Order of Protection

Book 1: A Courting Justice Novel

by Lexi Blake

Genres: Contemporary Romance; Romantic Suspense

Synopsis

A sexy and suspenseful new contemporary romance from New York Times best-selling author Lexi Blake.

High-end defense attorney Henry Garrison expected his newest case to be an easy paycheck. But his client Gillian Murphy is nothing like he expected. There's much more to the beautiful woman than he imagined. Gillian knows that she's innocent and that Henry is the best lawyer to represent her. But she doesn't know why she's so fascinated with him. He's hard and cynical, and he wonders if any woman can break through his well-placed walls.

As the case takes a wild turn and Gillian's entire life is upended, her very identity in question, she must look to the people she's closest to in order to find a killer. And Henry has to decide if the case is more important than his growing love for his client.

Release date: June 5, 2018

Publisher: Berkley

Print pages: 336

Sample

Chapter One

Martha’s Vineyard, Massachusetts

Henry Garrison sat on the back-porch steps, looking out at the Atlantic. The waves were calm at this time of day, an endless beat that once had been the rhythm of his childhood. The sky was darkening, a storm coming in with savage quickness. It was one of the things he’d always loved about this place. One minute the sky was perfect, and then some terrible storm would roll in, and thirty minutes later the world was back to flawless again.

If only his life had turned out to be so quick to change. Oh, it had gotten shitty fast, but the cleanup afterward seemed like it might take a lifetime.

He let the coffee cup he held warm his hands and concentrated on the beach. When he looked out over that sand, he could practically see his grandfather walking. The old man who’d raised him had walked the shoreline every single day, combing the beach he’d known for decades as though he would find something new. He would show back up with some shell or sand dollar like it was a treasure.

Damn but he missed that old man.

Sometimes he didn’t though. He was happy his grandfather hadn’t lived long enough to see the complete wreck Henry had made of his life. Along with his daily walk on the beach, Alistair Garrison had sat right here on this porch and read the New York Times every single morning while sipping his two cups of coffee. Never more, because that would be too indulgent.

Control and discipline, my boy. Those are the keys to life.

Yeah, his grandfather hadn’t lived long enough to watch his only grandchild, the golden boy, fall from grace because of booze and arrogance. He hadn’t had to watch as the New York Bar had nearly taken away his ability to practice law. He hadn’t been alive to witness the downfall of his grandson’s made-for-the-tabloids marriage, and Henry was sure as hell happy he hadn’t been alive to know that his precious house was being put on the market to pay off a never-ending series of bills he’d run up when he’d been married. He’d bought cars and houses and other shit he didn’t need.

Most of which he didn’t even own anymore. He’d had to sell almost everything to simply keep his head above water. He’d blown it all on booze and luxury vacations and clothes with price tags that would have made his grandfather roll over in his grave.

Henry gripped the coffee cup with both hands, willing himself to stay out here on the porch and not go back inside the small but beautifully decorated bungalow. That had been his grandmother’s doing, and he reminded himself that he was happy she hadn’t witnessed his tragedy either.

He’d been packing up the closet in the smaller of the two bedrooms when he’d found a wooden box containing a lifetime’s worth of photos. They were black-and-white and color. Some had been professionally done—his father’s army photo, his grandfather’s wedding portrait, Henry’s Harvard graduation portrait. Some had been from the various cameras his grandfather had used over the years. There had also been a Bible with a pressed white rose in it. His mother’s.

Pictures of the dead. Pictures of people who’d smiled and had lives, and then they were gone and he was left behind.

But those bittersweet memories weren’t what had prompted Henry to practically run out of the house.

Nope. It had been the small bottle of Scotch he’d found. There had been almost half the bottle left. He’d looked at that liquid gold and known exactly how it would taste, how it would smell, the way it would burn down his throat. He’d stared at it and figured he could get three decent glasses out of it. He could go to the kitchen, grab one of the crystal tumblers his grandmother had been proud of, and sit and toast all that death.

He’d dropped the bottle on the carpet and walked out of the house. He’d walked to the small café two blocks from the beach and ordered a large coffee and told himself that he could keep the monster locked in that room. He would simply sell the contents of the house along with the structure.

The problem was, the monster didn’t live in the bottle. The monster was with Henry always.

His cell trilled, and he practically breathed a sigh of relief. Work was something he could deal with. Work was an addiction he could sink into. He set the cup down and answered the call. “This is Garrison.”

“Hey, buddy. How’s the packing going?” David Cormack’s voice came over the line, a steady sound that soothed Henry. There was something about the ex–NFL star turned lawyer that Henry found oddly calming. David never flipped his shit, never got angry or emotional, but managed to also never seem cold.

David’s whole world had turned upside down, all his hopes and dreams burned to cinders, and all he’d done was find a new dream. Henry would bet that not once had David ever had a drunken screaming argument with his wife in the middle of a Manhattan restaurant with a phalanx of reporters documenting every moment for posterity.

Of course, David was a widower. He didn’t argue with his wife at all.

“I’m getting through it. I only got in yesterday. I’m going to pack up anything personal and let the movers take the rest.” He wasn’t going to talk to David about the fact that he was on the back porch hiding out from a bottle of Scotch. David had enough to deal with. “Did the kid get in all right?”

The kid was named Noah Lawless, and he was the only fucking reason Henry Garrison was still going to be able to practice law in Manhattan. After his disastrous divorce, he didn’t have the influence or the cash flow to keep up his private practice. Manhattan’s best criminal lawyer had become a has-been, and only his connection to the incredibly powerful Lawless family was saving him this time.

Once upon a time, he’d defended Riley Lawless’s future wife from embezzlement and fraud charges. Not that she’d needed much defending, since she’d actually been innocent, but getting Ellie out of jail had apparently endeared him to the clan, and when he’d needed help, they’d been amenable. They were funding him for the time being. They were also his only real client.

Of course, that meant doing Drew Lawless, the family patriarch and head of their multibillion dollar company, a massive favor and taking on his baby brother as a freaking junior partner. But a desperate man did what he had to do. Noah wasn’t coming in as an associate, the way he should. He had his damn name on the door.

“He’s not as bad as you think.” David knew how reluctant Henry was to take on an entitled kid. He’d dealt with enough rich pricks to last a lifetime.

Despite the fact that he was sitting on one of the world’s most affluent islands, he hadn’t grown up wealthy. The house had been built by his boat captain great-grandfather back in the 1920s and passed down the line. His grandfather had been a fisherman, and his father had gone into the military. After his father had died, Henry had grown up here as a townie. It had only been later on that he’d turned into an overprivileged asshole of a human being.

“I think he’s probably pretty bad, so you’re not giving me a lot of confidence.” Henry wished he hadn’t stopped smoking. No more smoking. No more drinking. No more random, meaningless sex. Being virtuous was starting to get to him. He needed a good murder case, and soon, or he wouldn’t know what to do with himself. “The kid went to Creighton Academy. They’re all rich jerks who never worked a day in their lives.”

“He’s not what you would think, and you know his background. He practically raised himself. I like him. And he’s damn good with computers,” David said, his enthusiasm coming over the line.

“I would think he should be.” The Lawless family money was built on technology. 4L Software was known for innovation. “I don’t know why he didn’t go into tech in the first place. He could be working at 4L.”

“Maybe you don’t know him as well as I do. Read the files I send you every now and then. Or at least pretend to. He used to be a hacker, and it got him into some trouble. Things got violent, and he wants to stay as far away from that world as possible. When he went to college, he liked the law classes he took, and here he is.”

“Yes, big brother bought him a law firm.” And two partners. There was really no way around that. “I’m sure he’s also got a multimillion-dollar penthouse. I’m sure he’ll be supereasy to deal with.”

“Can the sarcasm, please,” David admonished. “As I was trying to explain, he’s worth more than the cash he’s bringing in, and he is very helpful. The network went down, and he got it up and working long before the IT guy I called managed to get to the office. By the way, we could use an in-house IT guy.”

They could use a lot of things they weren’t going to get. “Find me his salary in our budget and we’ll talk. Until then, the Creighton kid can do it, apparently. How did the meeting with Keillor go?”

Greg Keillor was a Wall Street businessman accused of murdering his business partner. The police believed he had one hell of a motive. A quarter of a billion dollars was worth killing over in a lot of people’s minds. It was exactly the kind of case Henry liked to sink his teeth into. High-profile, tons of billable hours, a client who could pay his freaking bill. Yeah, he wanted in on that. He’d been back in New York for less than a year, and most of his cases had been small-time. He’d done a couple of pro bono, mea culpa I’m-still-a-beast cases, but it was time to move back into prime time.

“I’m sorry, man. Keillor decided to go with Dustin and Klaus.” There was something tight in David’s tone.

“What did he say?” If this had been three years ago, Keillor would have been begging to have the Monster of Manhattan as his attorney. Henry Garrison would have been the first number he called. Henry would have been the one to make sure the case was worth his time.

Unfortunately, this was today.

“It doesn’t matter,” David insisted.

“It matters to me.” He should let it go, but he couldn’t. Now it was almost more real than it had been before, because now he wasn’t simply Henry Garrison, Esquire. He was a member of Garrison, Cormack, and Lawless. He’d brought himself down. How much harder would it be to bring them all down? After all, he hadn’t meant to do it the first time.

“He wasn’t interested in a lawyer who was more scandalous than he was,” David replied, his tone wry. “See? He’s a massive ass if he thinks divorcing your actress wife is more scandalous than beating his business partner to death with a polo mallet. Also, might I add that he was a shitty polo player and that was the most action his mallet ever saw. I don’t want him as a client.”

That was David. He looked to the silver lining. “You need to think about this, man. I know we’ve been friends for a long time, but you might do better on your own.”

It was an argument they’d had many times since the night his old friend had come to him and offered to start up a law firm. Henry had pointed out that no one wanted an addict, who couldn’t even keep a wife, as a lawyer.

David had pointed out that no one would want a washed-up jock, who hadn’t been known for his brains, as a lawyer.

“Stop. There’s no going back now. We’re in this and we’re a team. And you know it’s not all bad,” David quipped. “This office is small but spectacular. Drew Lawless knows how to pick real estate. The view impresses the hell out of everyone. I’ve already got two clients, and one of them is the Missiles. We should be rolling in dough soon, because you know how those athletes can be.”

He sighed in relief. David had been trying to get on as the Manhattan Missiles’ lawyer on retainer for months. It was a secret no one liked to talk about, but many professional sports teams kept criminal lawyers on retainer just in case. They wouldn’t be rolling in dough, as he’d said, but that retainer would keep the lights on. And it was a serious win for his friend. “Good for you, man.”

“Yeah, well, the new GM is an old friend of mine,” David admitted. “But you’re the one who told me half this business is who you know. Speaking of who you know…there’s a rumor floating around that a group of New York–based reality stars are hanging around Martha’s Vineyard for the end of the summer. No cameras. Apparently this is vacation time, so they might be willing to talk.”

He groaned. That was not a world he wanted to set foot in. He’d been around the elite of the entertainment world, and they were bad enough. Reality shows were pretty much the bottom of the barrel. “Absolutely not.”

“Come on. You know that’s a gold mine,” David countered, his voice going low. It was the same tone he used when trying to get a jury to see his point. Look at how sensible I’m being. Don’t mind the facts. Isn’t my voice soothing? He had to admit it. David had that shit down. “And it’s publicity, Henry. You’re the one who taught me getting your name out there is half the battle. This would be a great way to announce you’re back and you’re not afraid of anything. It’s work just waiting to happen. They always get in trouble. It’s actually a part of their career paths. If their ratings stall, they get arrested and do an apologetic media tour. That group has been going for more than five years now. They’re all about to hit thirty, and that’s geriatric on their network. Rumors are it’s going to get canceled soon. One of those kids is going to do something stupid, and we could be the lawyers who get paid for mopping up the mess.”

The thought made Henry’s stomach churn. He glanced out over the beach. It was peaceful. So unlike his former life. At this time of evening, the families had gone in for early dinners and the only person he could see was a woman jogging toward him from the east side of the island.

She was brave, because that storm was moving in even faster than he’d thought. There wasn’t much the way she was going. No shops unless she made a turn and jogged into Edgartown proper.

“I’m not getting back into that life—even as the janitor,” Henry replied. “Besides, after the way I left L.A., I don’t think there’s a studio or a network around that would recommend anything with my name on it.”

That had been the real mistake. He’d followed his bombshell actress wife out to La La Land, and that’s where it had all gone to hell. He should never have left the East Coast. God, there were pictures of him in douchebag V-neck T-shirts and skinny jeans. What had he been thinking?

He’d come back to New York with his tail between his legs and a big decision to make. Keep the home he’d grown up in or the Manhattan condo that impressed potential clients. In the end, there had been no other logical choice. The Martha’s Vineyard property was worth even more than the condo, but he couldn’t practice out here. Oh, he was perfectly licensed to practice in the state of Massachusetts, but there wasn’t much to do. The worst thing that happened out here was someone’s Maltipoo violating the dog-doo rules.

Unfortunately, the murders were few and far between.

“Think about it,” David said with a sigh. “I know you hate the fact that you have to climb the ladder again, but it won’t take as long this time. New York is different than L.A., and you know it. That Harvard degree means something here.”

So did his public meltdowns. They had been scandal fodder in L.A., but they were serious here in New York. New York lawyers were serious. They did not make headlines for anything but winning cases. “I’ll think about it.”

He wouldn’t, but he owed the lie to David. He glanced up again, and the jogger was getting closer. She was pretty, from this far out. Not the type he’d gotten used to in L.A. Thank god. This woman looked healthy. Nice breasts that not even her sports bra could force to be still. They moved in a way that let him know they weren’t made of silicone. Her blond hair was up in a ponytail, leaving her face exposed. She wasn’t all angles and planes. There was a softness to her even as she jogged along.

He heard the first rumble of thunder and saw her glance up at the sky.

“All right, then,” David said with a long sigh. “I’ll let you go, but seriously think about what I said. That chick Brie Westerhaven alone could bring in millions if she’s anything like her dad. And I seem to remember there was a best friend. Some superskinny heiress.”

“Yeah, I know who you’re talking about,” he replied. His ex-wife, Alicia, had been obsessed with Kendalmire’s Way. It was a reality show about the über-rich and idiotic. One of the “stars” had been a woman named Taylor Winston. “She was the Billion-Dollar Baby.”

When Taylor’s parents’ yacht had gone down in a storm on their way to Bermuda, there had been only one survivor—a baby found floating in a life vest. The newspapers had called it a miracle, and Taylor Winston had inherited a multibillion-dollar fortune before she’d turned two. Too bad she hadn’t used it to get an education. He knew little about her and didn’t want to know more.

The woman jogging by him was probably a local. She was too healthy to be a model. She was at least a whole size six, and in that world she would be plus-sized. Those breasts wouldn’t fit in designer wear, and she was wearing a plain T-shirt, cutoff sweats, and old-school Ray-Bans. Her sneakers were nothing special. There was none of the blingy designer crap the wealthy and desperate-to-be-seen wore. And this was a quiet beach. No cameras or gawkers.

He nodded her way, giving her a friendly smile. He didn’t recognize her, but then he’d been gone for nearly twenty years. Maybe he could visit some old acquaintances during this last two weeks.

Or maybe he should get his ass back to New York. “Are you sure you’re all right with me taking this time?”

“Stop, Henry. Take it. This is the last time you’ll get to be in that house, and you’ll regret it if you don’t pack it up yourself,” David insisted.

And regret was one thing he didn’t need more of. “Have I told you how much I appreciate you?”

The old Henry had appreciated nothing. The new Henry wasn’t going to make the same mistake.

“Never. But you could let me win the next time we play golf,” David suggested.

“That will be the day.” He hung up, feeling a bit better.

And then even better, because the blonde smiled back at him and he was damn near knocked over by those sweet dimples. She was soft and sexy and…

Clumsy. She hit something in the sand and went flying.

He let the phone drop and got off the steps, racing toward her. He’d saved many a woman from tripping in five-inch heels on the streets of Manhattan, but this was his first sneaker rescue. She was facedown in the sand when he got to her. It was shitty and super- male of him, but he couldn’t help but notice that she filled out those sweats. Her backside was gorgeous and curvy.

She didn’t move.

“Are you all right?”

“It depends. Is this a weird anxiety dream?” She stayed down, her face inches from the sand. “Because then I’m sure I’ll be okay. I’m nervous about starting grad school in a couple of weeks, and you could be a stand-in for all those professors at Duke who are going to be grading my work soon. So if you’ll turn into a walrus and start singing, my work will be better.”

Oh, he liked a quirky girl. It was absolutely where drunk-ass too-rich-for-his-own-good Henry split from the Henry he’d been when he’d lived here. The blond hair and curves were nice, but the weird sense of humor was what really did it for him. “And if I’m nothing more than a guy sitting on his back porch?”

“Then I’m planning on lying here until you go away, and then I’ll slink off and never come back again.”

He didn’t want her to slink away. She might be the most interesting thing that had happened to him in a long time. What would it be like to sit with a normal woman for a few hours? A grad student. Didn’t get more normal than that. “There is a third option.”

“I’m listening.” She turned her head slightly, and he could see her lips starting to curl up.

He knelt down. “You could let me help you up and take a look at your ankle.”

“Are you a doctor?”

“Lawyer.”

She groaned and let her head sink back to the sand. “Nope. I’m staying here. Can’t deal with lawyers. This is my home now.”

“Well, your home is going to get awfully wet in a few hours when high tide comes in. How about I promise not to throw any legal crap your way and you let me ice that ankle before it swells, and then you can decide if you want to become a mermaid.” He didn’t usually bring random women inside his childhood home. Hell, he hadn’t brought them back even when he’d lived here.

But he wanted to talk to her. She was intriguing. Even more now that he realized she was a weirdo.

She glanced up at him and frowned. “Sure you’re not a ridiculously hot figment of my imagination?”

That was another plus. She had terrible taste in men and likely no idea who the hell he was. “One hundred percent real.” He could guess at what made her skittish. “And you should know that I found your swan dive charming and attractive. Now let me get you inside. It’s going to rain soon.”

She groaned. “Yep, that’s what my nana said. She won’t let me live it down if I come home looking like a drowned rat. Is it all right if I ride it out?”

“Anything for a fellow townie.”

She pushed up and winced as she got to one knee.

He held out a hand and helped her up. “I’m Henry Garrison, by the way.”

She smiled, and those ridiculously adorable and yet sexy-as-hell dimples showed up. “Winnie Hughes. But please call me Win. Not that the nickname is applicable today. It’s nice to meet you. Actually, the ankle’s not too bad. It’s mostly my pride and the fact that if I don’t get in before it starts raining, people are probably going to see way more of me than they want to. I was so sure it wouldn’t rain that I picked a thin white T-shirt. That’s what I get for rebelling against authority.”

He felt the first drop of rain hit his head and managed to not keep her longer. He wasn’t going to be some leering stranger. After all, he wasn’t that far out from his divorce. It had only been six months since he’d signed on the dotted line, and he wasn’t about to be the idiot who threw himself back into the ocean after nearly drowning.

She was a townie, and he was going to miss the hell out of this place, so he would play nice.

Also, for the first time in hours, he wasn’t thinking about a drink. “Come on. Let’s get inside.”

The sky chose that moment to open up and bring down a deluge. Win squealed in a wholly feminine way and ran for the porch. Henry followed her, thankful because he knew he was going to make it one more day.

That was all he could ask for at this point.

* * * *