LITMIR.BIZ

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be the girlfriend of a rough character like Kelly Ralston. No possible way.

      The woman smiled uncertainly at Celeste, who didn’t return the favor. “Hi, I’m Brianna Johnson. I have an appointment with—”

      “Sign here. And I need some ID.” Celeste thrust a clipboard at her.

      As the woman signed her name in three quick strokes and accepted a clip-on visitor badge from Celeste, Eric continued to study her. She had pretty hands, but the blunt, unpolished nails didn’t really match up with the rest of her.

      Celeste glanced over at Eric, waiting for him to say something.

      “Ms. Johnson?” He closed the distance between them and extended his hand. “I’m Eric Riggs.”

      “Oh, hello. You can call me Bree.” She shook his hand firmly, decisively. This was a woman of confidence and power. She had either money or a prestigious job. Or both. Again he had to wonder why someone like that would associate with a vicious, violent man like Kelly Ralston.

      Bree treated him to a steady, measuring gaze but without a hint of recognition. A month ago Eric had achieved minor celebrity status when the governor had pardoned him, and his conviction for murder had been overturned. Eric’s brother, with Project Justice’s help, had found the real killer, who had damn near taken another victim before being subdued. But a few splashy headlines later, it appeared Eric’s fifteen minutes of fame had run its course. Or maybe Brianna didn’t watch the news or read the papers.

      “So are you going to handle Kelly’s case?” Bree asked.

      Oh, boy. This wasn’t going to be easy.

      “Why don’t we...” He started to say they should go to his office. But it was still a mess. No diplomas on the walls, boxes sitting around unpacked, and there was only one guest chair. He’d rather go somewhere more comfortable.

      “Yes?” She looked at him with bright, inquisitive eyes.

      “Why don’t we go to the break room. I need a coffee.” Or a shot of bourbon.

      “Okay.”

      He led her down a long hallway toward the kitchen, which was always stocked with all kinds of healthy snacks as well as the ubiquitous office vending machines and a huge bowl of candy. Daniel insisted his people eat well and take care of themselves. The foundation had a workout room, too.

      “You can’t imagine how excited I was when I got the news that Project Justice was taking up Kelly’s cause. For seven years I’ve been trying to get someone to listen to me, to believe that he couldn’t have committed a violent crime. Finally, someone is willing not only to listen but to do something.”

      This was getting worse by the minute.

      “Coffee?”

      “Okay, sure. Black, please.”

      The sitting area adjacent to the kitchen was deserted. It was furnished with a couple of comfy sofas, coffee tables and a selection of recent magazines. Occasionally it was used as a waiting area for guests, since the lobby was intentionally without any chairs.

      Bree settled with her coffee in a wingback chair—the highest chair in the room. The power seat. He sat on the sofa opposite her, his stomach feeling as though a nest of vipers had taken up residence.

      Without delay she placed her briefcase on the coffee table and opened it.

      “Daniel said to bring all of the materials I have relating to Kelly’s arrest, conviction, appeals—”

      “Bree, wait.” He couldn’t let this go on any longer. It was awful to have to be the one to crush her hope, but better now than later. He would hate to make her cry. “I know Daniel told you we were taking on your, um, boyfriend’s case, but circumstances have changed and, unfortunately, it’s not going to be possible.”

      Bree stared at him, her mouth open for a few brief seconds before she clamped it closed.

      “I’m sorry—”

      “What circumstances? I only talked to Mr. Logan yesterday.”

      “Sometimes priorities can change rapidly, and our first responsibility is always to the cases we’re already working—”

      “That’s a load of crap! Something happened. Someone got to you. Was it Needles?”

      “Who?”

      “Sam Needles, the Becker County prosecutor who tried Kelly’s case. That bastard would stoop to just about anything to prevent this conviction from getting overturned. Frankly, I can’t imagine Daniel Logan bowing to pressure, and I don’t even know how Needles would have found out—”

      “It’s nothing like that. No one applied any pressure.”

      “Then what happened? Specifically? Mr. Logan said he would assign the case to an investigator this morning. Was that person you? Are you refusing the case for some reason?”

      “Actually, I’m an attorney for—”

      “Oh, I get it. You’re the cover-your-legal-ass guy. You want to make sure I can’t sue Project Justice for breach of contract or something.”

      “That’s not it at all.” This wasn’t going as smoothly as he’d envisioned. And Bree Johnson had lost any resemblance to an angel. But was Eric a sick puppy for feeling even more attracted to her now that she was angry?

      Those blue eyes of hers practically shot sparks, and her cheeks were pink with passion.

      “Then what is it? You owe me an honest answer.”

      Eric had hoped to duck out of taking personal responsibility for causing Daniel to make this unpopular decision, but apparently Bree wasn’t going to let him off the hook.

      “We’re not taking on Ralston’s case because he’s guilty.”

      “What? Wait a minute. Yesterday Mr. Logan said my evidence was compelling. Why this sudden change of heart? You can’t possibly know he’s guilty, because he isn’t. As I’ve told anyone who would listen for the past seven years, Kelly is not a violent man.”

      “I happen to know he is.”

      For a few moments they locked gazes. He’d seldom seen a woman look so furious.

      “Look, Bree, it’s often hard for an inmate’s loved one to see the person as they really are. There’s a blind spot. No woman wants to believe she fell in love with a bad person.” Lord knew it had taken Eric a very long time to believe his beloved Tammy had cheated on him. “Criminals often compartmentalize different parts of their lives. You see it all the time. The devoted wife and father turns out to be a child molester. The quiet neighbor is suddenly arrested as a serial killer. I’m sure Kelly has a good side. He may truly love you. But your boyfriend—”

      “He’s not my boyfriend.”

      “Oh. I thought he was.”

      “Did you even read my application?”

      “Well, no. I only learned about your case this morning. But Daniel did.”

      “Then he didn’t read it closely enough. Kelly and I dated in high school. It didn’t work out....” A fleeting sadness crossed her features, but she quickly masked it. “But we’ve remained friends. We’ve known each other since preschool. I’ve become his champion because there’s no one else and because he deserves to have a voice. He’s not violent.”

      Eric was going to have to tell her all of it. Otherwise, she wasn’t going to give up and go away. A woman like her—intelligent, well-spoken—could cause trouble for Project Justice just by telling some reporter that Daniel had gone back on his word. He owed it to the foundation to make sure she didn’t do that.

      And he owed it to her. He couldn’t let her go on deluding herself, wasting her time, energy and money on someone who wasn’t worth it.

      “I

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