Page 7 of Fatal Love

“Yes, Sir?" The formality of him using my surname raised my hackles.

“Why were you seen coming out of the opposing attorney’s office last night?”

“I'm sorry what did you say?" I pinched the bridge of my nose in frustration.

"You were seen leaving Mr. Brighton's office late last night. Care to explain why?"

What in the hell? I didn't know whether to be pissed someone called and tattled or that he was even demanding an explanation. "Well, sir. I dropped off the order from the judge. Remember? The one you suggested I get to delay the trial. He wanted a copy, and he wanted it in hand. What the hell? Since when is it a crime to go to the other attorney’s office?”

He mumbled something before sighing. “Nothing else happened?”

I thought back to his lips on mine and swallowed. “No. Nothing." My anger dissipated slightly, and I took a breath. "What’s going on, Mike?”

“It would appear you’re being followed by someone. And whoever it is to bring this case down by any means they can. You need to be careful until we go to trial. Do you understand me? We don’t need any missteps.”

Crap on a cracker. This wasn’t something I needed right now. “Understood. But I’d like to know who's following me.”

“Me too. Just be careful until I can sort it out.” I disconnected the call, feeling red hot rage.

Had Michael sold me out?

There was only one way to find out and I planned to ask the man in question in person. I wasn’t going to give him any opportunity to avoid me or lie to me. I plugged my phone up to charge while I showered. If Michael Brighton had any role in this stupid stunt, I'd destroy him. As soon as I got upstairs, I grabbed my laptop and flicked it open. I needed his phone number if I was going to get answers from him. If he or his client weren’t having me followed, then we'd have a whole new set of problems. After finding his contact information, I dialed the number listed.

His voice caught me off guard, making me blank out for a second. “This is Michael.”

“Are you having me followed?” There was no way he didn’t detect my bitter tone. I was too pissed to stifle the rage or remain professional.

“What?” I could hear the sleepy sound in his voice, telling me I'd woken him up. “Rachel?”

“Yes. Who the hell else would call you on a Saturday morning to ask such a ridiculous question?” I bit back. “Well? Are you?”

“Give me a second. It’s…” he paused, and I could hear the bed creak the background. Someone else's hushed voice had me straining to hear. “It’s seven in the morning. Can you start over? And maybe not rip my head off when you do.”

I gritted my teeth, hissing out my reply. “Someone is following me. I want to know if it’s you.”

“Following you?” He repeated like he was having trouble following the conversation.

I leaned my head back and blew out a frustrated breath. “Jesus Christ. Are you listening to me? Yes. Followed. My boss called me this morning concerned I was compromising the case. Apparently I was seen at your office last night and they found it suspicious enough to call him. So, I’ll ask again. Are you having me followed?”

He laughed at my question as he spoke. “No. Why would I?”

“I don’t know." I wanted to reach through the phone and strangle him. "Maybe to create a scandal, so the case would be thrown out.”

“The case will be dismissed whether I have you followed or not. Riley is innocent and you know that. Now.” I could hear him breathe out. “The real question is, who is tipping off your superiors with such bogus complaints?”

“Maybe the Anastasi family is doing it and didn’t tell you.”

“Hang on.” The rustling of the phone being covered echoed through the line. I could hear him talking and after a moment, he came back on the line. “No. It’s not them.”

“How the hell would you know that? Who are you talking to?” I pulled the device from my face and glanced at the screen as if it would reveal the other person to me.

“That’s not important. But you being followed concerns me.”

My phone dinged with a text. When I pulled it away again, I saw the message was from Michael. “Why are you texting me when we’re on the phone?”

“It’s an address. Meet me there in two hours so we can talk without the worry of being watched or listened in on.”

“Shit. You think my phone is bugged too? What’s going on, Michael?”

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