by M. S. Parker
The lights were off so I almost didn’t see him through the few open inches.
He was sitting at his desk, staring off into nothing. Hands folded on his desk. Not moving.
Through the door, I heard the phone ring. After a second ring, he turned his head and stared at it, like he wasn't sure what to do. It rang a third time before he finally moved to pick it up.
There was something terribly unsettling about the whole thing.
Shaking it off, I turned and continued on down the corridor.
I didn’t have a destination in mind, but I needed to move, needed to think.
Needed to get away from Pierce and anything that made me think of Bethany before I exploded.
Chapter 6
Dena
I ended up taking an early lunch. Considering how many times I'd worked through lunch since I started at the DA's office, I doubted anyone would say anything, especially if I was back within an hour.
I didn't, however, tell Bethany that I was going. If I saw her again right now, I couldn't guarantee how I'd react.
I needed to talk to someone about all of this. With Krissy on LA time, she was probably right in the middle of getting her day started. If Carrie worked at the club last night, she'd just be getting up. Leslie already knew some of what was going on, so she was the logical choice.
I took the subway to Queens rather than a taxi, using the time to gather my thoughts. She had a nice practice going already, and I could tell I was interrupting, but she gave me a smile after her administrative assistant ushered me in. We always made time for each other.
I sat on the scoop chair by the window, staring outside and trying to brood through the mess in my head while she finished up something on her computer.
“Are you going to talk?” Leslie asked after a few minutes of silence.
“Yes.” Then I paused, giving her a wry smile. “I’m not sure. I might yell.”
Leslie laughed. “You don’t yell often. It must be bad. Some asshole stand you up?”
I slid her a narrow look.
“Okay, then.” She pursed her lips and then glanced around. “The walls are soundproofed. You remember how it was at Webster and Steinberg. No one in divorce cases wants to hear another couple screaming at each other.”
I managed not to laugh. If I started, it would come out as something harsh and jagged, and I might not be able to stop. I was more on edge than I thought. Unable to sit still though, I got up and began to pace. “My boss is a piranha.”
She cocked a brow. “We’ve all been called something like that at one point or another.”
I shook my head. “Oh, trust me. She really is one. A piranha. A shark. A bitch of the highest order.” I turned to face Leslie. “You want to hear what she did?”
Leslie raised an eyebrow.
I scowled. “She’s fucking the other attorney who was hired the same time I was, gave him the good office, the best cases. As long as he’s playing the good attorney anyway. And now...” I was too angry to even finish the sentence.
“Now what?” Leslie prompted.
I turned and stared at her. “Pierce and I were working on a motion yesterday and I said something to him about her. He told me to stop pushing her. He touched my hand, and she walked by, saw it. Then, this morning...” I had to stop and take a deep breath to keep my voice even. “This morning, she tells me that Pierce has made an informal complaint against me. That I’d acted unprofessionally toward him. So now, I get the fascinating job of working with the paralegals.”
Leslie’s eyes widened.
“Yeah. Bad Dena. Time out for me.” I stopped by the window and looked down on the busy streets, grinding my teeth together until my jaw ached.
Silent seconds ticked by.
“Well.” Leslie’s dry voice finally shattered the silence.
Turning to look at her, I waited.
She stared at me pointedly. “What are you going to do about it?”
“I...” Blowing out a breath, I pressed the tips of my fingers to my temples. I was starting to get a headache. “I don’t know. I've written everything down that's happened, but...”
“But what?” Leslie asked. “What would you be telling me to do if I were in your shoes?”
Rolling my eyes, I said, “If we were talking about you, I’d be having to post bail right now, because you would've already torn her eyes out.”
“True.” She smirked a little. “But you’re the calmer one. You think. You plan. What would you do if this was happening to me? What advice would you give if it was me? Before I bitch-slapped her.”
I chuckled and it helped some of the anger drain away. “Okay.” I sighed. “I’d be telling you to file a formal complaint.”
“So do it.”
“Against which one?” I spread my hands wide. “Her or him? He didn’t tell her shit.”
“But he stood there and let her say it. Go for them both.” Leslie’s smile was cold. “She’s screwing with you, Dena. She’s going after the career you’ve always wanted. You can’t let her get away with it.”
I looked back out the window, my thoughts spinning. I knew Pierce hadn’t made any damn complaint. But he also hadn't stepped up to refute it either.
No way was I letting them take my career.
Yeah, I knew what I had to do.
I thanked Leslie and headed back to the office, stopping only to grab some take-out along the way.
I had work to do.
It took longer than I liked.
I’d filed formal complaints before. Only two, but neither one of them had been anything like this. It was the hardest I’d ever written, having to walk the line between professionalism and accuracy, giving details without sounding like I was complaining. Since I knew my accusations against Bethany were more serious, I decided to divide and conquer by filing a complaint against Pierce first, then using that to leverage his support in a complaint against Bethany.
When I was done, my brain felt like mush. I stared at the television for a while before deciding to take a long bath and then head to bed.
Tomorrow was going to suck more than a little and I needed to be fully rested to deal.
***
The first thing I did when I arrived at work was file my complaint.
The second thing I did was deal with the box that had been placed on my desk at some point yesterday, along with a note in unfamiliar handwriting.
As I looked at the contents, I felt like I was a law student again. The box had nothing but legal briefs that needed to be re-filed. Boring work even for a paralegal.
The only good thing about it was that I spent the entire day not having to see or hear from Bethany. The one time I saw Pierce, he practically ran to get away from me. I was tempted to go after him and give him a piece of my mind, but decided against it.
He’d get the idea soon enough, and talking to him now would only make matters worse. Besides, if he didn’t have the spine to stand up against his boss when she made false allegations in his name, then he had no business working in the DA’s office anyway.
The seconds on the clock moved by so slowly, I thought I’d lose my mind, but just when I thought I couldn't take any more, it was quitting time. I didn't even bother to finish what I was doing. I'd put in a hundred percent while I was here, no matter what shit they gave me, but I wasn't working a single minute of overtime like this.
Unable to stand the idea of another night at home watching zombies try to devour the world, I went by my place only to grab something to eat and change my clothes.
Skinny black jeans, a silk tank top and boots – nothing that would get me hassled on the subway, but still nice enough for Club Privé. I wasn't looking to hook up with anyone though. I just wanted to talk to Carrie and get a drink. Just enough of both to relax after a shit day.
If it had been Friday, I probably would've gotten drunk and talked Carrie into dancing half the night away, or maybe I would've just called Leslie for ice cream and a girls' night in. F
or now, a few drinks and a few dances would have to work.
Despite the fact that it was the middle of the week, the club was packed when I got there, the line extending down the street. Using the VIP entrance, I headed straight for the top level, looking for Carrie or Gavin. I didn’t see either of them, but that wasn't surprising for a busy night. They were probably out making their rounds and if I stayed in place long enough, they'd get to me.
Somebody asked me to dance, but I just shook my head.
One of the servers caught my eye and I nodded. A few minutes later, I had a drink in hand.
Settling in one of the elevated seats along one the upper railings, I studied the crowd, hoping to spot Carrie or Gavin. There was no way I’d unload on Gavin, but if I found him, he could point me toward her.
That was all I wanted.
My skin started to tingle, then heat and I raised my head, heart already racing.
No.
Hell no.
I knew what my body was telling me even as I tried to deny it.
No, please...
Slowly, I turned my head and saw him standing at the top of the stairs, his eyes locked on me.
“Shit,” I muttered.
Deliberately looking away, I lifted my drink to my lips and drained it. Heat flooded me, and I let myself blame it on the alcohol. My head buzzed pleasantly, taking some of the edge off.
From the corner of my eye, I could see him moving my way, and I pondered my choices. I could head for the stairs to my left. If I was fast and lucky, I could be out the door and into a cab in no time.
Before I could take a step toward my escape, the server appeared between me and the stairs. I could've been rude, but she didn't deserve that. When she asked if I’d like another drink, I told her to get me some bourbon, a double. If I was going to stay, I’d need more alcohol.
She nodded and then walked away. As my gaze followed her, I caught a glimpse of Arik moving even closer. Spinning the opposite way, I slid off the stool and started toward the bar. There was no way I would just sit there and wait for him to decide to join me.
Asshole.
Serious asshole.
It had been bad enough that he'd asked for my number and then never used it, but then he'd treated me like a stranger instead of simply acknowledging that we knew each other.
Asshole.
I dropped into a vacant seat at the bar just as the bartender finished making my drink. The server gave me a look of mild surprise, but motioned for the bartender to pass it over. As she brought it to me, I signaled to her and she leaned in close enough for me to be heard over the music. “Is Carrie here tonight?”
She nodded.
“Anyway somebody can let her know I’m here?”
She gave me a smile and I breathed a little easier.
If Carrie was around, then she could be a buffer. I didn’t want–
“Hello, Dena.”
I tightened my hand around my glass of bourbon and angled my body toward Arik. “Hello.” I took a sip and lowered the glass, trying to pretend that I didn't care. Sliding off the stool, I said deliberately, “Good-bye, Arik.”
I didn't make it two feet before he caught up to me.
Chapter 7
Arik
Good-bye, Arik.
Staring at her back, my blood pulsing through my veins, I told myself to take a few minutes to think it through.
Hell no.
It only took a few strides to catch up with her. She’d settled back over at the railing, staring down over the dance floor with a look of patent boredom on her face. She was clearly trying hard to pretend she didn't care.
Or maybe that was just my wishful thinking.
When I touched her shoulder, she gave a long-suffering sigh before slanting a look up at me. “What?”
I bristled at her tone. “You sound like you’re having a pleasant day.”
“Not that it's any of your business.” The pointed expression on her face might've scared a lesser man off.
Fortunately, I wasn't a lesser man.
“I think it’s time the two of us had a little chat.” I put my mostly-empty drink down on the nearby railing, but when I tried to touch her cheek, she jerked a hand up, catching my wrist with a speed that I had to admit was fairly impressive.
“Hands off,” she said bitingly.
“Okay.” Lowering my hand to the railing on the other side of her, I leaned in and studied her face. “Is that a permanent thing, or are you just having a bitchy day?”
I doubled over as she drove an elbow into my stomach, then ducked under my arm and moved away. I was more caught off guard than in pain though, and my stunned disbelief only lasted a few seconds.
Grabbing her arm, I caught her and jerked her back before she could take off. “Okay, sweetheart. How about you explain just what the ever-loving fuck that was about?”
She tried to twist out of my grasp, but all it did was put her pelvis in close proximity to mine, reminding both of us of just what happened when the two of us were together. Her breath caught and I slid a hand up her back, tangling my fingers in her short hair.
“Keep moving like that, Dena. I’m enjoying it. It’s been a little too long since I’ve been able to bury my dick inside you.”
A second later, I tasted blood as she slammed the heel of her hand against my chin. I bit my tongue and pain flared.
“Alright, that’s it.” Spinning her around, I caught her wrists and twisted them behind her back. I lowered my mouth to her ear, desire and anger pulsing inside me. “What’s with the guerrilla tactics, Dena?”
“Let me go,” she said, a warning note in her voice.
I’d never been one to hold a woman against her will, but I knew if I didn't push her, I'd lose her. Lowering my head, I whispered against her ear, “Make me.”
She stiffened instead. When it became clear she wouldn’t do anything, I swore and pulled back, giving her a few inches of space. She took that space and tried to walk away again.
“I don’t think so.” I stepped around her, cutting her off as I planted myself in her path. I glared down at her. “Just where in the hell do you think you’re going?”
Her lips twisted into an unpleasant scowl. “I’m going anywhere that isn’t here.”
“Fine. I’ll go with you. We need to talk.”
“No.” She shook her head. “We don't.”
Closing the small distance between us, I stared down at her, but if I thought my height would be intimidating, I was underestimating her. She just tipped her head back and crossed her arms.
“Look, Mr. Porter–”
“Arik.”
She arched her brows. “Arik? I’m sorry. I was under the impression you wanted me to address you as Mr. Porter, given our professional relationship.”
It was only then I saw the depth of anger in her eyes.
Oh shit. I'd seriously fucked things up with her.
None of that should've mattered. We weren't in a relationship. We fucked. That was it. No commitments, no explanations.
Then why did I feel like I'd done something wrong?
“Dena, we need to talk,” I said, softening my voice. “Especially about that.”
“No.” She reached up and patted my cheek. “We don’t. See, that is really all there is. You have a good night.”
She turned away. Again. I was really getting sick of her doing that. I caught her arm, but this time, when I whirled her back to face me, she came back swinging.
My head flew back from the impact of her fist against the side of my face, but I didn’t let go.
“Did that make you feel any better?” I demanded as I gingerly touched my jaw. It was pounding and from the corner of my eye, I could see her flexing her fingers. If my face was any indication of how hard she'd hit me, her hand had to be hurting.
“Why, yes, actually.” She gave me a slow smile that didn't reach her eyes. “I feel better than I have in several days. Thank you for asking.” She jerked on her arm. “N
ow let me go.”
I tightened my grip, aware that if I squeezed any harder, I'd bruise her. And not in a good way. “Not until you calm down and agree to talk to me.”
“Not on your life,” she snapped.
“Dammit, Dena!”
“Is there a problem here?”
Both of us looked up.
As Gavin emerged from the crowd that had gathered around us, I uncurled my fingers from her arm and let my hand drop to my side. He gave me a pointed glare before looking over at Dena.
She made a face at him. “No problem, Gavin.”
“And that’s why you hit one of my guests in the face?” he asked, sounding almost amused.
She curled her lip. “He asked for it.”
“Did he now?”
Carrie was with us now and she looked between us before moving to Dena’s side. She caught Dena’s hand and lifted it. “Oh, honey.”
Gavin's presence was enough to disperse the crowd, but I barely saw them go. I was looking at Dena's hand, my gut twisted in a bunch of slippery knots. Her knuckles were already swelling. Carrie waved at somebody, gripping Dena’s hand tightly when she tried to pull away.
“The two of you want to tell me what’s going on?” Gavin asked.
“Difference of opinion,” Dena said.
“Failure to communicate.”
We both spoke at the same time. Gavin's mouth flattened into a line. Aggravated, he shoved his hands into his pockets and watched Carrie press an ice pack to Dena’s hand. Then his eyes slid to me.
Something told me that he wanted to make my face look like Dena’s hand.
“You two are going to work this out,” he finally said. “Otherwise, I’ll have to revoke your guest pass, Porter. Permanently. And Dena, you’ll be suspended for the next two months.”
I stared at him, but Dena flinched as if he’d slapped her.
Carrie made a low sound of protest, but Gavin didn’t even look at her. He was angrier than I realized.
“I was pushing too hard,” I said. “I should have waited until she was calmer before I tried to talk to her. I'll leave. There’s no reason to suspend her.”
“There is. She violated the rules and she knows it.” Gavin shrugged and held out his hand to Carrie. She hesitated, looking at him with narrowed eyes, but after a moment, she placed her hand in his. He looked back at us. “Take one of the private rooms and work whatever this is out.”
