by Shelly Bell
Jane didn’t blink.
“You don’t look surprised,” Dreama said.
Jane plopped down in the chair beside her and rested her hands on her belly. “I lived with you for a long time. You might have mentioned your rivalry with Meg a time or two.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I would have if I didn’t think you loved your job.” Jane reached out and took her hand. “But you’ve always been passionate about helping people make the most of their second chance. Has that changed?”
“No.”
“What will you do if you have to choose between Cash and your job?”
The thought of having to choose filled her stomach with dread. She didn’t want to lose either one.
A door closed and heavy footsteps neared, bringing the scent of pizza with them. “I come bearing gifts,” Ryder announced. He strolled into the kitchen carrying two large pizza boxes.
Finn followed right behind with a box of donuts. “Hey, Dreama.”
Jane turned in her chair, eyes excited. “Gimme, gimme.”
What had started as the enticing scent of pizza morphed into one that reminded Dreama of rotting garbage. “Oh yuck. What is that smell?”
Ryder handed one of the boxes to Jane. “That is Jane’s sardine, pineapple, and mushroom pizza. Don’t worry. I got a normal one for us.”
Dreama missed living with Jane, but as she watched Jane dig into her pizza, she realized she didn’t miss Jane’s weird pregnancy cravings.
Ryder kissed the top of Jane’s head and planted one on Maddox’s messy cheek. “Hey, big guy. Did you miss your daddy?”
Maddox gave Ryder a huge toothless grin and gleefully shouted, “Sex.”
Ryder glared at her with a raised brow. “I see your auntie Dreama taught you a new word.”
What could she say?
“A good vocabulary is a sign of high intelligence,” Dreama reminded him, holding back laughter.
Ryder shook his head, but she knew he wasn’t really mad. She’d bet the entire contents of her wallet that he said much worse around Maddox all the time. If she was wrong, well, he could have her eight dollars.
Finn and Ryder joined them at the table with the pepperoni pizza.
“I met with Browner,” Ryder said, handing her a paper plate and a piece of pizza. “He’s one tenacious son of a bitch, I’ll tell you that. I had to sit through an hour-long spiel of how he could turn my billions into…well, more billions. I think I glazed over about ten minutes into drinks. He mostly spent the time bragging about his extensive client list. The guy is an asshole and skirts the edge of ethics on taxes, but he didn’t recommend anything that wasn’t legal. I wish I had something to help you.”
Darn it. She knew it was ridiculous, but she had hoped he’d be the stereotypical sleazy lawyer offering to help break fifty laws to make his client a buck.
“What about you?” she asked Finn. “Did you find anything about Browner?”
Looking thoughtful, he chewed his pizza. “Not exactly. He was only at the public defenders’ office for two years before he was offered a job at his current firm. You were right that most of his cases ended with a plea deal, but his average was on par with other public defenders.”
Disappointment hit her low and hard. She’d been sure Browner had something to hide. “So that’s a dead end too.”
“Maybe not.” Finn took a second slice of pizza and dropped it onto his plate. “Browner left the public defenders’ office to go work for his current firm about a month after your client’s plea deal. That in itself doesn’t raise any red flags. What was weird is he made partner almost immediately.”
“What’s weird about that?” she asked.
With two slices of that disgusting pizza still on her plate, Jane opened the box of donuts, stuffing one into her mouth and tearing another into bite-sized pieces onto the tray of Maddox’s high chair. Dreama motioned for a donut. Knowing Jane, if she didn’t take one now, she might not get the chance.
“On average,” Finn said, “attorneys only make partner in a big firm like that after eight years.”
Dreama put the chocolate-frosted donut on her plate. “How did Browner do it, then?”
“According to a friend of mine who works at a competing law firm, Browner brought a couple big accounts into the firm in his first year and threatened to walk with them unless the practice made him partner.”
“What kind of accounts are you talking about?” Ryder asked.
“One of the big three auto companies and the country’s largest steel mill. I confirmed that Browner started representing them the same year he started working at the practice.”
“He’s a decent schmoozer but he’s not that good,” Ryder said. “If Browner brought those companies in, he must have had friends in high places.”
The question was which friends.
“You mentioned he bragged about his accounts,” Finn said to Ryder. “Do you remember which ones?”
Ryder grimaced as Jane put her donut on her pizza and ate both together. “He definitely brought up the auto and steel companies, but he also mentioned representing several urgent medical care and veterinary clinics.”
It was as if the heavens opened up and a rainbow began shining through the ceiling. Okay, maybe that was a bit overly dramatic, but the word veterinary definitely gave Dreama goose bumps. “Vet clinics? One of the people who reported that my client had been drinking the night of the accident owns a bunch of vet clinics.”
Finn folded his pizza slice in half. “Sounds like a lead to me.”
Maybe it wasn’t a great lead, but it was the only one she had. The problem was now that she had it, how was she going to follow that lead without getting herself killed?
Fresh from the shower, Cash heard his sister talking to her cats as he wrapped his towel around his waist. The house that had seemed so big to him as a child had gotten a lot cozier now that he and Rebecca were adults. He couldn’t deny it was an improvement over a prison cell, but lack of privacy was definitely becoming an issue. A couple of nights ago while on the way to the bathroom, he’d overheard a quiet buzzing coming from her bedroom. There were some things a person did not want to think about when it came to their sibling, and masturbation was one of them.
Then last night, he’d stumbled home at two and found Rebecca awake with insomnia, wondering where the hell he’d been. He hadn’t lied exactly. He’d simply skirted around the truth, explaining he’d been on a date. Thankfully, she’d been too tired to bother with follow-up questions, but knowing Rebecca, they were coming.
Between his training with the Dominatrix at Club X and his sessions with Dreama, he would be out late most nights. He didn’t know what to tell Rebecca about where he was going. His sister didn’t need to know about his sexual penchant for domination. But he also wouldn’t lie to her.
Dressed in a pair of comfortable jeans and a black T-shirt, he went into the kitchen to grab a quick bite to eat before he headed to Dreama’s. He’d already spent a couple hours after work with Mistress Naomi, learning about different floggers and the various techniques that could be used with them. Just the thought of flogging Dreama was enough to make his blood pump extra hard and his head spin in circles. He felt like an eager schoolboy about to get to second base.
He opened the fridge and found a carton of leftover Chinese. Not bothering to heat it in the microwave, he dug right in, eating the sweet and sour chicken as if it were his last meal. He’d gone eight years without having the choice of ordering food from whatever restaurant he wanted. The simple act of eating leftover Chinese food was something he’d never take for granted again.
Rebecca shuffled into the kitchen wearing an old pair of pajamas and a ratty robe, her eyes red rimmed and bloodshot.
There was a reason Rebecca had chosen to work for the animal shelter rather than open her own practice where she could earn twice the amount of money. She had a huge heart. Ever since she was little, she’d been the kind of girl
who’d tried to mend the broken wing of a bird and befriended the friendless in school. But she’d also been the girl who had hidden her emotions inside when she discovered that the bird could no longer fly and when the previously friendless kid dumped her for a more popular student.
At work today, she’d kept it together, but Cash knew better. She’d been as wooden as Pinocchio, her voice monotone. She wasn’t taking Nancy’s death well.
Maybe he should cancel his plans with Dreama and stay home tonight.
She pulled out some bread and peanut butter and robotically began making a sandwich. He leaned against the counter and waited for her to acknowledge him. When she didn’t, he took it upon himself to make the first move.
“Becs,” he said, putting his carton down on the counter. He turned her toward him and threw his arms around her. “I’m so sorry.” She was so tiny, she fit under his chin as he rocked her back and forth. “I know I haven’t been around, but I’m here for you now. Talk to me.”
She sobbed noiselessly against his chest, her body shaking. Cash rubbed her back in large circles, like his dad used to do to them when they’d cried as kids.
“It’s so unfair,” she said, her voice muffled by his shirt. “Last week, Nancy had just gotten the good news from her doctor that the surgery and radiation on her breast cancer had worked. For months, she’d worried she was going to die and as soon as she learned she wouldn’t, someone killed her.” She looked up at him. “Who would do such a thing, Cash?”
He wished he had an answer for her. He’d spent years with criminals and one of the things he learned was never to underestimate a person’s capacity for evil. There were some guys there who’d committed bad acts but regretted their actions. Others were rotten to the core. Problem was, from the outside, it was impossible to discern the monsters from the men.
“I don’t know, Becs. I just don’t know. Bad things happen to good people. Women are attacked in their homes, beaten and murdered for no reason other than being in the wrong place at the wrong time,” he said, thinking about Dreama being home sick rather than at work during her break-in.
Rebecca took a step back and frowned. “How do you know Nancy was at the wrong place at the wrong time? Do you know something about her murder that I don’t know?”
Guilt slammed into him. He could tell himself he had a good reason for keeping the murder a secret from Rebecca and Dreama—there was no reason to worry them when Nancy’s murder most likely had nothing to do with Dreama’s attack—but truth was, keeping secrets was no better than lying. Eventually, it would all blow up in his face, regardless of good intentions…just as it had with Maddie.
“No. I just meant it in the general sense.” He squeezed Rebecca’s shoulder. “There isn’t always an explanation for why things happen.” He should know. It had been sheer luck that he’d survived the car accident while Maddie had died, taking their secret to the grave.
“I feel as if everything is falling apart. I know this isn’t significant compared to what happened to Nancy, but the shelter is completely full right now and I only have until Friday to find another shelter or foster families for the animals.”
“What happens if you don’t?”
“The older dogs and the ones with health issues are euthanized. It doesn’t happen often, but since it’s after the winter holidays, less people are looking to adopt a pet. I hate this part of my job.”
A lump formed in his throat as he thought of Butch. The dog was old and came with health issues. If Rebecca didn’t find him a home, he would be one of the first to be euthanized.
Rebecca zeroed in on his wet hair. “You’re going out?”
“Yeah. I’ve got another date.” Date seemed like an understatement for what he had planned, but it was as good as any.
“I’m glad. What’s her name?” she asked excitedly. “Where’d you meet her? At the shelter?” She winced, looking horrified. “Oh, please tell me it’s not Laci.”
“It’s not Laci,” he assured her, pleased to see his sister in a better mood. “It’s no one from the shelter. If things get more serious, I promise to give you all the details, okay?”
“Okay.” She took a giant bite of her sandwich, and with a mouth full of peanut butter said, “Oh, you got some mail. It’s by the front door.”
He shook his head and chuckled as he left the kitchen to get his mail. His sister was perfect and polite around everyone else. Only he was lucky enough to witness her disgusting habits like talking with her mouth full and leaving a glob of toothpaste in the sink. He might not have privacy, but at least he had a sister who he’d want as his friend even if they weren’t related.
He put on his coat and snatched the envelopes on his way out the door. Shuffling through the junk mail, he stopped when he saw the hospital’s return address.
Inside were the toxicology results that he’d requested.
Results that could change everything.
SEVENTEEN
Dreama tried to play it casual when she opened her apartment door for Cash. She had changed out of her professional attire and was wearing a pair of jeans and a comfy off-the-shoulder sweater. Not the sexiest clothes, but they were comfortable. She figured greeting him in fetish wear would be a little much for tonight, especially because she didn’t know what he had planned.
“Hi, I was just…” Waiting for you. No, that would sound too desperate. She glanced at the sleeve of cookies in her hand and lifted it in offering. “Eating Oreos. Want one?”
What could she say? She’d eaten the pizza and donuts hours ago (well, two) and she had a tendency of eating junk food when she was nervous. She’d been dying to tell him about what she’d learned from Finn.
“No, thanks,” he said distractedly, putting the navy gym bag he’d brought with him onto the carpet. “You were right.”
She couldn’t take her gaze off the bag, her imagination running wild. What was in there? Ropes? Something for another one of his trust exercises? A change of clothing? The mystery of it was torture for her.
“Wait, what?” She realized she’d been so fixated on the bag, she hadn’t noticed he’d taken off his coat and boots and was standing there with something in his hand. “What was I right about?”
He smoothed out a folded piece of paper and handed it to her. “This.”
Her stomach took a nosedive.
It was his toxicology report.
At the top of the page were his name, date of birth, and age. Aw, how sweet. His birthday was on Valentine’s Day.
She scanned the rest of the page, her eyes drawn to the positives in the results column. “I don’t understand. This is positive.” Damn. She’d been hoping the test would prove he hadn’t been drinking.
But wait. Her eyes narrowed on the page. There were two positives. She shifted her gaze to the list of drugs and matched them up with the results.
“For alcohol and marijuana,” Cash said at the same time she saw it for herself. “The alcohol I could have believed, but not the marijuana.” He scratched his head. “I suppose the hospital could have made an error and these results belong to someone else or maybe the test was defective—”
“Or the test results were rigged,” she said, lowering the results to her side. It wouldn’t have been easy to do, but it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility.
“Or they were rigged,” Cash echoed. “But there’s no way to prove it.”
Not yet. But this report along with Browner’s failure to discuss the Breathalyzer and toxicology reports with Cash definitely raised a red flag. They were on the right track even if they weren’t exactly sure what track they were on.
She gestured for Cash to join her on the couch. “I’ve got news too. According to Finn, Stephen Browner left the public defender’s office for private practice shortly after representing you, bringing some big clients into the firm along with him, including one that owned a chain of veterinary clinics.”
“You think it was Jay Moran?” He drummed his fingers on his thigh
, something she noticed was a nervous habit of his.
She wished she had the ability to calm him. It was the submissive’s role to take care of her Dom. If she could touch him, she’d take his hand and squeeze it. Her chest ached from her need to relieve his tension. “I don’t know.”
“Even if it was Moran, it could be a coincidence.”
“Do you really believe that?” she asked.
He blew out a breath. “No, but if it is him, I don’t have a logical explanation for why a guy I never met told the police I’d been drinking and then gave his business to the lawyer who’d represented me.” He dropped his head into his hands and groaned. “I need to speak to Moran.”
“No.” Restless, she got up on her knees. “If he’s connected to Browner, then he’ll tip him off that we’re still looking into your past.”
“Shit, Dreama. We don’t have a lot of options.” Head in hands, he turned to look at her. “What do you suggest?”
They could keep digging into Browner and Moran, but as of now, they were directionless. If only they had more to go on.
She did have an idea, but it was a bit…unorthodox. “I mentioned this to you yesterday, but we were interrupted by my mother’s phone call. There’s a psychologist I know. Her name’s India. Her specialty is treating victims of violence. I think she’s also a licensed hypnotherapist.”
The divot between his brows made a reappearance. “You want her to hypnotize me?”
“It’s worth a shot, isn’t it?” she asked. “Maybe she can help you remember what happened the night of the accident.”
He stared at her for so long, she was sure he would refuse. That’s why she was shocked when he gave her a single nod. “Sure. If you want me to try it, I will.”
“I’ll call India first thing in the morning. In the meantime, I’ll have Ryder contact Browner and ask him for some references. Maybe he can confirm that Moran is one of Browner’s clients.”
