In Firm Pursuit by Pamela Samuels-Young Read Free Book Online Page A

you’d been taken.” He lifted my left hand and examined my wedding ring. “I’d heard you married some plumber. Tell me it’s not true.”
    â€œMy husband’s an electrician,” I said, annoyed that he was being so condescending. Hamilton was quite a playboy and had constantly hit on me during the Byers trial. But I never took the bait.
    â€œSix of one, half dozen of the other. You could’ve done better. You could’ve had me.”
    The man was such a jerk. “How’s Mrs. Ellis these days?” I asked.
    â€œWouldn’t know. I’m back on the market.” Hamilton straightened his tie and struck a pose straight off the pages of GQ. His black suit, pink shirt and silver cuff links probably cost half my weekly salary. “Even thoughReggie’s sister and I got divorced a year ago, he and I are still pretty tight.”
    Hamilton’s blatant leering was beginning to unnerve me. “You guys really don’t plan on settling?”
    â€œNot sure yet,” he said. “Haven’t had time to fully assess the case. But there’s one thing I am sure of. It ain’t settling for a measly thirty grand. I can’t believe you didn’t jump at that offer.”
    I didn’t need the reminder. “If we’re going to trial, then I guess my record against you will be soon be two and 0,” I bluffed.
    Hamilton chuckled. “I don’t think I’ll lose this time.”
    â€œYour client grabbed Karen Carruthers in that elevator and you know it,” I said.
    â€œMaybe. Maybe not. But it doesn’t really matter.” He paused for several seconds, obviously for effect. “The judge loves me. And when Judge Sloan loves you, he has an unconscious habit of steering the jury your way.”
    Hamilton gave me a sexy wink, then walked off.
    When I felt my body veer sideways, I was glad there was a sturdy granite wall there to hold me up.

CHAPTER 11
    I had just pulled to a stop at a traffic light at Grand and First Street, two blocks from my office, when my BlackBerry rang. I reached over and dug it out of the bottom of my purse, which was sitting on the passenger seat of my Land Cruiser.
    When I heard Haley’s voice, I wanted to ask God what I did to deserve such a lousy day.
    â€œYou told me to call the next time something important came up in the Randle case,” she said. “So that’s what I’m doing.”
    After the shocker I had just gotten in court, I could not handle any more bad news. I held my breath. “I’m listening,” I said as I made a right and headed into the underground parking garage of the O’Reilly & Finney office building.
    â€œWell, you’re going to freak out when you hear this.” Haley sounded like a kid who couldn’t wait to tell a big secret.
    â€œJust tell me,” I said, still refusing to breathe.
    But Haley didn’t say anything. “I’m listening, Haley,” I said again, even more impatient now.
    Still no response.
    â€œHaley, are you there?”
    I looked down at my BlackBerry. Shoot! I had apparently lost my signal when I entered the underground garage. I rounded a curve to the second level, pulled into a parking stall and hopped out of my SUV. I took one elevator to the lobby of the building and another one to the twelfth floor. I squeezed out of the elevator without waiting for the doors to open completely and walked straight past my office and into Haley’s. I didn’t realize how winded I was until I came to a panting stop inside Haley’s doorway.
    â€œI lost you when I drove into the garage,” I said, my chest heaving underneath my black Evan Picone blazer.
    â€œWhat’s going on?”
    She pointed to a chair in front of her desk. “I think you’ll want to be sitting down when you hear this.”
    Something told me not to object. I took a seat, dumping my purse and satchel on the floor next to me.