In My Custody

by Stella Marie Alden

  I ponder as we turn and walk in the direction we came. “You know, an orderly, a nurse, or even someone imitating a doctor could do plenty of damage with a syringe.”

  “I’m guessing you think her accident was no accident.”

  “She shows no signs of an addictive personality.”

  Not even for sex. How long did she say it had been? Years? My cock stirs. I could be the answer to her drought. She’s easy on the eyes and her kiss indicated she has a wild side hidden under that snarky veneer. How tight would she be?

  When we turn again at the end of the corridor, Jack eyes me with one brow raised. Damn, the man is a fucking mind reader. “Good Lilac had the forethought to call you.”

  “She remembered how I helped her last summer.”

  A cleaning person with a mop and bucket draws Jack’s attention and when he’s convinced all is well he relaxes and continues. “That was such a weird thing, finding a severed hand last summer.”

  “Right? And now Slate’s completely hooked.” I chuckle at how one of our poker buddies went down for the count.

  A confirmed bachelor like me, Jack shakes his head with a deep frown. “When’s the wedding?”

  “Maybe Christmas. It depends on their schedules.” We pass the nurses station again where one of the younger girls eyes me like candy, then it’s Jack’s turn.

  “I hope to hell it never happens to me. I like my life the way it is.”

  “From your lips to God’s ears.” I glance in on Sienna as we reach her door and her pretty eyes are closed.

  Something about her makes me want to visit my hometown. I want to put her beside me in my old pickup, take her to the fishing hole, and make love to her in the flatbed.

  I shake my head, disgusted. This odd lusting is probably due to lack of sleep or the fact I haven’t had a steady woman for a while. It’s just when she grabbed my hand on the way to the elevator, something between us clicked.

  It doesn’t matter. She’s your client, and off limits.

  I glance at Jack who’s watching me a little too closely. Damn, the guy is like a fucking Geiger counter when it comes to reading people.

  “Just shut the fuck up, okay?” I turn away from her face and lean against the wall, the room number beside my head.

  “You could do worse. She’s a pretty little thing.” Jack smirks, a little too full of himself.

  “Ah… no, and no. As soon as the hospital gives the okay to release her, the police may arrest her. I have work to do. Sienna says she doesn’t remember a damn thing.”

  “Starting when?” His dark eyes narrow.

  “She said she remembered getting dressed for her show, then nothing.” I show him my iPad and open a link with the news about her husband’s insurance settlement. “The money was held up in court yesterday. Not only that, Sienna got a call from Dahlyla.”

  “You can’t mean Stevenson?” His eyes roll. On more than one occasion we’ve shared our disdain for the woman.

  “The one and only.”

  “That bitch would sell her mother for fifty cents. Why the hell is she hanging with Sienna?”

  “They’re friends.” I place air-quotes around the last word.

  “Shit. I wonder what she’s up to?”

  “I don’t know but you can be sure she gets a big bonus if Olafson’s life insurance doesn’t have to be paid out.”

  Inside the room, Sienna’s snoring stops and she rattles the cover of the food they left by her bedside.

  “She’s awake.” Jack steps in next to me. “Why not see if you get anything more out of her.”

  I laugh. “She’s already fired me a half dozen times today.”

  He grins at my misfortune and shakes his head. “Guess she doesn’t know your reputation.”

  “Guess not. Keep your eyes open. We’ll get her someplace safe as soon as the doctor gives the okay.” I slap him on the back and enter the hospital room where my client is frowning at a bowl of Jell-O, a square of half-melted ice cream, and a tea bag.

  “Ms. Giles?”

  She shoots me the same look of disgust she gave the meal and I cringe.

  “My God. Fired. Fired. Fired! You are not my lawyer and that…” She points outside the room. “is not my bodyguard.”

  Ignoring her theatrics, I grab an orange upholstered chair and drag it beside her bed. “Need help with your lunch?”

  “No.” She reaches a spoon to the green jiggly square and groans when she notices her reach is limited by the IV. “Fine. Yes. But right after that, you’re fired.”

  I unroll the napkin around her spoon and tuck it under her chin with a satisfactory grin. “I was outside when the monitors all went off. You told the doctors you had a bad dream. Do you remember any of it?”

  Her face drains. “Scary shit, Mr. Quinn. Scary shit.”

  “Call me Andy.” I dip the spoon into the lime goo and hold it in front of her mouth.

  “Nu-uh. Only if you agree you’re not working for me.”

  Damn, but she’s stubborn. Before she closes her mouth, I shovel in a spoonful, laughing at how her eyes spark fire.

  “Can you think of some reason someone would want you killed?”

  She swallows then shoots me a wry smile. “Maybe I hit a bad note last night?”

  “I’m trying to be serious. Want some of this delicious melted ice cream?”

  “Sure, why not.” She pauses, beautiful blue eyes penetrating mine when I put some liquid between her pretty, kissable lips.

  The moment lingers and we both lean in, neither of us thinking straight.

  Suddenly, a bit of the devil hits her face as she tries to steal the spoon but I hold on tight. I like feeding her.

  “You had a call from Dahlyla Stevenson. What did she want?”

  She pouts, mouth pursed up real cute-like. “Nothing, really. She heard I was in an accident and wanted to make sure I was okay.”

  “Did she mention your husband’s insurance policy?” I dab at the side of her mouth with the paper napkin as her face twitches.

  “No.”

  “Do you know why the money was held up in court yesterday?”

  She pales, checks to see if anyone is in the room, and whispers, “Shit. I know this is going to sound insane but Peter is alive and I don’t know how I know. Does that make sense?”

  “Tell me more about the dream.” I put the last of the ice cream in her mouth.

  Then, I blow the paper jacket off a straw, place it in the carton of milk and hold it to her lips. She sips, blushes, and looks up.

  “I really am sorry I propositioned you. That is so not like me.”

  “I’m not. Drink up.”

  She smiles. “I bet someone like you has had plenty of offers.”

  Is she flirting? I must really be out of practice because I’m not sure.

  “Maybe, but yours was definitely the best.” Capturing her gaze, I tuck a piece of silky blond hair behind an ear.

  Careful, man, she’s eating at your heart. You could end up like Slate.

  Damn the warning. For once, I want to be the bad guy, the one who goes after what he wants, disregarding all laws and caution.

  I take her hand in mine, my cock cramming against the zipper of my pants. “Tell me, who is Sienna Giles.”

  “What do you want to know?” She sips noisily on the straw, grins, and makes bubbles until they foam over the top.

  I haven’t seen anyone enjoy milk so much since grade school. “Why did you marry Peter Olafson, for starters.”

  “Seriously. You too? Didn’t you read all the tabloids… No, I suppose you wouldn’t… More of a Wall Street Journal guy, I’m guessing.”

  I nod, amused at her assessment.

  “There really isn’t much to tell.” She glances up at the door where a nurse pops her head in.

  “Need anything Ms. Giles? Can I take your tray?”

  The woman in blue scrubs glares at me, then to the door where Jack stands guard. “Visiting time is almost over, gentlemen.”r />
  “I think she wants you to go.” Sienna places the milk carton on the tray, her mouth pursed in a little frown.

  “Do you want me to?” The words leave my lips before I realize how needy I sound.

  “No, please stay. But you’re not my lawyer anymore so don’t get any ideas, okay?”

  I nod. It’s good enough for now. Besides, if push comes to shove I still have her dollar and her signature.

  She sighs and stares up at the drop ceiling. “So, where was I? Oh yeah, good ’ol Peter Olafson. Did you know I was the prime suspect when his plane blew up?”

  “No.”

  The laugh doesn’t meet her eyes. “Then, they found out I wasn’t getting a dime of insurance.”

  My lips purse at the injustice. “No way a good lawyer would let him get away with that. Why didn’t you contest?”

  “I didn’t want his money. Do you know he fucked his girlfriend on our wedding night?”

  I shake my head, no. Damn. The man must’ve had a screw loose.

  “Of course, I found all this out, later, as they investigated his death.” Tears roll down her cheeks. “I thought he loved me. I never got to ask why? Why the hell did he marry me?”

  I’m asking myself the same question. I’m betting Olafson had a hundred million very good reasons but won’t say so until I can prove it.

  “I’m really sorry.” I can only imagine how fucked up it was for her.

  She slams a fist down on the side of the mattress. “And now this stupid accident and frame job. What the hell? I swear I got bad juju or something. I was just starting to get my shit together. I got a few good gigs and a few side jobs.”

  “Waitressing?”

  “Oh my God, no. I’m really awful with faces. I bring meals to the wrong table. Seriously. What a nightmare.”

  She smiles, suddenly all excited. “My psychologist friend got this grant and hired me. All I had to do is set up some microphones over some gurgling brooks and stream the noise. She’s studying the effect of natural sounds on sleep.”

  Her face turns down and her eyes widen.

  “Sienna? What did you see?”

  “Ah, nothing. Just I was there this week, that’s all.” She scoots back down onto the pillow and hides her chin under the blanket. “I’m tired, okay?”

  “Sure thing.” Now that I know her a little better, I stand and back off. Hopefully, she’ll soon trust me with the truth.

  I lean over the bars, kiss her forehead, and her eyes flutter closed for a second. Then she opens them with a sly smile.

  “You’re still fired. So is the bodyguard.”

  Chapter 4

  Sienna

  The next morning, I wake to a cheery teen in a striped outfit placing a dozen red roses on my windowsill. “Seems you have an admirer. Aren’t they beautiful?”

  A single yellow rose in the center makes my heart thud so hard my ears ring. It can’t be.

  “No card?” I ask innocently.

  She looks around the blooms, thorns, and ferns, and shakes her head. “Sorry, no.”

  Either Peter’s alive or this is someone’s idea of a sick joke. He used to tell me the blond one in the middle was me, pure and lovely.

  Asshole. I wonder how many other fair-haired women heard that phony shit?

  This time, when his voice sounds in my head, I remember when I heard it. I had just got home from a gig, maybe three in the morning and yet I was wide awake. I thought the comforting sounds of a brook might help me to relax. So, I clicked on the URL I made for Dr. Edelstein and put on my headphones. According to her research, random sounds shut down an over-active brain and allow people to fall asleep sooner.

  I was almost asleep when the birds and crickets in the forest were replaced by two angry men.

  “What the hell are we doing here, Peter? Damn it. I told you to stay clear until we got the money. You’ll screw everything up.”

  “You think I don’t know what you’re up to? You fuck me over, you’re dead. Got it?”

  “Screw you. Without me, you don’t get a red cent.”

  Oh my God. It is true. Peter didn’t die in the plane crash. Well hell, they never found his body so why am I so surprised? I remember I Googled ‘what-happens-if-your-spouse-comes-back-to-life.’

  The internet is full of helpful advice. If Peter is legally dead, then I’m not legally married, even if he shows up on my doorstep with our marriage certificate.

  After, I called Dahlyla, but why?

  Maybe, it was because all those millions were going to be used for no good. Dahlyla once told me the kind of bad stuff Peter was into. When I married him, I thought he was some kind of Wall Street genius. My God, the things that came forth after the police started investigating his death made my blood boil.

  I want revenge for all the lies, for fucking his longtime girlfriend on our wedding night, for marrying me for God knows why and for a hundred thousand stupid tears when I learned what a weasel he was.

  However, calling Dahlyla was probably stupid on my part. She can be real nosy. What if she told someone about my microphones? I need to see if the sound is still streaming, and fast.

  “Breakfast?” The hospital worker breaks my thoughts, smiles brightly, and wheels this u-shaped table over my lap. When she places the tray in front of me, I lift the lid, gag, and sigh.

  “Thank you.” I hate eggs, don’t eat toast, and loathe hash browns. Thank God there’s coffee but when I notice it’s decaf, I’ve had enough. “Bodyguard!”

  The huge man peers in, “Everything okay in here?”

  I motion him over with a wave of my hand. “Hell no. I think someone’s trying to kill me. Look at this.”

  Me and him chatted a bit during the night so he knows I’m kidding when I hold up my plate. Even so, his eyes dart about the empty room before resting on my breakfast tray.

  I point and hold my nose. “See? The coffee? It’s decaf.”

  Shaking his head and chuckling, he exits and calls for my liar, I mean lawyer. “She’s all yours, Quinn.”

  My heart beats rapidly as I pinch my cheeks and comb my hair with my fingers. My lawyer’s been gone for most of the evening and even though the hot bodyguard said no, I wondered if I’d scared my suit off for good.

  “Good morning, gorgeous.” Mr. Sexiness changed his clothes and smells like leather and something completely male. His attire today is navy, his white shirt starched, and his tie, bright red. His face seems determined as he pulls up a chair next to my bed.

  In one hand he holds two extra-large coffee cups in a takeout tray. They have the blessed words, Dunkin’ Donuts, written in orange on the side. He holds it under my nose, then takes it away.

  “Pretty please? I’ll beg if I must.” I grin at his antics and he gives me a chocolate-melting smile.

  “Uh-uh, not so fast. You need to reinstate me as your lawyer.”

  “Just to get a cup of coffee?” Up until now, I missed having him around. Now, I remember why I fired him.

  He shrugs, pops the top of one of the cups, and the aroma floats under my nose. After a long slurp, he swallows, and grins. “Damn, that’s good.”

  “Fine. You’re my lawyer.” While I drool, he takes his time tearing off a perfect little hole in the cover. Meanwhile, the roses in the windowsill haunt me along with Peter’s voice in my head.

  Suddenly, I recall the little issue of driving under the influence and wonder if I’m still going to be arrested. For the first time in my life, I realize I need help and it scares me shitless.

  Maybe that’s why I sit up fully and blurt out, “See those roses? Can you find out who sent them?”

  One dark brow raises, “Why?”

  “I’m pretty sure they came from my dead husband.” Wow. It sounds crazy to me but he doesn’t seem fazed.

  He just slowly stands, strolls across the linoleum, and inspects the flowers. “The yellow one in the center?”

  I shudder and a chill goes down the center of my back. “Yeah. Other than the flo
rist, who would know his special order for me?”

  “Any number of people, I expect.” Frowning, he scribbles a few notes on his electronic tablet, and looks up at me. Damn, sometimes his eyes are amber. I’ve never seen anything like them.

  “Why? Why do you think he might be alive?” His voice startles me back to reality and I lose my nerve.

  “Never mind. It’s stupid. Nothing.” I give him a shrug and try to make a joke of it. “I just wanted my coffee. Figured it would help.”

  Brows wrinkled, his thick lips turn down and his voice goes low. “You need to start trusting me.”

  When I look up, Dahlyla dashes through the doorway as best she can in four inch heels and gives me a giant bear hug.

  “Oh my Gawwwd. I was sooo worried about you.” She eyes my lawyer like he’s crème brûlée or maybe Chunky Monkey, depending on your level of sophistication. No matter, she practically drools when she holds out her hand, her Pandora bracelet heavy with silver charms.

  “And who would you be?”

  I butt in real fast. “He’s my lawyer, Andrew Quinn.”

  “We’ve met,” He smirks, all full of himself, no doubt because I admitted he’s representing me.

  She bats her heavily mascaraed lashes at him. “Well, well, well. I suppose we have.” Then she turns her gaze toward me, and I sense a bit of resentment. “I had no idea you needed a lawyer. I would’ve helped you out.”

  Her offer doesn’t make any sense at all because she knew yesterday a possible arrest was looming. Maybe she just forgot.

  “How have you been, Ms. Stevenson.” Quinn smiles into her perfectly made dark face and catches her eyes.

  “Dahlyla, please.”

  Oh, plah-eese. I’ve had enough. “Can you give us girls a minute, Quinn?”

  He nods and backs out of the room, a stupid grin on his face which seems totally out of character but my friend does that to men.

  When he’s gone, she leans over the bars on my bed. “Holy shit, girl, are you going to let that beast into your cave? If not, I call dibs.”

  “I am not going to… whatever you just said. My lawyer is bossy, arrogant, and full of himself.” But he’s mine so keep your hands off.

  “Are the police going to arrest you for driving under the influence?” She offers me a piece of gum which I take, spearmint bursting apart in my mouth.