CHAPTER 10.

Ella's was a quaint little diner about a block away from the Justice Center. Most of the courthouse staff came here for lunch as well as police officers and some of the construction crew that were working on the building two more blocks down. So it was extremely crowded when Ben and Victoria walked in.

He could tell instantly she was rethinking her agreement to come here when they walked up to the hostess and what he presumed to be a few colleagues spoke to her. The fact that they were all men made Ben a little uncomfortable, a feeling he tried to nip quickly and quietly in the bud. Victoria was not his woman, no matter how much he may have wanted her to be. Yes, even after all these years, all the times she'd rejected him, Ben still wanted this woman. It was undeniable and as he'd told her, inevitable.

They were led to a booth snuggled tightly between a long row of seats and the chatter of at least fifty people surrounding them. After ordering their drinks, they were finally left alone with menus and the silence that drifted between them.

"I usually have the hot pastrami on rye. How about you?" he asked by way of getting her to relax again.

She was extremely uncomfortable around him. Now, for the most part, Ben attributed that to attraction. Yeah, that might seem arrogant, but he felt pretty sure it was true. He was a Donovan after all; he knew when a woman was attracted to him, no matter how much how much they might deny it. But Victoria had admitted it, just two days ago. He'd told himself when he decided to go to her office and take her to lunch that he wasn't going to play in that direction. He had some serious concerns about her case and her safety that had to come before anything personal.

"I don't like to eat a lot at lunch. Especially if I'm in trial," she told him.

She kept looking at the menu. Ben figured she knew basically what was on there because he did and he didn't work right up the street. Again, this was a part of getting her to relax. His comments about the event at her house had made her nervous, rightfully so. He didn't want her walking the streets scared because then she wouldn't be alert, and whatever Vega was trying to pull would be much more successful if Victoria were off her game in any way.

"You're not in trial right now. The trial doesn't start until next week. So you can splurge. How about having pastrami with me?"

"And have heartburn all afternoon? No thanks." With those words came a little smile and Ben felt the tension in his shoulders relax a bit. He liked it so much better when she smiled.

She continued to study the menu, then said, "I think I'll stick with soup."

"Chicken."

"No. French onion," she replied.

He chuckled. "I was calling you a chicken for not having the same sandwich I am."

She lowered her menu then and the right corner of her mouth lifted in a part smile, part smirk. "You are hilarious."

"I've been told I have a great sense of humor," he quipped and closed his menu, setting it to the side.

"I'm sure you've been told a lot of things that have helped inflate your ego."

The waitress came with their drinks and they gave their meal orders. Taking a sip of his soda, Ben sat back against the booth. "You have a very low opinion of me, don't you?"

Victoria also took a sip of her drink, then folded her arms and rested them on the table. "You have to know about your reputation, Ben. Everybody has an opinion of you and the rest of the Donovan family, for that matter."

"I don't care about everybody's opinion. I'm talking about yours. You've always thought low of me, even back in law school. Why is that?"

She shrugged one shoulder, the tip of a gold hoop earring bunching between her ear and the collar of her pale blue blouse. The color looked really good on her as it made her complexion seem brighter, her eyes more poignant.

"In school I thought you were a spoiled rich boy, getting by on his looks and too lazy to use his brain," she said as simply as if she'd just given the weather report.

"Ouch," he replied and actually shirked back as if she'd slapped him. Of course that was overreacting, but he had to admit the words, coming from her, stung.

She held up a hand. "That was what I thought of you eight years ago."

"And now that's changed? I sure hope so."

Another kind of shrug this time with her head moving, her lips curling a bit at the ends. "Kind of," she admitted reluctantly. "I know this is probably going to come back to bite me in the b.u.t.t later, but you're a phenomenal defense attorney."

He smiled, couldn't help it. Even though he sensed it had taken a lot for her to admit that to him. "Well, thank you very much. You're an excellent prosecutor."

"Thank you," she replied.

"And on a personal level you're a very attractive woman. But I think you already know that."

"Thank you, just the same." Then she sighed. "I thought we weren't going to do this."

He knew exactly what she was talking about and had just reminded himself of why he was here with her today. Still, what was between them seemed to have a mind of its own. "Do what? Get to know each other better? Who told you that?"

"Ben. We're colleagues."

"We're a man and a woman. Can you deny that?"

She shook her head as the waitress picked that moment to arrive with their food. For the first few minutes, they ate in silence. Then she spoke.

"Why throw tear gas through my window?" she asked using a napkin to wipe around her mouth.

"Scare tactic," Ben answered a question he'd asked himself repeatedly in the last few days.

"But how was I supposed to connect the incident to Vega? n.o.body came in, no note was left. It could have been anyone."

"Your neighbor said they saw a gray Lexus parked across the street from your house. Exactly seven minutes before the window was broken." He let those words hang a second, watched as she considered them and nodded his head the moment she picked up the clue he'd wanted her to.

"No. He wouldn't use the same car he used in the commission of a murder."

"There are a couple things I know about Vega that wouldn't take me into the fine area of attorney/client privilege if he were still my client. If you think I'm arrogant you haven't seen anything yet. He's c.o.c.ky as h.e.l.l and walks around like he's the king of the d.a.m.ned world. He believes he's invincible, so there's no need to fear being caught."

"He thinks he's invincible because you keep getting him off whenever he commits a crime," she snapped.

Ben remained silent a moment because he probably deserved that shot, at least on some level. "I represented Vega in two cases. A drug case and this murder. Yes, I got him off on both. That's my job."

"That you do by choice without a second thought as to who you're letting back out onto the streets to do whatever they want."

Her words. .h.i.t a spot in him. Ben paused before speaking again. "Then it's your job to make sure he goes to jail this time."

"Are you planning on helping me do that?"

Ben knew what his job was. He also knew the ethical lines with which he'd never thought he'd cross. But he wasn't the one who'd crossed the line, Vega was. And because of that, Ben had the wherewithal to end his representation of him. It would have stopped at just that, Ben was certain. But Ebony had been killed and Victoria's home invaded. Vega had run headlong over the line and landed right in Ben's backyard. To him, those were fighting words, and next to law, boxing was Ben's favorite past time.

"I've got someone looking for Alayna Jonas. She's the key to your case," he informed her.

"The cops think she's dead," Victoria stated, pushing her plate to the side.

"And so they've stopped looking for her. But if she's dead, where's her body? Vega likes recognition. If he kills someone, he leaves them for everyone to see." And sometimes he leaves a note, like a signature. Ben kept that part to himself.

"You think she ran because she knew he'd come after her."

Ben nodded.

"But she left her daughter unprotected. What kind of mother would do that?"

"The kind that has a lot of information. Killing her daughter would only enrage her, possibly enough to have her talking faster than they could shoot her. As long as she's alive, her family is safe because what she knows means more to Vega than another dead body."

Ben had thought long and hard about this. He'd even considered that Vega could have gone the opposite route and killed all of Alayna's family as a way of keeping her quiet. But that would have gone against instructions from the person who'd hired him to kill the congressman and his wife.

She considered his words. Her brow furrowed slightly, he'd seen that look before. "You work the opposite side of the law than I do. Why tell me all this?"

He finished chewing the last bit of his sandwich, swallowed and wiped his mouth, all the while watching her closely.

"I want Vega in jail for the rest of his life, or I just might kill him myself."

The afternoon hours flew by as Victoria stayed closed in her office, pouring over the entire police file and prosecution file on Ramone Vega. She knew where he was born, where he went to school until ninth grade, the first man he'd shot and the first woman he'd raped. He was a vicious character, a heartless killer that would let absolutely nothing come between him and his money.

He was born Jose Ramone Vega to Conchita and Raphael Vega, Mexican immigrants who came to the United States in the early seventies and ran a fruit stand off the local highway. Reports told a story of stark poverty and endless teasing in Vega's elementary years. Sometime in middle school he'd met up with Salvatore "Big Sal" Pea. Joining Big Sal's gang had been the turning point in Vega's life, and before he'd hit his sixteenth birthday he was Big Sal's lead enforcer.

Now, at almost forty years old, five feet eleven inches tall, two hundred and thirty-five pounds, Vega's name carried more clout than the local law. He and Big Sal ran the streets with an iron hand, one that wouldn't hesitate to slit the throat of anyone who crossed them.

To put it mildly, this case was huge. It was highly publicized and more dangerous than any case Victoria had ever tried. And that made her heart beat a little faster as she sat back in her chair, looking around her office at all the spread out papers and letting out a sigh.

"Can I do this?"

The words came out on whispered breath but seemed to echo in the small government office she called home from nine to five.

Of course she could do it, she told herself. She had no choice. This was her job, bringing justice to the same streets that had taken her father's life was the goal she'd been working towards all her life. It was everything to her, and the stems of fear taking hold deep inside weren't going to win. She could get a conviction on Ramone Vega. She was going to get a conviction on Ramone Vega, no matter what the cost.

Three chimes that sounded like half a bell toll sounded and jolted her almost out of her chair. It was her cellphone signaling she had a text message. Only it seemed she could never find that phone. Picking up folders and moving aside stacks of paper, she didn't stop until a minute or so later when she found it practically buried on her desk.

Dinner's at six.

"c.r.a.p!"

She was running late. To appease Grace and to hopefully head off all the questions she knew would undoubtedly come her way if she'd declined, she'd agreed to dinner with Grace and Clinton tonight. In the next fifteen minutes she'd performed a partial clean up of her office and a vague organization of the Vega file. Tossing the police reports from the congressman's murder into her briefcase, she grabbed her purse and headed out.

Thirty minutes later, Victoria had showered and changed into jeans and one of her favorite pairs of pumps and headed to the prestigious single family home development of Judge and Mrs. Clinton Ramsey.

"Besides my wife, you've got to be the s.e.xiest prosecutor in Clark County," Clinton said, kissing Victoria on the cheek as he welcomed her into their home.

"Don't let your wife hear you talking like that. She's liable to hurt us both," she joked right along with him.

Clinton was a tall, slim man with strong arms and an even stronger temperament. Lawyers and defendants alike feared the moment they learned their case was being heard in his courtroom. More traffic citations were paid through Clinton's verdicts than any other traffic court in the county. And he loved his wife to pieces. Victoria could hear it in his voice each time he said her name, could see it in his eyes whenever he looked at her. It was that all encompa.s.sing love that was meant to last forever. The love she'd seen between her parents. The kind of love she feared she'd never have a chance to experience for herself.

"She's gorgeous and she knows it. Besides, you're her best friend so you know you'd have to look good too for her to tolerate you," Clinton continued while walking towards their den where Grace was no doubt sitting in her favorite chair, feet propped up and the television tuned in to whatever reality show she was currently addicted to.

"You're right about that. Grace has always been stuck on fashion's glitz and glamour." And she loved the shoes Victoria was wearing, had often offered to buy them from her. So when Victoria entered the den, she didn't think anything of the first word to slip from Grace's lips.

"b.i.t.c.h."

"I love you too, dear," Victoria said waltzing her four inch fuchsia peek toe heels right over to her friend and kissing her soundly on the cheek.

"Sit down. Clinton's cooking on the grill. We have about ten minutes to talk alone before he comes back with the food," she told her pointedly.

"Make that fifteen. I'm going down to the cellar to get a bottle of wine," Clinton said, rubbing a hand over his wife's belly before leaving the room.

"That is one fine man," Grace said, watching her husband walk out of the room.

"And he's going to be a great father," Victoria noted. "You're so lucky."

"You could be lucky too if you'd stop being so picky all the time," Grace snapped.

She was indeed sitting in the antique rocking chair Clinton had bought her for her birthday three months ago. The seat cushion had been hand-sewn for her in a bright yellow satin material. She'd changed out of her work clothes to a loose fitting maternity dress that hugged her swollen b.r.e.a.s.t.s and flared out softly around her girth. Her hair was loose at the moment-Victoria didn't figure that would last long as Grace's body temperature shifted in ways that alarmed Victoria each time she witnessed them. And the woman still managed to look absolutely beautiful.

"I know you are not calling me picky. Who had her ten point husband criteria typed and framed by our twentieth birthday? And if I'm not mistaken, you never once swayed from that criteria when you were dating."

Grace nodded. "But at least I dated. When's the last time you've been out with a man?"

"Just this afternoon at lunch to be exact," Victoria replied automatically.

"Ah ha! I knew it. You and Ben Donovan are dating. If I could jump out of this chair, I'd come over there and shake you for not telling me."

"If you jump out of that chair, Clinton's going to be heading to the delivery room instead of to the wine cellar." Victoria laughed as Grace had actually shifted in the chair like she meant to move all that body with any sort of swiftness.

Most likely uncomfortable and a little winded, Grace sat back in defeat. "Don't try to change the subject. What happened at lunch and when are you going out with him again?"

"We talked about work and we're probably not going out again." Victoria reached onto the end table that separated the sofa from Grace's chair and snagged the remote. She began channel surfing as she knew Grace's total attention was now on her and what she wasn't telling her.

"The minute after I deliver, you and I are going to fight," she heard Grace snarling. "What do you mean you're not going out again? I told you years ago you two made a cute couple."

Victoria sighed and flipped past an infomercial. "We're so totally opposite. He's rich, I'm not. He's defense, I'm prosecution. He's all glitz and glamour while I'm...I'm-"

"A little on the glamour side with your three hundred dollar shoes and high-end salon treatments," Grace added.

She shook her head. "That's no comparison to the women he's probably used to dating." She'd seen some of those women pictured in newspapers with him at his family's many charity functions on the rare occasions the society pages drew her attention. Ben and his cousins were known for their dating prowess. She recalled that several of them had since married and seemed to live normal committed lives now. Still, the last thing Victoria wanted was to become one of the growing number.

"He's wanted you for eight years. And he still does. I could see it clearly in his eyes today. How long are you planning to ignore that?"

"'That' is purely physical. And you know Ben's the type to want what he can't have, just for the thrill of the chase."

"How do you know that? He seems like a decent guy to me."

She turned to Grace and stared incredulously. "How do I know? You've seen the stories in the paper. I know because you live and breathe the society pages. You've even been to a couple of the Donovan functions with Clinton. So you've seen them all in action, in person."

Grace was shaking her head and Victoria looked away from her back to the television.