved it, but he had taken the deal. The feds would grant early, conditional parole if he helped them put away the crime lords. His parole required that he cooperate with the federal government and he had to testify. He had. Grainger was the only one left, and he was still a damned vegetable from what he had heard. Now he was itching to go after Tracy.
He wasn’t staying. But he had to make them think he was.
The DA moved in behind him, smiling a polite, professional smile. “That depends on Grainger’s recovery. Relax. It’s almost over now. Once he’s considered fit to indict and stand trial, you’ll be home free.”
A cynical smile edged up the corners of his mouth.
Home free.
He had sent three crime bosses to prison. They needed his cooperation to get a fourth one in there. He was now a convicted felon and although his debt to society was considered paid, that rap would follow him the rest of his life. And he’d deal with his own guilt for as long as he lived.
Home free.
Sighing, he shoved that aside. Tracy—he had to concentrate on Tracy.
The skin on the back of his neck prickled as the DA moved into his line of sight. “I’m a little curious—one of the people we’d love to question, we’ve never been able to find. I heard you had a relationship with her. Tracy Grainger, Vincent’s wife?”
Joel cut his eyes to the DA. Lifting one brow, he said flatly, “Ms. Grainger is one thing I will not discuss. Period.”
Mike Chaumers’ face went cold. “It doesn’t work that way. I have to know the details. Because if I’ve heard rumors, the defense will have heard them, too. I need to know what was between you two. So I can figure out a way around it. I also want to know where she is. We need her on the stand.”
Joel smiled coolly. “I don’t know where she is. And I don’t know what rumors you’re talking about.”
Chaumers narrowed his eyes. “Don’t dick around with me, Lockhart. I know what Grainger did with her—practically handed her to you on a silver platter.”
Arching a black brow, Joel asked softly, “Have proof? Are there pictures? A movie? Eyewitnesses?”
The DA said nothing, just glared at Joel angrily. Lifting one shoulder in a shrug, Joel turned his attention back to the window and stared out at the gray vista of the parking lot. “Then, like I said, I don’t know what rumors.”
A hand came down on Joel’s shoulder, and Chaumers swung him around. “You’re supposed to be cooperating with us, buddy. You want me to throw you back in jail? I can do that—for a very long time.”
Joel dropped his eyes to the hand lying on his shoulder and then slowly looked back at the attorney.
Chaumers paled and slowly backed away until he bumped into the two feds who had stepped into the room.
“Is there a problem here?” A new voice spoke up, but Joel never took his eyes away from Chaumers to look at third fed, Agent Casey Dowling.
It was Mike who slowly turned to look at the petite black lady. Only then did Joel look at her. She was having a stare-down with Mike though. Turning away from them, Joel went back to staring out the window.
He was a little sorry that he’d have to leave Dowling empty-handed. He liked her.
She had a serious grudge against
Slowly, her mouth curled into a smile and she closed her eyes, tipping her face back. “Emery…”
And Emery wanted Joel.
* * * * *
The apartment was almost a mirror image of the one he’d grown up in. A little newer. It didn’t stink of Mom’s cigarette smoke or her alcohol.
But it had the same bland beige walls, the same threadbare carpet.
Walking through the door, Joel glanced at the two feds outside the door.
“Any idea how long I’m going to be stuck here?” he asked. He had been given a reprieve. He didn’t feel he deserved it, but he had taken the deal. The feds would grant early, conditional parole if he helped them put away the crime lords. His parole required that he cooperate with the federal government and he had to testify. He had. Grainger was the only one left, and he was still a damned vegetable from what he had heard. Now he was itching to go after Tracy.
He wasn’t staying. But he had to make them think he was.
The DA moved in behind him, smiling a polite, professional smile. “That depends on Grainger’s recovery. Relax. It’s almost over now. Once he’s considered fit to indict and stand trial, you’ll be home free.”
A cynical smile edged up the corners of his mouth.
Home free.
He had sent three crime bosses to prison. They needed his cooperation to get a fourth one in there. He was now a convicted felon and although his debt to society was considered paid, that rap would follow him the rest of his life. And he’d deal with his own guilt for as long as he lived.
Home free.
Sighing, he shoved that aside. Tracy—he had to concentrate on Tracy.
The skin on the back of his neck prickled as the DA moved into his line of sight. “I’m a little curious—one of the people we’d love to question, we’ve never been able to find. I heard you had a relationship with her. Tracy Grainger, Vincent’s wife?”
Joel cut his eyes to the DA. Lifting one brow, he said flatly, “Ms. Grainger is one thing I will not discuss. Period.”
Mike Chaumers’ face went cold. “It doesn’t work that way. I have to know the details. Because if I’ve heard rumors, the defense will have heard them, too. I need to know what was between you two. So I can figure out a way around it. I also want to know where she is. We need her on the stand.”
Joel smiled coolly. “I don’t know where she is. And I don’t know what rumors you’re talking about.”
Chaumers narrowed his eyes. “Don’t dick around with me, Lockhart. I know what Grainger did with her—practically handed her to you on a silver platter.”
Arching a black brow, Joel asked softly, “Have proof? Are there pictures? A movie? Eyewitnesses?”
The DA said nothing, just glared at Joel angrily. Lifting one shoulder in a shrug, Joel turned his attention back to the window and stared out at the gray vista of the parking lot. “Then, like I said, I don’t know what rumors.”
A hand came down on Joel’s shoulder, and Chaumers swung him around. “You’re supposed to be cooperating with us, buddy. You want me to throw you back in jail? I can do that—for a very long time.”
Joel dropped his eyes to the hand lying on his shoulder and then slowly looked back at the attorney.
Chaumers paled and slowly backed away until he bumped into the two feds who had stepped into the room.
“Is there a problem here?” A new voice spoke up, but Joel never took his eyes away from Chaumers to look at third fed, Agent Casey Dowling.
It was Mike who slowly turned to look at the petite black lady. Only then did Joel look at her. She was having a stare-down with Mike though. Turning away from them, Joel went back to staring out the window.
He was a little sorry that he’d have to leave Dowling empty-handed. He liked her.
She had a serious grudge against
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