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“How so?” The judge’s voice sharpened, the earlier banter gone, and everyone in the room stopped to listen.
Emma spoke of the company’s size, about the different branches, about the vast number of employees, and of differing jobs those employees did. She talked about the need for confidentiality in individual projects and how the warrant was trying to allow police access toallWhitlow Group files—not just Noah’s.
“Per usual, your thoughts are spot on,” the judge said. “The warrant clearly oversteps. If your case landed in my court, I’d toss it in a heartbeat.”
“Thank you, Your Honor. Please give George my love.”
“I absolutely will not.” The judge’s laughter filtered through the room again. “Get your own husband, Counselor.”
After a quick goodbye, Emma hung up and looked at Hill. “But by all means, go ahead with your warrant as is. It’ll help my client out in the long run.”
Hill mumbled a colorful line of obscenities. “Fine, you win this round.” Hill signaled the two uniformed officers to cease and desist. “But your client is still coming with us for assaulting a police officer.”
Emma chuckled, one of those mocking, not-an-actual laugh sounds that did not attempt to hide its contempt. “He was not attacking you. He clearly saidmyname and came towardme. You attacked him. As far as I see it, that’s police brutality.”
“You’re stretching, Morgan.”
Emma grinned, but only challenge shone in the expression. “I guess we’ll just have to see what a judge says.”
Just holdit together a little longer.
Emma repeated the encouragement ad nauseam. When she got home, she could fall apart—except she didn’t have a home anymore. She and Noah were supposed to—
No.
No.
Focus on the task at hand and nothing more, she chided. Anything else and she would fall apart, and she refused to give Noah the satisfaction of seeing her break.
She thought calling her old law professor about the warrant had been a stroke of genius. Sandra Hanson no longer sat on a bench; she’d retired several years back. She and her husband lived on a beach in Florida. George had been a law professor, too, and after Emma graduated, they’d always kept in touch.
Before leaving Whitlow Tower, she’d contacted Junior and told him, in the broadest strokes, what had happened. She hadn’t had the heart to tell them what Noah had done. She liked Esme and Junior both too much for that, especially Esme. Noah could explain what he’d done.
Emma palmed the necklace she still wore. She should probably give it back to Esme. It seemed tacky to keep it, but Emma already loved it. She’d talk to Esme and figure it out. Emma, however, had no desire to speak to Noah ever again. She’d been very adamant about him not speaking in the presence of Hill, Tanaka, or any police personnel. That had been for his protection but also for her peace of mind. Her code of ethics might prevent her from just tossing Noah to the wolves—even if that was what he deserved—but she also had no desire to listen to anything he had to say.
Tanaka had shown her and Noah into the same interview room as before and left them there. That had been about twenty minutes ago. They were out there, though, watching and hoping Noah would say something incriminating. The red light on the corner camera confirmed that. Attorney-client privilege and expectations of privacy were always hanky in police stations and jails, so it was best to err on the side of caution and assume you were continuously being monitored.
Noah didn’t seem to comprehend his precarious position, though, as he kept trying to explain his actions—as if they had an explanation.
“Emma, please, listen to me,” Noah whispered yet again, voice impossibly soft. “I didn’t—”
“Anything you say or do will be held against you in a court of law. What part of that do you not understand?”
“I don’t care about what Hill or Tanaka or the courts think, only whatyouthink. Emma,Corazón, I didn’t do any of the things they’re saying.”
Desperation tinged his voice and, if she wasn’t imagining things, just a little torment lurked there, too. And damn it, she turned to him, to the face that had captivated her and had her sliding willingly under love’s control.
“None of what happened between us was a lie,” he said imploringly. “You have to know that.”
It was just what a liar would say, but it was also what an innocent man would say. Then why did it feel as if itshouldbe a lie?
Men like him didn’t fall for ordinary women like her. Hadn’t she already told herself that, warned herself of that multiple times? And yet, even now, knowing what he’d done, she wanted to touch his gorgeous face, touch her lips to his. She wasn’t sure what that said about her, but she couldn’t let her gut or her heart persuade her in this. She needed to use her mind, and she couldn’t do that until she had all the facts.
“They say they have evidence,” she whispered.
“It’s fake, whatever they have. I did not betray you. For the love of God, I didn’t seduce you either. You seduced me. From the moment I saw you, I was yours.”
It echoed what he’d said the night before. But could she trust him?
