Duty To Defend. Jill Elizabeth Nelson

“Study that file together, then make like law officers and catch me a bad guy.”

      Daci rose slowly, blinking as if a bit dazed. “Is this really our best chance of nailing Liggett Naylor?”

      “I hope not.” The DC frowned, reaching for a folder on his desk. “We’ve got multiple teams working around the clock to track him down. If I had my way, we’d have this lowlife in custody before you showed up for kiddie duty tomorrow.”

      “We’ll hope for that, then, sir.” She turned on her heel and marched out.

      Jax followed her into the bull pen of this branch office of the United States Marshals Service. Three other federal deputies and a clerical assistant/IT technician had computer desks placed at intervals throughout the space. Only the clerical desk was occupied, and the IT guy seemed mesmerized by his computer screen and didn’t bother to acknowledge their entrance.

      At the federal district courthouse yesterday, Jax had noted that the routine Marshals Service duties of providing protection and guard detail were being covered by other agencies. With all the stops pulled out to track down Liggett Naylor, the other deputies would be out scrambling after leads.

      Grabbing a stray guest chair, Jax followed his new partner to a spot in the corner of the room near the printer. Everyone in the bull pen would have to walk behind her chair, sometimes bumping her desk, to get to their printouts. Newbs always got the worst desk placement. By the pinched look on Daci’s face as she woke up her computer, this newb also thought she’d received the worst first assignment. Why? Given Rey’s selection of her, she must have a history with kids. Maybe the problem was with the mother. She’d seemed very upset at the mention of FAS. Maybe he should finesse matters in that area.

      He hunkered down beside her. “You’ll no doubt discover a few things about Serena and Chase’s social-services status when you bring up the file. Serena was thrown out of her home as a young teen and, unsurprisingly, got caught up in the street culture of drugs, alcohol and prostitution. Naylor was three decades older, but he took a fancy to her. Staying with him gave her a place to live and his money facilitated her...um, habits. When she showed up at the hospital drunk and in labor, and then Chase was born with fetal alcohol syndrome, he was immediately removed from her custody. Fortunately, that was a real wake-up call for her to get help for her alcoholism. The county put her in a three-month in-patient program, followed by three months at a halfway house, and now she’s in intensive outpatient treatment.”

      “And the baby?” She arched a fine, dark brow.

      “Chase will remain in foster care until his mother is nine months sober, and because of his special needs, the foster parents found a day care that offers therapy for challenged newborns. By arranging for Serena to work there, her job will teach her the skills to care for him and also provide daily supervised interaction between mother and son. She seems passionate about gaining the opportunity to raise him.”

      Sometime during his speech, Daci’s stare had gone flat. She had the richest brown eyes he’d ever seen, unusual and a bit exotic with the light hair, but something about this conversation unearthed an ancient pain that lurked in their depths. “Why are you putting him at risk by letting her have him again? I thought you were the child’s advocate, not the mother’s.”

      “I am, which is why she didn’t get Chase back as soon as she graduated from the halfway house.” He offered a smile that wasn’t returned. The old Williams charm must be experiencing an off day—or else an extra-challenging subject. “Ultimately, it’s the judge’s decision, but I fought hard to keep Chase in a guaranteed stable environment until the mother has a chance to get her feet under her in the real world. Thankfully, the judge saw the wisdom in that idea. On the other hand, I believe in giving families a chance to heal and reunite. Continued sobriety is possible.”

      Daci’s upper lip curled. “But not probable, especially when the scrutiny comes off and the stakes of losing the kid goes away.”

      “You speak from experience, I take it?”

      Rather than answering, she turned back toward her computer screen, revealing a fine-boned profile enhanced by a delicately upturned nose and a firm, rounded chin. If she’d tried to charm him with a smile, he had no doubt it would have worked. Just as well for him that she hadn’t tried.

      “Can you see well enough to read along with me?”

      The tone of her question left no doubt that she wouldn’t allow him to direct the conversation back to his question about her past experience. Let no one say he couldn’t take a hint, but the legal bloodhound in him was on the hunt. Would it be out of line for him to request her file from Rey? Probably. He’d have to satisfy his curiosity the lawman-turned-lawyer way—evidence collection and finessing information from witnesses.

      Marlowe wasn’t a terribly unusual surname, but it did ring a bell from some type of years-ago media hoopla about tragedy and scandal in a filthy rich founding father–type family from Boston. Surely, this down-to-earth Marlowe wouldn’t turn out to be from that bunch, but he wouldn’t rest easy until he’d tracked down the reason for his hazy recollection. Online homework for tonight.

      Two hours later, he and Daci had exhausted the information in the files on Serena Farnam and Liggett Naylor, uncovering and discussing some extremely disturbing facts about the latter. A career criminal from a single-parent household—father unknown—he’d been involved in everything from home burglaries and drug dealing to bank holdups and freight-cargo heists, most of these involving the murder of any possible witnesses.

      By the time law enforcement brought him down, he was a kingpin in various criminal enterprises ranging from stolen-vehicle chop shops to hot-property fencing rings and racketeering. Anyone who got in his way was annihilated. Homicidal maniac would be a mild description of the charismatic and remorseless criminal with a trail of dead bodies and destroyed lives in his wake.

      “How does society breed these animals?” Jax shook his head.

      “You’re blaming society as a psycho-mill now?” She gazed at him coolly.

      He almost responded with a quick defense of his comment, then noted the slight curve at the corners of her mouth. She was teasing him—and a goofy heart-thump startled him into openmouthed silence.

      Her grin broadened. “With your years in the Marshals Service, I’d think you would have run into plenty of this type along the way. What soured you into litigator over lawman?”

      “Soured?” The sudden taste on his tongue matched the word.

      The churning in his gut was a toxic cocktail of grief, guilt and regret. A timely reminder of why he could not allow himself to respond to his attraction to this woman.

      He sat back in his chair and looked away from those deep brown eyes. “It was either get out of law enforcement or have my own humanity eroded into oblivion. God opened the door for me to do something that daily allows me a different way to protect the most innocent from the most depraved.”

      “God opened the door, or did you make a choice that required drastic action?” Again, that fine eyebrow went up, but then she waved a dismissive hand. “Never mind. I guess I used to have more of that faith stuff than I do now. Bottom line, I admire you for admitting when you needed a change and then making it happen.”

      Jax bit back further remarks on faith. Who was he to talk when he sometimes wrestled with his own?

      He leaned closer to Daci. “My bottom line? If this guy does try to reenter Serena’s life, we need to nab him before he can inflict any damage—either by hurting Serena or grabbing his son. Serena and Chase are so close to becoming a healthy family.”

      Her mouth tightened. “If that’s going to happen, she needs to do more than stay alive and off the sauce. She’s going to have to perform an extreme makeover on her taste in men. That’s rare. I rate their chances a long shot, but I’m all for offering them the full protection of the law.”

      A low rumble originating from her belly punctuated her last sentence, and a blush crept up her neck.