Run for Your Life

  A red flush stained Walter's neck. "You spoke to Jim about this?"

  Victoria was well aware she was walking into the lion's den, but she didn't retreat. "Yes. I hoped that either he or Aunt Clarissa would have heard of the Hope Institute. Neither of them did."

  "So together the three of you decided I was mistreating my daughter."

  "No. Quite the contrary. We never discussed mistreatment, or the prospect that the Hope Institute might be anything but first-rate. As for the possibility of your motives being selfish, I was the one who brought that up. The only one. To be perfectly honest, Uncle Jim defended you. He thought I was being unfair. He urged me to take my suspicions directly to you, give you a chance to explain. Which I'd intended to do, even before Audrey's call."

  "How gracious of you."

  Victoria gritted her teeth. "Father, I'm not trying to antagonize you, or make you out to be some kind of monster. I just don't understand the need for all this secrecy."

  "I already answered that question. The Hope Institute has its policies. Period." Walter was obviously ready to end this conversation. Victoria, on the other hand, wasn't. She'd found out nothing. But she couldn't keep going around in circles this way, pressing her father on issues he'd explain away as being outcomes of the Institute's rules on privacy. So how could she get him to tell her more?

  "By the way," her father concluded, pushing back his chair. "One of those policies prohibits bringing in outside medical consultants. That includes Elliot Osborne, which explains why he and your uncle weren't told."

  "Why would the Hope Institute reject the idea of getting other respected opinions? It's almost as if they're afraid of something." Victoria held up a palm in anticipation of her father's reply. "Don't bother explaining. Privacy."

  Walter's lips thinned into a tight line of disapproval. "We could argue this point all day. The bottom line is, you might not approve of the Institute's rigid rules and restrictions, but the results speak for themselves. Audrey is in the best of hands. She's going to get well. And when she does, you're welcome to spend as much time with her as you'd like. Until then, stay away."

  Victoria tensed in her chair. Why did that sound disturbingly like a threat?

  Her father had already stood, his hard stare scanning the room in search of their waiter. "This subject is now officially closed. I've probably said more than I ethically should have. But I had to put your mind at ease so you'd stop this unwarranted obsession with Audrey and her well-being. She's fine—or she will be if we let the doctors do their job without interfering. Now, I'm paying the check and heading back to my office."

  No, you're not! Victoria almost shouted, consciously restraining herself from grabbing his arm to keep him from leaving. Not yet. I have to find out something before you go back and call the Hope Institute...

  Abruptly, she halted, her own thought process providing the solution. Of course. That was her answer.

  What was it her father had said, that he'd heard of the Hope Institute through clients of his? Had he meant Benjamin Hopewell, or was there someorie else, maybe several someones?

  There was only one place she could go to find out—the nucleus where her father kept all his confidential data on clients for whom he was the attorney of record.

  His office.

  The FBI had no way of getting inside Waters, Kensington, Tatem & Calder so they could search for her father's connection to the Hope Institute.

  But she did.

  And she had the perfect excuse for doing so: Paul. Paul and the floundering corporate practice he was striving so hard to grow.

  There was no time to decide whether or not she was being reckless,

  She had to rely on her instincts.

  "Before you get the waiter, there's something else I'd like to discuss with you," she heard herself say.

  Her father looked more exasperated than pleased. "What now, Victoria—your mother? She's fine."

  "No, not Mother." Victoria shoved away her plate, folded her hands crisply on the table. She had to make this businesslike. To appear straightforward, but proud. It was the only way she'd seem true enough to form to convince her father she was sincere, while being compelling enough to pique his interest. "It's about my law firm.".

  "Really." Her father said nothing more, but she noticed he stopped looking around for the waiter and instead directed his attention to her.

  "I'm very proud of what Meg, Paul, and I have accomplished."

  A fine start. She sounded self-confident. Even a tad defensive. That's what her father would expect—especially once he heard what was on her mind.

  "My partners and I are all dedicated attorneys. We are all good at what we do. Better than good—exceptional. But our firm is new. We're still getting our feet wet." She pressed her lips together. "This is awkward for me. And difficult. Especially after the conversation we just had. I'm sure you're miffed that I questioned your judgment about admitting Audrey to the Hope Institute. I can't help being protective of her. Regardless, that was family. This is business. I hope you're able to view things in that light."

  "What things would that be?"

  She took a deep, fortifying breath. "I promised Paul I'd ask. So I'm asking. You know Paul specializes in corporate law. If any of your junior associates has an overflow, Paul would be pleased to pick up the surplus."

  The barest flicker of surprise crossed her father's face, followed by a more lingering display of interest. "You're asking for my help."

  "I'm asking for referrals."

  "It's the same thing." Walter gripped the back of his chair, staring down at his daughter—in more ways than one. "Paul London is a novice. His experience is limited. He may have potential, but he's hardly up to handling our level of client. The corporations he represents are too insignificant to even term small."

  Victoria didn't blink. "You, too, once had more potential than experience."

  "True. And I proved my own worth."

  "You had the opportunity to do so," she challenged. "You got a job at a large firm with an existing client base."

  "London was in a similar position. He chose to go out on his own."

  Her father was enjoying this. Even gloating. Good. That brought her one step closer to where she wanted to be.

  She interlaced her fingers more tightly—a gesture she hoped her father would notice. He'd interpret it as emotion. A sign of weakness.

  He did.

  "I don't often ask you for anything, Father."

  Walter's jaw set in hard, reproving lines. "Not only don't you ask, you refuse to accept. Even when what's offered is a golden opportunity—one that won't come along again."

  Perfect. Just where she'd anticipated him going.

  "You're talking about my joining your firm."

  "Not just joining it, Victoria. Coming in as a junior partner."

  Victoria fell, very intentionally, silent. She knew just how her father would interpret that silence. It was, after all, the first time she hadn't blown him off at the first mention of the partnership.

  Walter reacted on cue.

  He reseated himself, sensing a long-awaited victory. "Are you ready to consider my offer?"

  "No." Victoria responded quickly, but with less fervor than usual. "I didn't ask for a position. I asked for referrals."

  He leaned in, emanating that dominating certainty that made him nearly unbeatable, both in the courtroom and out. "Think about it. You're an exceptional attorney. You're my daughter. You have a bright future ahead of you—if you take it. Begging for clients is beneath you. So is living hand to mouth. There's a legacy waiting for you at Waters, Kensington, Tatem and Calder. What's holding you back— pride?"

  "Belief in what I do." Victoria's chin came up. She spoke from the heart, but also with the realization that minimizing her commitment to her firm would be stupid. It would alert her father to the fact that her story was phony. "And loyalty," she added. "Meg and Paul aren't just my colleagues, they're my friends. Even if I agreed with you
r logic, which I don't, I wouldn't turn my back on them. I don't expect you to understand that. I do expect you to honor it."

  Her father pursed his lips, his mental wheels clearly turning. She held her breath, praying she'd sweetened the pot just enough to lure him over, to give him the opening he needed.

  Her prayers were answered.

  "Maybe there's a way I can respect your priorities and, at the same time, introduce you to mine," Walter posed.

  "Meaning?"

  "You said this was business. Well, it is. And in business, there's no such thing as getting something for nothing. You want to settle out of court, so to speak? Give me the proper incentive to do so."

  "Go on."

  "Here's my proposition. Come work at Waters, Kensington, Tatem and Calder. Not as a partner or even a full-time employee, but strictly 'of counsel' to the firm. Give me two days a week. That will leave you more than enough time to service the clients at your own firm. See which world you prefer. We'll agree to a trial period—say, three months. I'll pay you well, and I'll see what I can do about referring our surplus to London." He inclined his head slightly. "I think that's a fair arrangement. Don't you?"

  Fair? Actually, Victoria wanted to shout with triumph. She'd accomplished exactly what she intended—getting through those damned doors and into her father's domain. A domain that held the truth about the Hope Institute.

  Outwardly, she remained impassive. Her gaze narrowed thoughtfully, never averting from her father's as he awaited her reply.

  "I'd be only an outside counsel," she clarified at last. "And I don't want a salary; I want a contingency. Forty percent of your billings for my time. In a check made out to London, Kensington and Stone."

  Walter stared her down. "I'd expect you to give me your all."

  "I don't know any other way to work. What's more, you knew that, or you wouldn't be offering me this chance." Victoria raised her chin another notch. "I'll invest the same level of commitment and integrity in your firm as I do in my own. That should produce enough capital to get Meg, Paul, and me off the ground, and give you ample reason to send a few meaty clients Paul's way. But, Father—no manipulation or pressure. No announcements, no business cards, no new letterhead with my name on it. No surprises. I'm a principal of London, Kensington and Stone only. That point is non-negotiable."

  "I don't intend to trick you into joining my firm, Victoria." A brittle smile. "I won't have to. The three months will speak for themselves."

  She continued to play hardball. "I can't start until next week at the earliest. I have court tomorrow and back-to-back appointments all day Friday. And even next week is going to be tight. I'll have to check my calendar and see how much time I can spare."

  "You do that." An insightful pause. "Not to mention you'll want ample time to prepare your partners for the bomb you're about to drop."

  "It's not a bomb. It's a new client. Waters, Kensington, Tatem and Calder. One that will take a substantial amount of my time. But, yes. I want Paul and Meg to understand what I'm doing and why."

  "Very well. Next week, then. Get back to me with your availability." Walter came to his feet, looking like a wolf about to close in on its kill. "In fact, you can give me the specifics tomorrow morning at seven-thirty. I want you in my office for a quick half-hour to meet the people you'll be working with. The senior partners are all in by then. They'll want to see you; it's been ages since most of them have had the pleasure. And by that time, I'll have advised them of your new status with the firm."

  Tomorrow morning. This was one curve Victoria hadn't anticipated. That gave her only tonight to talk to Meg and Paul, to plan her strategy, and to try to reach Zach.

  "Why the urgency?" she inquired, buying herself a minute to think. "I've already met a fair number of your partners and associates."

  "Years ago and in passing. This time you'll be meeting them in an official, professional capacity. There are also many new members of the firm you haven't met at all." Her fatheT shot her a look that was more challenging than it was quizzical. "Why? Is there some problem? You'll have ample time to get to the courthouse. My driver will take you. As for breakfast, Miss Hatterman will order whatever you like. That leaves you all this evening to talk to your partners, and all tonight to prepare for your appearance."

  "Which one?" Victoria asked dryly. "The one in court or the one at Waters, Kensington, Tatem and Calder?"

  An icy smile. "Take your pick."

  "Fine. I'll be there." Victoria put down her napkin and rose. She was well aware she was being tested. Put on the spot to perform up to her father's standards. So be it. He had no idea just how quick on her feet she was. She'd walked into more than one court battle in mid-trial and won with only a night of prep time. She'd do the same here.

  Her father was right. Certain golden opportunities didn't come along again.

  And this one was hers for the taking.

  * * *

  13

  The fan was still whirring.

  This time its blades were slicing shadows on the ceiling.

  It must be night. But what night? How much time had passed? And why couldn't she form a clear thought?

  A rustle from across the room told her she wasn't alone.

  She forced her head up, which took a huge effort since it felt like lead.

  In the armchair sat one of the caps.

  "Head... hurts ..." Audrey managed in a dry croak.

  The cap put down whatever she 'd been doing and came to her feet. "I know it does." She approached the bed, her expression clear enough to convey concern. "You've been restless. You're running a fever." She pressed a cool palm against Audrey's cheek, which felt as if it were on fire. "Would you like some water?"

  "Yes." She let her eyelids slide shut, let the cap anchor her head and press the cup to her lips. She sipped, grateful for the cool sensation of the liquid trickling down her throat.

  When she was finished, she cracked open her eyes and gazed around the dark room. "Father..."

  "Shhh. He'll be here tomorrow."

  "No . .. I need to . . ."

  "Tomorrow, Audrey," the cap stated firmly. "You'll have solid food and a visit from your father. But now you need to rest." She tucked the sheet and blanket around her, then fluffed the pillows beneath her head. "Close your eyes."

  Audrey's body seemed to give her no choice.

  Footsteps. A purposeful stop in her doorway. A penetrating stare.

  There was someone else in the room now.

  She could sense it.

  But she didn 't have the strength to see who it was.

  * * *

  Zach rose when Victoria walked through Lusardi's, the maitre d' escorting her to his table.

  "Thank you, Marco," she murmured to the beaming, round-faced maitre d'.

  "My pleasure, Signora Kensington. It's good to see you again. Enjoy your dinner—both of you."

  With a knowing gleam in his eye and an appraising glance at Zach, Marco eased away from their table, conspicuous in his attempt to afford them some privacy.

  "Subtle," Zach noted dryly, helping Victoria into her seat.

  She flushed. "I appreciate your meeting me," she began, trying not to notice the way his dark gaze flickered over her sapphire-blue off-the-shoulder, cap-sleeved dress, trying not to think about how much extra care she'd taken in choosing it.

  "Obviously, it was important." Zach returned to his chair.

  He looked incredible. Then again, Zach always looked incredible. He wasn't classically handsome, nor even remotely trendy in the way he dressed. He was understated, dynamic, exuding a power and energy that made women of all ages crane their necks when he entered a room. Tonight he wore charcoal gray slacks, a pearl-gray turtleneck sweater, and a black sport coat.

  Victoria forced herself not to stare. It was scary, after four years, how attracted to him she still was.

  "Victoria?" Zach was watching her closely. "Are you all right? When I got your message, I assumed that whatever you wante
d to see me about had something to do with the meeting you had with your father."

  "It does." Victoria pressed her palms together. "My lunch with him was interesting, to say the least." She stopped right there, remembering herself and exercising even more than her usual caution. This was her family she was protecting, not a client. "Did you talk to your associates at the FBI?"

  Zach took her wariness in stride. "First thing today. As we agreed, I said nothing about Audrey's medical condition. I confirmed that you went to the Hope Institute to find her. I also said you knew less than we did about your father's involvement in the matter we're investigating." A corner of Zach's mouth lifted. "Did I fulfill my half of the bargain?"

  A slight smile. "You did. And so did I."

  "I'm all ears." Zach signaled to the maitre d'. "First, let's get some wine. You look like you could use it. I assume it's still cab?"

  "Um-hum." She gave a brief nod. "As you said, some things don't change."

  "True." His voice held that same odd, unsettling quality as it had at her apartment. He cleared his throat as Marco approached, and Victoria considered protesting when, rather than a glass apiece, he ordered an entire bottle of Joseph Phelps cabernet.

  "You're going to be drinking most of that," she advised him lightly after Marco had heartily approved of Zach's choice and whisked off to get it. "I have to stand up straight and be coherent in court tomorrow."

  "You will be." Zach offered her the basket of warm bread, waited while she took a slice, then ripped off a generous chunk for himself. "What kind of case is it?"

  "An ugly divorce and child-custody case. The guy's a selfish forty-year-old going through a hormonal midlife crisis. He abandoned his family, acts like a jerk, and thinks with his—" Victoria broke off.

  "I get the picture," Zach assured her dryly. "In other words, you're doing exactly what you always wanted to do—helping women in need."

  "You make me sound like some altruistic champion of the oppressed. I do get paid."