RESIDENT EVIL PIERSHERRY

Chapter 29

"THERE'S SOMEONE HERE to see you, Sherry."
Sherry glanced at the clock on her desk computer. It was after two
o'clock, which surprised her. She'd been so caught up taking notes on the
case files she'd been reading, she'd worked straight through lunch.
"Thanks, Elaine. Does this someone have a name?" She checked her
calendar--she didn't have any appointments written down for that afternoon.
Through the speakerphone, the front desk receptionist's voice lowered
to a whisper. "I'm not supposed to tell you."
After everything she'd been through recently, Sherry wasn't sure
she liked the sound of that. She picked up the phone. "Do I at least know this
person?"
"Yes. Definitely," Elaine said.
"Then why can't I know who he or she is?"
"I don't know--he just said I should ask you to come out here. Oh, he's
looking over. I gotta go." Elaine quickly hung up.
Sherry set the phone back in its cradle. She considered the
possibilities.
Piers or Collin?
Whichever of the two it was, he was taking her to lunch, she decided.
She was starving.
She got up from her desk and headed out into the hallway, wondering
what all the mystery was about. Her instincts told her it was Piers. He had
dropped by her office frequently over the last couple of weeks, for both
professional and personal reasons.
Thinking about him never failed to put a smile on her face. Since
Lombard's arrest, Piers had spent nearly every night at her house--the only
exceptions being the few nights she'd spent at his loft. They were busy
during the week, each of them having been thrust back into work after the
night of the attack, but they made up for it in the evenings and on weekends. Piers had decided to take on the job of repairing the stairwell banister, along
with a few other renovations to her house, and Sherry had decided to
assist him--which meant that she sat in the corner drinking wine and reading
one of the hundreds of books from his collection that slowly seemed to be
trickling into her house. She'd poke her head up every once in awhile and
chime in with her two cents, and then somewhere around her second glass
she'd start noticing all the ways in which Piers's muscles flexed under his
T-shirt while he worked, and how delicious he looked getting sweaty and
mussed, and uh-oh, suddenly they'd be on the floor getting sweaty and
mussed in ways that didn't require a hammer and nails.
Best of all, though, she loved the way they talked--whether it was
coming out of the movie theater, at a restaurant over dinner, or lying on the
couch with her head against Piers's chest as he told about his former cases
and she shared memories of her dad.
Luckily, the media attention surrounding them finally seemed to be
dying down--something they both were looking forward to. The biggest story
in the press for the last two weeks had been the indictment and subsequent
resignation of the U.S. attorney for the Northern District of Illinois. All things
considered, Sherry supposed, Silas's arrest had gone smoothly enough.
The Monday morning after Lombard's attack, she had "happened" to be out
in the reception area when Piers and Wilkins had arrived with their arrest
warrant. There'd been a lot of yelling and swearing on Silas's part,
particularly as Piers put the handcuffs on him. Standing off to the side with a
few of the other assistant prosecutors, Sherry had watched as Piers
remained calm and professional. He'd said something in a low voice only
Silas could hear, and Silas nodded mutely, his lower lip quivering. Strangely,
after that he'd been fully cooperative.
Closely following the scandal involving Silas had been the one with
Grant Lombard--it wasn't every day, after all, that a U.S. senator's private
bodyguard was arrested for murdering a call girl in one of Chicago's most
luxurious hotels. This arrest, unfortunately, had put Sherry and Piers
directly in the spotlight: after the attacks it became impossible to keep secret
the fact that she had been a witness (sort of) to the murder. The media
quickly linked her and Piers together from the apparently
never-to-be-forgotten "head up her ass" comment of three years ago. Although the rehashing of Piers's remarks usually brought on another
glowering session on his part, Sherry personally found it amusing to
watch. She'd even slipped once--while he was trying to wrestle the remote
control out of her hands to turn off the ten o'clock news, she'd teasingly said
they should share the footage with their kids someday as evidence of their
love at first sight. When Piers hadn't immediately scrambled off the couch to
head for the hills, and instead had gotten quite amorous after her comment,
she took it as a sign that she hadn't completely freaked him out.
Now, looking forward to Piers's unexpected visit, Sherry picked up
her stride and turned the corner into the main reception area of the office.
He wasn't there. The entire waiting area was empty, in fact.
Over at the reception desk, Elaine held up her hands. "He told me he
didn't want to wait out here--said he wanted to speak to you someplace
private. I put him in Silas's old office since no one is using it right now."
Very odd, Sherry thought. More intrigued than ever, she cut across
the waiting area and through the corridor on the opposite side. When she got
to Silas's former office, she saw a tall, well-built man standing outside the
door. He nodded as she approached.
"You can go right in, Ms. Birkin."
Keeping an eye out, Sherry cautiously opened the door and stepped
inside. A stout man with neatly trimmed silver hair and an expensive suit
stood before the window, looking out at the view of Lake Michigan. When
she walked in, he turned around and smiled at her with a genteel air.
"Good afternoon, Ms. Birkin. Thank you for meeting with me on such
short notice."
Sherry shut the door behind her. "Senator Hodges," she said with
surprise. "It's a pleasure to meet you. What . . . brings you to our office
today?" Despite their bizarre connection, and the fact that she knew far more
about the senator's personal life than she had ever wanted to, they'd actually
never met or spoken to each other.
Hodges crossed the room. "I think we both know this visit is overdue,
Sherry. Is it okay if I call you Sherry?" He sat down in one of the two
leather chairs in front of Silas's old desk. "Why don't you have a seat?"
Sherry nodded. "Certainly."
In light of everything that had happened that night at the Peninsula, it felt weird sitting in Silas's former office with Hodges. Really, though, it
would've felt weird sitting with him anywhere.
"I'm greatly indebted to you, Sherry, and I wanted to thank you in
person," Hodges said. "From what Special Agent Davis tells me, you
single-handedly kept me from being arrested and undoubtedly saved my
senate seat. Innocent or not, I never would've survived the scandal of being
implicated in a murder. Let alone my . . . connections to Ms. Robards."
"I appreciate that, Senator. But honestly, the FBI team assigned to the
case deserves all the credit. I just happened to be in the wrong place at the
wrong time."
"You were nearly killed for being in that place at that time," Hodges
said. "I can't tell you how sorry I am for that. How sorry I am for a lot of things,
actually. I was a foolish man and my mistakes hurt others. In some cases,
gravely so." His eyes clouded with sadness.
Sherry nodded, unsure how to respond. Talking to Hodges was
sobering. Despite the fact that Mandy Robards's intentions toward the
senator had been less than honorable--as Piers had confirmed now that
Lombard had told him all about the blackmail scheme--the whole incident
remained a sad testament to the lengths some people would go to for
money. Or out of desperation.
"I've upset you," Hodges said.
"I'm fine. I'm just relieved it's all over."
"Actually, it's not quite all over," Hodges said. "Silas Briggs's
resignation means I have an important task ahead. As the senior senator
from Illinois, it's my duty to make a recommendation to the president
regarding the person who should be named the new U.S. attorney. And I
think I might know of just the right candidate." He paused deliberately.
Sherry pulled back in surprise. "Me?"
Hodges nodded. "You."
Sherry tried to decide how best to respond. "I appreciate the
consideration, Senator. Truly, I do. But if I can be blunt, I don't expect you to
offer me the job out of gratitude. Nor do I want you to."
Hodges smiled at this, as if he approved of her answer. "I had a feeling
you were going to say that. So let me assure you that this has nothing to do
with gratitude. After the allegations being brought against Silas, the last thing I would do right now is risk further potential scandal by naming a candidate
who isn't fully qualified for the job. If anything, your connection to me counted
against you."
Sherry remained skeptical.
Hodges laughed. "Do I need to convince you further?"
"If you're serious about this, then yes, you do."
"Good God, they weren't kidding when they said you were a tough nut
to crack," Hodges muttered. "Fine--I'll give you the highlights, the facts that
most convinced me when my vetting team came up with your name. You
have the best trial record among all the assistant U.S. attorneys in this
district. The judges--yes, we do talk to judges--say you're fearless and
tenacious in the courtroom. After Briggs, frankly, that's what this office
needs. You look good on paper: you come from a blue-collar background,
you put yourself through law school, your father died heroically as an officer
of the law, and the media already thinks you've got balls made of brass for
surviving the ordeal with Lombard. But what most convinced me,
Sherry--and I know you're being very humble and low-key about this--is
that, per the request of the attorney general himself, you've been temporarily
running this office since Silas's departure. Seeing how you haven't burned
down the place yet, I thought I'd give you a real shot at the job. That is . . .
unless you don't want it."
Sherry got butterflies in her stomach. Holy shit, this was really going
to happen. No need to convince her further. "I would be honored, Senator, to
be your nominee for the position."
Hodges looked relieved. "Good. Whew. I have to be honest with
you--we didn't have much of a backup plan. I'm actually sweating a little
under my Pierset here."
Sherry laughed. "I'll try to be less difficult in the future."
Hodges smiled warmly as he shook her hand. "You do things exactly
the way you see fit, Sherry."
They rose from their chairs and walked to the door together. "Funny
you should mention that, Senator . . . because I hope you understand that,
unlike Silas, I don't plan to be merely a figurehead in this position. I intend to
keep trying cases."
"With your record, you try all the cases you want. Just make sure you win them." With a wink, Hodges opened the door and nodded to his guard
outside.
Sherry watched them leave. She stood alone in Silas's office, trying
to wrap her mind around the fact that there was a good chance it was going
to be her office in the not-too-distant future.
U.S. Attorney Sherry Birkin.
That had a nice ring to it.
With a grin, she headed back to her soon-to-be-former office as fast as
dignity and her three-and-a-half-inch heels allowed her. Once there, she
shut the door for privacy, then sat down at her desk and picked up the phone.
He was her first call, of course, and she told him everything. When she
had finished sharing her news, she could tell by his voice that he was smiling
on the other end of the line.
"Congratulations, counselor," Piers said. "You deserve it."
She could tell from his tone that he was hiding something. "You knew
already, didn't you?"
Piers laughed. "Okay, I knew. Davis let it slip that two agents in our
office had been assigned your background check. I've had reservations
every night this week at Spiaggia, waiting for Hodges to tell you. I figured you
should finally get your dinner there, and this was the perfect reason."
Impossible man--being all sweet and everything. "I'm still trying to
decide how I feel about the fact that you knew about this before I did."
"Don't be disappointed," Piers said. "The fact that I've been ridiculously
proud of you for days doesn't change how excited you should be about this.
Besides, I pretty much know everything. You should probably just start
getting used to it."
"And on that note, I'm hanging up," Sherry said.
"Rushing me off so you can call Collin next?" Piers teased.
"No," she said emphatically.
Damn, he really did know everything.
AND TWO WEEKS later, they had another occasion to celebrate.
Albeit, one Piers was a little less enthused about.
"Happy birthday, Piers," Sherry said as they sat down at one of the
bar tables to wait. She'd brought him to Socca restaurant that evening, a neighborhood bistro just a few blocks from her house. "Thirty-five. I think that
merits a present or two."
Piers frowned. "Sherry, I told you not to get me anything."
"Well, I figured that was one of your seemingly endless supply of
orders that I plan to ignore." She pulled two envelopes out of her purse and
set them on the table in front of him. One was large and about an inch thick,
the other small but with some sort of object in it. "Choose."
Piers picked up the larger envelope.
"Good choice," she said.
Piers opened the envelope and found a thick, multiple-page document.
He slid it out and flipped it over. The names on the caption jumped out at him:
UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
v.
ROBERTO MARTINO, et al
It was a criminal indictment, signed by the U.S. attorney herself,
charging thirty-four members of Martino's organization, including Roberto
Martino, with over a hundred counts of federal and state law violations. It
included everything from racketeering, drug, and firearm charges, to
aggravated assault, attempted murder, and murder.
Piers paged silently through the indictment. When he was about
halfway through, he slowed and read carefully through the counts pertaining
to the murder of the DEA agent he had tried to warn, and his own torture at
the hands of Martino's men. All of which was laid out, paragraph by
paragraph, in graphic detail.
"I don't care if I don't get them on anything else. I'll hang them for that
alone," Sherry promised quietly. "I'm going to file it next week. I thought I
might as well kick off my new position with a bang."
Piers slid the indictment back into the envelope. It would be a bang, all
right. He reached over and laced his fingers through hers. She knew what
the indictment meant to him, but he needed to be certain she wasn't doing it
for the wrong reasons. "Are you sure about this?"
"Definitely. I've wanted to try this case for three years."
"Things could get crazy," Piers warned her. "You need to be careful how you handle this. Lombard and Silas are nothing in comparison to taking
on Roberto Martino."
"I've given a lot of thought as to how we should proceed," Sherry
said. "I'd like to bring in all the agents from the Chicago office, ones from
some of the other divisions as well, and execute the arrest warrants in a
simultaneous strike. Grab Martino and his guys in one fell swoop so that they
don't have time for a counter-move. I'll need someone I can count on to lead
the task force. I was thinking that should be you. I also think you should be
the one to arrest Martino himself."
Piers considered the implications of everything she had just said. Part
of it had him slightly panicked.
Sherry cocked her head, misinterpreting his expression. "I thought
you'd want the honor of taking down Martino."
"Oh, hell yes."
"Then what's with the look?"
"It just occurred to me that as U.S. attorney, you're now in a position of
authority over me."
Sherry raised an eyebrow. "You're right, Agent Nivans. There is a
new sheriff in town."
"Cute. How long have you been waiting to say that?"
She laughed. "About two weeks." She pushed the second envelope in
front of him. "Don't forget about your other present."
Piers picked it up. "I'm thinking nothing can top my sworn enemy's head
on a platter." He ripped open the envelope and slid out its contents.
He'd been wrong.
Keys and a garage door opener.
Momentarily caught off guard--a rare event for him--Piers looked up at
Sherry. "Does this mean what I think it means?"
"I suppose that depends on what you think it means. If you think it
means I'm asking you to move in with me, you'd be right." Her expression
turned more serious.
"If you also think it means that I wake up every morning wondering
what I did to deserve having you back in my life, well, you'd be right about
that, too."
Piers sat there for a moment, just . . . stunned. No one had ever said anything like that to him.
"Come here," he said huskily. He grabbed her chair and pulled it
toward his. He kissed her, softly at first, then his hand moved to her back and
pushed her closer as his emotions got the better of him. He pulled back to
hold her gaze. "I love you, Sherry. You know that, right?"
She kissed him back, whispering the words in his ear. "I love you, too."
It took all of Piers's strength not to haul her out of the restaurant and
drag her home right then and there. The combination of everything she'd just
said, not to mention the black sweater, slim-fit skirt, and heels she was
wearing, was driving him crazy. He threw her a sneaky grin. "I hope you
won't mind skipping dessert tonight. I've got to get you alone. I'm dying here."
"My God, Piers--with a look like that, you two should just get a room.
And try not to pick the one with a dead body next to it this time."
Hearing the familiar male voice, Piers swore under his breath.
"Seriously, Sherry--your friends have the worst timing ever." He turned
around and saw Collin standing before him.
"Happy birthday, buddy." Collin grinned, slapping him on the back.
Behind him, Piers could see Wilkins, Richard, Amy, and her husband.
"I invited a few people to help celebrate your birthday," Sherry said
sheepishly. She threw up her hands. "Surprise."
"We sort of come with the package," Collin explained. "Think of it as a
collective gift from all of us to you: five bona fide annoying and overly
intrusive new best friends."
"It's the gift that keeps on giving," Wilkins said.
Piers grinned. "I'm touched. Really. And since it appears I'm going to be
moving in, let me be the first to say that all of you are always welcome at my
and Sherry's house. Subject to a minimum of forty-eight hours prior
notification."
When the hostess came by to escort them to their table, Sherry held
Piers back from the rest of the group. "You're okay with this?" she asked.
"Yes. It's great." He kissed her forehead. "Thank you."
She wrapped her arms around his neck. "And in answer to your earlier
question, I don't mind skipping dessert. In fact, I already have a dessert
planned for when we get home."
Piers liked the sound of that. "Can I have a hint?" "It involves me wearing your handcuffs."
Christ, full-mast. The thought of her naked and at his mercy threw his
body into a tailspin. Piers pulled her into a corner where they were out of
sight. "The hell with dinner--we're leaving now," he growled.
Sherry shook her head coyly. "We can't leave your party so early.
That would be indecent."
In response to her teasing, Piers put his hands on the wall next to her,
pinning her in. "So, Ms. Birkin . . . is that how it's going to be with you?"
Her eyes flashed devilishly.
"Always."