For His Pleasure

by Shelly Bell

  A few minutes later, Jane called them all to the dining room for dinner. Dreama hadn’t had a home-cooked meal since her mother’s unannounced visit. She patted her stomach. She was practically salivating over the sight of the homemade roast beef and baked potatoes. Hot Pockets were delicious, but after eating them almost every night, she was ready for something else.

  Maddox sat in his high chair with an eager Otis beneath him. Using his fingers, Maddox attempted to shove bits of beef and mashed potato into his mouth. It wasn’t long before his face was smeared with food. He was probably getting more on him than in him, but he seemed to be enjoying himself, and Otis was thrilled that some of it landed on the floor. It blew her mind that the last time she’d seen Maddox, he hadn’t even had teeth.

  All she wanted to do was hold that messy child in her arms and rock him to sleep like she used to. He might be Jane and Ryder’s son, but there was a part of that sweet boy that would always belong to Dreama too.

  After eating her own fair share of meat and potatoes, she figured now was as good a time as any to bring up Cash’s case. “Finn, you’re a lawyer. Have you ever heard of Stephen Browner?” Finn had been the senior counsel for his father’s company for a short time.

  He put down his fork. “Yeah. He’s called McKay a few times in the past, offering his firm’s services to diversify our assets.”

  “What’s his reputation? Is he a good guy?”

  “I have no idea.” Finn raised a brow. “Why? Are you dating him?”

  She snorted. “God no. Based on the one phone call I had with him, he’s an asshole. This has nothing to do with my personal life. It’s about one of my parolees. Browner represented him back when he was a public defender. I had some questions about the evidence, but Browner wasn’t very forthcoming.”

  “Not surprising,” Finn said. “Even though he’s no longer his attorney, he’s still bound to the attorney-client privilege.”

  “I know. It wasn’t so much what he said as how he said it. He claimed not to have remembered the case, but he was clearly lying to me. And not only that, but he had the audacity to call and tattle to my boss about the call. Why would he do that if he didn’t have something to hide?”

  Finn reached for his glass of water. “A bit overkill, sure, but that doesn’t necessarily mean anything.”

  She disagreed. Browner’s call to Meg had been his way of warning Dreama not to continue looking into Cash’s case. And she wouldn’t. She’d have her friends do it for her. “I need to know more about his time at the public defender’s office. His record especially and whether he had a habit of encouraging his clients to take plea deals over going to trial. The problem is my boss is just looking for a reason to fire me. I can’t be the one digging around into Stephen Browner.”

  “I’ll look into it,” Finn said. “Until I find a job, I’ve got nothing else to do.”

  “Is there anything we can do?” Jane asked.

  Dreama bit the inside of her lip. “Actually…when Browner threatened to hang up, I kind of, sort of, used Ryder’s name to get him to stay on the phone with me.” She turned to Ryder. “He wouldn’t talk to me, but he would talk to you.”

  “You’re family. Of course I’ll talk to him. What do you need?” Ryder asked.

  She nearly teared up again by her friends’ eagerness to help. “I’m not entirely sure. I guess just feel him out for me. Is he on the up and up? Is he the kind of man who would do anything to get ahead, including taking a bad plea deal for a client?”

  Ryder nodded as he grabbed another helping of meat. “Not a problem. I’ll call him tomorrow.”

  Jane grabbed Dreama’s hand. “I know your job means the world to you but looking into a defense attorney goes above and beyond your parole officer responsibilities. Is there something you’re not telling us?”

  “No. No.” Dreama shook her head vehemently before she realized she was lying to her best friend. That wasn’t acceptable. Jane deserved more. “Okay, yes. I can’t give you any specifics, but the evidence in his file—or rather, the evidence not in his file—suggests he might have been innocent. Based on Browner’s behavior, I’m wondering if he kept that fact from my parolee.”

  “Excuse me for being confused, but wouldn’t your parolee know if he was innocent or not?” Ryder asked.

  “He lost his memory of that night. The only thing he knows is what other people reported.” Careful not to break confidentiality, Dreama explained the basic facts of Cash’s case, starting with the car crash that sent him to prison and ending with Browner’s call to Meg.

  After dinner, Ryder and Finn gave Maddox his bath, giving Jane and Dreama a chance to talk alone. In keeping with their old tradition, they each chose a pint of ice cream and, sitting at the table, ate directly from the container.

  Jane took a big spoonful of her dessert and wiggled her eyebrows. “You like this guy—your parolee.”

  Dreama should have known Jane would see through her. “Sure, I like him. He’s a nice man and he didn’t deserve to go to prison if he was innocent.”

  “I agree, but that’s not what I meant,” Jane said, smiling. “You’re a parole officer. Why isn’t he pursuing this with a lawyer? You like him, like him.”

  Dreama rolled her eyes. “What, are we like sixteen?”

  “Oh my God.” Jane started to laugh. “You totally have a crush on your parolee.”

  “I don’t…” She stopped herself. She needed to stop lying to Jane and to herself. “Okay, yes. I have a crush on my parolee.” She inhaled a deep breath and released it. “It’s more than a crush. I…He…”

  Jane’s jaw dropped. “Did you two…?”

  “No.” Not that she hadn’t fantasized about it a dozen times since Friday night. She’d had to replace the batteries in her favorite vibrator twice. “We ran into each other at Club X. You know, the BDSM club. It turns out he’s a Dominant and a sadist. We…let’s just say we’ve seen more of each other than the typical parole officer and parolee would.”

  Jane’s squeezed her hand in sympathy. “What are you going to do about it?”

  There was only one answer to that question.

  “Nothing.”

  ELEVEN

  Early Monday morning, Cash stared up at the enormous tower that housed Lundquist Animal Health, which was now the largest privately held animal pharmaceutical company in the country. A flurry of what felt like tennis balls bounced around in his gut as his hands tightened on the steering wheel. Crazy. There was no reason for him to be this nervous. At one time, he’d considered Thomas Lundquist to be family. He’d played a pivotal part in Cash’s adolescence, substituting the role left absent by Cash’s father’s death. How many times had the man sat at the head of the dinner table at Thanksgiving and carved the Turners’ turkey?

  In the time Cash had been in prison, Lundquist Animal Health had gone from a four-thousand-square-foot building and fifteen local employees to a skyscraper and nearly ten thousand employees nationwide. It was all because of Thomas’s invention of Dosothysomine. Right before Cash’s incarceration, the government had approved the drug for sale and distribution. The night of the accident, he and Maddie had attended the party at the Detroit Zoo, held in celebration of the drug’s approval.

  The drug worked much like ketamine, in that it was a dissociative anesthetic that induced a trance-like state in the animal while also providing pain relief, sedation, and amnesia. But unlike ketamine, Dosothysomine wasn’t a hallucinogenic and was not processed by the kidney or liver, which meant it could be used in animals with liver and kidney ailments. Additionally, the studies had shown there were no adverse effects such as cardiac arrest or trouble breathing. The drug had revolutionized animal surgery by decreasing cost and the risks to animals.

  It had been eight years since Cash had decided to cut Thomas out of his life, and judging by Thomas’s success, it had been the right one. An association with a felon like Cash would have tarnished Thomas and his company’s good name.

  B
ut he couldn’t stay away any longer. He needed to speak with Thomas about the night of the accident. Dreama had been right. It was time to separate fact from fiction and determine what really happened that night.

  Cash crossed the enclosed walkway from the parking structure into the main building. If he hadn’t fucked it up, he might have obtained, and then used, his veterinarian degree to work for Thomas. He could’ve been doing so much good for animals.

  After stopping at the guard desk to get a guest badge, he rode the elevator up to the CEO’s top-floor office. Once there, a receptionist behind a shiny desk awaited him.

  She looked up at him with a practiced smile. “Can I help you?”

  “I have an appointment with Mr. Lundquist. My name is Cash Turner,” he said with a confidence he didn’t feel. It had taken some finagling on the phone this morning, but he’d managed to secure an appointment once Thomas had been informed by his secretary that Cash had wanted to speak with him.

  “Yes, Mr. Turner,” she said, standing. “He’s just finishing with an appointment.” She motioned to the three armchairs in waiting area. “Please, have a seat. Can I get you something to drink?”

  “No thanks,” Cash said. “I’m good.” He took a chair in the waiting area and picked up a magazine from a side table.

  A few minutes later, he tossed it back on the table and instead drummed his fingers on his thigh as an outlet for his nervous energy. He didn’t know what he was going to say to Thomas. Cash wouldn’t apologize. It had been the right thing to do even if Thomas wouldn’t agree.

  Chin down and a phone at his ear, a man with too much gel in his brown hair and wearing a pin-striped gray suit strode past Cash. The guy seemed familiar, but Cash couldn’t place him. Cash shook his head and chuckled. No one he personally knew would wear such an ugly suit. The man was so slick looking, Cash guessed that he was probably some kind of lawyer or banker.

  The receptionist got up from her chair and stepped out from behind her desk. “Mr. Turner. Please come with me.” He followed her down a hallway until she opened a door and motioned for Cash to go inside.

  Thomas Lundquist came toward Cash, greeting him more warmly than he’d expected. “Cash? My God. You’ve turned into a man. It’s so good to see you, son.” Thomas gave him a thump on the back and then pulled him in for a hug.

  “Good to see you too,” Cash said, his throat thick with emotion. Until now, he hadn’t realized just how much he’d missed Thomas. It was strange to see the new wrinkles on his face and the gray in his hair.

  “I’m sorry I kept you waiting. My meeting with my investment banker ran over.”

  Cash suppressed a smile. It didn’t surprise him that the guy out in the lobby had turned out to be an investment banker.

  Thomas closed the door and brought them to a seating area arranged in front of a wall of windows. His old boss took a spot on the couch and sat back, his legs and arms spread as he got comfortable.

  Although the city of Windsor, Canada, was located miles away, the building was so tall, Cash could see it from up there. But while the view was impressive and reeked of privilege, the rest of the office was typical Thomas, a man who cared more about science than economics.

  Piles of paperwork littered his desk and stacks of files were scattered around the floor. There was no framed artwork. Instead, Thomas’s walls were covered by whiteboards, all with different formulas written on them. The office was the equivalent of a mad scientist’s lab, but without all the chemicals and test tubes.

  Thomas himself was a small, mild-mannered man in his midfifties who had devoted his entire life to improving the health of animals. Before Dosothysomine, none of the drugs he’d created had been approved by the U.S. Food and Drug Administration, but he’d refused to quit, never once losing hope, and his determination had paid off.

  “I came to apologize,” Cash said, sitting on a chair next to the couch. “I know you did your best to help me and rather than thank you, I cut you out of my life. But I want you to know I did appreciate everything you did for me. I was in a bad place at the time, and I didn’t want to take you down with me.”

  “I know.” Thomas wrung his hands. “But you shouldn’t have made that decision for me. Your protective nature has always been both your greatest strength and your greatest weakness. My business and I would’ve been fine. I wish you would’ve allowed me to help.”

  Cash didn’t believe that for a second. If Thomas was captain of a sinking ship, he’d go down with it.

  “If the offer is still good,” Cash said, balling his fists on his lap to keep himself from drumming his fingers on his thigh, “I could use your help now.”

  “Of course. Whatever I can do.”

  Cash steeled his nerves. No matter what Thomas had to say, Cash needed to hear it. “I need to know more about what happened the night Maddie died.”

  Thomas’s brows rose. “Yes. Sure. What do you want to know?”

  “You told the police I’d been drinking champagne that night.”

  “Yes. I’m sorry but I couldn’t lie.” His voice was filled with regret.

  “You have nothing to be sorry for,” Cash said, reassuring Thomas. He would have never asked Thomas to lie for him. If Cash had drunk that night, he had to accept the consequences of his actions. “How much did you see me drink?”

  Thomas rubbed his forehead with his knuckles. “I don’t know…two? You had a glass when you first arrived and another during our toast.”

  Cash’s pulse quickened. Maybe Dreama had been right. There was no possible way a big guy like him could’ve gotten drunk off two glasses of champagne. “Two. You’re sure it was only two?”

  “No.” Thomas stood from the couch and looked out the window, giving his back to Cash. “It was a long time ago and it was a crazy night. It could have been the same drink or you might have had several in between.” He turned around. “What is this about?”

  Cash spread his hands wide and rested his elbows on his knees. “Maybe nothing.” Thomas’s hazy recollection didn’t do much to help Cash, but it didn’t hurt him either. There was still hope. “My parole officer…she thinks it’s possible that I wasn’t intoxicated at the time of the crash.”

  Thomas pressed a hand to his heart. “My God, Cash. That…What made her think that?”

  “My Breathalyzer was under the legal limit, and my defense attorney never mentioned it.”

  “Why would he have kept that from you?” Thomas asked.

  Wasn’t that the million-dollar question. “I don’t know.” Cash got up and joined Thomas at the window. “There’s something else. The toxicology report from the hospital is missing from my file.”

  Thomas scratched his head. “It’s your own medical record. You should be able to order it from the hospital.”

  “Already done.” He’d called the hospital on his drive over here. “They said under the HIPAA laws, they have thirty days to send it, but it will probably only take a week.”

  In seven days, Cash would have the evidence that might clear his name and ease his guilty conscience. All these years, he’d blamed himself for Maddie’s death and the loss of their unborn son, Joshua. If he hadn’t been intoxicated, why had he driven the car into the concrete wall?

  A part of him worried the answer to that question would be equally horrifying.

  Whatever the reason, he needed to know. He couldn’t move on with his future until he had closure with his past.

  “Damn it, it’s my fault,” Thomas said. “I should have pushed harder, convinced you to get a real attorney and not one of those public defenders.”

  That was pure Thomas. Taking the blame when he’d done nothing to warrant it.

  Cash clapped Thomas on the back. “I was an adult and it was my decision to stick with the public defender. It’s not your fault I didn’t listen to you and Rebecca.”

  “Then listen to me now.” Thomas gripped Cash’s shoulders. “Allow me to take this off your hands and pay for an attorney to look into it for
you. I’m in the position to pay for the best. Money is no object. Let me make a couple calls and see what I can do.”

  Cash could see this was important to Thomas. “Thank you. I’ll take you up on that offer, but the last time I trusted an attorney, it may have cost me eight years of my life. I’m not going to make that mistake again. Even if you hire someone for me, I won’t stop my own search for the truth. I owe that much to myself…and I owe it to Maddie and our child.”

  “I get it,” Thomas said. “But you’re wrong. You owe yourself much more than the truth. You owe it to yourself to move on with your life and not waste all your time being stuck in the past. Maddie was a sweet girl.”

  “Yes, she was,” Cash said, the lie as natural as breathing by now.

  “But it’s been eight years since Maddie died and you’ve been given a second chance. Use it,” Thomas said, returning to the couch. “What are your plans now?”

  Cash sat beside Thomas. “I’m not sure. I’m working for Rebecca at the shelter.”

  “What about going to vet school?”

  He could just imagine what the school’s admissions committee would think when they read Cash had a record for involuntary manslaughter. “No one is going to accept an ex-con.”

  “That’s horse shit and you know it,” Thomas said. “What’s the real reason?”

  “I’m just not sure if being a veterinarian is what I want to do,” he told Thomas. “I don’t know what I want anymore.”

  “Well, if you do decide it’s something you want to pursue, I have some connections at Edison University. I could put in a word for you.”

  “Thank you. It’s decent of you to offer, but if I do decide to go to vet school, I want to get there on my own merits.”

  “Let me tell you what I’ve learned after being in business all these years,” Thomas said. “You can’t let a setback prevent you from achieving greatness. It’s time you fought for what you really want. You want a job here? It’s yours. You want me to get you into vet school? No problem. I’d even help you pay for it. You’re meant for great things, Cash. I always knew it. Don’t allow one mistake to keep you from claiming your destiny.”