Free Wicked Intentions by Linda Verji Page B

Shakira. Granted the woman had all her parts wired right, but he’d been with other good-looking women. He’d never felt this kind of pull with any of them. One night with her had been like getting a present and then someone snatching it away just after he’d managed to tear off a piece of the wrapping paper.
    He wanted to see more.
    He wanted to pick apart everything that made Shakira tick and satiate his curiosity. Actually curiosity was an understatement for all the emotions that plagued him whenever he thought of Shakira – which was every other minute of his day. He was curious about how why and how she’d gotten entangled in Eve’s messy business, attracted to the honesty in her eyes when she’d spoken about her childhood, repelled at the thought that maybe even that glimpse of honesty was just a mirage and confused because of the pictures in his hand.
    “Who’s this?” He pointed to the image of a red-haired man seated across from Shakira at Sabine’s.
    Randall leaned towards the desk, taking the piece of grass he was poking his teeth with out for a moment to stare at the picture. “That’s Wayne Perkins.”
    “And he is…”
    “Her lawyer,” Randall clarified as he inserted the grass back in his mouth. Nathan let out breath of relief but his relief was cut short when Randall added, “But I don’t think that’s all he is.”
    “Why’d you say so?” Nathan’s voice gave no indication of the instinctive tensing of all his muscles. He was not jealous.
    “Wayne only represents celebrities. This is the first Pro Bono case he’s ever done.”
    “He defended her free of charge?”
    Randall nodded as he reached for another pile of pictures that sat on Nathan’s desk. “And look at this.” He shuffled through the images before slapping one in front of Nathan. In it Wayne was leading Shakira out of Sabine’s with a hand on her lower back. In the next picture Randall handed Nathan, Wayne was leaning forward as if to kiss her. “There may be more to those two. It may also explain where she got some of the money she paid you.”
    “I thought that was her money?”
    “Can’t be. At least not all of it.” Randall settled back in his seat with the set of photos still in his grasp. “The FBI has frozen her accounts.”
    “Why the hell would the FBI freeze her assets?”
    “I don’t know but I’ve got some contacts looking into it.”
    Nathan had no doubt that Randall’s contacts would come up with something soon. Despite the hulking silver-haired man’s penchant for grass tooth-picks, dirty fingernails and rumpled mismatched suits, he was very good at what he did.
    Randall added, “But that’s not even her biggest problem.”
    “Of course not!” Nathan wasn’t surprised. Shakira seemed to have trouble pouring out of her ears.
    Randall handed him another photo. This time it was of a man seated in a white time-battered Volkswagen parked across from Sabine’s . “That’s Kuthra Alim and he’s following your suspect.”
    Given that he was in a car and there were several layers of glass between Randall’s lenses and the man, his face was blurred. All Nathan could make out was swarthy skin, a beard and beady eyes staring intently at Wayne and Shakira.
    “Do you have anything on this Kutho…”
    “Kuthra Alim,” Randall finished for him. “Don’t let the junky car fool you. He’s one of the most dangerous men in around? Criminal is not a big enough name to describe Alim.”
    “What’s he into?”
    “What isn’t he into? Drugs, prostitution, gun for hire, cage-fighting…” Randall counted out Alim’s sins on his fingers. “He’s touched it all. He’s been charged with so much shit that every prosecutor in the country knows him but they can’t touch him. Every time they get close to putting him away a witness disappears, a juror disappears and in some cases even the judge disappears. Word on the street is that he’s got a god-father within law-enforcement. He’s freelance