An attorney should never be friends with a client. Too many drawbacks, like playing chauffer to their brat sister, Teresa Du Val. Damn it, he had plans.

While he sat in the stalled traffic and waited for the snarl to unravel, he became more irritated. Why would she need him to drive her anywhere? She had money and a half dozen cars. Time to stop kidding himself. He knew the answer. The chick just felt like having a servant that day, and he got the call.

Jack pulled up next to a red Lamborghini in front of the address her brother had given him over the phone. Just like every place on the Plaza, parking spaces were at a premium. The Walnuts on the Plaza. The hottest address in Kansas City to live if you had money to burn and liked lots of rules.

He'd probably get a ticket for double parking. Drake Du Val could pay the tab. Jack pulled the keys from the ignition of his sedan and got out, and then ran to the entrance of the building. The doorman eyed him with a scowl before opening the heavy glass door.

"Ms. Du Val is expecting me." Jack brushed snow from the shoulders of his black wool overcoat.

"Shall I announce you, sir?"

"No need. She probably knows her ride is here, been looking out the window at all the sliding cars in the pretty snow." The doorman's eyes rounded with disgust at Jack's flip reply. "I'll just be going on up and getting Ms. Du Val now if you'll tell me the apartment number."

Jack was positive the little man sniffed with indignation. "Mister Link Griffen owns the apartment. I'm not sure he would approve of Ms. Du Val inviting company in."

What made people want to be such hard nosed trouble makers? Especially today when he had a couple dozen things to accomplish in the next two hours.

"The number, please."

"Six sixty nine. The only unit on the floor."

That figured. Griffen needed lots of room for his women and trust fund money. "Thanks, friend. Maybe we can have a beer after work one night."

He got off the slowest elevator in history to find himself in a fancy outer hallway of the sixth floor. The ritzy apartments were off limits unless you were invited. The place smelled like money. Lots of it.

Okay, now to see if the little lady is ready for her taxi. His moment of private humor vanished when he discovered six sixty nine's door slightly ajar. Just what he didn't want to run into. Blood. From what he could see, the trail of splotches began at the apartment door and continued on to the service door at the end of the curving hallway. The door to the narrow stairway yawned wide open. A stab of cold worry hit his gut.

Tessa!

He rapped his knuckles on the door, waiting for someone to say something. Trouble.

Looking down, he wasn't surprised by the drops of drying blood on the sand colored carpet. He shouldered the door open and went inside the quiet entry hall. Big and void of any life. A sea horse fountain splashed merrily in the center of the room. Another damned receiving area. Made a guy feel real welcome.

"Tessa." He didn't like the eerie silence. Any where Tessa was, noise followed.

The double doors to the formal living room were standing wide open. Didn't mean a thing. The woman never closed a door or drawer after herself. "Tessa!"

He wasn't angry now, he was worried.

A pile of white towels on the floor were stained a dark plum color, releasing the smell of blood as warm air circulated in the room. Band-aids and small, blood soaked gauze was scattered around the fancy room. Cotton swabs were tossed into an ashtray. Someone had something bleeding.

"Tessa!"

No time to be cautious. He went from room to room, opening closets and looking under beds. He would have passed it by, but the drapes on the terrace doors fluttered slightly.

Jack picked up a heavy brass figurine and slowly pulled the drapes apart. He was only five foot eleven weighing one eighty, and didn't want to be forced into fighting a couple of Griffin's goons. The doors were only open a crack, but cold air poured into the room. He pushed the doors apart and stepped outside, squinting against the wind driven sleet.

Blood stained the skiff of snow that covered the brick terrace floor, but that wasn't what held Jack's attention. Teresa Du Val pressed her body to the icy wall, staring at him with suspicion filled eyes. He dropped the heavy figurine.

"Tessa." He moved toward her, trying to not startle her. "Come on. Let's go."

For a split second she appeared ready to run. Instead, she lifted her hand and pointed to the terrace door, still pressing to the wall.
She whispered, obviously worried of being overheard. "Is he dead?"

What an opening for a shot to her intelligence, the perfect moment to tell her she was hanging around a rotten party boy. Jack wouldn't say what he thought. Out loud. He had to get her out of the apartment.

"Should he be?"

"I tried to kill him."

Jack relaxed a little, figuring there had been no murder committed, yet. "You caused all this mess. What in the name of St.Pete's did you hit him with?"

"My fist."

He couldn't help it, the chuckle wouldn't stay quiet. "Tessa, I'm calling the cops just to be on the safe side. He may press charges against you. It always helps if the assailant feels compassion for her victim. "Lady, I'll stay out of your way."

She bit her lip and grimaced. "I don't feel compassion."

"I know that, but you can pretend for once. Can't you? To save yourself from a cell downtown?"

She looked disgusted and ready to bolt again while he dialed the downtown precinct. The operator connected him to Detective Dresslehouse's desk.

"Yeah, hey Dresslehouse. I'm removing a young woman from an apartment where an altercation took place."

The detective laughed. "You involved in it, Savage?"

"No, just taking the lady home. There were a few punches thrown and some blood drawn. No body for the morgue, but the guy is bleeding. From what I hear, he probably has a broken nose." He moved away from Tessa while he finished his call. "She stood up for herself. There was no attack. Just, self defense. The Du Val's wouldn't want this to get out. I'd appreciate it if you contacted me if there is any follow up investigation." After giving the detective all the details he could furnish, Jack closed his cell phone and looked at Tessa.

He wanted to shake her when the signs of regret set in. She looked contrite and beautiful. Small and beautiful.

"Are you sure I didn't kill him?"

"Griffen isn't dead. The detective said he'll check it out for you. He thinks the party boy is being patched up at Research Hospital right now and will be out carousing around by tomorrow night."

Jack couldn't work up sympathy for the joker in question. Hearing the news her latest boyfriend was alive didn't seem to reassure the young woman hugging the wall. "None of this blood came from you, did it?"
She shook her head and looked at her coat sleeve.

"I have to go see how he is, or he'll..."

"Or, he'll make you regret it?"

Shut up, Savage. What she does is none of your business.

Something changed in her attitude after his personal dig. Her long, pale-blonde hair caught and lifted in a blustering gust of wind and moved about her wind chapped face. With the expertise and care of a pampered brat, she pulled her sable coat closer about her slender body and lifted her chin.

Such a gorgeous woman to be so totally messed up. Why the did he care? He'd gotten tired of stepping around the truth about her lifestyle, ignoring her split lips and bruised cheeks.

Tessa spoke at last. "That's none of your business, Savage." She stared at him with gold-brown cat eyes from her corner of the terrace.
What did it matter to him if she left with him or not? He knew one thing for sure. Her attitude made him tired and really cranky. "Tessa." He stepped toward her. "I don't care what's going on in your crazy life. Your brother's the one concerned about you. Not me."

She gave him a dubious once over. "Then, why are you here?"

"I'm being paid."

"You're a flunky."

"That's a compliment coming from you."

Why had he said that? Trading punches with a spoiled chick wasn't his style. He had to question his own sanity, standing out in the bitter December night with an aggravating broad. He was supposed to catch a flight home to Sedona in a couple of hours. Not freezing his hide off in Kansas City.

A sudden movement from her area of the terrace said she'd gotten cold enough to seek shelter. Her shoulders moved in a shudder as she spoke.

"I want to go home."

Jack flourish his hand toward the open doorway. "Your servant."

If he read the message in her glower correctly, she considered him scum beneath her feet and he'd better step aside while her majesty made her exit from the freezing cold terrace.

She went back into her current boy friend's fancy Plaza apartment and grabbed up her small handbag from the floor. She'd obviously dropped it when she entered the apartment. Walking behind her, Jack checked her out like he always did.

They took the slow elevator down to the lobby and escaped the doorman's notice. Jack thought he might have rushed Tessa a little too hard when she lost her shoes. He groaned, gathering them up and kneeling down for her stick her small feet back into the ridiculous slides.
"Great winter shoes there, lady."

Outside in the cold air, her tawny eyes lingered on him more often than usual. Oh, no, man. Don't get carried away by one look of pity from her. Not unless she begs you.

"Savage."

Here he was, mentally picturing her in his apartment and she was trying to talk to him.

"Yeah, Tessa."

He expected trouble when she looked up toward her boy friends apartment windows.

"I can call a taxi." She covered the lower half of her face with the collar of her plush coat. "I know you hate being around me. Drake shouldn't have bothered you."

Jack weighed the sweetness of her words against her true personality. She was jive talking him.

"No trouble, Tessa." He took her arm and led her to his car. The windshield had disappeared under an inch of new snow. He opened the door for her. "Get in."

She didn't respond verbally, but her cat eyes spat and growled at him. What a gorgeous woman. Too bad all that silky skin held a scheming witch. He had a moment of temporary crazy hit when he noticed a spray of blood on her coat sleeve. What a wallop she had.

They rode in silence for several blocks, the episode in the apartment sticking in Jack's mind. He hated dead silences, and yes, felt protective toward her.

"Are you worried? About Griffen?"

She shook her head and stared out the widow, making small circles on the fogged up glass. After what seemed like hours, she spoke. "Will you take me home with you?"

She sat placid as a cherub and sweet, staring at him while fire lit up his blood. "What?"

He thought he'd misunderstood her.

She looked a little peeved at his stupidity. "Home. With you?" Her dainty shoulders lifted, waiting for his numb tongue to flap. "Well?"