In Her Defense (Harlequin Super Romance)
Mac scowled at his partner’s back
The thought of leaving the hospital without seeing for himself that A.J. was okay was unsettling. And disturbing.
Unease slid through him. He’d kept the same vigil for other colleagues. He’d consumed countless cups of undrinkable hospital coffee, paced waiting rooms more times than he’d liked.
But he’d never felt the terror he’d experienced when he saw A.J. lying on the pavement. And never before had he volunteered to ride in the ambulance with an injured colleague.
It was the situation, he told himself. It was because the perp was Doak Talbott and he wanted the man so badly.
He leaned against the wall and stared at the doors to the E.R. He had to stay. It was his duty.
Dear Reader,
Trust is the essence of any relationship, whether it is between friends, lovers or spouses. In order to give freely of yourself, you must be able to trust that your partner will never betray you, never judge you, never abandon you.
But what if you have something in your past that you’ve hidden from the world, something that is the very antithesis of what your loved one stands for? How do you gather your courage to tell him the truth about yourself? How do you stand in front of him, fully exposed, waiting for his reaction?
And what about the person on the receiving end of those revelations? How would he feel, knowing that his partner withheld parts of herself, afraid he wouldn’t be able to deal with them? How do you rebuild trust once it is shattered?
With their pasts and their baggage, A. J. Ferguson and Mac McDougal should never have fallen in love. But sometimes the heart doesn’t pay attention to the mind. Sometimes the heart knows exactly what it wants, in spite of the obstacles. And sometimes, if you listen to your heart, you find the person who is the missing piece of the puzzle, the person who makes you whole.
I love the characters in all the books I’ve written. But once in a great while, as I sit in front of my computer, magic happens. The characters I’m writing about leap off the screen and sit next to me. They become so real, so much a part of my life, that they walk beside me as I go through my day and whisper to me at night while I dream. A.J. and Mac are two of the magic people. I hope you enjoy reading their story as much as I enjoyed writing it.
I love to hear from my readers. You can contact me at mwatson1004@hotmail.com or visit my Web site at www.margaretwatson.com.
Margaret Watson
IN HER DEFENSE
Margaret Watson
Books by Margaret Watson
HARLEQUIN SUPERROMANCE
1205—TWO ON THE RUN
1258—HOMETOWN GIRL
For Lindsay Longford and Julie Wachowski,
my fabulous, insightful and wise story conferencing buddies.
Thanks for all the gentle nudges in the right direction.
And thanks to Joan Andresen
for sharing her martial arts expertise.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER ONE
“DAMN IT, FERGUSON, I don’t have time for this!”
A. J. Ferguson watched Pierce McDougal storm into her office, stopping in front of her desk. His blue eyes flashed with anger and his body language screamed furious cop.
“You’re the victim’s advocate for the Riverton Police Department,” he said. “You’re supposed to be helping the victims of crimes deal with the system. You’re not supposed to be helping them avoid the system! I need to talk to Mindy Talbott. Right now.”
A.J. sat up straight in her chair and narrowed her eyes at him. “That’s too bad, Detective McDougal. Mindy already told you she doesn’t know where her husband went. I will not take you to see her right now. She doesn’t need to be bullied.”
“I am not going to bully her.” McDougal spoke slowly, his voice rising with each word. “I am trying to protect her. Is that such a difficult concept for you to grasp?”
“You won’t be protecting her if you go to the safe house and confront her. Mindy needs peace and quiet.”
McDougal loomed over her. His broad shoulders blocked out the overhead fluorescent light, and his dark shadow covered her desk. But he said nothing more.
Two could play this game of intimidation. A.J. stood. At almost six feet, she could look most of the police officers in the department in the eye.
McDougal straightened without dropping his gaze. He was a full head taller.
A.J. leaned toward McDougal until her face was inches away from his. “You don’t scare me, Detective. And you’re not going to frighten Mindy. She’s had enough of that from her husband.”
“For God’s sake, Ferguson.” He stepped away from her desk and ran his hand through his hair. The dark waves stood at attention. “I’m trying to help her. She’s not going to be safe until we put Doak Talbott behind bars. And we can’t do that unless she tells us where he is.”
“You asked her last night.”
“Last night she’d been beaten and she’d watched her son get slapped around. I’m hoping she’ll have some ideas today.”
“I don’t think she knows, Mac.”
“And even if she did, she wouldn’t testify against him anyway.”
A.J. didn’t answer. He was right. Mindy wouldn’t press charges against her husband, no matter how badly he beat her. She was too afraid of what would happen when he got out of jail.
And he would get out of jail. Men like Doak Talbott didn’t languish in jail. Their smooth-talking attorneys in designer suits made sure of that. The familiar anger burned her chest, hardening her resolve. She would keep Mindy and her son, Jamie, safe.
“Where’s the kid?” McDougal asked, his voice weary.
“With DCFS. They took him to a foster home until Mindy’s sister can get here.”
The detective closed his eyes, and A.J. saw him reaching for his composure. When he opened them again, the anger had leached away.
“We’re not on opposite sides here, Ferguson. We want the same thing—that scumbag Talbott locked up. If I promise to be a good boy, will you let me talk to Mindy?”
He flashed a strained version of his famous smile at her, and her stomach fluttered. The dimple in his right cheek deepened and he leaned closer again. “I know how to play nice. Women like me, Ferguson.”
That was the understatement of the century, if even a fraction of the rumors she’d heard were true. Struggling with her own composure, she said, “I’ll ask her if she’s willing to talk to you. That’s my best offer.”
“Be sure and tell her what a kind, considerate, soft-spoken guy I am.”
She snorted. “Even I don’t have the nerve to tell a lie that big, McDougal.”
His smile faded. “I don’t care what you tell her. I want Talbott, and she’s the only lead I have.”
“I’ll talk to her.”
“Right now.”
“When I get a chance,” she retorted. “She’s not the only victim who needs my help.”
“What else have you got? No, wait, I remember. You have to give suppor
t and counseling to that moron who went into the Indian Park neighborhood to buy crack and got knocked around and robbed at gunpoint.”
A.J. flushed. “Just because he showed a lack of good judgment doesn’t mean he deserved to be attacked. At least he’s trying to straighten himself out. He made an appointment with me and I’m not going to cancel it. He’s on his way here right now.”
“You’re going to put Doak Talbott on the back burner while you counsel some idiot addict?” His voice filled with incredulity.
“I’m Riverton’s only victim’s advocate, Detective.” Her voice dripped ice. “I don’t pick and choose which victims are worthy of my help. My office door is open to anyone who needs me.”
“That’s your problem, Ferguson. You bleeding hearts are all the same. You open a vein for any schmuck who walks in the door, and the blood loss has affected your brain. You need to get your priorities straight.”
The cowering child she’d been flashed in her memory. “My priorities are just fine, thank you very much.” She raised her eyebrows. It was time to go on the attack. “Is Mindy your only lead? You’ve been looking at Doak Talbott for a while, haven’t you? For that waitress from the country club who disappeared? Surely a decorated detective like you would have developed other sources to question.”
His face tightened and cold anger was in his eyes. “You know damn well that the country-club set takes care of their own. You think one of his friends is going to give him up?”
She looked away. He was right, and she knew it. Doak Talbott’s friends would deny any knowledge of his whereabouts, even if Doak were standing right next to them.
“All right. I’ll go see Mindy tonight,” she said. “If she’s willing to talk to you, we’ll go to the shelter tomorrow. But I’m not going to press her.”
“Fine. Get in touch with me as soon as she agrees to see me.”
“Don’t worry, McDougal. I know how to do my job. I suggest you go out and do yours. Figure out where Doak Talbott is.”
“That’s why I need to talk to your client, Ferguson. If you want him caught, you know where to find me.”
The floor shook beneath her feet with the force of the slamming door.
“SOMEONE IS GOING TO WRING Ferguson’s neck one of these days,” McDougal snarled to his partner as he threw himself into his desk chair. “And right now, I’d have to call it justifiable homicide.”
Jake Donovan looked over at him. “Another run-in with our victim’s advocate?”
“That woman takes the meaning of stubborn to a whole new level.”
“So which order of yours did she refuse to follow?”
Mac scowled at him and crossed his arms over his chest. “Very funny, Donovan. You’re a real comedian.”
“You could try making nice with A.J. She’s a smart, savvy woman. No one in the department wants to nail the bad guys more than she does. Use some of that famous McDougal charm on her.”
“That woman is un-charm-able.”
Jake raised his eyebrows. “There’s an actual living, breathing woman who can resist Mac McDougal? Did you flash that dimple at her? Or flutter your baby blues in her direction?”
“Knock it off, Donovan. You might have time for chitchat, but I’ve got scumbags to catch.”
He reached for the pile of file folders on his desk and began flipping through one randomly. Ferguson’s refusal to let him talk to Mindy Talbott really pissed him off. Doak Talbott was at the top of Mac’s list right now. He wanted to toss the rich SOB into a cell and slam the door himself. Not only had Talbott beaten his wife and kid, but he was the prime suspect in the disappearance of Helena Tripp, a young waitress who’d gone missing from the country club ten days ago. But being questioned by the cops didn’t rattle him. Why should it? The wealthy real-estate developer had always used his money and his influence to shield himself from accountability.
“He laughed at us,” Mac said in a low voice, staring at the file in front of him but seeing Doak Talbott’s sneering face. “The last time we went to his house, the bastard laughed at us.”
“We’ll find him.” Jake eased his chair back. “We’ve got flags on all his accounts and we’ve already sent out descriptions of his car. He won’t get far.”
“You know how it works, Jake.” Mac stared at his partner, fury raging through him. “He’ll get another car. He’ll have accounts we don’t even know about. He’ll have friends who will help him, no questions asked. We’re spinning our wheels.”
“The man’s not a rocket scientist, Mac.” Jake’s voice was mild. “He’s just a rich guy with resources. We have resources, too.”
“Guys like Talbott always slither out of charges against them. You know it as well as I do. They’re made of Teflon. Nothing sticks to them.”
“Is this pity party almost over? Because it’s bringing a little tear to my eye, and I don’t want to embarrass myself in front of the rest of the guys.”
“Up yours, Donovan.” Mac spoke without heat. He glanced at the door to A.J.’s office and let his anger dissipate. “Ferguson brings out the worst in me.”
“You’re just touchy because she won’t melt into a puddle at your feet.”
“Ferguson doesn’t melt,” Mac said. “She stares at you as if you’re a bug on a dissection tray. And she’s looking forward to sticking in the pins.”
“Do I detect a hint of sour grapes here? Is it possible you’ve tried to work your wiles on the lovely A. J. Ferguson and been shut down?”
“With a body like that, who wouldn’t be tempted?” Mac said. Not to mention her generous mouth and dark, seductive eyes. “But I’ve learned at least a couple of things in my thirty-three years. And one of them is ‘don’t mess with women you work with.’”
“You’re a wise man, son. Nothing will bring you trouble faster.” Jake glanced at the clock. “Weren’t you heading over to the country club?”
“Tomorrow. I’m going to catch them at lunch.”
“You need some help?”
“Nah. They’re not going to give anything away. But I have to try.”
“I guess they’re not susceptible to your charm, either.”
“Go to hell, Donovan,” he said, but he grinned as he got to his feet. “Better me than you. They don’t need your ugly puss scaring away the members.”
A.J. RUBBED HER FOREHEAD as the door closed behind the client who’d kept her from talking to Mindy Talbott. As much as she hated to admit it, McDougal was right. The client was an idiot. He’d driven his expensive car into the worst neighborhood in Riverton, then flashed a wad of cash while he bought his drugs. No wonder he’d ended up on the business end of a gun.
But he’d chosen to come talk to her. The man realized he had a problem, and she respected him for that.
She’d referred him to a substance-abuse rehabilitation program, as well as a private therapist. After scribbling a note to herself to call her colleague and fill her in, she pushed away from her desk and reached for her handbag. It was after five, but she had to visit Mindy Talbott. She’d promised McDougal she’d talk to the woman.
And she always kept her promises.
Heat shimmered off the asphalt as she drove through downtown. The small boutiques and funky shops that catered to the college students gave way to a residential neighborhood, and the tree-lined streets shaded her car, protecting it from the glare of the sun. The air smelled fresher in this part of town, cleaner, as if the residents had erected a barrier against the run-down apartments and shabby houses only a few blocks away.
Neat middle-class homes lined the streets, all of them well tended and cared for. The safe house was a few blocks over, tucked into the middle of a block and looking exactly like all the other homes.
A stoplight brought her to a halt, and as she waited for the light to change, awareness prickled at the back of her neck. Someone was watching her.
A.J. glanced in the rearview mirror. The vehicle behind her was a minivan, and as A.J. watched, the young woman driving the
van whipped her head around. Her body language said she wasn’t happy with the passengers.
In the lane next to the van, a teenager bobbed his head and danced his shoulders, moving to the beat of music.
Neither of them so much as glanced at her.
When the light changed, she shot into the intersection and turned the corner. Three cars followed her. She didn’t recognize any of them.
By the time she’d taken several more corners, only one of the cars was left behind her. It was a battered, mud-colored sedan. The antenna bent outward at a ninety-degree angle and the front bumper was attached with duct tape. She kept her eye on it, not relaxing until she turned another corner and the car continued down the street. She drove around the block a couple of times, but there was no sign of the car.
She was just jumpy from her run-in with McDougal, she told herself. She prided herself on her ability to take control of any situation, but she never quite managed to control Mac.
Mac McDougal was testosterone on the hoof, a walking advertisement for cool sheets and hot sex. No wonder most women drooled when he walked by. Thank goodness she was immune to his charm.
By the time she’d parked and walked to the safe house, her heart rate was back to normal. She rang the bell and waited while the video camera above the door recorded her face and relayed it to a monitor inside the house.
Finally the door opened and a woman with faded blond hair and gentle eyes gave her a tired smile. “Hi, A.J. What’s up?”
“Hello, Jenny. I need to talk to Mindy Talbott.”
The woman glanced up the stairs. “She hasn’t come out of her room all day. Do you want me to get her?”
“No, I’ll go up. We’ll have more privacy in her room.”