The Defender. Adrienne Giordano
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Hennings, good or bad, she knew how to bring a man down.
Russ smiled at her, just a small quirk of his lips that let her know he knew her mind had gone somewhere other than Elizabeth Brooks. Dirty dog.
“You are very welcome,” he said. “I’ll call you.”
Penny cleared her throat. Gah. Quit acting love struck.
“I’ll walk you out,” Zac said.
The minute the men left the room, Emma swooped in. “Wow.”
Play dumb. Penny motioned Emma to the chair Russ had just vacated and the two of them sat. “Wow, what?”
This earned her a rather obnoxious snort from her dear friend. “Come on. You think I didn’t notice you looking at him like he was a giant pile of white gummy bears?”
Penny scrunched her face. “Hey, now, don’t say that.”
“Why?”
On the list of Penny’s all-time favorite candies, white gummy bears claimed the top spot. She didn’t just love them; she craved them with a ferocious yearning that kept her up at night, dreaming of the quick shot of sweetness hitting her system. No matter how many times she’d sworn them off, they always lured her back, teased her into submitting. When it came to white gummy bears, she was no better than the crack addicts swarming the South Side of Chicago.
“Because they make me feel weak. I don’t want a man making me feel that way.”
Emma tilted her head and puckered.
“Please,” Penny said. “Now you’re psychoanalyzing me? Listen, Freud, it’s nothing deep. I’m just saying I don’t want to feel needy when it comes to men.”
“Yeah, but you said you don’t want to be weak. You’ve never been weak a day in your life.”
“Exactly my point.”
Emma scoffed. “Maybe that’s your problem.”
Problem? She didn’t have any problems. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I always knew you were a little nuts, but until now, I didn’t realize how deep your level of nuttiness ran.”
Only Emma could get away with saying that. And worse, rather than being insulted, Penny laughed. What had she ever done without Emma? Truly, it would have been a travesty if this woman hadn’t come into her life.
“You’re lucky I love you, Emma Sinclair.”
“I love you, too, which is why I will risk bodily injury and say this to you. Relationships are about partners. One is vulnerable when the other is strong. Then it switches back. It’s about balance. You think your brother doesn’t feel vulnerable sometimes? That guy worries about his job like no other. Makes me crazy, but I also love that about him. And trust me, he’s far from weak.”
Why were they even discussing this? “I see your point. It doesn’t matter, though. Russ Voight is off-limits. He’s working a case involving a client. And, unlike my pig of a brother, who got involved with you while working your case, I’m not doing it. Uh-uh.”
Emma laughed. “You know he’s not a pig. You just say that to get him riled.”
Penny did a fast clap. “I know. It’s such fun.”
Zac swung into the room. “What’s fun?”
“Nothing,” they both said.
He eyeballed them. “You’re talking about me again?”
“We are,” Penny said.
For what might be the thousandth time since Zac began seeing Emma, he threw his arms up. He didn’t like his girlfriend talking to his sister about him. Too bad, big brother. “Relax. Is Russ gone?”
“Yeah. He seems like a good guy. Some of those feds are cocky SOBs.”
“He’s good. I destroyed him on the stand a few months back and he still talks to me. Heck, he saved my life today. Some of the guys I’ve gone against probably keep a bullet with my name on it.”
Her brother poked his finger at her. “Exactly why you need to follow Voight’s instructions and lay low.”
She didn’t want to believe her father had been the target of a shooting. Could someone hate them that much?
American citizens deserved to have their constitutional rights protected and that was her job. Invariably upon meeting someone, she’d be asked what was known by defense attorneys as the “cocktail party question.” The old “How can you defend them?” and nothing provoked Penny like that blasted question. For her it was about judgment, and implying that being a defense lawyer was somehow less worthy than being a prosecutor. As if she took joy in defending a man accused of murder. In truth, many nights she lost sleep over it.
Reality was she couldn’t resist the job. Call her a masochist but she loved the unwinnable case. Loved the inevitable problems and the intellectual challenge.
The war.
“This may shock you, Zachary, but I will follow his advice. I may be crazy, but I’m not stupid. Still, the idea that Dad was targeted because he defended someone’s rights seems hypocritical. Not that I understand the criminal mind.”
“Amen to that,” Zac said. He rapped his knuckle on the door. “Get packed up. I’m hungry and I’m tired.”
“A deadly combination,” Emma deadpanned.
Zac threw her the king of hairy eyeballs. Oh, boy. Knowing just how crabby her brother could be when his sugar crashed, Penny closed her laptop, unplugged it and shoved it into her messenger bag. “Don’t fight. Please. I’ve had enough conflict for one day. I mean, seriously, it’s not every day someone tries to kill me.”
Chapter Three
Russ badged his way into Gerald Hennings’s office, parked in one of the guest chairs and waited for him to get off the phone. It was 10:00 a.m. and the day had already gone to hell. As of 7:43 a.m., after surviving a surgery that would have killed most, the reporter who’d been shot on the courthouse steps was no longer among the living.
This development had Russ reprioritizing his caseload just when he’d gotten traction on Heath. He wanted to nail that guy and send him away for a good long time.
For years, Russ had been chasing guys like Heath, guys who would rob senior citizens and hardworking people of their life’s savings. His own parents had been victimized by a mortgage scammer, and from the day his childhood home had been foreclosed on, Russ let his hurt and anger fuel him on the job. On the days he got sick of the lowlifes, he thought of the morning, at age twelve, he’d stood on the front lawn watching his father turn over the keys to their home. A sight like that didn’t leave a man.
Ever.
Hennings set his phone in the cradle and relaxed back in his chair. Fit for a man his age, he was legendary in Chicago for his pristine appearance. Rarely had his expertly cut salt-and-pepper hair been seen out of place. Add to that his custom shirts and flashy suspenders, and reporters all over the city now referred to him as Dapper DL, short for Dapper Defense Lawyer.
“Good morning, Agent Voight.”
Russ leaned over the desk and shook his hand. “Morning, sir.”
“You have an update for me?”
“I do. I’m not sure if you’ve heard, but the reporter involved in the shooting died this morning.”
“I did hear that. Tragedy. We’ll send our condolences.” He shook his head. “I’ll never understand what drives someone to do this.”
Yeah, well, maybe you shouldn’t defend these monsters. That was another conversation, though. Right now he had news and, figuring Gerald Hennings liked