Body of Evidence (Evidence Series) by Rachel Grant Page B

their conversation would remain private. Best of all, Lee’s stepbrother had his own corporate jet.
    Lee’s perfection, however, did not extend to his attitude when called at one fifteen in the morning to field a request for a jet that didn’t even belong to him. He groused in a sleep-laden voice, “You want me to call JT and ask him to send his jet to Oahu to pick you up?”
    “Yes, please.”
    “Didn’t the last jet you borrowed blow up?”
    Curt grimaced. “Um, yeah.” He paused and launched into his pitch. “You know I wouldn’t ask if—”
    “Forget it. It’s yours.”
    Lee’s quick capitulation startled him. “That easy?”
    “If you’re asking, I know it’s important, and I know JT will agree.”
    Curt was humbled for a moment by Lee’s simple faith in him, and emotion flooded him. Damn, apparently Mara’s finagling past his guard had left him vulnerable to other feelings. He cleared his throat. “Thanks, Lee. I owe you.”
    In political circles, favors were currency and sometimes poison. He wasn’t a politician, but US attorneys were appointed by the president and had to go through Senate confirmation. The easiest way to sail through was to owe no one, and up until this moment, Curt had been debt-free.
    “No, Curt. It’s impossible to owe a true friend anything more than a beer.”
    He laughed. “Fine. I owe you a beer.”
    “Well, maybe more than one . And not that crappy stuff you drink either.”
    Curt smiled, his gaze on Mara as she stretched out on the bed. “I owe you a keg of the good stuff, because I have another favor to ask.” Her shirt rode up to reveal creamy smooth skin, flat belly, and perfect navel. Since when were belly buttons such a turn on?
    He imagined tracing the indentation with his tongue and then trailing downward…
    “You need advice on how to handle the archaeologist you picked up in DPRK. Now, I know a thing or two about archaeologists”—Lee’s voice softened at the reference to his fiancée—“and all I can say is good luck, buddy.”
    He knew Lee was teasing, but still, the idea he’d somehow picked up on Curt’s carnal thoughts was alarming. What the hell is happening to me? “I can handle her.” He tried to put humor into his voice, to show amusement and prevent Lee from guessing he was losing his fucking mind.
    Mara’s eyes warmed in challenge at his words. With a wicked smile, she touched her flat belly, casually pushing her top higher, revealing more tempting, smooth skin.
    He narrowed his gaze. The trial. The trial was starting, and he needed to focus, dammit , on what was important. Convicting Stevens and staying alive. In that order. “I need you to buy a prepaid cell phone and deliver it to my co-counsel, Aurora Ames. Tonight. Now. And tell her to pull the battery from her cell.”
    “You think her landline and cell are under surveillance?”
    “She’s the first person I’d monitor if I were looking for me. I want you to deliver it to her house.”
    “She’s going to freak when a total stranger shows up at her door at three in the morning.”
    “She’s going solo in the courtroom in a few hours. She must be wondering why I haven’t called. If anything, she’ll be expecting you.” He gave Lee Aurora’s address. “Don’t call her and warn her you’re coming over. The last thing I want is Raptor getting your phone number and connecting you to me.”
    Lee let out a low whistle. “Raptor? Shit, Curt. You’re talking black ops.”
    Guilt stabbed at him for asking for help without warning of the risks. “If you don’t want to get involved, I understand.”
    “I’ll be fine. I’m worried about you . If Raptor’s black ops missions were authorized, then you’re going after the highest politicians in office.”
    “I’m already prosecuting a former VP.” On the bed next to him, Mara flinched. She tugged her shirt down and sat up, all playfulness gone.
    “There’ll be enormous pressure to bury your allegations,” Lee