Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 98398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
I handed her another stack, careful to avoid touching her. Afraid the chemistry between us would catch fire if we did. After what happened both times we were alone in the bathroom, I wasn’t convinced we wouldn’t ignite just by being in each other’s vicinity.
“I am making notes today. I want to take all of this to the law library tomorrow. So far, I have found a few instances of questionable searches, and the chain of custody is a travesty. I think I have a few cases you can cite to have the best chance of a judge allowing them. But without the computer, I will have to pull them by hand.”
“Good work. We will hit the library together to pull those cases tomorrow afternoon. It’s usually quiet in the afternoons,” I said. “The mornings are—”
“Full of first years trying to prove a point then giving up by lunch,” she finished, looking at the first page in the top file.
“Exactly,” I said, trying not to show my approval, and motioned for her to work in the little sitting area that I rarely used.
When I got my first office, the couch and table set were gifts from my father. Not my biological father, my real father. They had come with me with every move up the ladder. The leather on the couch was worn from nights crashing on it when my career was just taking off, and the coffee table had plenty of white, ashy cup marks and a few dents.
Ms. Carmichael took a seat and went straight to work, while I returned to mine.
But only after I stole a glance at her gorgeous legs, revealed as her skirt rode up slightly the moment she sat. Giving myself a mental shake, I returned to my file notes.
We stopped only to order Chinese for dinner around nine.
It was well after midnight when I next looked over at her.
She was resting her chin on her left hand. Her right hand had gone slack, the pen in her grasp falling forward at an odd angle. While her eyes weren’t closed, she kept blinking in a struggle to remain awake.
She looked so adorably sweet, almost childlike with her ruffled hair and sleepy, slightly dazed expression. I wanted to sweep her up into my arms and carry her to bed.
Clearing my throat, I rose and stretched. “It’s late, we should call it a night.”
She looked at her phone. “Oh wow, yes, it’s going to take me at least an hour to get home.” She covered a delicate yawn with her fingertips.
Tearing my gaze from her open mouth, I asked, “You live that far?”
“No, I ride the subway and it usually takes longer with all the stops.” She lifted her shoulder in a casual shrug.
As if she hadn’t just sent a spike of fury straight down my spine at the very idea of her getting on a fucking subway at this time of night looking as tantalizing as she did.
The crowd of riders was the only reason the subway was safe during the day. There was safety in numbers, sort of. This late, it would just be her, junkies, and thugs. I had prosecuted enough cases to know what could happen to a person, especially a young woman, on those trains alone.
“The hell you are.” I grabbed my phone and texted my driver, gesturing with my chin. “Gather your things. I’m taking you home.”
CHAPTER 9
HARRISON
Her back stiffened. “I don’t recall asking for your permission.”
I shrugged into my coat. “You’re right. And I didn’t ask your permission. Now do as you’re told and get your things.”
She stood and exited my office, crossing to her desk, where she grabbed her purse. “This is ridiculous. I take the subway late at night all the time. I’ll be fine. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
I blocked her path and snatched her purse from her hands. “I see countless cases come through my office of women being attacked on the subway,” I ground out. “Some survive, several don’t. The ones who did often wish they hadn’t. Do you want the statistics of how many never even get that far?”
Eddie looked me in the eye, a move I would have respected under other circumstances.
“Mr. Astrid, this is New York. If I were to let the statistics of women being abused or attacked scare me, I would never be able to leave my apartment. I can’t stop living my life because something might happen.” She crossed her arms, a move that only served to draw my attention to her breasts.
I tilted my head to the side. “Why do you think we are doing this work by hand instead of on the shared server?”
“I assumed it was because of the sensitive nature of the case. You are going after one of the largest crime families on the East Coast.”