Trusting Danger (Danger, #2)(77)

Grayson shook his head and took a seat next to his boss. “Between the traffic and the parking situation, I’m starting to hate coming over here. Let’s hope it’s worth it.”

A few minutes later, the door opened and Rex Gibson was led in by a corrections officer. Handcuffed and shackled, Gibson didn’t look quite as intimidating as the last time Grayson had seen him. His beefy face was pale and his hair had started to grow out, revealing a receding hairline that hadn’t been visible when his head was shaved.

Gibson scowled at the officer who put a hand on his shoulder and shoved him into his seat, then stepped back and stood nearby, his arms crossed over his chest. The dark-skinned, rail-thin woman who followed and sat next to Gibson was apparently his attorney.

Grayson suppressed a smile as Gibson finally looked his way, his eyes widening with recognition and then realization.

“You son of a bitch!” he growled. “You set me up!”

Grayson shrugged, enjoying himself. “Maybe you should’ve given me that territory I asked for from the start.”

Before Gibson could answer, the door opened again and the assistant US attorney in charge of the case entered. Grayson raised an eyebrow in surprise.

Michael Alvarez, the prosecutor in Chris Jones’s case. Small world.

Alvarez took a seat at the head of the table and opened a thick file folder. Glancing down at it, he said, “I understand Mr. Gibson has a statement he wants to make and would like to make a deal.” Addressing the prisoner, he asked, “And you have a new attorney?”

Gibson nodded, and the woman seated next to him spoke.

“Yolanda Jackson for the defense, sir.”

Leaning back in his chair, Alvarez motioned for her to proceed.

“My client has information that he believes will prove valuable,” she said. “He’s willing to reveal the names of higher-ups in the organization he works for in exchange for witness protection.”

“Witness protection?” Eli scoffed. “That’s a big ask.”

Grayson stiffened at the smile that made Gibson’s lips twitch. The drug dealer knew something—something big—and was pretty damn sure of himself.

Alvarez frowned at Ms. Jackson. “The charges against Mr. Gibson are serious. The information that your client has might be enough for us to offer him a sentence reduction, but not witness protection. Unless, of course, his higher-ups are mobsters,” he added with a skeptical smile.

Ms. Jackson’s expression hardened. “My client reports directly to someone you know as the Iceman. He’s no mobster, but I believe we can all agree that his reach is wide. His capture and arrest would be a coup for your office.”

Grayson sat up straighter in his seat and exchanged glances with Eli and Alvarez. Before they could speak, he caught Gibson’s eye. “And you know his real identity? Where we can find him?”

Gibson’s gaze flicked to his attorney, who nodded. His nostrils flared and his face reddened as he turned back to Grayson, but he took a deep breath, staring down at the table for a moment as he seemed to collect himself. When he looked up again, his expression was resigned.

“Yeah, I do. And I can prove it.”

Grayson’s heartbeat pounded so hard, he could barely hear. Unmasking the Iceman would not only give them the chance to shut down a major drug ring, but it would also give them someone else to hold responsible for Jeremy’s murder, the murder plot against Camden and Autumn, and the kidnap plot against Claire. After all, it was the Iceman’s men who had been hired for each of these crimes.

Eli folded his hands on the table and leaned forward, pinning Gibson with his ebony gaze. “What proof do you have?”

Ms. Jackson lifted a hand in warning before her client could speak. “I can assure you that my client has the proof you need. If he can provide it, do we have a deal for witness protection, including a new identity?”

Eli glanced at Alvarez, who raised his eyebrows. Eli dipped his chin in an almost imperceptible nod, which the AUSA returned.

Alvarez rolled a hand toward Gibson and gave him a wolfish smile. “Then by all means, please enlighten us.”





Chapter Sixty-Eight





“That’s it for today,” Professor Moore told the class. “I’ll expect your progress reports on your capstone projects in class on Thursday.”

Claire took her time gathering her things, allowing her classmates to filter out of the auditorium ahead of her. Although she and Grayson had enjoyed a wonderful weekend—the best she’d had since . . . well, ever—it was time to get back to the real world. And that meant she needed to get her future in order.

When nearly everyone was gone, she picked up her tote and approached the front of the room. “Professor Moore, may I speak with you for a minute?”

Her teacher paused from putting away her notes and nodded. “I have office hours next. We can chat here.” Indicating the front row of chairs, she said, “Let’s take a seat.”

Claire closed her eyes for a second and took a calming breath before sitting next to Moore.

The woman tilted her head, studying Claire for a moment. “Is there a problem, Miss Parker?”

“Yes . . . I mean, no,” Claire stammered, not quite sure where to start. Digging deep for courage, she said, “Honestly, I’m not sure I’m cut out to be a lawyer. I’m thinking about not taking the bar.”