More Than a Hero

“Martha,” Kylie chided gently.

Her mouth pursed, Martha went to the card file on her desk, then returned with an index card, handing it to Kylie. Written there in the woman’s imperious hand was Judge Markham’s name, the date he took the file and the date it was due back—several days past. What was his sudden interest in the file?

“Have you called to remind him that it’s past due?” Kylie asked as she returned the card to the clerk.

Martha sniffed haughtily. “I will now that there’s been another request for it.”

“When you have an answer, will you please let me know?” With a polite smile, Kylie caught Norris’s arm and started toward the door.

He dug in his feet, pulling her to a stop. “These files are a matter of public record. You people can’t hide them just because you don’t want anyone else to see them.”

Instead of tugging harder, she squeezed his arm tighter, all too aware of the muscle beneath her fingers that didn’t yield to pressure. “She can’t give you what she doesn’t have,” she said quietly, warningly. “It’s best if you leave now.”

Throwing a dark look at Martha, who returned it balefully, he let Kylie lead him into the corridor. The instant she pushed the door open, Derek West jumped back a few feet, then tried for a show of nonchalance.

Norris let her pull him a few feet before jerking his arm free. She missed the contact immediately and at the same time was grateful for its cessation. She didn’t need to be thinking about the silky-coarse texture of his hair-roughened skin or how he radiated heat or how long it had been since she’d experienced the pure tactile pleasure of touching a man even in so casual a way. If she wanted to touch a man, she could find plenty of volunteers—men who didn’t care who her father was, who didn’t have an agenda, who weren’t her adversary. Who weren’t so complicated. So handsome. So sexy.

“Who has the damn file?” he demanded.

She glanced at Derek, pretending disinterest. “We’ll talk outside.”

He glanced that way, too, then grudgingly nodded. They’d reached the door before Derek pushed away from the wall, and had gone down the half dozen steps before he opened the door. Kylie turned to face him. “Don’t follow me.”

“I’m not following you.”

“Don’t follow him while he’s with me.”

“But—” Derek’s gaze shifted from her to Norris, then back again. Comprehension dawned, though he tried to hide it. “Oh. Okay. Not a problem.” With a nod, he returned inside the building.

Kylie exhaled as she glanced around. They could go to her office or take a seat on a bench in the square. Instead she gestured toward the street. “Let’s walk.”

They’d made it to the corner before Norris asked, “Are you going to report back to Chief Roberts on everything I say?”

“Apparently Derek thinks so.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

They crossed the street and started down the next block. “I don’t report to Chief Roberts.”

“No, you report to the senator, who shares information with the chief, the judge and the lawyer.”

She kept her gaze on the storefronts they passed, each smaller and shabbier the farther they got from the square. “I don’t tell the senator everything,” she said at last.

“But you told him about me.”

“He called this morning to warn me that you were in town. I told him we’d met.”

“And he told you…to stay away from me? Or to stay close enough to be able to track my activities?”

She tilted her head to one side to look up at him, and Jake forgot his question. She was so damn pretty—delicate in a strong sort of way. Her brown eyes were flecked with bits of gold, and she smelled of spices with just a hint of sweetness. If he’d met her at any other time in any other place…

She would still be Senator Riordan’s daughter. He would still be the enemy.

Sunlight glinted off the diamond studs in her lobes as she returned her gaze to the sidewalk ahead. She wore heels again today, but there was nothing low or sensible about them. They brought the top of her head close to his, close enough that if they stopped walking and he turned her to face him, it would take only an inch or two for his mouth to reach hers.

Prove it, one part of him challenged.

Don’t be a fool, another advised.

“The trial transcript was checked out by Judge Markham,” she said.

Jake knew it must have been one of the four. “He’s retired. Why is he still allowed to check out files?” He would have been allowed to look at it there in the court clerk’s office or to have a copy made, but he wouldn’t have been able to take it from the room. Lawyers could take them out, Martha had explained to him before she’d known which file in particular he wanted, but only for a few days.

“As long as his law license is active, he still has that privilege. As the senator’s assistant, I occasionally check out records for him. We can take them for forty-eight hours.”

“And Judge Markham’s had this file for…?”

She sighed. “It was due back last Friday.”

Jake’s smile was thin. He’d tried to set up an interview with the judge the previous Wednesday. The old goat had turned him down, then gotten possession of the transcript. And it was the only copy the court had. Martha had told him that, too.

“Maybe he wanted to refresh his memory before he talked to you. Surely you want to interview him as well as the senator.”

“Maybe. Except that he turned me down when I called him last week. Said he had nothing to say on the matter and hung up on me.”

“So that’s why you just showed up at the senator’s office,” Kylie murmured.

Jake kicked an acorn and sent it tumbling into the yellowing grass alongside the sidewalk. “Do you ever call him Dad?”

Kylie blinked.

“Most people call their fathers Dad or Pop or Father or even by their first names. What do you call yours besides ‘the senator’?”

“Sir,” she answered.

He would have laughed if she hadn’t been serious. That was some kind of warm, loving relationship they shared. What inspired her loyalty to him? It had to be more than just a paycheck.

“So…if I want to see the transcript, I’ve got to get it from Markham.”

She cleared her throat delicately. “It might be best if you let me get it.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Because it’s a matter of public record. He doesn’t have the right to—to hide it.” She swallowed hard, obviously aware that she was implying wrongdoing on the judge’s behalf and not liking it.

And what if Markham was hiding the transcript on her father’s say-so? Riordan might be out of town, but he was obviously in touch. Someone was keeping him informed…and, possibly, taking orders from him.

“I’ll stop by Judge Markham’s house later today,” she went on. “I’ll—I’ll let you know if I get it.”