Page 33 of Detective for the Debutante (SAFE Haven Security #3)

LEIGH

M y stomach is on the worst roller coaster ride ever as I stand to the side of Lindsay’s open office door bright and early Thursday morning.

For once, I’m glad she’s one of the earliest in the office because no one is there to witness my nerves as I wipe my hands on the back of my black pants before taking the giant step that is, in reality, only the span of one step.

I clear my throat and Lindsay looks up from her laptop, her face a mix of concern and happiness.

“Leigh, good morning. How are you feeling? Come in. Come in.” Lindsay waves me forward.

I step inside, taking a pause to ensure the door closes behind me before moving closer to her desk. My palms grow clammy again, my heart racing as I take a seat.

A lump sits in my throat and I swallow, hoping to get rid of the sensation.

Lindsay isn’t Kenneth .

I’ve never had the issues with Lindsay I had with Kenneth, but was Kenneth’s behavior an indication of what everyone thought of me in the office?

No.

Kenneth and Lindsay couldn’t be more opposite. It is mind-boggling how they are both deputy public defenders hired by the same person.

“I’m…okay.” I start slowly, not sure how to answer her question.

Okay is the closest word to describe it.

Physically, I am. Minus a bump on the head and a scrape on my right knee.

But when Murphy dropped me off, my eyes jumped to the spot where the ambulance had been.

To the spot where I fell. It hadn’t helped walking toward the door either.

What reception would I get when I walked through it?

Kenneth had made it clear what he thinks of me.

But I am more and more convinced it is my relationship with Murphy—or whatever his perception of what our relationship is—influencing his opinion.

Little does he know even without Murphy I wouldn’t entertain any situation where he touched me.

The warmth between my shoulders with Murphy’s eyes on me when I walked into the office this morning had been the only reason I kept walking—I have his support. Regardless of what happens.

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t here on Monday. I had a lengthy conversation with William yesterday and we’re fully cooperating with the police. We’re also looking at additional security measures for our parking lot. We can’t believe this happened.”

That provides a level of relief, but what I have to say still sits like a rock in the pit of my stomach.

“He was here to see Kenneth.”

Her brow furrows as she processes my words.

“Kenneth?” The shock is clear in her voice.

I nod. “He was looking for Kenneth and then he recognized me from the lobby when I was talking to Murphy.”

A shudder racks my body at the memory. The momentary clarity in his eyes when he had recognized me. Chilled, I run my hands up and down my arms.

“I appreciate you telling me,” she says vaguely.

I know she can’t tell me if she and Chief Bailey already knew. And Lindsay is nothing if not a good attorney—able to keep confidences close.

“I, um, I need to tell you something else.” I stumble over the words, slicking my tongue over my suddenly dry lips.

“Okay?” Lindsay leans forward, hands clasped on the desk.

She tilts her head, studying me with an astuteness I’ve come to expect from her.

“It’s about Kenneth,” I start.

Will Lindsay believe me? Will I still have a job when I tell her everything? The risk curdles in my stomach, but I can’t back down now.

Something flashes across her face—regret, concern—but it’s too fast to make out before it’s gone.

Here goes nothing .

I take a deep breath, let it out, and interweave my fingers as I try to put my thoughts into coherent form.

“Last week, he called me into his office. I thought it was to talk and, at first, it was. But he”—another shuddering breath and I rush on—“he touched my leg. And I got this weird vibe from him. Like he was coming on to me?—”

“Fraternization among the office is strictly prohibited. Especially as one of the deputy chiefs,” Lindsay says.

“There’s no interest there on my part. He…well, for lack of a better way to say it, he gives me the ick, Lindsay. Like a frat boy who won’t take no for an answer.”

This time the regret stays long enough in her expression for me to identify it.

No, not regret. A similar emotion.

Shame.

I open my mouth to ask her about it, but don’t get the chance.

“Did anything else happen?” she asks.

“He invited me to the happy hour that happens every Friday.”

A frown drags a line between her eyebrows.

“Those are not office sanctioned events.”

“I know. I declined. I already had plans but even if I didn’t…no thanks. But it turns out, we ran into Kenneth at Cue Craft.”

“We?”

By this point Lindsay has grabbed a pen and is taking a few notes as she maintains eye contact.

I squirm, not sure how my relationship with Murphy will be taken.

“Murphy O’Connell and me. We’re seeing each other,” I say.

If she has any thoughts on my dating the older detective or a detective period, she keeps them to herself.

“Anything else?”

“I-I don’t think he liked it. When you were out on Monday, he called me into his office.

” I go on to explain the physical crowding and the innuendo before he was interrupted by Mr. Bailey.

The almost Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde personality switch followed by the demand for me to work on memos and the looming deadline with the implied threat I would be fired if I didn’t meet it.

When I finish, she releases a breath, setting her pen down carefully on the notebook.

“Leigh, I’m so sorry this has been your experience.

Please know that the kind of behavior you’re describing is not one William would condone.

I need to speak with him on next steps, but I appreciate you bringing your concerns forward.

I wouldn’t be surprised if you were also going to resign after your experience, but I hope you give me the time I need to look into this further. ”

Relief hits me in the stomach, blasting the rock sitting there since I stepped foot into work this morning.

She believes me.

“I don’t want to leave. I’ve enjoyed the rest of my experience here. And I think it will make for really good experience when I apply for Project Justice at the end of the summer,” I tell her.

She tilts her head as she pauses for a breath.

Did I say something wrong?

“Is this really what you want, Leigh? Working as a defense attorney? Working with people who are guilty of some really graphic crimes?”

What prompted her questions? Anxiety zips along my skin, and I want to respond right away, to defend myself and my decisions.

It’s not the first time I’ve had to.

“I—”

She holds up a hand.

“I don’t need you to answer right now. Or even today. But by the end of your internship, I’d love to hear your thoughts.”

I snap my mouth shut, the nervous energy of defensiveness stuck without the outlet.

“Okay.” I can at least give it the thought she’s asked for.

But I know what I want.

“As for Kenneth, I want you to keep your distance. As my intern, there is absolutely zero reason you would need to interact with him. For anything.” Her words are firm and exactly what I was hoping to hear.

Tears burn my nose and I blink several times, unsure why they’re there, except for how grateful I am to have Lindsay respond like she has.

“Thank you,” I tell her.

“Thank you for trusting me enough to bring this information forward. I’m going to go see if William has some time right now.”

“Do you have anything you want me to focus on today?” I ask, slipping back into our daily routine.

“I emailed a few files I need some summaries on, and I’d like you to cull through some of our previous cases for potential recipients of the Wrongful Conviction Fund.”

“Isn’t Kenneth running that project?” I ask, remembering how he’d made it sound during the conversation last week in his office.

She smirks.

“He tried to take over.”

It’s what she doesn’t say that has a giddiness taking over the anxiety.

But I try to copy Lindsay’s poker face instead.

“Are you sure you should be back to work already?” Lindsay asks when we’re both at the door to her office.

“I feel fine. Better than fine,” I tell her.

I have a job I really like and a sexy-as-hell man I’m falling for.

And I’ll get the chance to meet several people from Project Justice in just a couple of days.

“Pinch me,” I tell Sydney later that night as I lie on the couch in my living room, a glass of wine within reach.

“Kind of hard to do from two thousand miles away,” she says, slurping on a drink on her end of the phone.

“That’s the only bad thing about my life. You live too far away.”

“I take it your dinner with Murphy went well?” she asks.

I jolt upright.

“I didn’t tell you?”

“Girl, it has been radio silence on your end for four days. I wasn’t worried because, one, Detective McHottie. And two, I have tracking capabilities on your phone.”

Warmth travels to my cheeks and I lie back, sighing happily.

“You could say it went well.”

“Five-alarm fire well?”

“Burn the bed to ashes well.” Even the memory is enough to have me hot and bothered.

“I fucking knew it, you lucky bitch. Tell me everything.”

“We never even made it to dinner. He had a decision for me as an appetizer.”

“Kitchen sex is hot,” she says and takes a drink.

“We didn’t have sex in the kitchen. Not exactly.”

“Bitch. Quit skimping on the details. I already told you I was living vicariously through you. Dish those deets.”

“We lost clothing in the kitchen,” I tell her.

“And…?”

“And I’ve never had an orgasm in a kitchen before,” I admit.

Her hoot on the other end of the phone screeches in my ear.

“They’re better there,” she tells me. “Although don’t tell Jessie I said that. Shit!”

“I’m done with Bowie this time. I swear I’m done!” Jessie screams and the door slamming echoes through the phone.

“Jess? Fuck, what happened?” Another door bangs shut and Sydney knocks on the door. “Jess?”

“What’s going on?” I ask, sitting up, my stomach aching for the pain so clear in Jessie’s voice.

“I’m not sure. She walked in screaming but crying too. Like, mascara running down her neck crying. Jess?” More knocking.

There’s a muffled sound followed by Sydney’s sigh.

“I’m going to murder that jackass,” she mumbles into the phone.

“I’ll let you go so you can talk to Jessie. Give her a hug from me.” I had planned on telling Sydney about the attack now that she is caught up about Murphy, but it sounds like Jessie needs her more.

“I will. I still want details, but later. First, Jessie. Then I’m going to deal with that asshole once and for all.”

“Don’t do anything you’re going to need bail money for.”

“Sawyer and Cole already have me covered.”

“Here if you need me.”

“Thanks. I’ll call you later.”

The phone beeps in my ear and I drop it next to me, chewing on my lip.

I’ve been Jessie before. Dumped.

Hurt.

Angry tears.

Is that the outcome with Murphy?

I don’t think so.

But I guess I really don’t know, do I? He’s moving to DC in less than a month, and I’m heading back to law school. Yes, I may be falling for him and he may have feelings for me, but what does that mean in the long run?

My phone buzzes on the table and I pick it back up, still somewhat distracted by what my future with Murphy holds.

MURPHY

What are you doing?

Just hanging out.

Was talking to Sydney.

You?

MURPHY

Hoping to visit my favorite girl.

Fuck, this man not only melts my panties, but my heart too. But I can’t help but give him shit too.

Your favorite girl, huh?

Exactly how many girls are there?

MURPHY

One.

There’s only one I want.

Swoon.

You say the sweetest things.

MURPHY

Easy where you’re concerned.

You still want to come see me?

MURPHY

Yes.

When will you be here?

MURPHY

Open your door and find out.

Squealing, I toss my phone on the couch and run to the door, throwing it open to find him standing there in a forest green T-shirt and khaki shorts with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

I don’t respond. Not with words. Instead I yank him inside and cup the back of his neck, pulling his lips to mine.

I’m not ready to think about what happens a month from now.

I just want to live in this moment. In his arms.