“A pain in the ass.”
Erik was in charge of Brock Logan’s detail, so his assessment wasn’t surprising.
“Is he checked out?” Jeremy asked. Some people were so clueless you had to tell them to look both ways before crossing the street.
“Checked in.” Erik shook his head. “Wants to micromanage every goddamn thing.”
Jeremy loosened his tie as he surveyed the black-and-white footage. Their team had the hotel’s exits on camera as well. The client’s bedroom and bathroom had been omitted for the sake of privacy.
Brock Logan’s living room was twice as big as this one, and a giant coffee table in the middle was covered in files and legal pads. Kira sat on the arm of a chair, notepad in her lap, as she talked with the man on the sofa beside her.
Jeremy tapped the screen. “This Neil Gautier?”
“That’s him. You met him yet?”
“No.”
“He’s impressive,” Erik said. “Junior associate. First in his class at UT Law.”
“Age?”
“Thirty-one.”
Jeremy watched the scene, and he didn’t need audio to know that Kira and Neil were arguing about something.
Brock walked over and offered Kira a short glass of what looked like liquor. She shook her head, and he set it on the table in front of her.
“How’s it going with Kira?” Erik asked.
“Fine.”
“Yeah? I heard she’s a handful.”
“She is.”
Jeremy watched as she tipped her head back to look at Logan. He towered over her, but she didn’t appear intimidated. In fact, she looked annoyed. She’d had that same look last night in her kitchen. That was before the conversation turned personal. Jeremy wasn’t sure why he’d asked her about Ollie. It wasn’t like him to get personal with a client.
“Who’s on her tonight?” Erik asked.
“Trent.”
“You good with that?”
Trent was relatively new to the job. He was sharp, though. And he’d already had a wake-up call last night about their protectee.
“He’s got it,” Jeremy said.
Trent had Kira until six A.M., and Jeremy didn’t know why that made him uneasy, but it did.
Kira was unpredictable. And unpredictable was far worse than being clueless or too hands-on.
Brock answered a phone call and left the room. Kira picked up the glass from the coffee table, walked to the minibar, and dumped the drink. She took a water bottle from the fridge and twisted off the top.
Jeremy watched her now that he had the freedom to really look. Her body was lithe and compact, and she had feminine curves. Despite her size, she had a take-no-crap attitude that helped her deal with all the men in her orbit, and there were a lot. He wondered whether Brock was sleeping with her. The man was protective and had insisted that she receive the same level of security as all the lawyers on his team, even though she was an outside contractor.
“You worried?”
Jeremy looked at Erik. They’d worked together for years, and his friend picked up on his cues.
It was a loaded question. Clients often hired them based on a hypothetical threat. They’d had concerning phone calls or messages, or an eviscerated pet on the doorstep. Jeremy had seen it all before. The danger was implied, which was still a problem, but not like the problem they were dealing with now.
In this case, Wolfe Sec was a postincident hire. The client had already been the victim of a brazen attack before Wolfe came on board. Kira had narrowly escaped a bullet, which put the threat level much higher than usual. Jeremy didn’t like all the unknowns.
He eased closer and watched the monitor. “We still don’t know whether she was a true target or a target of opportunity because she happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time.” He shook his head. “And if she wasn’t on someone’s radar before, she sure as hell is now after taking over Oliver Kovak’s work.”
Erik turned his attention to the screen. “You want me to trade with Trent tonight? I can pull a double.”
Jeremy watched Kira on the monitor. She was in a secure hotel room, surrounded by armed guards, and she had an armed escort home, who would be staked out at her house overnight.
“No, he’s got it,” Jeremy said.
At least, he hoped so.
Kira glanced at the bedroom and looked at her watch again. She wanted to wrap up this meeting and get out of here. Brock had been on a call for twenty minutes, and Kira’s stress level had climbed as she waited for her interrogation. Why couldn’t he get off the damn phone? She had way too much to do tonight to be stuck in a hotel suite.
Kira looked at the television, which was tuned to a local news broadcast. The anchorwoman segued into a piece about the upcoming trial of the prominent River Oaks doctor accused of murdering his wife.
As if everyone needed a reminder of why they were here tonight. Kira checked her watch and looked back at the TV. They were playing stock footage of the victim’s family standing outside the police station, asking for the public’s help in finding Ava’s killer. Ava’s parents and her brother were weepy and grieving, but Gavin seemed remarkably composed as he addressed reporters. A new clip appeared of Gavin in handcuffs as he was taken into custody, and Neil muttered a curse.
“Great.” He tossed his legal pad onto the table. “Just what we need. More tainting the jury pool.”
Brock strode into the room and dropped his phone onto a chair. He wore another custom-tailored shirt today and had his sleeves rolled up in a way that made his sling look almost sporty.
“That was Bev at the office. We heard back from Glenda.”
“Glenda?” Kira asked.
“The judge’s clerk,” Neil said. “The judge has our motions, and we’re confirmed for Monday morning.”
Neil shook his head. “We’re not going to get a continuance.”
“I agree, which is why we need to get our shit together.” He turned to Kira. “Let’s hear what you’ve got.”
She squared her shoulders. Time to wing it.
“Ollie had come into some important information on the day of his death,” she said.
“How do you know?” Neil asked.
“He told me.”
“He told me, too.” Brock sank into the armchair facing her. “Called me on the phone from his car, said he’d explain when he got there.” Brock paused, searching Kira’s face. “Any idea?”
“I believe he was working on an alternative case theory for the Quinn trial.”
Brock leaned back, propping his expensive Italian shoes on the coffee table. “Why do you think that?”
“Because you don’t have one. Am I right?”
“Don’t need one. Our defendant has an airtight alibi.”
Kira watched him. He looked confident, but there was an ever-so-slight defensiveness in his tone that told her she was on the right track here. Ollie had spotted a weakness in Brock’s case, and he was trying to fix it.
“This is one of Ollie’s things. Was.” She shook her head. “He was obsessed about finding an alternative case theory, even if the defendant had a strong alibi.”
“Why was he so obsessed?” Neil asked. He was relatively new to the firm and had never worked with Ollie on a case before this one.
“In a criminal trial, jurors want someone to pin it on,” Kira said. “Especially if it’s a murder. Whether they even realize it or not, they feel like it’s part of their civic duty to settle the question of whodunit.” She looked at Brock, who surely knew this, which was why he was touchy about the case he was planning to present.