Spin Control

The man was watching her through a pair of binoculars.

Suzannah stared back, completely confused. He was wearing a baseball cap and nicely fitted jeans. He was also wearing a brown leather bomber jacket exactly like Justin’s, but with the binoculars obscuring his features, she simply couldn’t tell who it was.

At least, not for sure.

If it were Justin, he would have waved to her by now. Even if he hadn’t intended for her to catch him following her, he’d do something now to acknowledge her. Wouldn’t he?

She was about to call out to him when the man finally moved. Reaching his hand under his jacket, he pulled out a jet-black, long-barreled firearm. Then, to her shock, he aimed it right at her.

Dear Reader,

Law students learn countless rules governing trial procedure. Most laypeople know the major ones, too, just from reading or watching legal thrillers. Rules like: Don’t lead your witness. Don’t badger their witness. That sort of thing.

But Rule #1 overshadows all others: Don’t piss off the judge.

A good litigator chants it silently before every appearance. No competent attorney wants to test it, much less break it.

It’s true that a judge’s rulings can be reversed later on appeal, but while trial is in session, he or she is omnipotent. Get on that judge’s bad side, and suddenly, you have zero leeway with either your questioning or your arguments. Heck, at that point, you’re just trying to survive! Because if you’re really annoying, you could go to jail for contempt.

Among her other problems, the heroine of Spin Control has just broken Rule #1.

Enjoy!

Kate

Spin Control

Kate Donovan

MILLS & BOON

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KATE DONOVAN

is the author of more than a dozen novels and novellas, ranging from time travel and paranormal to historical romance, suspense and romantic comedy. An attorney, she draws on her criminal law background to create challenges worthy of her heroines, who crack safes, battle bad guys and always get their man. As for Kate, she definitely got her man and is living happily ever after with him and their two children in Elk Grove, California. Please visit her Web site at www.katedonovan.com.

This story is dedicated to our dog Murphy,

who was so sweet, so loyal and

so loving for fourteen years,

and who never once complained at the end.

Good boy, Murf. We’ll never forget you.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Epilogue

Prologue

Kristie Hennessy’s career at the Strategic Profiling and Identification Network required her to excel at three things: evaluating a subject’s state of mind, anticipating his next move and designing a strategy to deal with it. She had been doing this sort of thing every day, weekends included, for almost two years, yet had to admit the man she was currently observing was the most fascinating subject she had ever encountered.

He paced back and forth like a wild animal that had just been caged. The fact that he was visibly conflicted was particularly intriguing given his profile. Everything in his file indicated that he was a man of incredible confidence, determination and single-mindedness. And Kristie’s dealings with him up till this point had proved that profile correct.

So why was he suddenly so unsure of himself? So tense? So downright fidgety?

And then it hit her, right between the eyes. This man—SPIN Director Will McGregor—was about to propose to her.

Finally!

“As you know,” he was saying, his sexy voice resembling an X-rated travelogue as he paced the floor of her Washington, D.C., apartment, “the West Coast office is ready to roll. The last stage in this plan is to assign permanent staff, and then—assuming the President doesn’t change his mind again—SPIN will be converted from a separate agency into a division of the Bureau.”

“It’s like going home for you,” she agreed, wistful for the days when he had been an FBI agent in the field, depending on her—his “spinner”—to provide him with undercover identities and support via computer and telephone.

It had been his gorgeous intonation and impressive record that had first attracted her to him. For weeks they had known each other only by voice. Now they were lovers. And if she was reading the signals accurately, they were about to become even more.

“I kind of miss the days when you were an agent yourself,” she told him. “But you’re such a great director, the change has definitely been worth it.”

He seemed disconcerted by the interruption, so she warned herself to stop distracting him from his objective.

McGregor cleared his throat. “Once the transition is complete, I won’t be a director any longer. I’ll be an assistant director of the FBI. They’ve promised me I can choose to be based in L.A. or D.C. And since my sister lives in L.A., that’s my preference. But it affects you, too, because I’d want you to permanently relocate there. The good news is, you won’t have to find housing. Because obviously you’d be living at my place.”

“Then where would you live?”

“Huh? Oh. Funny.” McGregor grimaced, then joined her on the sofa, taking her hands in his own. “You’re not going to make this easy, are you?”

“After fourteen months? Nope.”

He chuckled. “Okay. Move in with me, please. I can’t live without you.”

“Move in with you?” She licked her lips, disappointed. “That’s it?”

“For now. I figure eventually we’ll make it permanent—”

“Eventually we’ll make it permanent?” She pulled her hands free. “FYI, that’s the most unromantic thing anyone has ever said to me.” She eyed him grimly. “All year long I thought you were waiting until the new office was set up. Then I thought you were waiting to see if Ray would come back to SPIN, which obviously isn’t going to happen. Now what? Are you some kind of freakish confirmed bachelor in disguise? Because if you are, you should have warned me.”

He gave her a pained smile. “Just the opposite. I’d love to marry you. But our work situation complicates things. If you and I get married…have children…”

“Oh, that.” She laughed in relief. “Let me make it easy for you. You and the kids would come first. Absolutely. But I also love spinning and I love working for you. And I actually think I can run some ops from home, so I can combine business and pleasure. Except when the kids are babies, of course, because I’ll be too busy kissing their toes to get anything done.”

McGregor grinned. “Sounds great. Unfortunately that’s not the complication I was referring to. I’m worried I’ll have to fire you someday, and I’m pretty sure the marriage manuals advise against that.”

“Fire me?” Kristie scowled. “For what? I’m your best spinner.”

“You’re great,” he agreed. “But you’re also a rogue. You’ve decimated the rules at least three times that I know of—once on my watch, two or three on Ray Ortega’s. I figure you and I should live together for a while. See if you do anything else crazy. If I have to fire you, then you can decide if you’ll still marry me. And if by some miracle you become a model employee, we can get married next summer. I even bought the ring—Oh, fine!” His blue eyes darkened as the phone on Kristie’s desk began to chime. “Is that your operative line? I thought we agreed you’d route it to the backups so we could have an uninterrupted dinner for once.”

“I told them not to bother me unless it was an emergency.”

“Perfect.” He punched the speaker-phone button, his voice turning into a growl. “This is Director McGregor. Identify yourself.”

“Hey, McGregor. It’s Justin Russo. So the rumors about you and S-3 are true, huh? You’re a lucky guy! Is she as pretty as she sounds?”

“Russo?” McGregor practically spat the name of Kristie’s favorite operative. “Not that it’s any of your business, but S-3 and I were having an employer-employee discussion. And I wasn’t aware we had any ops going with you at the moment.”

“We don’t,” Kristie interrupted. “But we recommended him for the Angel of Mercy investigation. Because of the possible Night Arrow connection. Remember?” Raising her voice, she asked with concern, “Justin? Is everything okay?”

“Sorry, S-3. Didn’t mean to get you in trouble with the boss. I know SPIN isn’t officially involved with this case, but I was hoping to get some quick advice anyway.”

“Don’t worry. But hold on, okay?” She pressed the mute button, then prodded McGregor hopefully. “You say you already bought the ring? Do you have it with you?”

“Let’s get rid of this guy first.” McGregor switched the phone off mute. “Your timing stinks, Russo. Can’t you call S-3 tomorrow at the office? It’s bad enough when you guys hound her in the middle of the night for SPIN business. But when we’re not even under contract for the operation—”

“You’re right,” Justin admitted. “But I didn’t know who else to trust. And Essie—I mean, S-3—hasn’t ever steered me wrong.”

Kristie sent McGregor a pleading look, and when he frowned but nodded, she said quickly, “What do you need, Justin?”

“The name of a good lawyer.”

“A lawyer?” McGregor was growling again. “What’s going on out there?”

“I’m not actually ‘out there.’ I’m in here—a jail cell, to be specific.” Dropping the bantering tone, the FBI agent added, “They think I killed a suspect. But I didn’t do it. I swear.”

“Of course you didn’t,” Kristie replied, shooting McGregor a warning glare. “How awful, Justin. But don’t worry. We’ll help you. Right, Will?”

“Yeah, Russo. Don’t worry. I’ve got plenty of contacts at the Justice Department. I’ll make sure they fix you up with the best.”

“We’ll do it right away,” Kristie added. “I can’t believe they’re actually holding you.”

“The Bureau will have him out in no time,” McGregor promised, his voice ringing with confidence. “Just sit tight, Russo. You may be a pain in the ass, but you’re also a federal agent. There’s no way anyone at the FBI—or here—will let you down.”

“Thanks, McGregor. And Essie? Just for the record, I didn’t kill anyone—”

“I know you didn’t,” she murmured, although in the back of her mind warning bells were beginning to clang.

This was sounding a little too familiar. The last time a close friend—former SPIN director Ray Ortega—had assured her he was innocent, she had believed him without question, and that misplaced trust had almost gotten her killed.

She licked her lips. “You said it was a suspect? You don’t mean the Masterson heiress, do you? I read about that shooting.”

“Yeah, and believe me, when I get my hands on the guy who did it, I’ll make him pay.” Justin’s tone grew brisk. “I’ve gotta go. McGregor? Give Essie a kiss for me.”

As the line went dead, McGregor muttered, “That guy is nothing but trouble.”

“Like me?”

He laughed warily and reached for her. “At least you have some redeeming qualities.”

She backed away. “You’re supposed to be calling your friends at the FBI, remember? To make sure they get a great lawyer for Justin.” Then she jutted her chin forward defensively. “He and I may use unorthodox tactics at times, but we each have excellent success rates.”

McGregor snorted. “Russo’s unorthodox tactics usually involve fooling around with some female when he’s supposed to be working on a case. Big surprise that there’s a woman behind this murder charge, too.”

“At least he knows how to be romantic. Maybe you should ask for a few pointers.”

McGregor winced. “I probably should have mentioned this earlier, but if I ever do have to fire you, my next official act would be to resign as SPIN director.”

“Assistant Director,” she reminded him drily.

McGregor seemed about to respond but ended up just shaking his head instead. Then he pulled out his cell phone, punched in a number and was soon lobbying the FBI to find the best attorney the Justice Department had to offer for Special Agent Justin Russo.

Chapter 1

“Thanks for coming with me today, Suzannah. I can really use the moral support.”

“If half of what we’ve heard about Judge Taylor’s temper is true, you don’t need moral support. You need a flak jacket.” Suzannah Ryder gave her colleague Tony Moreno a wry smile. “You’re pretty brave taking on this case, knowing how angry he is about it. Can you believe he hasn’t ever had a ruling reversed on appeal before? They say he threw a huge fit when he got the news.”

She paused to wince, knowing that Judge Taylor’s anger had actually been focused in her direction. After all, she was the attorney who had successfully appealed the judge’s ruling. And since he was known throughout Northern California as “Taylor the Jailor” because of his habit of throwing attorneys into jail for contempt of court, she was glad it was Tony rather than she who was handling the Driscoll case from here on out, including this morning’s appearance.

“You’re sure you don’t want to be my co-counsel?” Tony asked, his expression hopeful.

“I don’t have a death wish. Plus, I don’t really know anything about criminal cases, remember? I only got roped into taking the appeal because Driscoll is my best friend’s sister’s boyfriend.” She shook her head. “I don’t know how you guys do it. An appeal is one thing, but here at the trial-court level, it’s complete anarchy. Hobnobbing with criminals. Kowtowing to hostile judges like Taylor every day. I’m glad my firm only accepts civil cases. Give me a nice safe stack of contracts any day of the week.”

“Yeah.” Tony sent a worried glance toward the heavy double doors that would soon admit them to Taylor the Jailor’s courtroom. “A stack of contracts sounds pretty good right now. Excuse me, will you? I’ve gotta go to the restroom and puke my guts out.”

“You really do look a little green.” She patted his shoulder. “There’s a water fountain over there—”

“Nope. When I get this nervous, there’s only one solution.” Tony was already edging toward the men’s room. “If I’m not back in five minutes, tell Driscoll to find another lawyer.”

Suzannah grimaced as her friend lurched away. Apparently he really was going to be sick. And she could hardly blame him. The thought of facing Judge Taylor would be enough to scare anyone. But to deal with him on this particular case, the one that had caused the judge so much embarrassment—

“Suzannah Ryder?” a voice asked from behind her.

She turned to find herself staring into the warm blue eyes of a truly gorgeous guy who was extending his hand toward her. The man had it all—a tall, athletic build, a smile with a provocative blend of sincerity and mischief, and wavy brown hair that was just shaggy enough to suggest he’d been marooned on a desert island for a while, which would also explain his golden tan.

“My name’s Justin Russo,” he told her, his voice clear and confident. “Congratulations on the big win. My colleagues were just telling me about it. Very impressive.”

She accepted the handshake, shamelessly enjoying the R-rated tingle it induced. “Thanks. Do you have an appearance before Judge Taylor today?”

“Yeah. Now that you’ve got him all riled up,” Justin complained.

She bit back a smile. “Sorry.”

“You must be one helluva defense attorney.”

“Actually, I only took that appeal as a favor for a friend. I’m totally out of my element here. And I’m no longer involved with the Driscoll case. I just tagged along today to give the real defense attorney some moral support.”

“I like that. You know your stuff. You’re modest. And you’re loyal to your friends.”

“Hey, Russo. They’re ready for us,” a nearby man announced, motioning to the courtroom doors, which were being opened.

Justin’s associate was a grim-faced man who appeared to be in his early forties, with dark hair and dark eyes. Not as good-looking as Justin by any stretch but still attractive, as was a third man hovering close by who also seemed to be part of the entourage and who had curly hair the same shade of dark blond as Suzannah’s.

You should come to the courthouse more often, she teased herself. These litigators are kind of sexy. Either that or you’ve been out of commission for way too long.

“Gotta go,” Justin murmured. “Maybe we can hook up later for some coffee? Assuming the Jailor doesn’t lock me up, that is.”

Suzannah hesitated, but this was supposed to be a fun, relaxing week, wasn’t it? What harm could one cup of coffee do?

She pulled a business card out of her purse and handed it to him. “That’s my office number. I’m on vacation this week, but I’ll be checking voice mail regularly, so…yes, definitely call me if you survive Judge Taylor.”

He flashed a killer smile, pocketed the card and said, “See ya.” Then he trailed his companions into the courtroom.

Suzannah hung back for a moment, enjoying the unfamiliar sensation of being a little weak in the knees over a guy.

This is going to be the best vacation ever, she told herself with an embarrassed laugh. Then she remembered that this week wasn’t completely about fun. She had to prepare for an upcoming conference in Hawaii, where she was slated to make a presentation—a presentation that was quite possibly the last step in the rigorous timetable she had set for herself and her career.

She called it her “Twelve-Year Plan,” a blueprint she had designed at the age of eighteen to help her attain certain professional goals. Four years of college, three years of law school and enough time with a prestigious law firm to establish a reputation and develop a marketable specialty, which could then translate into a house-counsel job with a corporation. It was now year ten and she was way ahead of schedule.

Reminding herself that her rapid progress had been the result of working hard and not dating lawyers—especially not towers of sex like Justin Russo!—she decided it would be best if he didn’t call her after all. There would be plenty of time in year twelve for romance—wasn’t that the plan, after all?

Resolving to resist Justin if he should call, she pulled out her state-of-the-art PDA to check her calendar, messages and task list, which was a mile long. Forty separate entries for this “vacation.” And so far she had only accomplished three—Paint the bathroom, Clean the refrigerator, and Go with Tony to court on Monday.

Tony…

She was worried about him, not just because they were friends but because if he failed to appear, Suzannah might have to take his place. And since the Driscoll case had only been remanded by the appellate court for resentencing, rather than for a new trial, the option of moving for automatic disqualification of Judge Taylor wasn’t available, no matter how angry he was at Driscoll’s attorney.

To her relief, Tony finally emerged from the restroom, his face pale but his shoulders squared, ready to do battle.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Bring it on,” he said with a wry smile.

Ritual vomiting, she realized in relief. All the great trial lawyers do it before a big case. He’s going to be just fine.

“I’ll just grab a seat in the back row, if you don’t mind,” she said, pulling out the oversize, tinted glasses she had brought with her in case Judge Taylor had caught a glimpse of her face on TV the day the news story about the appeal broke. “But I’ll be up there with you in spirit.”

“You’re the best,” Tony told her, giving her an unexpected hug. “Driscoll didn’t deserve you, and neither do I.”

Touched, she followed him into the courtroom, but when he proceeded to a row near the front, she hung back, settling into a seat right by the doors so that she could escape quickly if the judge began hurling expletives in her direction.

Then she sank low in her chair, fixed her glasses firmly in place and prepared to enjoy a little free entertainment, courtesy of the Jailor. It might not be as much fun as a hot date with Justin Russo, but it would be much, much safer.

Apparently Justin and his two associates were first on the docket, because they made their way directly to the defense table. To Suzannah’s dismay, her hot date seated himself in the chair usually reserved for the defendant, while the other two men sat in the counsel chairs.

This can’t be right, she told herself nervously. What if he’s a freaking ax-murderer? That’s worse than a lawyer!

The bailiff instructed everyone to rise, then announced that Judge Nathaniel Taylor would be presiding. Grateful for the distraction, Suzannah turned her attention to the massively built, wild-haired jurist who strode into the room, his black robes flapping. He seated himself without so much as a glance at the crowd that was watching him with a mixture of fear and anticipation, but she suspected that he was well aware of the effect he was having on them.

The man had made quite a name for himself in one short year on the bench. Passionate about his calendar of felony prosecutions, he reportedly brutalized any attorney who dared to appear before him unprepared or otherwise unprofessional. And according to some reports, he often berated them even if they had done absolutely nothing wrong. He had sent three lawyers to jail for contempt already—two assistant district attorneys and one defense attorney from a private firm. And he had sent countless others running to the restrooms with their stomachs tied in knots after a session with him.

Grateful that she was beyond his radar, Suzannah was still tempted to flee for her life, especially when the bailiff announced the first case for the morning: the People versus Justin Russo.

Okay, Judge Taylor, Suzannah insisted as she slunk down in her seat and tried to become invisible. I’m counting on you. Do what you do best. Lock up this creep and throw away the freaking key before he ends up stalking me.

After introductions were made, the defense attorneys and the prosecutor sat down, but Justin remained standing, shocking the courtroom by announcing in a loud voice, “I’d like to make a motion, Your Honor.”

Suzannah watched with fascinated dread. Maybe he really was going to get himself thrown into a jail cell.

Judge Taylor scowled. “Don’t you watch Court TV, Agent Russo? You don’t make motions. Your attorneys do.” Turning his blistering gaze to the lawyers, he instructed them, “Control your client. Or else.”

“Your Honor?” Justin walked around the counsel table and approached the bench. “That’s what my motion is about. I don’t want these gentlemen as my attorneys. I didn’t choose them and I’d like to fire them right away.”

“Is that so?” The judge’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “Let me guess. You think that means we’re done here today? You just get to run around loose indefinitely while you find another lawyer? That’s not quite how it works.”

“I’ve already chosen another lawyer, sir,” Justin told him. “And she’s sitting right here, so we won’t lose any time at all.”

Oh, God…

Suzannah tried to believe that he couldn’t possibly be talking about her, but just to be safe she began calculating how quickly she could run for her life. The door to the hall was just a few yards from her seat. If only she could count on her legs not to buckle….