When We Touch

by Tia Louise

  “Thanks.” As I head down the hall leading to my office, I look inside the magazine cover. A card drops out, and I have to stop and retrieve it.

  It’s one of Erica’s business cards. Flipping it over, I see on the back in a hasty script is written, Call me anytime.

  My eyes narrow, and I wonder what exactly we’re putting in our want ads for receptionists these days. Tossing the magazine and the card onto my empty desk, I boot up my computer. While I wait for it to load, I glance around the room. It appears all my files have been removed. I open one of my desk drawers, and it’s clean as well. I guess Brice took me at my word when I said I was leaving.

  Once my desktop is online, I access the office intranet, searching for the files I’d uncovered the night of our win. I’m not surprised to find everything has been wiped clean.

  I slip my hand in the my pocket of my blazer and take out the thumb drive I’d used to download everything that night—while I sat and polished off a fifth of scotch… before I left here with Tiffany.

  “What an asshole,” I grumble, thinking of my former state.

  At the same time, I’m not so quick to judge. I’d thought this firm, this status and position were my life, and I thought it was all crumbling to bits around me. I’d thought Ember was gone forever, and I was losing everything all over again. I had no idea I was so close to getting it all back… with benefits.

  Being alone really fucks with your head.

  Being alone and trapped in a life you hate is even worse. Passing a hand over my mouth, I hope I never find myself in that state again. Leaving this place and returning to Oceanside, even if I hadn’t found Ember waiting for me there, even if I’d only returned to a simple life of painting houses and being friends with André and being a part of that small community—it was the best decision I ever made.

  Pulling out my phone, I send a quick text.

  In the old corner office—couldn’t be more ready to leave.

  A few moments pass, and I wonder what she’s doing now. She’s taking Coco to school and working on the new orders Tabby brought in on Saturday. She has Donna’s wedding cake to plan. I imagine my girl will be so busy this week, she might not even have time to miss me.

  Although, I selfishly hope she does.

  Hate sleeping alone now. CC wants cheesy eggs, #amgrumpy and all the coffee in the world isn’t making you here.

  I laugh at her words.

  Miss you, too. I love you.

  Seeing it there, knowing she’s reading how I feel causes my chest to rise. It’s nothing compared to her words in response.

  I love you, Jackson Cane.

  The small clock on my desk chimes gently, letting me know it’s nine. I glance up at the square, brass device my dad had given me when I’d joined the firm. Nostalgia aside, I know what it means—here come the minions.

  I slip the thumb drive into my pocket, knowing what I suspected is true. Brice didn’t waste time waiting to see what I’d do with the information I uncovered. He started deleting files and burying evidence the moment I left his mansion.

  Tension tightens in my stomach. I wonder what else he’s done to protect himself and this firm. I have to be careful—I’ve been off the grid for almost two weeks. A lot can happen in that time.

  My phone buzzes, and I snap into shark mode. Fuck what I said to my dad, I am a natural-born killer when it comes to this game, and I’m not letting these assholes get away with anything.

  “Mr. Lockwood?” Erica’s voice purrs through the line.

  “Yes, Erica,” I say coolly.

  “Mr. Wagner will see you now.”

  Standing, I have only the thumb drive in my pocket. My hands are empty when I stride toward the door. I want it that way. I want him to think I have nothing and he’s won. It actually tilts the balance of power in my favor.

  “Jack.” Brice leans back before rising from his buttery leather chair. “What an interesting surprise.”

  His office is the largest corner in the building. It faces southwest. Alex Bancroft is on the northeast corner in the mirror office to this one. I’ve only had limited dealings with Alex in the eighteen months I’ve been here. We never worked together on a case, so I don’t know if he’s as shady as his partner. Still, I have to believe if they’ve come this far together, they support each other’s decisions.

  “Is it?” I watch him for any indication of what’s to come.

  He holds out his hand, and I sit in the low leather chair. It’s the same setup as my dad’s office—it’s the same as every office I’ve ever been in where the balance of power is determined by whoever has the higher ground.

  He returns to his chair. “What brings you in today?”

  It’s been less than a month. The ink isn’t dry on the court papers. “My name is attached to a situation where fraud and dishonesty were used to cover up evidence. I’m here to make matters right.”

  Brice’s thin lips curve into a smile. “Is that so? And to what situation are you referring?”

  He knows damn well what situation, but I’ll play along. “Our last case together.”

  He has the nerve to act confused. “You mean the case where we successfully defended Big Traxx against a multi-million dollar lawsuit that would have put them out of business?”

  “The one where I found suppressed evidence the driver took medications provided by his employers. Amphetamines that allowed him to drive longer than is legally permissible, which resulted in the death of a child.” Coco’s little head on my shoulder, her hand on my back flashes through my mind. “I’m here to make it right, to be sure the family receives restitution, and yes, if it means Big Traxx has to go out of business, then that’s what it means. At least no other children will be killed.”

  The room falls silent after my speech. The only sound is the ticking of the clock facing me on Brice’s desk, the squeak of his chair as he moves in it.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Jack. I’ve already told you such evidence doesn’t exist.”

  My jaw clenches. I see clearly where he’s headed with this. “I saw everything.”

  Rising out of his chair again, he walks over to the window facing the city skyline. “Jack, you’re exhausted. You worked so hard to earn your place at this firm. You worked so hard straight out of law school.” He clasps his pale, meaty hands. “Tiffany came to me quite upset. She told me about the little drive you two made down to the lake, how you forced fellatio—”

  “Tiffany? What?” My throat tightens. What the fuck?

  “Oh! Not that I blame you.” He holds out a pale meaty hand. “Tiffany Rogers is one heck of a pretty girl, but still, we can’t condone such behavior among our partners. Times have changed.”

  Panic rises in my chest. Emberly… “I never touched Tiffany. We had a few drinks. We went for a drive—”

  “Drinking and driving?” His eyebrow cocks. “Not a good combination. But I know, I know. We were celebrating a big win… you’d been celebrating quite a bit. When I heard Tiffany filed a sexual assault complaint with the police, it was all I could do to keep them from putting out a warrant for your arrest—”

  “That’s a lie!” I’m out of my chair now. “You have no proof of any sexual misconduct on my part with her because there is none.”

  His congested laugh makes me nauseated. “And you have no proof of any wrongdoing on the part of our client. Because there is none.”

  Blood runs cold from my face down my neck into my arms. My hand goes into my coat pocket, and my fingers tighten around the thumb drive as Brice continues.

  “We’re prepared to make this entire matter about you and your inability to conduct yourself in a professional manner, start to finish. Sexual assault, driving under the influence, making slanderous accusations of suppressed evidence…” He pauses, and levels his cold blue eyes on mine. “Or you can tender your resignation and admit you were suffering from exhaustion. We’ll chalk it up to a misunderstanding, get the charges dropped, and you can c
rawl back into whatever hole you’ve been hiding in for the past few weeks.”

  These guys don’t just want to end my career, they want to end me. They want to send me to prison.

  “I guess you’ve got me,” I say quietly.

  “We’ve got you.” Brice smirks. “It’s possible a lenient judge might drop the other charges, but sexual assault means you’ll have to register as a sex offender.”

  I’m having difficulty swallowing. Coco… A pain in my temple tells me I have to fight. If I back down now, they’ll destroy me. The wheels have already been set in motion, and I had no idea.

  “Sounds like I have some packing to do,” I say giving what I hope is a defeated smile.

  His brow relaxes, and he thinks he’s won. “I’m glad you’re seeing reason.”

  “I’ll be in touch.”

  * * *

  “Jack Lockwood, the enemy!” Homicide detective Ian Carney is one of my oldest friends in the business. He’s also oddly cheerful. “What’s new in running from justice?”

  “What happened to innocent until proven guilty?” I ask with an equal dose of sarcastic cheer. “Nice to know some things never change.”

  “Call me paranoid, but I’m naturally suspicious when a high-powered defense attorney calls me out of the blue. Especially one who’s trying to dodge a sexual assault charge.”

  My lips tighten. As much as I like bantering with Ian, this situation has become darker than I expected. “Actually, I’m calling to see if you can meet me for coffee. I need your help.”

  I’ve met angry truckers, private detectives, and nervous doctors at Grinder’s. It’s the first time I’ve been the one on the ropes meeting with a man I hope can help me out of a jam.

  “What’ll you have today, sugar?” Meg, my usual waitress, stands beside the booth chewing gum and pulling a pencil from behind her ear.

  I glance over to the case and see a couple of pies circling. It makes me think of Emberly and how I’ve got to fix this and get back in her arms.

  “Coffee with cream.”

  Her eyes move to Ian, and he nods. “Same.”

  Waving her hands she does a little “Fine” and heads back toward the bar. I’ll still leave her a decent tip, but I’m not in the mood for anything else.

  “So you have proof evidence was hidden, but you don’t have proof you weren’t involved.” Ian leans forward on the table. “And the sexual assault claims?”

  I’ve told him everything, given him the thumb drive, of which I made a copy before leaving my office.

  “It’s our former receptionist, who they replaced while I was gone. We were always friendly…” Why would Tiffany lie for them?

  Meg puts two coffee cups between us with one hand then fills them from a glass carafe in her other. “Anything else?”

  “Not now,” I say quickly. “Thanks, Meg.”

  She saunters off, and Ian takes a sip of black coffee, equally black eyes never leaving my face.

  “Well?” he says.

  “Well what?” I reply, pouring one cream into my cup and giving it a stir.

  “Did you sexually assault the receptionist?”

  I nearly spit the sip of coffee back into my cup. “No! I never. We went for a drive my last night here. She wanted to go skinny dipping…”

  I’m not even going to say what all Tiffany wanted to do.

  His eyebrow cocks, and he leans back against the red vinyl booth. “So you fucked her?”

  “No.” I set the cup down hard. “I never touched her—except to put her in a Lyft and send her back to her apartment.”

  “Look, Jack, I’ve been to your office. I’ve seen Tiffany.” He holds his hands like he’s gripping melons in front of his chest. “I mean, I’ve seen her.”

  “I never touched her.” My voice is seething. “I was furious about what I’d uncovered and trying to decide what to do about it. I knew if I said anything, they’d deny it. I didn’t know they’d pin it all on me with a side of sexual assault.” Leaning back, I exhale a groan. “They’re trying to destroy me.”

  He’s quiet a moment, staring at his cup. Then his dark eyes cut up to mine. “How do you know she’s on their side?”

  My head jerks back. “What’s that?”

  “Brice told you she’s on their side, but have you talked to her? Why would they replace her if she’s threatening a lawsuit against a lawyer they want to control?”

  “They don’t want that kind of publicity. They’re one of the oldest firms on the eastern seaboard. Sexual misconduct kills female business and pisses off female judges faster than anything else.”

  He’s shaking his sandy brown head. “Nope. They let her go to hide her. How long had she worked there?”

  “She’d been with us about a year.”

  “Now set that aside. It’s a separate issue, a smokescreen—”

  “A smokescreen they can use to destroy my life and make it look like I invented suppression of evidence to save my hide.”

  He scoots forward in the booth. “Mind if I take this with me?” He holds up the duplicate thumb drive.

  I do a little wave. “Take it. It’s half the reason I asked you to meet me.”

  He studies the small black drive in his hand. “I’ll go through it and see if I spot anything that absolves you while implicating Wagner and Bancroft.”

  “In the meantime?” I know what I want to do, but I want him to give me permission first.

  “Lay low. Act like you’re playing their game.”

  I make a disgusted face. “For how long?”

  “It’ll take me a day or two to go through this, but I’ll see what I can find. Time is our enemy now.”

  Leaning forward, I dig out my wallet and take out a twenty. “What if we talk to the driver?”

  We stand together, and Ian scrunches up his face. “Dirk Underwood?”

  “That’s right.” Reaching out, I hold the glass door for him to exit. “If he grows a conscience and confesses, that’s how I’ll get justice here.”

  “Won’t happen.” My friend puts a toothpick in the side of his mouth. “Those guys have too much to lose to turn whistle blower. If he doesn’t own his own truck, if he’s completely in their pocket, which it sounds like he must be for them to be able to push him into jeopardizing his license, I’d stay far away from him. You’ll only tip them off.”

  “Shit,” I mutter, stopping in front of The Beast.

  Ian starts to laugh. “I’d say the same if I were driving that thing. What happened to your Audi?”

  Looking up, I smile in spite of myself. “This old heap feels more like home.”

  “Take it easy, Jack. Work on something else for a few days. I’ll have something for you this week one way or the other.”

  Driving back to my condo, Ember is heavy on my mind. This sexual assault thing would kill her. Even if we weren’t together at the time, I never want her to think of me that way. Sexual assault… My insides go cold. An accusation of that magnitude threatens my ability to be around Coco.

  “We have to get to the truth,” I say to myself.

  Running back through everything we said at the coffee shop, I decide to track down Tiffany. I don’t know how they convinced her to lie, but she and I were friends. I’ve got to appeal to her better nature.

  The sun is dipping low when I arrive at my former home. I pull into the parking garage right next to my Audi. It’s locked and secured, but I put The Beast’s keys in the visor before heading for the elevator. Memories of living here, of keeping up with the single life, dating women whose names I don’t even remember… Tiffany on her knees in front of me in the dark, giggling as she unfastened my belt…

  All of the lies and the pretension, the fakery and pretending to be something you’re not—it all disgusts me now and has me reaching in my pocket for my phone. I need to tell Ember what’s happening, just on the remote chance it somehow gets back to her.

  I swipe my card and hit the button for the top floor. My phone is in my h
and, and I watch for the bars saying I have reception. A soft ding, and the doors slide open at the penthouse suite. I step into the open lobby ready to hit the call button when my phone starts going off in my hand.

  The lights are out. I’m in total darkness as I read the face. Two missed calls from Emberly followed by a brief text.

  My pulse spikes, and I fly back into the small box rapidly pressing the button for the garage as I read her words.

  I need you! It’s Coco! Please come home now—hurry!

  Twenty

  Ember

  Saying goodbye to Jackson filled me with such indescribable dread. I’m like a trauma survivor being hit with my worst fear all over again. My stomach is sick, my hands are clammy, breathing is labored…

  But true to his word, Jackson calls and gets his update from Coco on Atlantia, and when I finally get the phone, his voice calms my fears.

  “I’ve created a monster.” He laughs, warming me head to toe. “Who knew she’d take it so seriously!”

  “She’s four. Everything is real to her—even fantasy.”

  We’re quiet a moment, listening to the sounds of each other breathing. It feels too soon for him to be gone again, even if only for a few days.

  “I had such a good time at the beach this afternoon,” I say softly, remembering holding him in my arms in the waves, lying on the sand and watching Coco.

  “It’ll be our Sunday afternoon tradition.”

  “I love it.”

  Even after saying goodnight and disconnecting, I send one more text telling him I love him. It’s a luxury we never had when we were young. It’s a luxury that might have saved us.

  I love making plans. I love that every time we talk, we’re moving forward with the life I thought I’d lost.

  My argument with my mother lurks in the back of my mind, and I hate that she still has the power to scare me. Yes, she helped me when Coco was born. I’m grateful, and it’s a debt I can never repay. She says Coco is her granddaughter, and it’s her duty to help care for her, still, it feels like Coco is turning into another pawn in her game of control.