Read Online Man with the Muscle by Julie Miller - Free Book Online Page A

grand staircase. At the top she turned and hurried all the way down the hallway to the circular tower where her bedroom suite and its adjoining office were located.
    Even after pulling her dressing gown over her shoulders, she had a hard time feeling any warmer than she had outside. But this wasn’t the time to worry about wintry temps or strange men who materialized from the shadows. She locked the bedroom door behind her, grabbed the tweezers from her manicure set to pick up the letter and envelope and went into her office.
    Moving her purse from the office chair, Audrey sat and reached for the phone. She needed to call her boss, Dwight Powers, and tell him there’d been a new development in the Smith case. And then she needed to call KCPD.
    But she was quickly on her feet again, pacing behind her desk while she punched in the numbers. When the D.A.’s home phone rang, she stopped and took a deep, calming breath. She’d better have her facts straight before she said anything.
    Tucking the cordless phone between her shoulder and ear, Audrey flattened the letter on her cherry wood desk and read it again.
    She hadn’t been mistaken.
    No law firm or newspaper logo.
    No personal stationery stamp.
    No return address.
    No name.
    Just a threat—as clear as it was anonymous.
    It’s your turn, Audrey. The others didn’t listen to me, but you’re a smart girl. Walk away from this trial and go back to your tea parties.
    Do the right thing.
    Or you’ll die doing the wrong one.
    â€œCome on, Dwight. Answer.” Her boss had become a family man with his marriage to his second wife and the children that came with that union. Either they’d gone to bed early or they were all out together for a family night. But with each ring of the telephone, the tension inside her wound tighter and tighter.
    Who had sent that threat? Although it couldn’t have come from Demetrius Smith himself, even kept in isolation from other prisoners, it wouldn’t be impossible for a gang leader to get a message out to one of his lieutenants or followers on the outside.
    Ring.
    Had it truly been a courier delivery? Or had one of Smith’s men disguised himself and come to her house? Gotten past security? Been that close to her staff and guests and father?
    That close to her?
    Was he watching her even now? Learning which bedroom was hers? Enjoying her shell-shocked reaction?
    Ring. Ring.
    Dwight Powers’s voice mail clicked on and Audrey suddenly felt disconnected. Isolated. Alone.
    â€œSuck it up, woman,” Audrey chided. She could not—would not—leave a panicked, unprofessional message on her boss’s phone.
    And then she spotted the blue bandanna—washed and pressed and peeking out of her purse—waiting for a free moment for her to return it with a proper thank-you to its owner, Alex Taylor. She snatched it out of her bag and wrinkled it in her fist, hugging the soft swatch of cotton to her chest.
    Alex Taylor’s handkerchief had been a gift on one of the saddest nights of her life. His caring gesture—whether motivated by his personal stake in the Smith trial or something chivalrous his grandmother had taught him—had provided an unexpected anchor when she’d been buffeted by a storm of unwanted emotions.
    Now she was holding on to it again, clinging to the strength and security it represented.
    She wouldn’t be scared off this case.
    But she was scared.
    Â 
    S O, ARROGANT, TOUGH-TALKING Audrey Kline—with all her preaching about being her own woman and setting the world on fire—ran for cover, just like the others.
    She could be spooked.
    He smiled as he stood in the darkness near the Kline’s front gate, watching the imposing rock mansion with its historic architecture and air of refined taste and wealth. He enjoyed being a part of that world. But it was the fear he’d sensed when she’d run into the house that gave him real pleasure