Bones Don't Lie (Morgan Dane #3)(22)

Morgan felt her eyebrow shoot up her forehead. What is it with this guy?

“I can make your life very difficult.” He leaned closer, too close. He needed a breath mint. “We can do every single case the hardest way possible.”

Enough was enough.

Morgan put a hand six inches in front of her to keep him from leaning any closer. She hated games. She just wanted to do her job. “First of all, back off.”

He didn’t. Instead, his eyes glittered with amusement as he shifted his weight farther forward, until his chest pushed against her hand. “You aren’t a prosecutor now. You are a lowly defense attorney, a bottom-feeder. Your clients are the scum of the earth.”

“Like the innocent kid you tried to railroad into a plea deal?”

His face reddened.

“What do you want?” she asked, her temper running short.

“Don’t ever go out of your way to try and make me look bad again.”

Morgan stiffened her arm to resist the press of his body weight. “I didn’t have to do anything. You made yourself look bad. Next time you want to push hard on a case, verify your evidence first. Bluffing is a gamble. Yours didn’t pay off this time.”

“I’m warning you, counselor.”

“Warning me of what?” Morgan asked. She could not roll over for him. Her career would be over. “I take the law very seriously. My clients deserve the best defense I can give them. I will make you prove your case every single time.”

His lip curled away from his teeth. “You’re making a mistake.”

He tried to take a step forward, to invade the last few inches of space between their bodies, but Morgan moved her hand into a horizontal position, until the tips of her fingers aligned with the hollow at the base of his throat. His forward momentum pressed her fingers into his jugular notch. Her fingertips sank into the soft flesh.

Gagging, he jerked backward. “You bitch.”

A flash went off, followed by Lance’s voice. “Hey, Esposito, why are you practically standing on top of the lady? I hope to hell you’re not trying to intimidate the defense counsel, because that’s what it looks like in this picture.”

Lance held his cell phone in front of him. His light tone did not match his angry scowl or the fingers that curled into a fist at his side.

Still coughing, Esposito took a quick step away. “Ms. Dane and I were simply discussing a case.”

Morgan didn’t respond. Normally, she kept a decent hold on her temper, but men like Esposito set her off. His boorish and clumsy efforts to intimidate stunned her. Why would he think he could get away with this sort of behavior? Did other people allow him to walk all over them?

“You can discuss a case without breathing down her neck.” Lance stepped to her side, using his own size to his advantage.

Esposito had tried to bully her, but he’d never try that sort of tactic with someone whose biceps were bigger than his head. Lance, in his tactical cargos and snug black T-shirt, did not look like someone to be messed with.

“We’ll talk later.” Esposito nodded and turned away. As he turned the corner, Morgan saw him rub the base of his throat.

“Thank you,” she said, turning to Lance.

Underneath the grim anger, humor lurked in his blue eyes. “You’re welcome, though it looked like you had him under control.”

“He is such an . . .”

“Ass?” Lance finished.

“Yes.” The encounter with Esposito had left a foul taste in her mouth.

Lance squinted down the hall where Esposito had disappeared. “We need to learn more about the new ADA.”

“I’m sure he’s been thoroughly vetted. Bryce is particular.”

“Still . . .” Lance frowned. “I don’t like him.”

“Bryce is a politician. He barely won the election. He can’t afford to hire anyone with a questionable history.”

Lance did not look convinced.

Morgan steered him toward the exit. “Did you find Phil Dryer?”

“I did.” Lance opened the door for her. “He’s dead. There was an error on the death certificate. They used his middle initial instead of his full middle name.”

“That’s why he didn’t show up on the Master Death list. Then we can cross Phil off our list of potential witnesses. That leaves us with Stan, Brian, and Brian’s wife, Natalie, to interview.” If the skeleton’s identity could be confirmed, the list would no doubt expand.

“Yes,” Lance said.

He led her across the parking lot, and they got into his Jeep.

After the doors were closed, Lance leaned over the console and kissed her. “Are you sure you’re all right? I wanted to punch Esposito in his smug face.”

“I’m fine. I’ve visited violent criminals in prison. One ADA with the temperament of a seventh-grade bully isn’t going to intimidate me.”

“Did you file your motion?”

“I did.” Morgan fastened her seat belt. “But the frustrating fact is that he can make things more difficult. He can drag out the process. He can delay delivery of important materials so defense attorneys have as little time as possible to review discovery evidence. I’ll push back, but that’s extra time billed to my clients. Public defenders have it even worse. They juggle a crazy number of cases. They don’t have time for unnecessary motions and bullshit stonewalling.”