Chapter Forty-Seven

Michael hadn’t been able to say no when Jessie needed him to save her from herself—and from Talmont. It was his job, after all. At least where Talmont was concerned. As for saving her from herself, no experience or degree had qualified him for that.

But it hadn’t been his job to help her break into Ian’s practice. They might’ve gotten conclusive evidence that would pin Sam’s murder on the senator, but they’d obtained it during a B&E and it wouldn’t be admissible in court. His judgment had become skewed. The crimes he’d committed last night far eclipsed the ones he’d perpetrated under Croft’s contracts.

He wasn’t thinking straight because of his feelings for Jessie. But she’d made it clear last night that it was all business between them—that the only desire they shared was to bring Sam’s murderer to justice.

He waited in his Swann Street apartment, expecting the knock on his door precisely at noon.

Croft had obliged.

Michael stepped around the duffel bags, boxes, and a suitcase all heaped near the entrance. His life, concentrated into a pathetic pile. He opened the door.

Croft stepped past him, wearing dress shoes despite the snow, and stopped short next to Michael’s stack of stuff. “What’s all this?”

“My resignation.” He closed the door with a thud.

Croft tucked his chin and shot Michael a speculative look, his brows lowered. “You said you needed coverage for today. You didn’t say you were giving up.”

Michael had prepared for Croft to belittle, badger, and manipulate him, but he’d made up his mind. “I’m saying it now. My contract states that you should be notified, in person, of my intent to terminate. Call my backup, whoever that is, and tell him he’s got a job.”

He walked into the living area, and Croft followed. Michael made a sweeping, nonchalant gesture toward the electronic equipment. “Everything’s still running to spec, so the new guy can just concentrate on Jessie—ca.” He pressed his lips together tightly, hoping he’d caught himself before Croft had noticed the familiar use of her name. Then he remembered that it no longer mattered what Croft noticed.

The judge shoved his hands into the pockets of his expensive overcoat. He nodded and paused for effect. “I never expected this from you.”

Michael tensed with resentment. “What did you expect?”

“Dedication, honesty, loyalty—”

“Based on what? A contract? A veiled threat that you’d blackball me in DC if I didn’t sign another contract with you? My father died, then Sam. You waltzed in and demanded that I get over it and get on with it, or move out of here immediately and risk my professional future. That’s a sure way to gain someone’s loyalty.”

As for honesty, Michael couldn’t defend himself. He’d shielded Jessie from Croft by underreporting her activities and omitting information he’d reflexively divulged about Sam. At times, he’d flat-out lied. And he’d no doubt made a mockery of the refrain from developing a relationship clause in Croft’s contract. Defied it both ways.

Physically, check.

Emotionally, check.

Croft stood silent, as if he were expecting more.

So Michael gave it to him. “And I’ve been on this job twenty-four seven since the last time you walked out of here.” He jabbed his finger in the direction of the door. “My dedication is not in question.”

Croft reached out and put his hand on Michael’s shoulder. It took all of his discipline not to flinch. He’d stand here and listen to the man’s bullshit. Then he’d be free of him, and of Jessie.

Forever.

“She got to you, didn’t she?” Croft sounded more commiserating than judgmental, blindsiding Michael.

He fired through a split-second debate over whether to lie again or to tell the truth. An image of Jessie with Talmont flashed in his mind and he clenched his teeth. He gazed out the window, focusing on nothing.

Then he shifted his eyes to meet Croft’s. “Yes. Congratulate yourself. You set it up that way. And made sure that I’d never have a chance.”

The judge reacted with his emotionless courtroom expression. He squeezed Michael’s shoulder, then sat on the couch and tipped his head. “Have a seat, Michael. It’s time you and I got a few things straight.”