Daniel dictated everything that happened around him.
Away from that cocoon, anything could happen.
What had gone wrong with him? He’d once loved adventure. He’d traveled, embarked on business ventures, tried every sport he could manage. He’d climbed mountains, dated movie stars and earned a business degree from Harvard.
Now, just leaving the house took a monumental dose of courage.
Yes, being falsely accused of a murder he didn’t commit, then going through the trial and six years of incarceration on death row, was bound to change a man. Once he’d been freed, he’d come home and, for the first time in a very long time, he’d felt safe and loved.
But even back then, he hadn’t been housebound. He’d made periodic trips to Logan Oil and to Project Justice after his father’s death to keep things running. He’d attended funerals and visited doctors.
But the past few years he’d ventured forth less and less as the people he’d hired to run his empire had competently taken over.
I’m fine, damn it.
There was nothing wrong with how he’d chosen to live. After what he’d been through—having a good chunk of his youth stolen away—he ought to be allowed to enjoy his every hour of freedom on his own terms. Thanks to his father and grandfather, plus a few smart decisions he’d made, he had the money to do that, and he refused to feel guilty about it.
Focus on the prize, he told himself. He had to think about Christopher. Succeeding with his mission to find justice for Christopher meant giving a man back his life, and Daniel knew what a huge gift that was. Succeeding also meant more favorable publicity for Project Justice, which was important to all those other men and women the foundation could help.
Then there was the little matter of showing smug Jamie she didn’t know everything. Somehow, though, that thought didn’t fill him with the pleasure he thought it would.
Finally, there was the satisfaction vengeance would bring.
Daniel cracked a tinted window, immediately aware of how different the breeze from outside felt. It smelled wild. Unsafe.
“Nice day for a drive,” Randall said. Daniel had left the glass partition open. “Sometimes I miss the old days, just you and me out and about in the Jaguar.”
“We were a pair, weren’t we? Tearing through town like we didn’t have a care in the world.” That was back when Daniel thought he was invincible.
The bodyguard’s presence reassured Daniel. Randall was the best—discreet and potentially deadly. He looked ordinary enough, harmless even with his light brown skin, round face and close-cropped, salt-and-pepper hair.
But appearances could be deceiving.
Daniel considered Randall a friend. He was good company—educated, intelligent, funny. And they’d once spent countless hours together.
But they’d had little face-to-face contact in recent years.
Daniel spent the short drive toward downtown looking over papers in his briefcase, information he already knew by heart. He had an almost photographic memory. But he wanted to have answers right at hand for any questions Jamie might pose—and the hard data to back him up.
Jamie. Seeing her again was worth all this trouble. She was the first person in a very long time to challenge him—or excite him. Though of course he couldn’t know her on anything but a professional level, the undeniable electricity that charged the air around them when they were in the same room added an element of interest to this case.
Daniel didn’t “date.” He could not envision himself in a real romantic relationship. Sharing with anyone the world he’d so carefully crafted would ruin it. But that didn’t stop him from the occasional fantasy, and lately Jamie McNair had taken a starring role in his daydreams. He’d also lost a bit of sleep over her, as she’d appeared in his night dreams, too.
He’d best not get too attached to his fantasy. When he put the prosecutor in her place, firmly convinced she wasn’t infallible, she wouldn’t gratefully fall into his arms.
Traffic was light, and soon they were wending through downtown streets. Crowded. Noisy.
Abruptly, Daniel shut his window, sealing the noise outside. But that didn’t stop the panic that suddenly rose in his chest.
He could stop now. Turn around. Cancel the meeting, hand the whole thing over to Ford or Raleigh, his top lieutenants. There was time. Although Christopher’s appeals had run out, his execution hadn’t yet been scheduled.
The urge to run was so strong, it made Daniel light-headed.
“Do you know the suite number of Ms. McNair’s office?” Randall asked.
Daniel turned to Jillian, realized she wasn’t there, and his panic increased. “I wrote it down somewhere… Hell.” It was a simple detail, but his mind was suddenly blank. “I’ll look it up.”
He checked his schedule on his phone. Yes, there it was, on the sixth floor.
He cast his mind ahead to the coming meeting with Jamie, but now he had trouble visualizing it. Was that because he was about to enter an unknown building with unfamiliar elevators and strangers within inches of him? Perhaps.
Or maybe it was the unpredictable woman herself. For the first time in a long time, he would not be in control of every detail around him. It was both exciting and terrifying.
He shook his head. Billions of people could walk into a strange building without thinking twice. He was being ridiculous. If Jamie perceived any nervousness or weakness, she could gain an advantage. Especially on her home turf.
As they turned onto Franklin Street, Daniel couldn’t believe his eyes. Three TV news vans, bristling with antennae and satellite dishes, were parked at odd angles in front of the Harris County Criminal Justice Center. Reporters with microphones and cameramen and -women crawled the sidewalks and steps to the contemporary skyscraper, along with a crowd of at least a hundred curious onlookers.
The limo pulled to a stop, and lots of heads turned to gawk. Cameras swiveled in Daniel’s direction.
“What the hell…?” If Jamie had engineered this welcome wagon, he would wring her neck. Hadn’t he emphasized how important privacy and discretion were? Had she done this to deliberately sabotage his efforts?
“Any idea what’s going on?” Randall asked.
“None.” He quickly dialed in the internet on his phone and checked the local headlines. “Ah. Judge John Harlow was caught in the backseat of his car with a fifteen-year-old. Story broke this morning.”
“You can’t get out here,” Randall said firmly. “If the press gets wind that you’re out and about, it’ll ruin any chance you have of conducting normal business.”
“Is it really a front-page story? I mean, come on.”
“Yes, Daniel. You driving downtown to meet with a prosecutor about Christopher Gables would be front-page material.”
Daniel thought he had a pretty good grip on the media and their opinion of him. After all, he watched every news channel all day in his office. Did he have a blind spot where he, personally, was concerned?
More important, what was he going to do now? He wished he’d brought Jillian. She could contact Jamie, smooth things over, reschedule the meeting—
Hell, what was he thinking? He could call Jamie himself. He had the fanciest cell phone on the planet, which Jillian programmed with any number he might need.
Moments later he was dialing Jamie’s direct number, and a rush of sweet anticipation coursed through him as he waited for her to answer.
JAMIE WAS AS PREPARED for her meeting with Daniel Logan as she could be. She had reserved the conference room, and had even sprung for a snack tray from the deli around the corner out of her own