Free On Thin Ice by Eve Gaddy

him to understand. “So I snuck in when she left her desk.”
    “It’s okay, Marcie,” he said, bringing her inside and closing the door behind her. “What’s wrong?”
    She twisted her hands together and paced. “I tried, I did, but he wouldn’t listen. See what happened when I told him?” On the verge of tears, she pointed to her black eye and bruised cheek. “What am I gonna do?” she wailed.
    Crap. Frowning, he stuck his hands in his pockets. Just what he didn’t need right now. Turning to Gabrielle, he said, “I’ll take care of this and then we’ll go. It won’t take long.” He waited for her to leave, but she didn’t. She stared at him and Marcie with a speculative gleam in her eye.
    “Take your time.” She waved a hand in the air. “I’m in no rush. I’m Gabrielle Rousseau,” she told Marcie, offering her hand. “One of Mr. Sinclair’s colleagues.”
    “You’re a lawyer too?”
    Gabrielle smiled. “That’s right. But don’t let me interrupt. Go on.”
    Devlin interrupted. “Ms. Field might not want—”
    “Oh, I don’t care,” Marcie said. “Just tell me what to do so I can get rid of Mark. You said if I didn’t, I don’t stand a chance of getting the kids back. I want my babies, I miss them.” Tears coursed down her cheeks. “And Mark’s getting meaner by the day.”
    Devlin winced. If anyone deserved to have a good cry, Marcie Field did. Even though he was accustomed to women’s tears by now, they still made him uncomfortable. “We can get a restraining order issued on him.” Not that it would do much good with scum like Mark White, he thought.
    Gabrielle helped Marcie to a chair. Devlin leaned back against his desk and dredged up what he remembered from the last time he’d talked to her. “He still fencing for the pawnshop?”
    “Says he isn’t,” Marcie answered morosely.
    “But you think he is.”
    “Yeah. He’s too flush not to be.”
    And too high, Devlin bet. “Okay. The first thing you need to do is go to that shelter I told you about.” He held up a hand at her protest. “Until we get White in jail, you can’t stay at that apartment. Do you want him to kill you next time?”
    “If I don’t get my babies back, I don’t care what he does.”
    “Come on, Marcie, you know that’s not true. Just try it. I’ll tip the cops about him and the pawnshop. They’ll pick him up. He won’t make bail, I’ll guarantee that.”
    “And then?”
    Hope gleamed in her eyes. Good, Devlin thought. That meant she hadn’t been totally beaten down. “Once we’re sure White’s out of your life, we’ll find you a job. It’s going to take a while, but we’ll get your kids back.”
    A few minutes later, after extracting a promise to go immediately to the shelter, he saw her to the door. Devlin slipped her a couple of bills, his attempt to do it on the sly foiled when she threw her arms around him and blubbered.
    Women. He should have known.
    Devlin Sinclair, white knight? Gabrielle asked herself. In his car, the Beamer that screamed yuppie lawyer, on their way to their first appointment, she glanced over at him. Eyeing his profile, she noted the stubborn line of his jaw. He didn’t want to discuss his client, but she didn’t want to talk about Franco. She needed at least a few more minutes to pull herself together.
    “I’m a little confused about your role in Marcie Field’s life. If she’s the one being abused, why does she need a defense counsel?”
    He answered readily enough. “Different case. Her ex made her out as an unfit mother and took full custody of the kids. No visitation. I was her lawyer. She moved to Dallas after the trial.”
    “You lost her case?” Her eyes widened. There was a surprise. She didn’t think Devlin ever lost.
    He shot her an irritated glance. “It happens. The bastard paid off half the city. Marcie Field didn’t have a prayer.”
    “You’re still trying to help her.”
    “Can we get back to the case at hand? Sabatino,