French Silk(56)

"Ariel Wilde and you."

"Me?" he repeated, flabbergasted. "How the hell can you blame this on me?"

"I was never picketed before, Mr. Cassidy."

"Look, I don't like this any better than you do," he said, bending down and bringing his face closer to hers. "Ariel wants to make the NOPD and my office look like a bunch of buffoons. This is her way of reminding the public that we haven't solved her husband's murder case yet. She needed another dose of free publicity and chose this way to get it."

"Let her have all the publicity she wants. I don't care. Just leave me out of it. I don't want to be involved."

"Well that's tough, because you're already involved."

"Because you've been lurking around here so much!" Claire shouted.

"No, because you've lied to me from the beginning."

"Only to protect myself, my friends, and my family from your snooping."

"I'm only doing my job."

"Are you?"

That left him with nothing to say because his job description didn't include kissing the suspects he was questioning, which is what he'd been doing the last time he'd been with her. She suddenly seemed to remember that, too. She took a hasty step backward. There was a catch in her throat. "Just leave me in peace, Mr. Cassidy, and take all of them with you."

She gestured toward the door, but before her sentence was completely formed, a brick came crashing through the window directly above them. It shattered. Cassidy looked up, saw what had happened, and threw his arms around Claire. He dived for cover behind a tower of packing crates, pressing her against his chest and bending his head over hers, protecting her as best he could from the falling shards of glass. The workers scrambled in every direction, trying to escape injury as glass rained down, splintering into tiny pieces as it struck the concrete floor.

When it finally stopped, Cassidy relaxed his tight embrace. "Are you all right?" He swept her hair off her face, examining the delicate skin for nicks and cuts.

"Yes."

"Sure?"

"Yes, I'm fine. Is anyone hurt?" Her employees were slowly emerging from cover.

"We're all right, Miss Laurent."

When Claire turned back to Cassidy, she uttered a small gasp. "You've been cut." She reached up and touched his cheek. Her fingers came away smeared with blood.

He took a handkerchief from his hip pocket and used it to wipe her fingers clean before blotting his cheek. Surrounding them were bits of glass as fine as dust and as shimmering as diamonds. Bending down, he picked up the brick that was responsible for the damage. Using Magic Marker, someone had printed on it FILTHY DAUGHTER OF SATAN.

"All right," Claire said softly as she read the poorly printed words. "That's enough." She strode to the door, her feet crunching on the broken glass.

"Claire, no!"

Unmindful of his shout, she pulled open the door, stepped onto the sidewalk, and marched up to one of the policemen. She tugged at his shirtsleeve to get his attention.

"I thought you were supposed to be keeping this demonstration peaceful."

"That brick came out of nowhere. I'm sorry, ma'am."

"You're sorry, but my employees could have been seriously hurt."

"Their permit to picket doesn't extend to throwing bricks," Cassidy said.

The policeman recognized him. "Hey, you're Cassidy, aren't you?"

"That's right. And I'm here representing District Attorney Crowder. As of now, their permit has expired. Disperse this crowd. Call in reinforcements if necessary, but clear this area immediately."

"I don't know," the cop said dubiously. The protesters were now clasping hands and praying. Cassidy was glad. As long as their heads were bowed and their eyes were closed, they wouldn't notice Claire. "Judge Harris—"

"Screw Judge Harris and his permit," Cassidy said in a low, rough voice. "If he doesn't like it, he can take it up with the D.A. later. For now, get these people away from here before more damage is done."

"If somebody gets injured," Claire said, "there's going to be hell to pay from Mrs. Wilde and from me."

Finally reaching a decision, the cop went quickly to the man who was leading a loud, long prayer. "Excuse me, sir. Y'all violated the conditions of your permit. You're gonna have to disperse." The leader, who obviously liked the sound of his own voice, didn't want to be silenced. In Jesus' blessed name, he began strenuously to protest. A shoving match ensued.

Cassidy swore. "I was afraid of this. Get inside, Claire."

"This is my fight. I'll handle it."

"Handle it? Are you nuts?"

"They've been misled about me. If I explain to them—"

"A mob can't be reasoned with." He had to raise his voice to be heard above the rising shouts. Soon he'd have a riot on his hands.

"There she is!" someone in the crowd shouted.

"It's her!"

"Smut peddler! Pornographer!"

"Ladies and gentlemen, please." Claire held up her hands for silence, but the insults only grew nastier. Photographers nearly trampled one another trying to capture her image and voice on their videotapes.