by Donna Fasano
“Mrs. Whitlock—”
“It’s Ms.,” Tyne corrected. “Rob and I aren’t married. Yet.” She glanced down at the diamond ring on her left hand. The stone glittered in the harsh fluorescent light and she noticed that she was once again clutching her purse tight enough to make the tendons in her hands stand out rigidly.
“Maybe he should be here with you.”
Officer Perez’s voice was so unexpectedly soft that it drew Tyne’s attention.
“What?”
“Your fiancé,” the officer said. “Would you like for me to call him?”
“No.” Tyne shook her head, looking away.
“I think you could use a little support. He might—”
“No.” She straightened her spine. “I’m fine. Rob has to be up early. I don’t want to bother him. I’m just fine, Officer Perez. I can handle this.”
The woman sitting behind the desk didn’t look convinced.
Like tiny sparks of light, memories flickered through Tyne’s head. Difficult circumstances over the years that—as a single parent—she’d had to handle on her own. Front baby teeth loosened in a fall on the playground. The wrist fractured in a bicycle accident. Teasing that turned into nasty bullying because Zach looked different; he wasn’t white, he wasn’t black, he wasn’t Latino.
Raising her son on her own hadn’t been easy. The responsibility had forced her to develop a steely resolve, an unfaltering tenacity, if not on the inside, at least in the brave face she insisted on presenting to the world.
She could handle anything life threw her way when it came to Zach. She was devoted to his protection, and she meant to nurture him and defend him and love him. No matter what. She intended to be the very best mother she could be. One skeptical police officer couldn’t instill doubt about that.
When she lifted her gaze to Officer Perez, she knew she expressed more confidence, even if she still felt quite shaken inside. She’d just take the problem one step at a time.
“I’m sorry he painted the school building,” Tyne began. “He knows right from wrong. He knows better than to deface property. I can promise you he’ll face the consequences. We’ll clean the building, or pay to have it cleaned. Zach’s a good kid,” she insisted. “Yes, he’s been showing a bit of defiance lately. And, no, he should never have left the house tonight. He’ll be on restriction for that. But I don’t believe his behavior is so seriously depraved that he needs to have a criminal record.” Reality sunk in and she repeated, “A permanent criminal record.”
Officer Perez’s face held no emotion. None, nada, zip.
A flutter of panic threatened Tyne, but she held it at bay. “You said yourself that no one was hurt. He’s never been in any trouble before. Isn’t there some other way we can handle this? Is there anything I can do to get the charges against my son dropped?”
Without taking her eyes off Tyne’s face, Perez straightened the reports on her desktop, gathering them together and tapping them into a neat pile.
“I wish I could help you, Ms. Whitlock. But the damage is done. The report is already on file. There’s no way for me to undo it. It’ll be up to the judge to determine your son’s punishment.”
Refusing to feel defeated, Tyne asked, “Okay, so what happens now?”
“We’re releasing him into your custody.” She set the papers down and splayed her palm on top of them. “Listen, it’s very clear to me that you’re a…a concerned parent. A truly concerned parent. I wish I saw more of those around here.” Perez’s dark eyes softened. “It’s usually my policy to give a kid a warning. I like to give them a chance if I can. If Zach had been merely loitering, then I’d have brought him home. I’d have given both him and you a stern lecture. However, he destroyed public property. He had a can of paint in his possession. Orange paint on his skin. And not only that, the boys Zach was with have already seen their share of trouble. They’re way past the warning stage. One of the boys spent thirty days in juvie hall. These are not the kind of kids you want your son hanging with.”
Closing her eyes, Tyne clenched her jaw so tightly the joints began to ache. Taking up with delinquents. Defacing public property. Running head-on into trouble with the law. Earning himself a criminal record.
She’d taught Zach better.
“This isn’t normal behavior for my son. You have to believe me.”
Perez rested her forearms on the corner of the desk. “I’ll tell you what I believe. Zach is disturbed about something. Angry would be a better word. I tried to get him to talk to me. Tried to connect with him. He was rude and disrespectful. I hoped that would change once we were away from the others. But even then, he continued to be uncommunicative. That’s not what I’m used to from first time offenders. They usually break down, express remorse, rather quickly. Not your son. Then fear got the better of him and he just shut down. It’s been my experience that kids like Zach—” She stopped, then started again. “There’s not an easy way for me to say this. I think your son needs some help. Professional help.”
Tyne fought the insult that reared in her chest, but she couldn’t fault the woman for stating the truth. She nodded, fighting to breathe around the knot that swelled in her throat. “He does need help. And I promise you he’ll get it.”
“I’m glad to hear that, Ms. Whitlock.” Leaning forward, the officer’s tone lowered an octave as she suggested, “The first thing you should do is find a good lawyer. Zach has a mandatory court appearance in front of the juvie judge. And it’s soon. Our policy is to take care of these things as quickly as possible, so he’s scheduled on the court docket for Wednesday morning.”
“But that only gives me four days—”
“Three, actually,” Perez corrected. “We’re into Sunday morning.”
Tyne sighed sharply. “How am I supposed to find a lawyer by Wednesday?”
Unwittingly, items on her work schedule zipped through her brain; the meeting this afternoon with that couple to finalize their wedding menu, shopping and prep for the Women’s Association Tea on Monday, the Idea Exchange for the Small Business Owners Guild set for Tuesday morning.
“I can’t just go to court with Zach? Explain things to the judge myself? Surely—”
The officer cut her off with an emphatic shake of her head. “Not a good idea. Judge Taylor plays hardball. He’s a firm believer that a person is known by the company he keeps. It’s his motto. You’ll probably hear him say those words while you’re there. He’ll come down on Zach hammer-hard simply because of the friends he’s chosen to run around with.” Perez leaned forward, sincerity tempering her intense gaze. “Find Zach a lawyer, Ms. Whitlock. He won’t fare well without one.”
There were forms to sign and another firm lecture for Zach before Perez let them go.
The drive home was made in stony silence. Tyne knew she and Zach would have to talk, but her son wasn’t ready for any more scolding. She’d seen him switch off when the officer reprimanded him before they’d left.
The teetering emotional triangle she was attempting to balance had her feeling very much off kilter. Concern for Zach weighted one corner. Another sagged with motherly guilt. And the third? Well, that corner was heavy with anger. She wanted firm control over her emotions before she talked to him about his actions, about what had precipitated this craziness, and about the legal repercussions he was facing.
She braked the car to a halt at a stop sign, looked down the deserted street in both directions and then crossed the intersection.
Legal repercussions. The phrase sounded ominous.
Damn, she was tired. She wished she had someone to lean on. Someone to talk to. Someone to reason this out with. She’d traveled a solitary road for years.
There was Rob, of course. But although she knew he cared for her deeply, she also knew how he felt about taking on the task of raising a teen. He hadn’t come right out and expressed his anxiety about becoming an instant parent, but Tyne sensed his hesitation. Who knew how he’d react if she dumped this proble
m on his shoulders? She certainly couldn’t keep it from him, but she could handle the bulk of it on her own.
How would she handle it, was the question.
Find Zach a lawyer. He won’t fare well without one.
The officer’s advice hit her like a kick to the gut. Then another thought breezed through her mind; Lucas Silver Hawk was a lawyer.
No way. No how.
“What?” Zach’s short, sharp question broke the quiet.
Startled to realize that she’d actually voiced the thought, she attempted to downplay it by murmuring, “Just working out some things in my head.”
Zach’s father wasn’t just any lawyer. He was a prominent, high-powered attorney who made the city news often. Judging from what she read about him in both the business and society sections, it seemed Lucas was Man of the Hour in Philadelphia’s courtrooms and in the bedrooms of a multitude of women. She rarely saw a picture of him when he didn’t have a beautiful female nearby.
Acid churned in her gut and she leaned a little closer to the steering wheel.
Lucas was part of the past. A past she’d grappled with for a hell of a long time. A past that, for years, she wasn’t sure she would ever overcome. But she was beyond all that. She’d left it behind.
She pulled into the empty parking space on the street in front of the brownstone she and Zach called home.
Your son needs a lawyer.
“No!”
Zach plucked the car keys from her fingers and shoved open the car door. “Talkin’ to yourself now? Mom, you’re freakin’ me out.”
The slam of the door reverberated in her head.
She wouldn’t go to Lucas. She just couldn’t. What would she say to him? How would she explain?
“Lucas,” she whispered aloud in the darkness, “I have something I need to tell you.”
Guilt eddied in her chest. The thought of facing his questions—not to mention his fury—made her entire body flush with heat. But all of that was preempted by a stiff resentment when she remembered all the years she and Zach struggled and went without.
The far off bark of a dog broke the silence and she sat up straighter.
Zach had found himself a heap of trouble. Tears stung her eyes and she did her best to blink them away.
He’ll come down on Zach hammer-hard.
Tyne could think of a dozen reasons why she couldn’t go to Lucas for help, but then she swung her weepy gaze toward the porch where the treasure of her world was letting himself into the house—and she realized in that instant that there was one crucial reason why she would.
CHAPTER TWO
Summer sunlight heated the crown of Lucas’s head as he weaved his way through the tourists and business people crowding the sidewalk. Cars, taxis, and buses rumbled along Market Street, sending dust swirling in the sultry air. One perk he loved about working in Philadelphia was that his office was within walking distance of the court house. He thrived in the outdoors, and the trek he made sometimes several times each day offered him the opportunity to be out in the open air rather than cooped up inside.
Rain, snow, sun, it didn’t matter. His colleagues thought he was nuts. They simply didn’t understand his affinity for nature.
Today his steps were lighter than usual. The petition he’d just filed would assure victory in the Jamison case. Winning the complicated litigation would be a feather in his cap. No one in the office had thought it could be done, and that’s exactly why he’d accepted the challenge. Life was good. No, he decided as he entered the revolving door of his office building, life was great.
He whistled as he crossed the high-ceilinged atrium and stepped into a waiting elevator that shot him toward the top of the high rise. He shifted his briefcase to his left hand as the doors slid open and he entered the bright and ultra modern vestibule of Young and Foster.
“Martha.” He nodded at the firm’s receptionist, pausing at her desk.
“So—” excitement dripped from her sneaky whisper “—did you do it?”
He offered up a mischievous grin.
Her brown eyes glittered. “You’re in, Lucas. You’re going to be the youngest partner this firm has ever seen.”
More importantly, the first of Native American descent too. The idea gave him a great deal of satisfaction, but he said nothing.
Martha beamed and Lucas gave her shoulder a warm pat.
“I hope you’re right, Miss Martha.” He picked up an envelope that had his name scrawled across the front of it. “Any calls?” he asked.
“Six. Two need immediate attention. Three can wait.” Her tone lowered. “One can be tossed into the circular file.”
Lucas accepted the slips of paper. “You know I appreciate your skillful memorandum triage.”
Martha flushed to the roots of her bleach-blond hair. “Larry and Nate are waiting for you in Larry’s office. You’ve got an appointment in twenty minutes with the parents of the Reeves girl. They wanted to personally thank you for helping Shannon. I’ll call the minute they arrive.” Without batting an eye, Martha continued her list. “You’ve got a court appearance at eleven-thirty. Lunch with the Jamisons at twelve-forty-five. And you’re booked solid until seven, but we can go over your afternoon appointments later.”
Not only was she an extraordinary office manager, Martha made a great mother hen. She juggled the schedules of the entire ‘minor league,’ as the two senior partners referred to the group of attorneys in their employ. Lucas didn’t know how Martha accomplished the copious tasks that would have surely overwhelmed anyone else, but he was glad she did. He’d be lost without the woman.
“Thanks, Martha. I’ve got to stop by my office; then I’ll go talk to—”
“Oh, wait. There’s someone here to see you.”
He frowned. “I don’t have time today.”
“I know, I know.” Martha looked apologetic. “I tried to explain that your schedule is packed, but she insisted on waiting—”
“She?”
Martha glanced down at a pad on her desktop. “A Ms. Whitlock. Tyne Whitlock.”
Lucas stared. Blinked. Then he reached up and tugged at his tie, wondering who the hell shut off the room’s air supply.
“She’s waiting in your office. I tried to tell her your schedule was full, but…” Concern sharpened Martha’s tone. “Are you all right? She said she knew you. That you were old friends. That she’d only take a minute of your time. Should I not have let her in?”
Martha droned on and he watched her lips move, but he didn’t hear a word of what she said. A blind-sided punch wouldn’t have stunned him more than hearing that name. He lifted his hand and nodded at Martha to let her know everything was okay even though he had no idea if it was or not, then he turned and headed down the corridor.
“Don’t forget Larry and Nate. They’re waiting!”
Martha’s warning sounded like a distant echo.
Tyne. Here. In this building. In his office.
What had it been? Twelve, thirteen…no. Sixteen years. He scrubbed his fingers across his jaw.
He turned the corner and came to an abrupt halt. At the end of the corridor, the door of his office stood ajar. He saw Tyne’s perfect profile as she sat in a straight-backed chair staring at something out of his line of view.
In an instant, Lucas was catapulted into the past.
Darkness surrounded them like a cloak. Tyne’s soft sobs tore at his heart. Of all the girls he’d dated—and there had been more than a few—only she brought out in him a fierce compulsion to protect.
He swiped away her tears, the dark color of his thumb a stark contrast against her creamy white skin.
“I don’t understand them, Lucas. I never will.”
“Don’t worry,” he crooned. “It’s going to be all right. Trust me, babe. They can’t keep us apart. You’ll be eighteen soon too. We can do what we want then. Go wherever we want.”
He cradled her, his back supported by the massive pin oak. And when she stopped crying, sh
e pulled away from him and gazed into his eyes. Her sweet face wrenched his heart and caused heat to spark his desire. Never had he wanted a girl the way he wanted Tyne. Raw need coursed through him.
She cradled his face between her palms and drew him to her. Her lips were hot against his. The kiss grew hungry, their breathing labored.
“Our love will last forever,” she whispered against his mouth.
He heard the question in her quavery tone, responded to her need for reassurance.
“Forever,” he groaned, tugging her down onto the mossy ground.
Lucas tilted his head to stare at the carpet in front of his shoes and gulped in the artificially-cooled air as he dragged his way out of the past. The grip he had on his attaché case made his hand throb almost as much as the memory had caused his groin to go all achy and needful.
Of course, their love hadn’t lasted forever.
He was within steps of the door when Tyne glanced in his direction. Nuances of various emotions passed across her face. And it was a striking face, Lucas couldn’t deny it. The years had refined her features—
She stood, smoothing her palms across the fabric of her skirt.
—and ripened her body. Her eyes were the same vivid blue he remembered, and her white-blond hair was still long and straight. He could easily recall the silky feel of it brushing against his bare chest. As teens, he’d thought of them as the perfect juxtaposition: she, all sunshine and light, he, dark like the night.
He forced his gaze back onto her face.
“Tyne.” He entered his office, puzzled by the strain in his voice. What really confused him was the fact that he couldn’t seem to get his tongue to form anything more.
“Hi, Lucas. It’s been a long time.” Her lush mouth pressed into a nervous smile, and his gut tensed.
He wanted to smile back. He truly did. With every fiber of his being. To let her know that he’d survived the sprawling interim since they’d parted just as well as she obviously had. But he couldn’t smile. Couldn’t speak. Couldn’t think.
