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  Ivy choked on her drink. She set her martini glass down with a thud, covered her mouth and coughed repeatedly.

  “Are you okay?” Kathy started to slide out of the booth to help her sister, but stopped when Ivy nodded her head and gulped in air.

  “A video? What the hell? You better start at the beginning.”

  Kathy told her everything that was not privileged. When she was done, Ivy shook her head. “It sounds like you’re going up against some very dangerous dudes who will stop at nothing to win this case. You must really like this guy to risk your law license and your life to help him. Are you sure he’s worth all that? I mean, I saw him on the news and he is fine and everything, but still, I’ve never had any worth dying for.” She leaned toward Kathy and lowered her voice. “What did that man do to you in that hotel room?”

  Kathy laughed. “You are a fool. This isn’t just about Charles, although, I do seem to have strong feelings for the man. It’s about getting justice for a client. It’s about winning and not backing down to a bully. If I let every powerful company I went up against scare me into backing off a case, what kind of lawyer would I be? How could I effectively represent my clients and protect their interests?”

  “Well, won’t it be a little difficult for you to effectively represent your clients if you get killed?” Ivy asked.

  Kathy twisted her lips. “Peachtree wouldn’t kill me. I’m replaceable. Another litigator at GRH would step right over my cold lifeless body and finish prosecuting the lawsuit. Or, Charles could hire another law firm. No, if they want to end the case, they need to take him out, not me.”

  A light bulb went off in her head as soon as the words came out of her mouth. Her heart lurched. Peachtree could very well send its agents after Charles. Now that the Court had ordered the company to turn over its documents, he was probably in more danger than ever. She wondered if Charles had already figured that out. She grabbed her purse, rummaged inside and pulled out her cell phone.

  CHAPTER XIX

  Charles shifted the bag of groceries he held from his right arm to his left and fished his keys out of his pants pocket. He found his apartment key and inserted it into the lock. That’s when he noticed that the piece of thread he had taped across the door jamb before he left was no longer there. He removed his hand from the key and quietly set the grocery bag down onto the hallway floor. He then bent over, pulled up his left pants leg and retrieved a Glock .9 millimeter pistol from his ankle holster. He released the safety.

  He looked up and down the hall to make sure no-one was waiting for him there. He then put his ear to the door and listened. He could hear the telephone ringing. It rang five times then went to voicemail. He listened for a moment more. There was only silence. He turned the key in the lock, pushed the door open and went in low and fast.

  The apartment was dark save for the light spilling in from the hallway. He scanned the living room and the kitchen area. They were empty. So far, so good. Maybe Peachtree’s people had broken into the apartment to plant more bugs. He’d check out the hidden surveillance camera footage later to see what they were up to. First, he had to check out the rest of the apartment and make sure he didn’t have company.

  Adrenaline pumped through his veins. His heart pounding loudly in his chest, he headed silently down the hall. When he got to his office, he flattened himself against the wall and then peeked inside. The room appeared to be empty. He stepped inside and checked behind the desk and in the closet. They were clear. He left the office and headed down the hall toward his bedroom, leading with the gun. As he got to the bedroom door, he caught a glimpse of movement out of corner of his eye and instinctively dropped into a crouch. The move saved his life. A silenced bullet with his name on it embedded itself into the wall above his head. Before the shooter could recover, Charles aimed the Glock at him and fired with deadly accuracy. The bullet landed in the middle of the assailant’s forehead, dropping him instantly.

  Taking no time to pause, Charles stood up, flattened himself against the wall and continued to inch his way down the hall to his bedroom. If Peachtree had decided to take him out, they would most likely send more than one shooter to handle it. He continued inching his way down the hall until he stood next to his bedroom door. He was just about to peek inside when a man rolled quickly out of the room into the hallway. Charles tracked the man with his Glock and fired just as the man started to bring up his gun. The bullet hit the assailant center mast. He fell to the floor, landing on his back. Blood leaked from the corner of his mouth. His breathing was labored.

  Charles walked over to the assassin and kicked the gun out of his hand.

  “Who sent you?”

  The man was gravely injured and in obvious pain. Still, he refused to answer Charles’ question. “I can’t tell you that.”

  “Look, man, your partner’s dead and you’re hurt bad. You need medical attention. I can get that for you. All you have to do is tell me who sent you,” Charles said.

  The man remained silent save for his labored breathing. Charles would have to apply some pressure. He raised his foot and pressed it down hard onto the wound in the man’s chest. The man cried out.

  “Who sent you?” he asked.

  The man struggled to breathe, making loud gasping noises. His eyes bulged. Charles took some of the weight off his foot.

  “McAllister,” the man said. His voice was weak. “He said . . . take you and your girlfriend out. One team here . . . . the other to South Beach.”

  His girlfriend? South Beach? Kathy! Charles heart leapt into his throat. He took his foot off the man’s chest. He then leaned down and grabbed the man by the front of his shirt. “Where on South Beach? Are you talking about my attorney, Kathy Brooks?”

  The man’s eyes closed.

  “No, No. Wake up.” Charles shook the man, but it was no use. The would-be assassin was out for the count. He released his grip and the man’s head dropped to the floor with a thud.

  He raced to the front door. On his way out, he snatched his keys out of the lock where he had left them. He didn’t bother to close the door behind him or lock up. His neighbors would have heard the gunshots. The police would be there any minute. He didn’t have time to give them a statement. He had to get to Kathy. He prayed he’d get there in time.

  ***

  After dinner, Ivy drove Kathy back to her condo.

  “I need to ask you something,” Ivy said.

  “What?” Kathy asked.

  “You know that emerald necklace you bought last year in Maui? I want to borrow it. It would go perfect with the outfit I’m wearing tomorrow. Oh and those green heels you have too.”

  Kathy laughed. “You don’t ask for much, do you?”

  Ivy smiled and shrugged her shoulders. “Hey. Closed mouths don’t get fed.”

  “Alright. But I better get them back. And soon. That’s one of my favorite necklaces and I bought those shoes to go perfectly with my green party dress.”

  Ivy grinned. “You will.”

  They arrived at Kathy’s building. Ruben, the valet, came out to greet them. “Hello Mrs. Brooks. Ms. Ivy.” He always insisted upon calling Kathy “Mrs. Brooks” no matter how many times she told him that she wasn’t married. For some reason, he never called Ivy “Mrs. Brooks.” That was probably because she was younger and usually half naked.

  “Hi Ruben,” Kathy said. “Ivy’s only going to be here for a moment. Can you keep her car right here?”

  Ruben nodded. “Yes, Mrs. Brooks.”

  “Thank you Ruben.” Ivy smiled at him and handed him her car keys.

  A tinge of color rose in his cheeks. “You are welcome, Ms. Ivy.”

  The women headed into the lobby. Ivy pressed the call button for the elevator. Raul, the guard manning the front desk, greeted them. “Good evening, Ladies.”

  “Hello,” Kathy said.

  “Ms. Brooks, some men were here to see you earlier. They had badges and said they were federal agents. I called upstairs but you weren’t th
ere.”

  Kathy’s frowned. “Federal agents? Which agency were they from? The F.B.I.?”

  “Their badges said they were F.B.I. Are you in some sort of trouble?” he asked.

  “No,” Kathy said. “It probably has to do with a case I’m working on. But they shouldn’t be coming to my house at night.”

  The elevator arrived.

  “Good night, Raul,” she said.

  “Good night,” he said.

  Kathy and Ivy stepped into the elevator.

  “You’ve got F.B.I. agents coming to your house late at night because of that case?” Ivy asked. “You need to get off that thing.”

  “We tried. Remember? The judge won’t let us out. It’s strange though for them to come here instead of going to my office during the day or calling to request an interview of Charles.”

  “This whole thing sounds strange if you ask me. You sleeping with a client, hidden cameras, videos, blackmail . . . I feel like I’m reading a spy novel or watching a movie or something. It doesn’t seem real.”

  “I know what you mean.”

  They arrived at Kathy’s floor and stepped off the elevator. As they walked to her unit, Kathy spotted a guy standing at the end of the hall outside of one of the corner units. He looked at her and then knocked on the door. He was probably there to see one of the guys who lived in that apartment.

  Kathy fished her keys out of her pocketbook and unlocked the door to her unit. She stepped inside, flipped on the light and, as usual, threw her keys onto the dining room table. She was happy to be home. It had been a long day and she had a lot on her mind. She looked forward to watching some mindless television and settling down with a cup of ginger peach tea. Ivy followed her in.

  “So, let’s see where I put those shoes and that necklace,” Kathy said.

  She had started to walk across the dining room when she heard Ivy cry out. She stopped and turned around. The man she had seen down the hall earlier had entered the apartment behind Ivy and grabbed her. He had a knife to her throat.

  “I’ll cut her if you don’t cooperate,” he said. He kicked the door shut with his foot.

  Kathy’s pulse sped into hyperdrive. Oh my God. Who was this and what did he intend to do? Her first instinct was to protect Ivy at all costs. She had to get control of the situation somehow. “We’ll cooperate. There’s no need for the knife. What do you want? Money?”

  She reached into her purse, grabbed some cash out of the pocket part and held it out. “Here.”

  The man shook his head and smiled. “No. You won’t be able to buy your way out of this Counselor.”

  Counselor? He knows who I am.

  “Who sent you here? Peachtree? The C.I.A.?”

  Although the man didn’t respond, she saw a flash of recognition in his eyes. Kathy’s heart sank. If Peachtree sent him, then he probably had orders to kill her. She and Ivy would have to fight their way out to survive. Kathy looked at her sister. Despite the circumstances, Ivy looked more pissed off than afraid. Kathy caught her eye and willed her to act. Her message was received because the next thing she knew, all hell had broken loose. Ivy slammed her stiletto heel down onto the man’s instep. She then elbowed him in the gut with her left arm while at the same time pushing at his knife hand with her right. The man cried out and briefly loosened his grip allowing Ivy to duck out of his grasp and take a couple of steps away from him. Kathy grabbed one of the heavy wrought iron candlestick holders from her dining room table, raised it over her head, stepped in and slammed it down over the man’s head as hard as she could. She grunted with the effort. His eyes rolled up into his head and he toppled forward to the floor as if pole-axed.

  Kathy and Ivy stared down at him, breathing heavily.

  “Nice work, Sis,” Ivy said.

  Kathy rushed over to Ivy and hugged her. “Are you alright?” She pulled back, raised Ivy’s chin and checked her neck for cuts.

  “I’m fine. I’m just glad I took that self-defense class. I never dreamed I’d ever have to actually use it,” she said.

  “We have to call the police before he wakes up. Check him for weapons and take that knife out of his hand. Use a tissue or something. I don’t want your prints on it. And try not to wipe off any of his.”

  Ivy shook her head. “You’ve been watching too much C.S.I.”

  “I don’t watch C.S.I. I watch N.C.I.S.” Kathy stepped over to the telephone, picked up the handset and dialed 911. While it rang, she watched Ivy grab a kitchen towel, return to the unconscious man, gingerly remove the knife from his hand and put it onto the dining room table. Next, Ivy patted the man down, pausing when she got to his ankle. She lifted up his pants leg to reveal an ankle holster. Kathy felt a pang of fear as she watched her sister pull the gun from the holster.

  “911. What’s the emergency?”

  “My name is Kathy Brooks. I live at 20 Island Avenue, apartment 2011 on Miami Beach. Please send some units right away. An armed burglar or assassin or whatever broke into my house. My sister and I knocked him unconscious but I need the police here fast before he wakes up.”

  “Ma’am, did you say the man was a burglar or an assassin? And he’s inside your apartment?”

  “Look, I don’t have time for twenty questions right now. An armed man broke into my apartment intending me some grievous bodily harm. Send the units now. I’ll answer their questions when they get here. 20 Island Avenue, Apartment 2011.” She hung up and turned to Ivy.

  “We need to get downstairs with the security guards and wait for the police,” she said. “Put that gun on the table and let’s go.”

  “Let’s not rush off so soon,” a man’s voice said.

  Kathy gasped and turned to see Wilkes standing in the hallway leading to her bedroom. He was holding a gun.

  She swallowed. It was one thing to disarm a man holding a knife. It was another thing entirely to outrun or outmaneuver a bullet. She’d have to try and talk their way out of this. “Wilkes. What are you doing here? You’re only making things worse for your case you know.” She wanted to wince as soon as the words came out of her mouth. How lame. If that was the best she could do, she and Ivy were doomed.

  “There is no case if there’s no you and no Charles Morgan, Jr.,” he said.

  She felt sick at the thought of Peachtree’s goons going after Charles. But there was nothing she could do at the moment to save him. She needed to protect Ivy. “Hey, there’s no point in killing me or my sister. I’m replaceable. Look, why don’t you just walk out of here. I’ll pretend you were never here. I’ll just say that your friend here broke in by himself.”

  Wilkes shook his head. “You were shagging your client counselor. There’s no telling how many of Peachtree’s secrets he shared with you over pillow talk. My orders are to take you out.”

  “Let my sister go,” Kathy said. “Please. She has nothing to do with this.”

  He shook his head again. “Sorry, can’t leave any witnesses.” He raised his gun hand. His finger tightened on the trigger.

  Kathy turned away and cringed. She heard a loud blast as the gun went off and waited for the pain to hit her. Then she heard Ivy yell.

  “Kathy, run!”

  She looked at Ivy and watched her kick off her heels and run out into the hall. She turned back to see that Wilkes had thrown himself backwards. There was a hole in the wall above the place where his head had been. She kicked off her shoes and raced down the hallway after her sister.

  They couldn’t wait for the elevator - it would leave them too exposed - so they headed for the stairwell at the western end of the hall. The cold concrete stairs hurt Kathy’s bare feet as she pounded down them. She lived on the twentieth floor. There was no way in hell they would get down to the lobby fast enough to keep Wilkes from catching them. They had to hide somewhere.

  “This way,” Kathy said when they got to the sixteenth floor. She turned, headed through the doorway and raced down the hall looking for a place to hide. The only places available to them were the
stairwell on the eastern side of the hall and the trash/laundry room next to the elevator.

  She hadn’t heard anyone coming after them on the stairs. But she and Ivy had been running so fast and making so much noise she wouldn’t have. Eventually, the killer would figure out that she and Ivy had taken the stairs. She didn’t want to take the chance of running into him or his partner in the stairwell, so she ducked behind the door that led to the trash and laundry rooms. Ivy followed her.

  They stood behind the door in the small hallway catching their breath and listening for any sign they had been followed.

  ***

  Charles drove like a bat out of hell up the driveway to Kathy’s condo building. He screeched to a halt behind a parked police car. Was he too late? Fearing the worst, he hopped out and all but threw his keys at the valet.

  “I’m going to see my attorney, Kathy Brooks, in apartment 2011,” he said.

  “The police are here to see her too,” the valet said. “She called 911 and reported a burglar in her apartment.”

  Charles grabbed the valet by the shoulders. “Is she okay?”

  The valet winced. “I don’t know. Raul went up there with the police. He said they found a man knocked out on the floor but that Mrs. Brooks and her sister weren’t there. Her neighbors told them they heard gun shots. They found a bullet in one of the walls, but there was no blood. The police are looking for her.”

  Charles thought for a moment. Either Kathy or her sister carried a gun or they got one off the killer the police found in her apartment. She probably got off a round and was hiding somewhere in the building since she wasn’t in the lobby.

  “Let me up there. Mrs. Brooks and her sister are in terrible danger. The man they found in her apartment is a hired killer. I’m sure he didn’t come alone,” Charles said.

  Ruben nodded. “Okay. You can go up. Mrs. Brooks and her sister have always been nice to me. Do you need some help?”

  “No. It’s too dangerous. Here, take this card and call my friend Tyler. His cell phone number is on the back. He’s an F.B.I. agent. Tell him what happened and tell him to get some people over here fast. ”