by Jo Davis
“Tell that to my father.” He sighed. “Look, I don’t want to discuss this over the phone. Lunch?”
She placed the mug in the dishwasher, then leaned her butt against the counter. This was one part of the job that became exhausting, yet was the very thing she excelled at—holding the frightened client’s hand. And though she got paid handsomely to do it, she’d rather suffer the stomach flu than share another meal with Vines.
Be professional. He’s paying you and deserves the same quality representation you’d give anyone else. “All right. Meet me in my office at noon?”
“Actually, I don’t think I can make it into Nashville to day. I have a lot of stuff to do around here. How about that diner on the town square, same time?”
She rolled her eyes. That meant more than two hours carved out of her day, a big chunk she needed to attend to other cases.
On the other hand, driving into Sugarland meant she might run into Julian again.
“Fine. See you later.”
Ending the call, she headed off to shower and get ready, shaking her head at her idiocy. She did notwant to see Jules. Didn’t want to hear his smooth, nipple-puckering Spanish accent. Didn’t ache to see his sexy smile aimed in her direction.
And she certainly didn’t take any extra pains with her appearance.
At all.
Hours later, driving from her office through the gorgeous, forested hills on the way to Sugarland, she allowed herself to wonder what Julian was doing today. By her calculations, he was off shift, and she knew that only because the guys had been at the fire last Thursday. She wasn’t keeping tabs on the man or anything. Was he home, relaxing? Or maybe he’d be in town, running errands. Maybe—
Her cell phone shouted its upbeat greeting again, and her heart did a little two-step as she lifted it from the tray and peered at the screen. Once again, disappointment stabbed her breast, a bit sharper than before. She slipped on the hands-free unit and answered the call.
“Hey, sweet pea. What’s up?”
Kat laughed, a musical sound that always made Grace smile. Her sister’s irrepressible, outgoing nature was a light-house beacon in stormy weather. To anyone who knew Kat, it was no mystery why Howard’s vow of bachelorhood had crumbled to dust.
“Getting the little monsters ready for spring break, and none too soon. I’m so tired of diagnostic testing, I could scream.”
This was an old complaint, but Grace heard Kat’s love of her job in her voice. “It can’t be easy to keep a first grader focused long enough to accomplish them all.”
“Yeah, like trying to lasso the wind. But hey, I didn’t call to gripe in your ear. I just want to make sure you’re coming out to Mom and Dad’s for dinner on Sunday.” Kat’s tone was casual, but held a firm edge Grace didn’t hear often.
“Oh? I don’t know, honey. I have a ton of work right now.”
“Who doesn’t? It’s on Sunday, for cryin’ out loud! Take a break.” A pause. “We haven’t seen much of each other lately and I miss you,” she said softly.
Manipulative brat. Her heart went mushy and she smiled. “All right, count me in. What time?”
“Yay! Around one. Mom says we’ll eat around two and not to bring anything except your appetite.”
“See you all Sunday, then. Give your hottie a hug for me and I love you.”
“I’ll give him more than that,” she teased. “In the shower, on the kitchen table—”
“Oh, TMI! Lalala, I don’t hear you. . . .”
“Love you back. Bye!”
Grace hung up laughing, the warm, happy glow from her sister filling the interior of her car like beams of sunshine. Kat and Howard deserved every joy in their lives, especially after the hell they’d been through. Letting her thoughts drift, she imagined having a man like the lieutenant to come home to her.
An honest-to-God man, all muscles, sweat, and a day’s growth of beard from another shift in the trenches saving lives. Tired, but never too exhausted to show his woman just how much he missed her. To set the sheets on fire making love to her, slow and easy. Or fast and hard.
And she was an idiot. Because she had such a man panting after her, right in the palm of her hand. Hers for the taking—if she dared to take a gamble on him.
Did she? Sex with Julian would probably be incredible. The man was tailor-made for sin and she had no doubt he’d deliver. But for how long?
Therein lay the fly in the ointment. Julian didn’t strike her as the kind of guy to play with just one woman. He was a ladies’ man down to his bones. Oh, she couldn’t blame him for that, not when she’d occasionally enjoyed a casual lover to stave off a lonely evening. But while the idea of a marriage, a mortgage, and 2.5 kids left her shaking in her high heels, a strong pair of arms to hold her at night would be lovely. The same pair of arms, when they both needed company. Sometime in the last year, she’d moved past the point in her life where she was okay with opening her eyes the morning after to see a man who didn’t really care about her.
Did Julian care, or was his smooth charm all an act? And something else about him troubled her. He laughed and joked easily, never seemed to take life too seriously on the outside, but those dark, beautiful eyes . . . they never smiled. They were a bottomless well of sadness, and every time they met, she was torn between taking him in her arms and running like hell.
Grace wasn’t wild about hooking up with a man she had to fix—her days were monopolized by defending men with numerous personal issues—even if her heart whispered he just might be worth it.
Round and round, no answers in sight. Thinking about Julian was guaranteed to drive her insane.
All too soon, she wheeled her Mercedes into an empty space a few doors down from the busy diner. For a few giddy seconds, she fantasized that Derek Vines had been abducted by aliens and whisked to another planet, before she grabbed her purse and briefcase and slid from the car with a sigh.
Inside, harried waitresses rushed about with steaming platters of burgers and chicken-fried steaks guaranteed to clog the stoutest of arteries. Darned if her mouth didn’t water for a big greasy cheeseburger with fries, but the last thing she wanted to do was give Vines the impression she wished to linger.
She spotted him seated in a booth against the wall, and made her way over, hoping to conclude this meeting as quickly as possible. Clutching her briefcase like a shield, she scooted into the booth, then laid it and her purse on the seat.
“Mr. Vines,” she said politely, “this isn’t—”
“Derek, please.” Resting his elbows on the table and clasping his hands, he shot her a disarming grin.
His friendly overture didn’t move her, but his persistence wore her down. If he was going to make an issue of how she addressed him every time they spoke, their conversations would drag on that much longer.
“Fine, Derek. I was about to say that this isn’t the ideal place for the discussion you want to have.”
Glancing around them, he gave a negligent shrug. “Why not? It’s so crowded and noisy, no one will pay us any attention.”
The waitress arrived to hand them plastic menus and take their drink orders, halting Grace’s frown before it could manifest. After the girl left, Grace pretended to study the lunch selections while perusing Vines instead.
At nearly forty, he was a handsome man in a harsh, rugged way, though in her opinion, his looks couldn’t compete with Julian’s classic, refined features. He wore his dark, coffee-colored hair in waves to his collar and slicked back from his pale face. His brown eyes were calculating, always assessing.
She closed her menu and set it aside. “Since you’re the one paying for my time, why don’t you start? I sense you’re after more than just an update or a shoulder to lean on.”
“I wouldn’t turn down the shoulder,” he said, placing his menu on top of hers. He pursed his lips as though tasting something sour. “But you’re correct. I want this unpleasantness put behind me, and I’m willing to pay to make that happen.”
&
nbsp; Grace sat up straighter. “You’d settle out of court?”
“To make this go away, yes.”
“In spite of your claims of innocence?”
“I aminnocent, and I’m not into men, despite what fantasies Hayden Madison has cooked up in his head. I adore women and I’ve never had to bully a lady into bed,” he drawled, dropping his gaze to her bosom to emphasize his point.
Grace resisted the urge to cross her arms protectively over said bosom. “I’m going to play devil’s advocate here. While settling would certainly expedite the matter, many would view the move as an admission of guilt on your part.”
The waitress brought their drinks, iced tea for Vines and Diet Coke for Grace. She ordered a small salad with ranch, tuning out what her client asked for. She couldn’t have cared less. After the girl hurried off, Vines leaned forward, expression intense.
“What you said is true, but I’m being maligned now, and so is my father. A few weeks or months of fighting Madison on a quid pro quo sexual harassment charge won’t change that fact, and could very well do more harm than good in the end.”
“Whether or not you’re guilty.” It wasn’t a question; she was feeling him out, thinking out loud. She took a sip of her soda, then fiddled with the straw. “A man with money is accused, the plaintiff threatens to take the case all the way to its nasty conclusion, and the defendant settles. It’s played out that way before, with people in the hot seat who have much more to lose than you, careerwise. Actors, musicians, politicians, you name it.”
“What are you getting at?”
“As you said, you’re already feeling the heat from Madison’s charges. So why not fight? If you’re innocent, he can’t prove otherwise and to hell with what other people think. Your father owns the company, so it’s not like you’ll lose your job.” If you’re innocent.A Freudian slip, but he didn’t seem to notice.
“Is that your official advice? That I fight?”
“I’m presenting you with your options and encouraging you to make a careful decision. The choice is yours.”
Mentally, she gave the honest angel on her shoulder a swift kick in the ass. She’d probably just advised her way into having to deal with him for months. Ugh.
What’s more, something was off. And not just with his noise about settling, which quite honestly would suit her fine. No, it was his attempt to appear interested in her as a woman. His leer felt flat, no real lust or emotion behind his expression. Immediately, she recalled Julian’s dark, soulful eyes caressing her body from head to toe. The pure, undisguised need written in their depths—and the disappointment in them when she continued to avoid his overtures.
Oh, yes, she knew what a man looked like when he truly craved a woman. In that area, Julian left Vines eating dirt.
Which begged the question, Why would Vines pretend unless he’s guilty as hell?
Their food arrived and Vines dug into his club sandwich, the topic apparently not affecting his appetite. Grace picked at her salad, ready to dispense with this meeting and pick up that cheeseburger on her way back to the office. She might be slender, but she could eat like a sailor on shore leave, something that never failed to amuse her family.
After scarfing a second section of his sandwich, Vines waved a fry in her direction. “Let’s make Madison an offer.”
“If that’s what you want,” she said, struggling to keep the profound relief off her face. Laying down her fork, she opened her briefcase and dug out the file. Vines chewed silently while she scanned her notes. “He’s claiming your unwanted advances have made working at W. H. Vines impossible and is asking for wages lost plus punitive damages. One hundred fifty thousand.”
“Ridiculous,” he scoffed.
Not if he’s telling the truth. Wisely, she refrained from saying so.
He ate the fry and continued. “The little shit barely pulls in sixty grand a year. Offer him seventy with the stipulation that the amount, including the extra money, is simply a gesture of goodwill from me and W. H. Vines. We wish him the best and so forth.”
“They’ll counter, and so will I. What’s your bottom line?”
“One hundred grand, not a cent more.”
Interesting. Gathering the file, she shoved it into her briefcase, dug a ten out of her wallet, and tossed it next to her salad plate.
“Leaving so soon? You’ve hardly eaten.”
“Big breakfast,” she lied, willing her stomach not to growl. “I have to run, but I’ll let you know as soon as I hear from his attorney.” She scrambled from the seat, poised to make good her escape.
“Grace?” The earnestness in his tone stopped her.
“Yes?”
“Would you have dinner with me one night? After all of this is cleared up, I mean.”
I’d sooner have my bottom lip stapled to my forehead, thanks.
“Um, I’m kind of seeing someone right now.” Whoops, two lies in a row. She tried for a sympathetic smile, but it felt as fake as his ogling had been earlier. Why on earth would he ask her out? “I’m sorry.”
Smiling, he shook his head. “Hey, I had to try.”
In the safety of her car, she blew out a tense breath. Going out with Julian, enjoying his company—more and more the idea held vast appeal.
Grace wondered whether she’d really lied after all.
Derek finished his sandwich, the picture of perfect calm. Inside, his guts roiled with rage and frustration. Fear. He was not going down on Madison’s charges, the goddamned weasel. He didn’t need the public scrutiny.
He had more to lose than the high-and-mighty Grace McKenna could ever dream.
Julian fucking Salvatore.
After the Collector’s phone call last Friday describing the witness, Derek had put it all together. The man Grace had introduced him to. The boy from fifteen years ago. They were the same. And now he’d seen the Collector. Derek had rushed straight to his bathroom and thrown up his gin and tonic. Desperate, he’d considered cleaning out his accounts and skipping the country, but discounted it almost immediately. There wasn’t a corner of the earth where he could hide that he wouldn’t be found. The stranglehold around his neck was absolute, and unforgiving.
His cell phone chirped and he glanced at the display. Gruber. That call could mean only one thing, and Derek hated what must be done. “Yes?”
“I found Salvatore. He works for the Sugarland Fire Department, Station Five. You want to tell the boss or shall I?”
“I’ll deal with that end,” he snapped. “You just take care of him, and the other one, as well.”
“Already on it.”
The bastard hung up without asking how Derek would prefer the deed to be carried out. The man was always so in control, unflappable to his rotten core.
Derek placed a call of his own and waited, stomach cramping, and wished he hadn’t yet eaten.
“Tell me you have good news,” the smooth voice said calmly.
“I do. He’s been located.”
“I trust the Collector is taking care of him? I don’t appreciate your loose ends.”
I’ve never done anything to please you, regardless of how hard I try.
“Of course he is. By this time next week, the problem will no longer exist.”
“Good. When it’s successfully completed, you’ll be rewarded.”
Derek knew what that meant, and his cock hardened even as the knowledge horrified him. The predator in him anticipated toying with his new gift, much like a cat holding a mouse under his paw. Watching them squirm, writhe in fear, knowing his power over them was absolute, their flesh his to savor, aroused him beyond endurance. They were beautiful in their final surrender, precious to him, and his arguments to keep them always fell on deaf ears.
Knowing how his angels must end made him sad, but he was a slave to his own desires. Derek wasn’t the one calling the shots or making the rules—only with full compliance did he receive his rewards—and his tormentor never failed to remind him of his weakness.
“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice betraying his misery. His need.
“Just don’t forget who keeps you safe and loved,” the boss said gently. “I’m the only one who understands, Derek. We look out for each other, because no one else will.”
“I know.” He hung up and stared at his half-eaten food, more than a little sick. Again he dreamed of running, hiding somewhere far away. Living in his own skin, on someone else’s terms, was a repeating, perpetual nightmare. Survival shouldn’t be this difficult.
Innocent people shouldn’t have to die even if, by the end, they were begging for release from hell.
At least in death they were given the peace Derek could only wish for.
4
Grace pulled her car into her parents’ driveway beside Howard’s mammoth black Ford truck and shut off the ignition, sparing a glance for the car parked on the street, one she didn’t recognize. Puzzled, she wondered who else their folks had invited over, and came up empty. Sunday dinner was usually just a casual family gathering, a time to catch up and reconnect.
Curious, she grabbed her purse and hurried up the flag-stone sidewalk. The heavy front door stood open and through the glass storm door, Grace heard the sounds of several adult voices raised in merry laughter. Maybe she should’ve worn something nicer than jeans and a cotton blouse. No help for it now.
She stepped inside, calling out to the group lounging in the den. “Hey, I’m here! Better late than never, huh?”
“But better never late,” her father quipped, setting aside his glass of wine and rising from his easy chair. He enveloped her in a hug, then relinquished her to her mother for more of the same.
“Something smells terrific,” she said, releasing her mom. “Roast?”
“With all the trimmings. I have to fatten you up, since your father seems determined to work you to death!” She shot a frown at her fair, handsome husband, who widened his blue eyes in mock innocence.
