By the end of the day, Sal had a pretty good handle on Chantry & Hammond’s personnel. There was the flirt. The jealous coworker. The ambitious partners. For the most part, they fit neatly into categories.
He’d do background checks on each, including any criminal history. It wasn’t difficult to figure out that several members of the law firm were living beyond their means.
He’d zeroed in on Bryan Hewston and Vicky Newman. A call to Shelley netted him the information that Newman came from money and had a substantial trust fund. Okay, that explained the designer bags and clothes. Hewston was another matter. It wasn’t clear, Shelley told him, where his money came from. She promised to do more digging.
“Thanks, boss.”
“Take care of Olivia. From what you’ve said, she’s in over her head.”
“You know I will.”
“I wish I could be there, but I can hardly tie my own shoes, much less chase down bad guys.”
Sal gave the expected chuckle, but his mind wasn’t really on what Shelley was saying. He was too busy trying to convince himself that he didn’t still have feelings for Olivia, before giving it up as a lost cause. Mixing personal and private matters was a recipe for disaster, so he was determined to keep things strictly professional.
That was the way to go. The only way to go.
He’d insisted on accompanying her to the Savannah courthouse and seeing her home at the end of the day. In between chatting up her coworkers, he’d found a motel, stashed his duffel bag there. He could have stayed at his parents’ place or with his brother, Nicco, but he preferred having the freedom of movement that a motel room offered.
Though he’d grown up in Savannah, he’d kept his distance from his family since his return from Afghanistan. The past kept tripping him up. He’d hidden the darker parts from his family as well as Olivia.
He knew he needed to make time to see his family. Until then, he contented himself with a phone call to his parents, assuring them that he was all right and would see them once the case was resolved.
He now waited at the side entrance to the courthouse as they’d agreed.
Heels clicking on the marble floor, Olivia made her way to where he stood. He took in the defeated expression on her face.
“A setback in court?”
“Waterloo was a setback. This was a disaster.” She tried a smile, but it barely made it to her lips. “I let everyone down.” Her shoulders slumped. “Especially the parents. They’re depending on me.”
“You’re too hard on yourself. Always tilting at windmills.”
“That’s what windmills are for.”
He understood that defending the underdog was what had made her want to be a lawyer in the first place. “You’ll get ’em tomorrow.”
“I hope so. I have to.” Her voice hardened. “What the company did to those children is as good as murder. And that’s what I’ll take it down for.”
From what he’d heard about the case against the pharmaceutical company, the parents filing the suit stood a good chance of winning. His eyes narrowed at the thought of sick children being given counterfeit drugs.
Children had always held a special place in his heart. He doted on his nieces and nephews and took every chance he had to spoil them, much to his sisters’ chagrin. While in Afghanistan, he’d taken a special interest in the children and had the nickname Gentle Giant bestowed upon him. He sent most of his salary from S&J to a foundation that helped children displaced by war.
“You’re a real hard case, Hammond, you know that?”
This time her smile reached her eyes. “So I’ve heard.”
“I like that in a woman.”
“Why, thank you, kind sir.” Her eyelashes fluttered flirtatiously. “But I do declare that you’ve made me blush.”
The back-and-forth felt good. The time with Olivia had been punctuated with threats, fear and worry. They needed to step back occasionally and remember the normal.
“Come on. I’ll take you to dinner.”
“Could we pick up something and take it home? I want to get out of these heels and put my feet up.”
“You’re the boss.”
He stopped for burgers and fries, the enticing smell of grilled beef wafting through the truck’s cab. Olivia was probably as hungry as he was, and he drove a bit faster to meet her at her townhome. Once they had both reached her place, Olivia excused herself, murmuring that she wanted to change out of her suit.
She reappeared five minutes later dressed in a soft pink track suit, hair pulled back in a long ponytail. To his eyes, she was even more beautiful than she had been in the spit and polish of the professional suit. She looked as fresh as a bowl of strawberry ice cream.
He was wondering how to prepare her for the possibility that they might not be able to get her boss back when she brought up the subject.
“You don’t think we’ll get Calvin back alive.”
He didn’t answer right away, wanting to choose his words with care. “I don’t know what to think.” That was honest. “Remember that it’s not just Calvin’s life on the line,” he felt compelled to add. “The kidnappers have you in their sights as well.” He knew that she was less afraid for herself than she was for her boss.
That was Olivia—always putting others first.
Sal tightened his lips. It was up to him to make certain she didn’t become a casualty.
* * *
Olivia checked her watch for what seemed the hundredth time in the last hour. “Why don’t they call?” Waiting was hard, brutally hard. “I just want to get it over with.”
“They’re depending on that. When they do call, they want you so shaken that you’ll do exactly as they say.”
“Of course I’ll do what they say.” There was no question of that.
“We have to get the upper hand somehow.”
“And how would we do that?”
“We find out all we can about your boss. What he’s been doing the last few months. Who he’s seen. Everything.”
“Calvin does his own thing. He mostly leaves the day-to-day tasks to the partners and associates.”
“Then why kidnap him?”
The question they’d asked themselves over and over.
“You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”
“I have to do this. Calvin is depending on me.” She had to see this through. For Calvin’s sake as well as her own. “I shouldn’t have involved you.”
“You can’t do this on your own.” A deep line of annoyance rode between his brows.
She bristled. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
Despite her tart words, she found herself wanting to lean on him in ways that were far from acceptable. With more regret than she expected, she pushed away.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean you weren’t capable in most things, only that you’re out of your league here.”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“It’s supposed to make you think smart.”
She was responsible for getting Calvin back safely. The kidnappers’ call had been very clear about that.
Olivia reached for another fry. Sal did the same, their fingers brushing each other fleetingly. She fought the twin urges to pull back and to prolong the touch. In the end, she took a fry and pretended she hadn’t noticed the jolt of electricity that had arced between them. A glance at his face told her that he, too, was not unaffected.
Her gaze drifted to where their hands had oh-so-briefly met before she’d pulled away and busied herself with the fries. The subtle deepening of the lines bracketing his mouth wasn’t lost on her; nor was the tightening of his shoulders. He’d seen through her charade of pretending she hadn’t noticed the sparks.
She wanted to explain, to apologize, but feared that doing so would only draw attention to what was best ignored. Acting on that momentary awareness that had flashed from his hand to hers could only lead to regret. She had enough regret regarding Sal without heaping more on to it.
A smart woman would keep her distance and remind herself that he was only there to help her get Calvin back safely. She’d always considered herself a smart woman.
Now she wondered.