CHAPTER TWO
BETHTRIEDTOTELLHERSELF shed done what she could. If Mitch was determined to be an idiot about this situation, how could she talk him out of it? Arguing wasnt her best skill; she left that for the lawyers.
Turned out Daniel didnt agree. He shared Raleighs concern about a scandal being detrimental to Project Justice, and he didnt allow anything to get in the way of the foundations efforts to free wrongly convicted men and women from prison. But he also cared about Mitch, who had been one of the first people Daniel had hired when he and his father had started the foundation.
After Mitch had stormed down the hall toward the elevator, Beth had returned to her little laboratory, the place where she felt most comfortable. Fingerprints, fibers and blood didnt argue. They spoke only the truth. They werent all that complicated.
MenMitch, in particularwere.
But she hadnt been in the lab ten minutes before Daniel called her.
You want me to try again to convince Mitch to cooperate? Beth asked, almost before Daniel had said two words.
Youre the one who knows him the best, Beth, Daniel said. Im in the middle of a Logan Oil board meeting, or I would track him down myself and talk some sense into him.
Those were pretty strong words, coming from Daniel, who seldom left his estate unless it was for something really important. His new wife, Jamie, was in the process of pulling him out of his shell, but old habits died hard.
Apparently I dont know him as well as I thought, Beth huffed. Coots Bayou? Hes never said a word to me about his hometown. Or his half brother. Or his arrest record.
He had good reasons for wanting to put that part of his life behind him, Beth. He wasnt trying to hide anything. He grew up under pretty harsh conditions and its not something he wants to think about.
Hes sure trying to run from it now.
He can be convinced to do the right thing, I know he can. Hes smart, just bullheaded sometimes. Mitch cares about you and respects you. Hell listen to you if you try one more time.
Beth wasnt so sure. But despite his reclusive ways, her billionaire boss understood human nature better than most anyone Beth knew.
If you really think it will help, Ill try. She would simply have to put her disastrous attempt at dating Mitch out of her mind. He was, first and foremost, her friend. He needed her, even if he didnt know it.
Do it now. Because frankly, if you dont convince him, Im going to have to tell him to take a leave of absence from work.
Beth stifled a gasp. Daniel, he didnt
I know he didnt kill anyone, Daniel said impatiently. But we have lots of innocent people depending on us. Having one of our key employees accused of murder, no matter how ridiculous the charge, could damage us beyond repair. I will stand behind Mitch a hundred percent. But I wont have him dragged off in cuffs from our offices, in front of TV cameras. Which is exactly what could happen if Mitch doesnt cooperate.
Beth swallowed, her mouth going dry. Shed known things could get bad for Mitch, and for everyone who worked at Project Justice as well as their clients. Why didnt Mitch see it?
Ill go right now, Daniel. Ill find him. Ill convince him.
She tried calling Mitchs cell, then his home, but got voice mail both times. He was very good at ignoring a ringing phone when he didnt want to talk. You can run, but you cant hide, Beth murmured as she grabbed her purse and headed out the door, putting her assistant, Cassie, in charge for the rest of the afternoon.
Mitchs house was less than ten miles from downtown and close to the I-610 loop, but it had kind of a rural feel, with a cow pasture across the street and an oil field next door.
Rush hour hadnt gotten a good grip on the city at three in the afternoon, so the trip to his home only took a few minutes. She pulled into the driveway and saw that his Harley was there. Good. But she didnt get out right away. She sat in the car, composing in her mind exactly what she would say to him.
By following him home, she was pushing the bounds of their friendship. But she couldnt sit back and allow him to be railroaded right into prison. Her job had presented her with too many examples of innocent men and women, accused of crimes, who had made their situations so much worse by going into denial.
Mitchs house was cute, Beth had to admit, even if the locale wasnt ideal. The white brick house had red shutters and a trellis shading the front porch, on which grew trumpet vine and morning glories poised to burst into bloom. Mitch kept everything in good repair, but Beth couldnt help thinking, as she mounted the front steps, that the place could use a womans touch.
She rang the bell. When he didnt answer after a few moments, she rang again and knocked. Mitch? I know youre in there. You better just come to the door, because Im not leaving. We have to talk.
Still nothing. No sound.
Determined, she walked around the house and let herself into the backyard through the gate in the honeysuckle-choked chain-link fence. The patio and yard were empty, but she found the sliding glass door unlocked.
Nervous sweat broke out on her upper lip as she opened it. Mitch?
She was about to go inside when she heard something, a strange noise punctuating the silence.
Smack, smack, smack. And the unmistakable sound of a human male exerting himself. The noise was not coming from inside the house, but behind her. From the yardno, beyond the yard. Beyond the fence, into the otherwise still oil field.
What the hell?
Curiosity killed the cat, she reminded herself as she abandoned the sliding glass door and went in search of the source of the sound.
The back gate had been left ajar. As a trained crime scene investigator, she should have noticed that before. Mindful of her heels on the uneven ground, she crept through the gate and followed the strange sounds to another fence, a beat-up chain-link enclosure surrounding an old grasshopper pump.
She could see no way in, so she cleared away some of the tall weeds and peered through the gap shed created.
Her breath caught in her throat. Finally shed found Mitch, and he appeared to be beating the crap out of a punching bag, pounding it with his fists, bare feet, elbows and knees.
She was at once fascinated and horrified. Here was a male in the prime of his health and vitality, shirtless, muscles rippling and sheened with sweat. He was beautifuland terrifying.
Her jaw throbbed and she rubbed it, trying hard not to think about the damage Mitchs fists could do to a human being.
Suddenly he growled like a wild animal and rushed at the punching bag headfirst, hitting it so hard that it disconnected from the chain and crashed to the broken concrete at the base of the pump. The chain that had held it suspended whipped around and struck Mitch in the shoulder, but he seemed to not notice. He was intent on doing more damage to the bag, kicking it savagely with his heel. Then he jumped on top of it and beat it a few more times with his fists.
She must have made some kind of noise, because he slowly stilled his fists, then turned his head and looked right at her.
Embarrassed to have been caught staring at what should have been a private moment for Mitch, she wanted to shrink back behind the weeds and creep away. But it was too late.
Beth? He looked both surprised andyes, apprehensive.
I c-couldnt find you and I heard something strange, she stammered out. I didnt mean to spy but, Mitch She gained a bit of confidence when he didnt aim his obvious anger at her. What the hell is all this?
Gasping for air, he slowly rose from straddling the bag and regained his feet. This is where I work out.
Here?
Why not here? Theres plenty of space for my gear, and no one else is using it. And its private. Or its supposed to be, he said pointedly. He grabbed a towel to wipe the sweat off his face, neck and shoulders, then picked up a water bottle, tipped back his head and took a long draw.
Beth watched, fascinated, as his Adams apple bobbed up and down and the cords of his neck flexed and relaxed.
She shook her head to clear it, ordering her runaway libido into line. Mitchs body wasnt hers to ogle. She was here on a mission.
What kind of workout is this? she asked, stalling. Are you some kind of black belt killing machine? She said it with a nervous laugh. Shed known Mitch was fit. No one who filled out a pair of jeans and a T-shirt like he did sat in front of a computer all the time.
Im not a black belt anything. He sounded defensive. Its just a good way to stay in shape and work off stress.
Is it working?
He peeled off his gloves, which were not like any boxing gloves Beth had ever seen, not that she ever paid much attention. They were small, and didnt cover his fingers. Shed seen bruises and cuts on Mitchs hands before, but he claimed to have gotten them doing yard work or fixing his bike.
Im not bouncing off the walls anymore, so, yeah, I guess it helps. Beth, what are you doing here?
Come out of that cage and lets talk. Please, she added, since he was under no obligation to speak to her after shed followed him uninvited and spied on his workout.
He scooped up his discarded T-shirt and threw it on. Beth mourned the loss as he covered up those beautiful pecs and the washboard abs, but it was better this way. Mitch was distracting enough even when he wasnt the next closest thing to completely naked.
Mitch gathered up his gloves, towel and water bottle. But rather than exiting through a gate, he peeled back a section of fencing that had been snipped open with bolt cutters and levered himself through, managing not to catch anything on the raggedly cut chain links.
But he was bleeding, where that punching bag chain had caught him on the shoulder. Youre injured.
Hmm?
She pointed to his shoulder and he looked, disinterested. Oh. He swiped at the blood with his towel, then seemed to forget about it.
Doesnt it hurt? And look at your knuckles. They were red and swollen, and one of them had a small cut. More blood. Beth was torn between the desire to nurse him with antiseptic and bandages and an even stronger need to turn away in revulsion.
Revulsion won. Blood in a lab she could deal withnice, clean blood in a test tube or on a cotton swab. But live, bleeding flesh and blood was not her thing. Shed discovered that at the police academy before shed been booted out.
He shrugged, then stopped to hold the back gate open for her. No matter what, Mitch had the manners of a Southern gentleman, one of the things that drew her to him. Along with his calm, easygoing personality.
Which apparently had been nothing but a facade.
THATWASCLOSE. Panic had coursed through Mitchs veins right along with the rush of his blood when hed spotted Beth peering at him through the fence, a colorful tropical flower completely out of context in his personal gym of rust, metal, leather, concrete and sweat.
Hed thought for sure she would recognize the discipline suggested by his workout. The abbreviated gloves, the combination of punching, kicking and wrestling on the ground screamed mixed martial arts. But though the sport had gained popularity and respectability in recent years, not everyone was into it.
Sweet Beth apparently had no knowledge or interest in his particular fighting style, because she let his weak explanation ride. That was a good thing; hed gone to a lot of trouble to keep his sporting life separate from his professional work because neither would enhance the other. What fighter would be intimidated by a computer geek who worked for a charitable foundation? And he didnt even want to think about the negative fallout should the press get hold of the connection. What if it came out while he was testifying in court?
Not even Daniel knew about the UFC matches hed been fighting over the past few years, and it looked as if he could keep it that way awhile longer.
But that didnt mean he was home free. He knew why Beth was here, what she wanted him to do.
He tromped through his backyard and across the brick patio, wishing she was here for some other reason. Like maybe shed decided his brush with the law turned her on and she wanted some hot, sweaty sex.
Yeah, hed thought about it. Plenty of times. Every time he saw her, in fact. But shed been giving him Do Not Touch signals for so long, hed given up on that idea.
He entered his stuffy house through the sliding glass door, knowing she would follow.
Mitch, are you going to sit down and listen to me? she asked as he cruised into the kitchen, ignoring her presence, and grabbed himself the remains of a high-protein energy shake hed mixed up that morning. What he really wanted was a cold beer, but he never drank the week before a match.
I already know what youre going to say, he replied wearily. You want something to drink?
No, thank you, she said primly. If youre so smart, what do you think Im going to say?
He turned to face her in the small galley kitchen, still decorated in all its 1970s glory of red and harvest-gold. Beths hot-pink flowered dress made the decor look old and tired. The same thing you already said. That I should indulge those backwoods cops from back home to answer stupid questions about a crime I know nothing about. Only youll probably throw in something about how I should patch things up with my brother. Because hes family, and family is important. Beth enjoyed a warm, loving relationship with her parents, two sisters, brothers-in-law, nieces and nephews. Does that about sum things up?
She seemed to shrink a little in the face of his displeasure, and he made a mental note to dial it down a notch. This was Beth, who wouldnt hurt a fly, and she was here only because she thought she was being helpful. She was his friend. Still, that didnt mean he wanted her meddling in his überdysfunctional family.
Usually it took very little to deflect Beth from any line of conversation he didnt want to pursue. That was one of the reasons he liked hanging with her; she could take a hint when he didnt want to talk about personal stuff.
Now, apparently, she wasnt going to cooperate. She didnt look as though she was about to back down from this fight. He tried to think of some way to change the stubborn thrust of her chin. His gaze focused briefly on her plump, pink lips.
A kiss would give her something else to think about.
Yes, of course Im here about your brothers visit, she said, bumping his attention back to the matter at hand. Can we sit down? Will you at least hear me out?
Fine, he mumbled. He suddenly became aware of his sweaty, bedraggled state. Beth was her usual fresh-as-a-daisy self in her sleeveless, summery dress, and he probably looked awful and smelled worse. Can I take a shower first?