Duncan took a preliminary statement from her before he turned to James. “I’ll follow you to the hospital and get your statement there.”
James opened his mouth but quickly shut it again. She could tell he wanted to object to the ride in the ambulance but remained silent. The muscles in his jaw bunched together, his annoyance clear, but he acquiesced. Her estimation of him went up again.
“I can drive your car to the hospital and meet you there,” she offered.
“Fine,” he said, tossing his keys at her. When everyone was out of earshot he whispered, “You owe me one.” His words were casual but his tone sent a jolt through her. It was simultaneously menacing and sexual, not a combination she usually enjoyed, but from his mouth it held just the right amount of danger to make her tingle.
When Megan arrived at the hospital James was already being seen by a doctor; impressive, since it was a busy DC hospital and the ER waiting room was lined with people waiting to be seen.
Megan took a seat and picked up a copy of People Magazine. The edges were frayed and the main story was about the heroes of Hurricane Katrina. So not a recent issue she thought, as she tossed it back on the table.
“Mrs. McCoy,” the nurse at reception called.
Megan looked up. “Yes?”
“You can go back into examination room five if you want to wait with your friend.”
James Emerson was hardly a friend. She barely knew the man. She looked around the waiting room. At least twenty people were waiting, some bleeding, most just coughing like they had been nursing a ninety-a-day habit since infancy. God only knew the pathogens making their home here. An examination room with James suddenly seemed quite appealing.
A nurse showed her the way.
“Hi,” she said lamely when she saw James.
He nodded at her. “I’m getting stitched up. And a cast apparently.” James indicated his left hand.
She glanced down at his hand. It was swollen and an angry bruise had appeared across his knuckles. Shouldn’t he be moaning or wincing or something? Shed a stray tear at least. His face was mangled and he had a broken bone. When she stubbed her toe, the neighbours across the street knew about it. But James was sitting chatting quite happily like having his head split open was an everyday occurrence. “You broke your hand?” she asked.
“Looks like it. Your case better be airtight.”
“As long as my complaining witness doesn’t go all sentimental and change his mind because deep down you know he really does love you. And he only did it because he is such a passionate and misunderstood person.”
“Does that happen a lot?”
She nodded. “All the time. Domestic violence cases are a nightmare. Every second woman recants. There are always kids and dogs and grannies involved. It’s just ugly. Sorry you got caught up in it.”
He shook his head. “Not a problem. But why do you do it?”
“My job? Why do I do my job?” Her throat was suddenly dry. The question was possibly her least favourite. There was no answer that could possibly sum up her feelings adequately, or at least not one she would share with someone.
“Yeah. I reckon you could make a lot of money in private practice. My lawyer just bought a Ferrari. Come to think about it, I think he’s overcharging me.”
“Probably. Never trust lawyers. They’re a slimy lot.” She smiled.
“And apparently they’re good at avoiding questions. You didn’t give me an answer.” His face rose again in a half smile.
She shifted from one foot to the other but forced herself to look him directly in the eye. “I told you. I like putting bad guys away.”
“But why those bad guys?” he asked.
There was something about his tone that made her consider letting down her guard. Or maybe it was the gold flecks in his eyes, or the adrenaline, or the fact he had allowed himself to be physically assaulted for her, but she would never really let her public mask slip, especially not with a reporter. She never stopped being a DA, and she knew sure as shit nothing would ever be off the record with James if she told him things beyond her official bio. She and Ben had worked too long and too hard to let anything jeopardise them now. “Because I am good at it. I don’t have the highest conviction rate in the District by accident.”
She turned the question on him. “Why are you still in journalism? When your father was indicted, why didn’t you cash in and move to the Caribbean and sit on the beach and drink cocktails until you meet your maker?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “I’m not really a sitting on the beach type of guy.”
The DA in her pounced. She never let an untruth go without a challenge. “So that wasn’t you I saw in St. Bart’s with a girl off that soap opera? And it wasn’t you in Maui with the lingerie model? Perhaps it was your twin in Nice with that heiress?”
“Christ, you read a lot of tabloids.” James lay back on the hospital bed.
He looked too big for the bed, his legs too long, his shoulders too broad. He looked like a man in a child’s bed. Physically he was very daunting. If he wanted to hurt her, he could, quite easily. The thought unsettled her almost as much as the realisation that she assessed everyone on their potential to inflict pain. Old habits die hard.
“I don’t read any tabloids actually, but thank you for making my point for me. So-called legitimate news organisations report on where you are and who you are sleeping with.”
“Only because you read it, sweetheart.”
“Don’t flatter yourself.”
“Woman, you just named three chicks I shagged this year. I would say you’ve taken an interest.” He grinned. His eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled properly.
Her stomach did a flip. Jesus, she needed to get it together. He was flirting with her and she liked it. Lack of sex did strange things to a woman’s brain. “Hardly. I was trying to make a point and you put me off. So congratulations on that, because that is hard to do.”
She turned to look down the hall and see if a doctor was coming to tend to him. The examination room suddenly seemed hot. She hoped he could not see the blush she felt creeping across her cheeks. She didn’t blush. Self-imposed abstinence was turning her into a schoolgirl. She was going to add sex to her to do list, or even just buy new batteries, that might take the edge off. All the thinking about sex reminded her of the point she had been trying to make. “Oh, now I remember: real news outlets should not be reporting on who you or anyone else is having sex with. If no one is getting hurt, it is nobody’s business.”
“We print what people buy. Supply and demand. If you don’t want to read it, stop buying it. The almighty dollar speaks loudly, sweetheart.” He closed his eyes and sank his dark head deeper into the pillow. His body language was so relaxed and indifferent, it would have infuriated her had it not aroused her. He was so masculine and in charge of his surroundings, even now with a broken hand and split eyebrow. Something primitive in her responded to him, it was part of herself
