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CHAPTERFOURTEEN
“Emma!”Desperate to get to her, Noah darted around his desk. He needed to hold her, to kiss her, to assure her that what she might have overheard wasn’t true, but Hill and one of the uniformed officers tackled him. His office carpet didn’t feel as plush against his cheek as it did underfoot.
“Mr. Whitlow,” Hill said, “this will get you nothing but additional charges of assaulting an officer.”
“I wasn’t going after you,” Noah spat back. “You’re the one who assaulted me.”
“Something I’ll certainly attest to,” Ethan said.
Noah appreciated his cousin’s support, but if Hill and her posse didn’t release him, Noah wouldn’t hesitate to add assaulting an officer to his sheet, so long as he could get to Emma and explain the truth. That was all that mattered right now.
Hill and the officer dragged Noah to his feet as Emma stepped toward him. Her eyes had iced over. The arctic had nothing on her frigid expression. No one save for his uncle had ever looked at him with so much hatred, and it crushed him.
“Emma, please—”
“Don’t say another word to me.” Her words were as glacial as her eyes. “Especially in front of the police. You have the right to remain silent, Mr. Whitlow, and I suggest you use it.”
She could have picked up the letter opener from his desk and stabbed him in the heart, and he doubted it would have hurt as much.
Emma turned to Detective Hill. “I was told you had a search warrant for my client. Let me see it.”
Hill practically gaped. “After what he did to you, you’re still going to defend him?”
“I’m the head of Whitlow Group’s legal team. While still in that capacity, I will execute those duties to the fullest extent of my abilities. My code of ethics allows nothing but my best, no matter the situation.”
Still in that capacity? No, damn it. Noah needed to fix this.
He leaned close to Emma and whispered, “Please, I just need a moment to—”
“Donotspeak to me.” Her words were clipped, and she spared him little more than a glance before turning back to Hill and holding out her hand. “The warrant, Detective.”
Emma took the document. A few moments later, she shook her head.
“I will shred this in court. Given the nature and scope of Whitlow Group’s business, your warrant is far too broad. Any judge with two brain cells would agree. If you proceed with this, anything you might find here will become inadmissible in court. I will see to it.”
“I’ll take the chance, Ms. Morgan.” Hill fisted her hands on her hips. “This isn’t my first search warrant.”
“Okay. Your funeral.” Emma pulled her cell from her pocket, and after punching a few buttons, held the device face up so that everyone could read the name on the display: Judge Sandra Hanson.
“Emma Morgan,” the female voice on the line announced. “I thought I told you to lose my number.”
“I know, Your Honor, but you know me.”
“Yes, I do.” The judge laughed, the sound throaty and crackly, as if the vocal cords had had years of use. “What can I do for you, Counselor?”
“You mean besides leave your adorable husband so that I can finally have him all to myself?”
“Hands off, Counselor. George is all mine.”
“Can’t blame a girl for trying.”
“When that girl is you, yes, I can.”
“Fair enough.” A smile played on Emma’s lips, but it wasn’t the easy, carefree one she’d had this morning; this was much too forced. “I’m sorry to bother you at home, Your Honor, but I was hoping for some advice.”
“Shoot.”
“Some detectives in the Houston Police Department are trying to serve my client a search warrant that is far too broad in its scope.”
