“I want him in jail,” James said flatly, surprising even himself with the revelation. “What I’d really like is to stomp on him until I see what his guts look like, but I’ll settle for jail.”
“In order to do that you’d need to prove a crime was committed, have witnesses willing to testify, and evidence to support that. Is your friend willing to testify against him?”
“I don’t know. We’re not talking right now.”
“But you know he’s abusing her?”
“No,” James admitted. “I know he did abuse her when they dated years ago.”
Kent drew in a deep breath. “Guys who beat on girls are some of my least favorite criminals. I’ve knocked plenty of them around in my day. But I think you’re going to have to give this some more thought. You aren’t in a position right now to be exposed for attacking someone, physically or otherwise. That kind of attention could hurt West Oil, and this is not the time for such a risk.”
“Any suggestion then?” James asked, thinking of Libby and what a terrible situation she might be in right this moment.
“I’d go the work angle. Find a way, through all your contacts, to leak a rumor that he’s a violent guy with a history of covered-up domestic abuse. Say that you’ve heard it’s on the verge of surfacing and people should steer clear of him . . . and maybe even the whole firm. That’ll at least get their ears perked up and have him on the defensive.”
“And if he takes that anger out on my friend?” James asked, cracking his knuckles absentmindedly. “I don’t want to put her in more danger.”
“I don’t have that answer,” Kent admitted. “What I do know is your gut is telling you to go drive this guy’s head through a wall. But I’m telling you it’s a bad idea. These dudes are slimy, and they find a way to slither out of anything.”
“Thanks, Kent,” James said, standing and extending his hand for a shake, his way of ending this meeting. It had run its course. James could appreciate the advice, but it didn’t mean he intended to take it. He certainly hadn’t taken the physical violence option off the table. He hadn’t taken anything off the table yet.
What he had to know was where Corey was right now, if Libby was with him, and if she was all right. Now that he had this file, he could find out. Trace and track him, then decide what to do.
CHAPTER 26
When Corey’s car pulled up in front of Libby’s house, she didn’t give him time to get out and ring the doorbell. She was hopping down the stairs before he could even get his car door open. “Ready?” she asked, with a nervous jitter in her voice.
“Oh, yeah, I was going to be a gentleman and come up to the door and get you properly.” He was slumping back into the driver seat just as she settled into the passenger seat.
“It’s no problem,” she said, waving him off dismissively. “I’m excited to get to this show. It’s getting great reviews.”
“I was thinking,” he said as he slipped his hand over hers. Their physical contact over the last week had been little to none. She’d been keeping him at a distance, but slowly he’d started ignoring those boundaries. “Things are going so well. Maybe we should just stay here tonight instead of seeing the show.”
A wave of panic rushed over her. “I want to see the show,” she said assertively. When she read the twitch of his unsatisfied eyelids, she corrected herself. “But we could come back here after. Or go to your place.”
“Not my place,” he said quickly, and she knew why. Maggie would likely be moving boxes in tonight. “You sure you want to see the show?” he asked, calming and flashing puppy dog eyes at her. Corey was a well-practiced manipulator. He was still on thin ice with her, still trying to win her back. He would try to take a gentler hand, use kinder words, put on a better act. Every now and then she’d see him slip into an old habit then quickly correct himself.
“I really want to see it,” she replied with a coy smile. “Please?”
“All right, how can I say no to that?” He put the car in gear and sped off down the street. A weight lifted off her chest. She needed to see the show. Getting there, to that very public place, was all part of the plan. If he’d had insisted they stay at her house, just the two of them, then nothing would have worked. And she’d have been at his mercy. Something she did not want.
Pulling into a parking spot in front of the small community theater, Corey hopped out of the car and ran around to open her door. What a gentleman he is. It was almost easy to forget the times he’d shoved her in the car and slammed the door, narrowly missing one of her limbs . . . but she hadn’t forgotten. She never would.
“Thank you,” she smiled, looping her arm in his. “There’s something I wanted to tell you.” They stepped into the crowded line at the entryway of the theater, and she had to speak up so he could hear her. “I went to see Maggie today.”
“Maggie?” Corey asked, screwing his face up in shock.
“Yes,” Libby said confidently as she pulled her arm away. “I sat there for a while just looking at her. Watching her.”
Corey’s face never changed. It stayed all twisted up and furrowed as if, just like every mother always threatened, it was stuck that way.
“It’s funny how much of myself I saw in her. The way she apologized to anyone who would listen. The way she raced around trying to make sure no one was waiting for anything. I was wondering if she was like that when you met her or if you’ve crushed her down to that, the way you did with me.”
“Libby,” he said, finally seeming to grasp reality. “I told you why I wanted to see you again. I’m a different man now. The mistakes you and I made—”
She cut him off. “I made one mistake. That’s it. I stayed with you when I deserved better. What you did were not mistakes. They were choices.”
“Fine,” he said, throwing his arms up, a physical explosion that previously would have made Libby duck, but not this time. “Call it whatever you want, but I’m not that guy anymore. You shouldn’t have gone to see Maggie. I told you my relationship with her is casual, and you shouldn’t have interjected yourself like that.”
“You asked her to move in,” Libby said with a half-smile of sheer triumph. Corey was such a fast talker and so quick-witted that he could confuse people right out of their logic. But not Libby, not tonight.
“You talked to her?” His face turned blood red. She remembered the precursors to abuse very well, and this was one of them. “You had no right to do that. What did you say to her? What exactly did you say?”
“Are you worried I’m taking your little play toy away from you? Worried she won’t be there to beat on when you get home?” Libby’s voice was taunting now. The beauty of a public setting. In the past, she’d be forced to eventually be alone with him, so speaking out like this would never be smart. But she didn’t live with him now. She didn’t ever have to see him again. There was something empowering about that.
“I told you I’ve changed,” he snarled.
“I saw the bruises,” she whispered coldly. “I saw them.”
One of his hands came up to her wrist and snagged it abruptly, clenching down. He yanked her in toward him and stared angrily down at her.
“Hit me,” she begged. “Please, right out here where everyone can see it. I’m sure there are cameras around. Do it. Lose your job. Lose your reputation. Go to jail. I’m begging you. We both know I can take a hit, so it would be completely worth it to me.”
“You acted like you wanted to get back together,” he hissed, his mouth inches from hers.
“I’m an actress.” She laughed. The thing about knowing a man’s triggers was that the skill once used to avoid them at all costs could be spun easily to set him off. He hated being laughed at. It was the one thing that always sent him through the roof. If he thought he was the butt of a joke, steam would come shooting out his ears. “I wouldn’t be with you if it meant I could save our entire species from extinction. You are a pathetic, aging, manipulative coward who preys on young women to feed your des
perate need to feel superior.” His hand squeezed her wrist so tightly now she could feel the blood being cut off from her fingers. Hit me, she thought over and over again. Hit me right here in public.
“You stupid bitch,” he barked, and a few heads turned toward them. He yanked her to the back of the line where less people were gathered and hissed into her face. “You have no idea who you are dealing with. Do you think you can even touch me? I am going to destroy you. The things I used to do to you will be nothing compared to what I’ll do now.”
“You mean the way you used to slam me against the wall or lock me in the bathroom? The way you used to yank handfuls of my hair out because I forgot your coffee in the morning? You tormented me. You made me think I was stupid and useless. The only thing worse than the way you treated me was the way you talked to me. I was practically a child and you wormed your way into my brain and fucked everything up.”
“I should have thrown you off that balcony when I had the chance.”
A memory branded into her brain grew hot and red. One night in a hotel after a friend’s wedding, they’d argued about the way she’d been too affectionate to one of his other friends. He shoved her out onto the balcony of the eleventh floor and bent her over the railing, threatening to push her.
“I should have,” he grunted out. “I don’t know why I was even wasting my time trying to get you back. You weren’t worth it the first time.”
“Seven broken ribs, a fractured elbow, two cracked teeth, broken toes, and the list goes on and on. You weren’t worth it. And you haven’t changed a bit.” Her voice was loud, pulling many curious onlookers their way. Perfect. “And I’m going to take you down.”
“Then why the hell are you here fucking with me if you know what I’m capable of?”
“You may not have changed,” she asserted loudly, “but I sure as hell have. I will press charges for the bruise you’re leaving on me tonight. I will talk to Maggie and get her to press charges too. I’ll talk to every woman you’ve dated until our voices are so loud your family can’t silence us. I’m guessing I’ll hear a lot of the same thing over and over again. You don’t seem to change your tactics.”
“I will kill you,” he said, raising one hand up to her shoulder, his thumb pressing hard on her neck.
“Say that a little louder will you?” she asked, raising her purse up slightly. “I’m sure the recorder on my phone picked it up, but I don’t want to take any chances. Death threats play well in court; you know that.”
He let go of her wrist and grabbed for her purse but she folded her arm quickly, locking it in her elbow. “If you want to make a scene here, I’ll be happy to start screaming.”
“You don’t want me leaving right now without having what I want. Give me the phone. I won’t let Maggie testify. You want that on your conscience?”
“Every second I let her stay with you, now that I know for sure you’re hurting her, is something I’ll have on my conscience. This is over, Corey. You did this to yourself.”
“Give me the phone,” he demanded, making another lame attempt to snatch the bag without drawing too much attention.
“Go fuck yourself,” she bit back.
His eyes glazed over in that way they always did before he lashed out. His mouth pursed so tightly his chin creased.
Cocking back his fist, his other hand grabbed her throat and he struck. Instantly she saw stars, stumbled backward, and tried to hang on to the purse that held the very important recording, but it slipped from her hands as she hit the ground.
Although everything went quiet for a moment, sounds quickly began to trickle back into her throbbing eardrums. “Are you all right?” a man asked as he slid down by her side. She blinked, trying to refocus her eyes as someone put a piece of cloth or towel up to her forehead. She could feel the skin was split and knew it must be bleeding. This was perfect.
Other voices drew her attention as two unidentified blobs scuffled by her feet. Blinking hard again she tried to make out what was happening, but her eyes couldn’t reconnect with her brain yet.
“I can’t believe he hit you,” one of the men was saying as he put more pressure on the cut on her head.
“It’s my fault,” she sobbed, putting all her acting lessons into play. “I shouldn’t have made him angry. I know better. I know what happens when you make him angry.”
“No,” scolded the man, now accompanied by his wife who look equally appalled. “This is not your fault. Has he done this to you before?”
“If I just do what he says, he wouldn’t have to. He’s a good man. They wouldn’t have hired him at Waverly, Stone, and Mitch if he was bad.”
“He works with Steven Waverly?” the woman asked, covering her mouth with a well-manicured hand. “Joseph, call Steven this minute. Call the police. What a monster.”
“I will,” the man said as he gestured for his wife to hold the towel and fished his phone out of his pocket.
“Libby,” an out-of-breath voice called as the body it was attached to moved closer to her. “There’s an ambulance coming. Are you all right?”
“James?” she asked, leaning in to his face and touching his cheek to make sure he was real. “I don’t need an ambulance. I’ll be all right.”
“Well, I think you should get checked out,” he insisted, reaching up and holding her hand on his cheek. “But even if you don’t need one, I can promise you that asshole does.”
“What are you doing here?” she asked, beginning to shake her head in disbelief but stopping when she realized the towel keeping pressure needed to stay put.
“I tracked your phone,” he said, still out of breath. “Jessica came to see me, and I was worried. I was just going to hang back and make sure you were all right, but when I pulled up he had his hands on you, and by the time I was out of my car he was hitting you.”
“I know,” she smiled a misplaced grin that had the woman eyeing her worriedly.
“Shit,” he said, leaning in a little closer. “I think you must have a concussion. You’re out of it.”
“I’m not,” she argued in a whisper. “Find my purse. Don’t let him get to my purse.”
“Trust me,” James grunted. “He’s not going to be using his arms or legs for a while.” He reached around and grabbed her purse off the ground.
“Get in it. There’s a recording. Make sure it’s still working. Make sure it got everything he said. Not that it matters much considering there are cameras out here and all these witnesses saw him hit me, but still. I want people to know what he said, who he really is. He’s not going to weasel his way out of this.”
“My husband knows his boss and the chief of police. This will not go unpunished.” The woman gestured for James to take the towel as she stood and sidled up to her husband.
“You recorded him?” James asked, fishing the small device out of her bag. “You did this on purpose?”
“Not this,” she said, gesturing up to her face. “But I did want him to incriminate himself. I wanted him to admit what he’d done to me. I didn’t know if he’d really be stupid enough to actually hit me out here.”
“That was extremely dangerous, Libby,” James said, brushing her wild hair down. “He could have really hurt you.”
“He’d already really hurt me,” Libby said softly. “This was about me taking back what he stole. I needed to go back to where so much of this started and do what I should done years ago.”
“You didn’t have to do it alone,” James argued, sitting on the pavement beside her. “I know you were upset with me, but I’d have taken care of this for you.”
“You’d have hurt him, scared him, maybe ruined his life, but you couldn’t have done what I just did. I let him ruin his own life. It’s better that way.”
“I didn’t know about your father or anyone else at West Oil who was persuaded to take deals to stay quiet.” James was whispering now as the people who’d been by Libby’s side went to flag down the approaching ambulance. “Arthur Wallace hates me
. He’d have said anything if he thought it would hurt me in some way. A lot of people left West Oil angry. Whatever he told you, it wasn’t true. I didn’t try to trick you or play you.” He swallowed hard and cupped her chin with his free hand. “I love you.”
“You don’t,” Libby argued. “I’m on the sidewalk bleeding and that scares you, but it’s not a reason to say you love me.”
“No,” James cut in. “I loved you on that beach in Peru. I loved you at that bar mitzvah in California. I loved you in the break room in the office the first time I met you. It’s not the sidewalk or the blood. It’s just the truth.”
“I love you too,” she replied, her eyes finally in focus again. She leaned toward one side to see Corey lying awkwardly on his back, writhing in pain. “I love you for trying to save your father’s company. I love you for tackling Corey. I love you for showing up.”
“I have absolutely no idea how I’m going to move this company forward, but I know I need you with me. Come back to work. Come back to me, and we’ll figure everything else out together.”
She opened her mouth to answer but was interrupted by the bright light of a flashlight in her face and the instructing orders of an EMT who was now kneeling beside her. “You’ll need to move back, sir,” he commanded James.
“He can’t,” Libby said, grabbing his hand. “He can’t move back. He loves me.”
CHAPTER 27
James looked down at the small bloodstains on his shirt and wondered whose it was. Corey had certainly bled once he’d gotten hold of him, but Libby had also rested her cut head on his chest. He supposed it didn’t really matter. Any night you end up with a bloody shirt is one you want to be over. But this one couldn’t seem to end.
Libby had been taken to the ER for some tests and stitches. The police had come and taken their statements. Kent showed up and did a fantastic job of getting all the right people involved so when Corey woke up his hands would be chained to his hospital bed. Libby’s plan had worked. He’d ruined his own life and rather quickly.
Fierce Love Page 17
