Page 32 of Queen's Ransom

Celia nodded against the pillow. “Yours?”

“Court, MCS, meeting with Oak.”

A fond smile ghosted across Celia’s face. “Tell him I said hello.”

“I’ll do that.”

And then a blush streaked across Celia’s cheeks, and when her eyes fluttered open again, there was a tiny flame of heat mixed with the drowsiness. “After? Another workout maybe?”

Helena didn’t think self-defense was the only workout Celia was hinting at, and she was one hundred percent on board with that plan. “I’ll see you then.” She leaned forward and dropped a kiss on Celia’s cheek, a mirror of the one Celia had given her at the station.

Celia purred, same as Daisy did when Helena gave her a parting scratch behind the ears. She stopped in the doorway, looking back at the cute, beautiful, amazing woman already asleep in the bed. Helena wished like hell there was a way to make this work because this sort of calm—this sort of peace—was something she’d never felt before.

Chapter Fourteen

Helena stared out the floor-to-ceiling windows of Oakland Ashe’s downtown office. The lights of Alcatraz Island flickered on, earlier than usual owing to the storm clouds that hastened the winter dusk. Maybe the rain would let up tomorrow. She knew they needed it—California always did—but this was also about the time, every wet winter, when she’d had enough of it. And there were still a few months of rainy season to go.

Noise from outside the office drew Helena from the dreary view. “Oh, Mr. Ashe,” said the legal assistant she’d met outside. “You have a visitor.”

“I didn’t think I had any other meetings on my calendar.”

“Because,” Helena said, voice raised, “I wasn’t stupid enough to let you know I was coming.”

“I’m sorry,” Oak’s assistant said. “She insisted.”

“I’m sure she did.” Oak pushed open the cracked door, and bemused gray eyes glared across the space at her.

She drummed her nails along the edge of his desk. “Fancy meeting you here.”

He dropped his umbrella in the bucket just inside the office, hooked his raincoat on the back of the closed door, then crossed the room and dropped his briefcase in one of the visitor chairs. While not as tall as her brothers, Oak still towered over her barely five two. “Helena.”

“Aww, Oak, you don’t seem happy to see me.”

“Not too keen on being assaulted again.” He shrugged out of his suit jacket and tossed it in the chair on top of his briefcase.

“I’ll play nice.” She lifted a hand, pinky crooked. “Pinky swear.”

He ignored the teasing offer, considering the offeror with narrowed eyes instead. “What do you want?”

“Guess there’s a reason you’re the best criminal defense attorney in town.”

“You’re admitting that?”

“You do have fifteen years on me, old man.”

He finally cracked, a chuckle escaping, and she pushed away from the desk, strolling toward the round conference table in the opposite corner. “Need to talk about one of your firm’s clients.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

“Off the record. Call it a professional courtesy.”

“I don’t know that that’s exactly what I’d call it.”

“Privilege, then. It’s a family matter.”

“Conflict of interest.” He circled the desk and grabbed two cut crystal glasses and the decanter off the credenza. “You shouldn’t even be here.”

“Well, seeing as your client, Michael Griffin, was in jail at the time of a drive-by shooting on Friday, I don’t think he did it, but someone is trying to make it look like he did.”

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