Under the Covers by Rita Herron Read Free Book Online Page B

seeing his children by a vindictive, conniving, spiteful woman who did not have a heart. The poor man had been shuffled from one lawyer to the next to no avail and had actually been arrested for knocking on the door to see his children. His story was heart-wrenching, his love for and devotion to his children obvious.
    If only her own father had loved her and their sisters half as much.
    "I promise I'll do whatever it takes to get your boys back."
    He stood, shoulders rigid, his heartache in his eyes.
    "Thank you, Ms. Jensen. I appreciate this."
    She rose to escort him out, promising to start action immediately, when the door swung open and Chelsea waved.
    "Oh, hi, sorry. I didn't realize you had a client."
    Her secretary must be at lunch.
    Mr. Baldwin smiled gravely and headed to the door, the weight of his pain obvious in his slow gait. As soon as he left the outer office, she turned to her sister.
    "What is it, Chelsea?"
    Her sister launched forward, her jacket flapping open to reveal a yellow-and-black bumblebee outfit. Victoria rolled her eyes, wondering what Chelsea had up her sleeve—well, her costume—this time.
    Chelsea leaned against Victoria's desk, a mass of bobbing insect. "I'm worried about Abby."
    Victoria's heart skipped a beat. "What's wrong with Abby? Is she sick?"
    "Not exactly, although I thought she was going to pass out at Egor's today."
    "Egor's? Who is Egor, and why did Abby almost pass out?"
    "It's a long story."
    It usually was with Chelsea. "Maybe I'd better sit down."
    "Maybe you could pour us a drink."
    "Chelsea, it's too early for alcohol. Besides, I have to meet another client later."
    Chelsea winced and Victoria realized she'd sounded like a prude. "Okay, okay. I was only joking about the drinks."
    Victoria frowned at her sister, Marcus Baldwin's case fresh on her mind. "Listen, if you're in trouble and need something—"
    "No, no, it's not me. Not this time." Chelsea chewed on her lip. "It's Abby."
    "What about Abby?"
    "She didn't want you to know...."
    "Know what, Chelsea? For heaven's sake, if this is some of your dramatics—"
    "It's not." Chelsea swallowed. "Lenny sent her a Dear John letter and left her for a man."
    Victoria fell back into her chair as if she'd had the wind knocked out of her. "What?"
    Chelsea spent the next ten minutes detailing the letter and the story about the fraudulent marriage.
    Victoria pressed her fingers to her head, a migraine beginning to shoot pinpoints of pain behind her eyes. "Dear God, we have to do something."
    Chelsea grinned. "My thoughts exactly. For once, sis, we agree on something."
    Now, that was a scary thought. "What do you have in mind?" Victoria asked suspiciously.
    "You tell me your plan first."
    A diversionary tactic if she'd ever heard one. But she'd play along. Only, she had to think for a minute. "Well, I suppose I could see what I could find out about Lenny. I do have a friend on the police force." At least there was one guy who'd been asking her out. Mostly she had avoided his calls.
    Normally, her life revolved around work, twenty-four-seven. In fact, nothing but the call of sisterhood could tear her away from her job.
    "That's a great idea. I knew you'd help, Victoria."
    Victoria folded her arms. "Now, what do you have in mind?"
    Chelsea pushed herself away from the desk and practically flew across the room. "Well, first I have to finish my shoot; then I'm going to check out the gay bars."
    * * *
    Abby's hand cramped, her eyes were bleary, and a headache had started pulsing at the base of her neck. Forget vanity—she should have worn her glasses. At least then she would have been able to find the nearest escape without blinking every two seconds.
    Her deodorant had probably worn off as well. And now a man dressed like a woman was staring at her as if he/she might be interested in her sexually. But she didn't have time to deal with the cross-dresser—she had to face the nosy reporters rushing toward her. She squinted again, wondering