In Safe Hands (Grace & Poole, #1)

By Lee Christine

'A seamless read. The prose is well crafted, the pacing is spot on and Christine calibrates the romance and suspense plots so that neither overshadows the other.' - Book Thingo Blog

She thinks she needs him, but she doesn't know the secrets he keeps…

Threatened with the publication of naked photographs taken in her law student days, defence attorney Allegra Greenwood enlists the help of former SAS Commander Luke Neilson, unaware of his involvement in her brother's death in Afghanistan.

In a race to stop the photographs appearing on the Internet, Luke battles a hidden enemy, his growing feelings for Allegra, and his conscience, which demands he protect a fallen comrade's sister. As the stakes increase and more sinister motives unfold, Luke not only has to fight to save her career, he has to fight to save her life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers Australia
• Release date: Nov 1, 2012
• ISBN: 9780857990037

Lee Christine

Lee Christine is a former legal practice manager and corporate trainer. An amateur songwriter in her teens, she is passionate about music, and plays the alto saxophone. In 2011, In Safe Hands won first place in the Romance Writers of America Silicon Valley Gotcha Contest, followed in 2012 with first place in The Smoky Mountains Laurie Award and the East Texas Southern Heat Writing Contest. The novel also received a Commended in the 2012 Romance Writers of New Zealand Clendon Award. In Safe Hands is Lee's first novel, and she is currently writing her second, another gripping romantic suspense. She has two grown children, and lives in Newcastle, Australia.

Book preview

Chapter One

You want me to locate and recover naked photographs of you?

It took all of Allegra’s self-control not to squirm in the plush leather seat as she stared at Luke Neilson across the polished surface of his office desk. To his credit, the man didn’t bat an eyelid, and why would he? Former Special Air Services, he’d probably seen everything, and more.

Breaking eye contact, she reached for the glass of water he’d poured for her at the start of the meeting, dismayed to find her hand unsteady. Does your company handle such cases?

His gun-metal grey eyes narrowed and he gave her a sardonic half-smile. Reconnaissance and retrieval? Come on Ms. Greenwood. You know we do.

Unable to meet his eyes, Allegra sipped her water and glanced beyond his rugged features, to where the Sydney Harbour Bridge arched resplendent in the window behind him. If the photograph appeared on the Internet, she’d lose her position at Grace and Poole Lawyers. And losing wasn’t an option.

With an effort she looked squarely at him, hoping her desperation didn’t show in her eyes. I wondered whether you’d agree to see me.

He lifted his eyebrows and leaned back in the chair. I was curious. We should have won the contract for your firm’s investigative work, but you drew a line through our name.

Allegra’s face flushed with heat. "You kissed me at the Meet and Greet. You left me no option."

He shrugged his broad shoulders. It’s not often I misread the signals. And I did apologise, though I don’t remember you accepting.

It was unprofessional.

He drummed his fingers on the desk, his eyes turning a colder shade of grey. You broke your own ‘don’t mix business with pleasure’ rule. It spooked you into signing a second rate firm. Now that’s unprofessional.

How could she argue with the truth? Neilson’s were the most highly qualified team of ballistics experts in the country, their services sought after. A veteran of Iraq and Afghanistan, Luke Neilson’s evidence had sent many a criminal to prison. His agency was top notch, his security and investigation service second to none.

Allegra took an unsteady breath. I was angry. I thought you were trying to charm me into granting your firm the contract, with the promise of a—a physical relationship.

His eyes flashed and he gave an exasperated shake of his head. You insult me, Ms. Greenwood. What made you change your mind?

Allegra’s face burned. God, could this be any more embarrassing?

What can I say? She took an unsteady breath. I allowed my personal feelings to influence my decision. Is that going to pose a problem now?

He leaned back, completely at ease, short cropped, dark blonde hair glinting in the sunlight, broad shoulders encased in an expensive striped business shirt.

"I never let personal feelings interfere with business, so no. A shadow of a smile touched his lips, his observant eyes never leaving her face. Tell me more about the naked photograph, and we’ll see if we can work something out."

Allegra studied the contours of his face, the faded scar on his right cheek. It made him look sexy as all hell, the imperfection giving his handsome features an interesting edge.

She swallowed, her mouth dry. There was no turning back.

Any time today will do…

His dry tone jolted her into action, and she looked down at the leather satchel in her lap. She lifted the flap, and slowly withdrew a printed sheet of paper, which she passed across the desk.

It came this morning by bicycle courier.

He slid open a drawer and took out plastic tweezers. Using the instrument, he snared the sheet from her, carefully unfolding it so he could look at the picture.

It took a superhuman effort to sit still as he looked at her naked image, much the way a doctor would look at a patient’s sore throat. Allegra went hot all over, then icy cold, sweat breaking out on her brow. Digging her fingernails into the palms of her hands, she watched as he carefully folded the sheet and set it to one side.

What was he thinking?

Avoiding her eyes, he rose and turned to a filing cabinet a few steps from the desk. Who took possession of this? he asked.

She cleared her throat, gripping the handle of the satchel. Our receptionist at Grace and Poole. From there it came to my office on the fifth floor.

He pulled out a drawer and extracted a manila folder. Sliding the steel drawer closed with a bang, he sank down into his chair, eyes averted as he turned to stare at the computer monitor on his desk.

Allegra got the distinct impression he was giving her time to compose herself, and if that were the case she was grateful for the small courtesy he extended. The former SAS Commander had found his inner gentleman. Who would have thought?

Anyone else see it? He jabbed at the keyboard.

No, my PA knows anything marked Private and Confidential is never to be opened.

Finally he turned to look at her. Do you have the envelope?

She nodded, reaching into the satchel again and sliding it across the desk. What do make of this?

She watched his eyebrows shoot up in surprise. That’s a relic.

I know. She leaned forward and peered at the old brown envelope with the brass fastener. It must be, what, fifty years old?

Easily. He snagged the envelope in the tweezers, turning it this way and that as he checked it out. It’s an old document packet.

Yes, the type used to store wills and deeds. We have some like this in our safe custody. No unused ones though—I checked.

They weren’t exclusive to legal offices. His brow furrowed in thought. Banks, building societies, government departments have all used these in the past.

He set it next to the photograph. It won’t be easy, but we might be able to get a print.

She nodded, continuing to watch as he switched on a handset recording device and placed it between them on the desk.

Want to give me the background story on this Ms. Greenwood?

Allegra exhaled slowly in an attempt to slow her breathing, a tactic which worked well before the opening statement of a trial. As a criminal lawyer, she should find this interview a breeze. Still, it felt weird being on the other side of the desk.

Could we at least drop the formality? she asked, moistening her dry lips with her tongue. "Ms.Greenwood sounds like a dorm matron."

His exasperated look suggested she tested his patience. All right, first names it is. Can we get on with this now?

She nodded, the small victory satisfying.

Okay. He depressed the button on the recording device. Who took this photograph and when?

This is one of fifteen. Her cheeks grew warm again as she watched for a change in his expression, but it appeared to be painted on, Venetian mask style. They were taken in Melbourne eight years ago when I was twenty-one. I was a law student at the time. My boyfriend, Chris Noble, took them.

He gave a derisive snort. "Noble?"

Allegra narrowed her eyes. Very funny.

He glanced at the folded sheet on the desk, though he didn’t take a second look at it. It’s hardly a snapshot taken by a sleazy ex-boyfriend, it’s professionally done.

It is. He’s a professional photographer. Allegra moved her heavy satchel onto the floor and crossed her legs, uneasy at discussing her private life. We met while working on the launch of a new hair product. I made ends meet with promotions work, waitressing, anything really.

Stop babbling, just answer the questions.

Nothing unusual there. He shook his head, the white flash of even teeth complimenting the golden tan of his face. God knows I turned my hand to anything that would earn a buck. But posing naked, were these a gift to him?

Allegra shook her head.

His eyes narrowed. Because if you did gift them to him, legally they’re his property.

I know that. Did he doubt her word? I’m aware some women give photographs of themselves to their partners, but that’s not me.

God, now she sounded like a prude. "I gave Chris permission to take the shots, but they were never a gift. They were taken purely for the purpose of making money."

And that sounded worse, but she struggled on, determined to be straight with him. Having said that, let me point out, I’m not ashamed of them.

His look turned shrewd. But you’d hate anyone else to see them.

Allegra’s stomach clenched. Exactly! I head up the criminal division of a very conservative law practice. If these turned up on the Internet, there’s no question I would lose my job.

His eyes slanted towards the photograph and envelope. But you’re the public face of the firm, somewhat of a celebrity in your own right. You really think the partners will hang you out to dry while the media crucify you?

She watched as he tipped back his head and loosened his tie, long dexterous fingers working away at the knot. His cold summation of her situation hurt.

Feeling a little—hot under the collar? The words were out of her mouth before she could engage her brain.

His blowtorch stare said it all. That would be foolish of me, Allegra. I’ve been frostbitten by you before.

Well that hurt, she said, trying to deflect his stinging barb. God, she was better at verbal sparring than this.

She’d thought about that night on the terrace, even regretted running away from him. For a whole five minutes. No way would she get involved with a real life G.I. Joe. Not after what happened to her brother.

He gave her a steely look. Your boyfriend took the photos, why?

Shame washed over her in waves. I was desperate for money. Chris was a commissioned photographer for a number of publications, among them a men’s magazine. I wasn’t thinking logically. How it might affect my future career didn’t even register on my radar.

He didn’t comment, just waited her out.

She shifted in her seat. Things were tight back then.

I’m listening.

She closed her eyes for a long second. All these years later, the images were still imprinted in her mind. An Australian flag, draped over her brother’s coffin, a guard of honour in the shadow of a Royal Australian Air Force Hercules. The urgent wail of an ambulance.

She coughed, a lump forming in her throat. She hated recounting the horrible time where she’d moved like an automaton, overwhelmed with grief while the rest of the world went about its business.

My brother, Martin, was killed in Afghanistan. My mother suffered a total breakdown on the tarmac when they brought his body home.

He stilled, then slowly leaned forward to rest his elbows on the desk, waiting patiently for her to continue.

I had university fees, rent and text books. She didn’t want to sound defensive, but her words came out that way. I became responsible for my mother’s care costs. They were extensive, continue to be.

Suddenly weary, she leaned back in her chair and stared past him at the window. After treatment, she needed a low care facility, so I put down a substantial bond. She deserves to be somewhere nice. I often have to travel, and when we’re running a big case, I can be at the office all night. Knowing she’s properly cared for gives me peace of mind.

She paused, the room silent, save for the hum of the air conditioning.

I’m sorry, he said eventually.

The disquiet in his voice made her look at him. Did his empathy stem from her brother being a comrade in arms?

"I don’t need your sympathy, I need your help."

He let go of a breath and looked away. The photographs weren’t published. If they were you wouldn’t be sitting here now, they’d be on public record. What happened?

She shook her head. I couldn’t go through with it. I sold my car and borrowed the rest from a money lender at an exorbitant interest rate.

So, what became of the negatives or digital files I guess, depending on what storage device he used?

She’d been wondering the same thing. I don’t know. Chris promised me he’d destroy them, and I trusted him to do it.

His eyes widened in disbelief.

"I was young—I believed him."

To her surprise he swivelled his chair around and stared out the window.

Allegra sat quietly. Silence didn’t come naturally to her. She thrived in the combative atmosphere of the Court, loved duelling with her opponent for the sympathies of the jury. But this was Luke’s domain—and he wasn’t big on feedback.

She bit her lip, impatience bubbling away inside her as she stared at the back of his fair head. Was he looking for flaws in her story?

You have hard copies of these photographs at home? he asked.

Oh no! Did he really need to see the others?

Yes. There was sentimental value attached to those photos, and she hadn’t wanted to destroy them. It had been Chris’s way of trying to help her.

Have you had a break-in recently?

She sucked in a breath, his question taking her by surprise. No.

He swivelled around to face her. But you haven’t been home today?

Allegra’s heart stuttered in her chest at the thought of someone breaking into her apartment. No. I came straight from work. I bluffed my way in, hoping you’d think I wanted to discuss the contract.

I did think that.

Allegra’s mouth went dry. Will you help me, despite everything?

It was as near as she could bring herself to plead with Luke Neilson. I’ll pay good money. I want the best man you’ve got.

"I’m the best man I’ve got."

Oh. She jumped, nerves jangling. I assumed you’d be too busy for such a small job. I thought you’d hand it on.

He studied her through narrowed eyes, knuckles pressed against his mouth, an expensive dive watch strapped to his powerful wrist. Never assume anything, Allegra. I fail to see what’s in it for me though, other than the money.

She raised her eyebrows, not bothering to hide her surprise. You normally get fringe benefits with the job?

He gave an amused laugh, the corners of his mouth curling up, the smile softening his strong features. Not the kind you’re implying, no. It’s just that I’m in a position to be selective about the work I take on.

So her visit had been a waste of time. He only accepted clients where a mutual benefit was involved. Well, she couldn’t promise him the contract next time in exchange for taking her case. It would be unethical.

I see, she said finally. You scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours.

"No. I select clients I believe I can work with. And we don’t have a good track record."

She bit back a retort and trailed a forefinger along the edge of the desk. She’d apologised for her knee jerk reaction to that kiss, but what about the part he’d played in the whole fiasco?

Then why didn’t you put in a complaint about my decision? She lifted her gaze to his. I half expected you to.

A smile played at the corners of his mouth. Because I was equally to blame, and I’ll tender next time. I’m surprised to see you here though, asking for my help.

His surprise could hardly match her humiliation. Having to front up here was one of the hardest things she’d had to do. But she was drowning in a sea of debt, with no time to waste on a second-rate investigator. If the photographs surfaced, she’d never work for a reputable law firm again.

She drew in a jagged breath. So where does that leave us?

His eyes narrowed to slits of silver. I haven’t decided yet.

From the expression on her face she didn’t much like the sound of that. Too bad, he needed to get his head around what he’d just learned.

She was Martin Greenwood’s sister. How had he not made the connection?

Winning the contract next time was hardly a priority. Allegra was in serious trouble, her career on the line.

And his conscience left him no choice.

Luke studied her symmetrical face, the halo of golden blonde hair, the now obvious resemblance to her brother. The corporate suit she wore was well cut, clinging to her slim figure and showcasing a set of killer legs. She wore tasteful jewellery, nothing too blingy, and natural make-up. The impression was sexy ice maiden wearing a ‘don’t mess with me attitude.’

But the woman the press dubbed the ‘perfumed steamroller’ had a skeleton in her closet. Who knew?

She clicked her tongue, looking irritated all of a sudden. Look, do you want the case or not?

He dragged his thoughts away from her physical attributes and concentrated on the job at hand. Here’s what we’re going to do.

We?

Luke sighed at the interruption. Sharp, she missed nothing.

It feels good to have an ally, that’s all. She smiled, her body almost sagging with relief. And thank you.

He ignored the way his heart shifted up a gear. "We, we’re a team until we catch this loser."

He pushed a notepad and pen across the table. Write down Chris Noble’s full name and his last known address in Melbourne. It’s logical to start there.

As she scribbled down the details he noticed her absence of rings. He hadn’t got around to asking about partners and such, but it appeared from her bare hands she hadn’t succumbed to the last legal form of slavery.

She slid the notebook back to him.

Go home and make sure the original photographs are where they should be. Phone me immediately if they’ve been disturbed. I want a list of every person who’s had access to your home since breaking up with Noble.

Okay.

Strange, she didn’t seem at all phased by his request. Most people groaned and objected, daunted by the task. I mean everyone you can think of Allegra. Family, friends, boyfriends, girlfriends, work colleagues, tradesmen, landlords, cleaning staff, anyone who could conceivably have gained access to those photographs.

In Melbourne they were locked in a safety deposit box, but since moving to Sydney I’ve kept them hidden in my apartment.

Then I only need a list of people who’ve visited your Sydney residence.

She nodded. When do you want it?

Is seven in the morning too early?

She shook her head, blonde highlights shining under the fluorescents. I’m used to deadlines.

Then I’ll come by and pick it up, check out your security, he said in an offhand manner, trying to give the impression it was standard procedure. It wasn’t. From cases he’d worked, extortionists were predictable, demanding money straight up. No demand for cash pointed to something more sinister.

He watched the colour drain from her face, his nonchalance not fooling her for a second.

You think they could come to my home?

Nothing to be gained by sugar coating it. A photograph without a demand for cash smacks of a stalker or a psychological blackmailer.

Her eyes widened, and for the briefest moment she looked truly frightened. He waited, letting his words sink in. She needed time to accept the ugly truth. A hidden enemy intended doing her harm.

I hoped it might be a prank, she said finally, her voice thick and shaken.

Could be, but I doubt it. Having it delivered by bicycle courier shows it’s well thought out.

She stared at him, a bemused expression on her face. It doesn’t sound like Chris at all.

A spurt of anger surfaced at her stoic defence of the photographer. Despite her position, she didn’t appear all that street smart, or men smart.

Not the Chris you remember, but people change.

Luke shifted in his seat, longing to undo the top button of his shirt but unwilling to draw another comment from the body language expert. Would he ever feel comfortable in business attire? Probably not, too many years spent in camouflage gear and paratrooper pants.

She blinked, drawing his attention to the amazing blue of her eyes. Not that he needed reminding. They were seared into his memory.

So, what’s your take on it, Luke?

An unexpected charge jolted through him at her use of his name. There’s been no demand for cash or threats to expose you.

So they aren’t motivated by money?

I doubt it. They know you understand the harm they can do. They could be getting kicks from causing you mental anguish. But we won’t know for sure, until we get the next one.

She swallowed, and in her eyes he saw helplessness and resignation. That was my next question. You think we will?

"I’m fairly certain. We know they have one photograph. If they’re in possession of the others, it’s more a matter of when."

She nodded, then reached down with unsteady hands and slung the satchel diagonally across her body. If we’re finished, I might go home and check the apartment.

Luke pushed himself out of his chair. That’s it for now.

He strode to the door and held it open for her.

Thank you for seeing me, she murmured, brushing past him.

No problem.

He watched her walk towards the elevator, paying attention to the hip satchel slung across her body and the skyscraper heels she