by CJ Lyons
She liked the tall, hulking Greek. Beneath the Neanderthal exterior he'd revealed a soft heart—at least as far as the Center and Cassie went. He never forgave Drake for replacing him in Pamela Reynolds' heart or the role he felt Drake had played in her suicide..
"You ready to get started?" she asked, changing the subject away from Drake to one she and Tony could comfortably talk about.
"Sure." He grabbed a notepad from his pocket and began taking notes. "I'm thinking a code key back here and out front. This entrance will be limited access, right?" He gestured to the door behind them.
"Right. Everyone except a few staff members will come in the front entrance."
"Do you want a camera out here and in the front?" He gestured to the gang graffiti that was renewed daily. "Might not be a bad idea."
She considered his suggestion as she regarded today's artwork sprayed on the Center's brick wall. Alongside the usual gang tags was a portrait of a young couple holding hands, vibrant flowers flying about them as if they walked on air. Tagger, the artist, was in a playful mood she noted, tilting her head to take in the neon swirls.
"Too expensive,” she decided. “Besides, we'll never have the manpower to actually keep an eye on them. Let's put our resources into better locks and sensors at the most critical areas."
"All right."
Cassie scanned the area beneath the dumpster for telltale shadows of an eleven-year-old's skinny legs. Tagger was nowhere to be seen today. Usually he'd wait for Drake to leave, then appear as if from nowhere. Of course, most days she wasn't accompanied by a man in uniform.
Taming Tagger was harder than coaxing a wild animal from its den. But, after weeks of tempting the eleven-year-old with offerings of food and art supplies pillaged from Drake, she finally made headway. To the point where he would occasionally stop long enough to join her in a meal or to offer warnings of the latest gang activity, a constant threat with the Center perched in the no-man's land separating the Ruby Avenue Rippers and the Garfield Gangstas.
They moved back inside and she showed Tony the second floor daycare area.
"I can't believe how much you've finished since the last time I was here," he told her. "You've done a really good thing, Cassie."
"Thanks." She found herself blushing as he ran a hand over the mitered corners of the molding she'd so painstakingly cut to match the original trim. She'd spent hours getting it just right.
He turned and smiled at her, taking her hand in his larger one and running a light finger over her new calluses. "You might have found a second career here–just like I have."
She pulled her hand away, not sure how to handle his praise. "It's been fun," she admitted. Although not as much fun as a fresh trauma or scene run. Not to mention the hours she spent working alone at the Center—a far cry from the camaraderie she experienced with her team in the ER. "But I'll be happy when it's finished and I get back to being a doctor."
"Have you heard anything about King's lawsuit?" The last time Tony came over to the Center, she'd been served another notice in Richard's malpractice case. Nothing like having your ex-husband sue you for almost letting him die.
Tony had helped her over her anger by challenging her to a Spackle battle and they'd ended up with more of the mud on themselves than on the drywall.
"They keep changing the date."
"Damn lawyers. They're just trying to keep you off balance."
"I let Juliet handle it now." Juliet Nguyen was the Liberty Center's attorney and would be running their legal clinic.
He squeezed her hand. "King's an idiot. You did everything you could. He would have died if you weren't there."
That didn't matter to Richard. He wanted Cassie back—and if he couldn't have her, he'd be just as happy to destroy her life instead. Like he'd almost done while they were married. Possessive, controlling, narcissistic…that was Richard. At least when he was a surgeon, before the drug overdose. The overdose meant for her. A fact Richard's family would never let her forget. As if she ever could. If she'd drunk from that cup instead of Richard…
"Hey, I'm sorry." Tony brushed against her arm, bringing her back to the present. "I should have never said anything." He turned around the brightly lit room with its sunny yellow walls and wide windows. "So this is going to be the kids' area. Guess we don't want any locks in here. Kids are the best burglars around, except they usually end up on the wrong side of the locked door." His hand brushed her arm again as he stood close to her.
Too close, she realized, and flinched involuntarily. She appreciated Tony's friendship and help with the Center, but there could never be anything more between the two of them. She moved away from him, toward the one wall not filled with windows. "Drake's going to help the kids paint a mural over here."
Tony frowned at the mention of Drake's name. "Has he," Tony's voice dropped, "been getting any weird mail?"
"What do you mean?"
"You know about Drake and Pamela Reynolds, right?" He scuffed one toe against the hardwood floor, a faint sheen of sweat visible at the back of his neck as he bowed his head.
She nodded.
"I was seeing Pamela, too. She broke off with me to start up with Drake." Tony looked away as if the memory was painful. "It'll be a year tomorrow," he went on, then shook his head. "If only she'd called me that night instead of Drake. Maybe I could have done something, stopped her, gotten her help."
"There was nothing you could have done," she said, placing her hand on his arm.
"We'll never know, will we?" Bitterness tinged his voice. "Anyway, these past few days, I've been getting letters about Pamela. Anonymous ones. Like someone blamed me for her death." He took a deep breath. "I wondered if Drake might be getting them as well."
"If he is, he hasn't told me." She didn't mention Drake's bad mood. Had he lied to her about it being because of work? She didn't want to even think it. The one thing they had going for them was that, no matter how painful, they always told each other the truth.
But she had an awful feeling Tony had found the reason for Drake's strange behavior.
"Pamela has, had a sister. I think she's behind the letters, but I haven't been able to track her down. I thought maybe Drake–anyway, maybe you could talk to him about it? It wouldn't work, coming from me. We'd only end up fighting about Pamela. Like we always do." He looked down at Cassie, his eyes filled with concern. "But if it's her, she needs help. Before she does something rash…"
Like kill herself, Cassie finished silently. Like her sister did.
"I'll talk to him," she promised.
They strolled into the central space that held a large communal kitchen between the children's area and the food bank, serving to segregate the adult and pediatric clientele. He nodded thoughtfully at the layout; the entrance to the area was also central so the volunteers working in the kitchen could keep an eye on everyone coming in and out.
"How 'bout panic buttons?" he suggested. "Here, in the dining area and the daycare?" He gestured to the high ceilings. "And we'll tie the smoke detectors into the system as well."
"Good idea," Cassie said, more comfortable now that they were talking business once more. They walked out to the second floor landing.
Tony glanced up at the steps leading to Drake's apartment on the third floor. "You want an alarm or motion detector at that door?" he asked, not using Drake's name. "Anyone could get up there unnoticed." Before Cassie answered, he jogged up the steps, examined the locks. "I can redo these with the rest, no charge."
"Thanks. Let me talk to Drake about it."
He shrugged. "All right." They climbed back down to the first floor. "The social worker's and Juliet's offices will need motion detectors and extra locks," he noted. "Anyone else going to have confidential information that will need protected?"
"We've got a grant from the Gates Foundation for an electronic medical record system that's supposed to be secure," she told him. "But we'll still have some drugs and equipment that will need protected."
&nb
sp; "Not to mention the computers." He moved around, checking the height of the windows from the ground, the layout of storage areas. "Panic buttons in all the patient and client areas?" She nodded, and he made more notes.
The clamor of racing footsteps interrupted them. "Cassie, Cassie!" A small, dark whirlwind sped past Tony and into Cassie's arms. Antwan Washington, just turned four, jumped up and down. "Where's my joke?"
Cassie grinned and set the boy back down on his feet. "How do you get a Kleenex to dance?" she asked, squatting down to his eye level.
"I dunno," he said after careful consideration.
"Blow some boogie into it!" she answered, giving him a raspberry kiss and swinging him off his feet in a parody of the boogie-woogie. She was rewarded by joyous peals of laughter.
"Hey, Little Man," Tony greeted the youngster.
"Tony!" Antwan was ecstatic. He leapt from Cassie's arms into Tony's. "Spin me!"
"Your wish is my command." Tony began to whirl Antwan, lifting him to ever dizzying heights.
His mother, Tammy, appeared in the doorway, her arms filled with juice boxes, books and a bag of toys to occupy her son while she and Cassie worked.
"Sorry we're late," she said, her hand smoothing her black hair from her dark skinned face. The young mother's usually worry-lined face lit with a smile as she watched Tony with her son.
Tammy had come a long way from the overworked, overburdened mother who had watched her son fight his way out of a coma four months ago. She was one of the few paid employees of the Center, would eventually be their receptionist, scheduling appointments, managing walk-ins, keeping track of the kids in the daycare and the volunteers. The job didn't pay much, but with the free daycare provided for Antwan, it would be enough to get them through.
"That's enough, Antwan," she said in a firm voice. "Mr. Tony has work of his own to do."
"It's all right, Tammy," Tony said as he set the squirming toddler back on his feet. "Antwan can help me. You can count to ten, right, sport?"
"Onetwothreefourfivesixseveneightninetenleven–" Antwan began breathlessly.
"Let's go." Tony took him by the hand. "We've got to count doors and windows."
"Bring him back if he bothers you," Tammy called after them. She turned to Cassie. "He's so good with kids," she said, watching Tony lift Antwan onto his broad shoulders. "Don't think he'd like to take on a single mom, do you?"
Matchmaking was definitely not Cassie's forte. "Just ask him out," she said. "What could it hurt?"
Tammy frowned and shook her head. "You've got it so easy with Drake."
Remembering this morning and Drake's moodiness over the past few days, she rolled her eyes. "I'll trade you for Antwan any day."
"I might take you up on that."
Tammy moved to pick up the sander. Cassie raised her hammer once more, then froze when a familiar shadow filled the doorway.
Tammy spun around, the sander in front of her like a weapon. "Go away, we're busy."
Alan King stood on the edge of the construction zone, his hands brushing invisible dust from his Armani as if entering the Center threatened to contaminate his polished appearance. With his blonde hair and light colored eyes, he appeared every inch of the noble prince his family raised him to be.
The King family took their wealth, prestige, and family name seriously. Everything else in life came second. Cassie glared at Alan, her hand clenching the hammer, fighting the urge to pound something, anything.
Her ex-brother-in-law merely smiled, eyebrow raised, as he gazed upon the tool in her hand. "If you're not going to use that, you might consider putting it down," he said in his cultured tones. "After all, I am an officer of the court, here on business, and some could construe that a threat."
"Not me," Tammy said, stepping forward to stand at Cassie's side. "I'll be a witness. You're harassing her."
Alan flicked a look at Tammy as if he she was a gnat too small to bother smashing. But Cassie knew you didn't attract the attention of the King family without paying a price and she didn't want Tammy sucked into the morass her impending malpractice suit had become. Slowly, she re-holstered the hammer and removed the tool belt.
"It's all right," she told Tammy. "I'll just be a moment."
"Nice place you have here," Alan said, looking around as if appraising the building for back taxes. "I hear you've put a lot into it." His gaze returned to her, sliding from her mouth to her breasts and back again as if she were a piece of property as well.
"What do you want, Alan?"
"Thought I'd stop by to deliver this in person." He drew a sheath of papers from his coat pocket and handed them to her. As managing partner of Pittsburgh's largest and most powerful law firm, Alan King didn't usually serve summons.
The reasons behind this visit were much more personal. As Richard's older brother, he held Cassie responsible for the downward turn Richard's life had taken after the overdose. It left Richard with brain damage and destroyed his career as a surgeon. Alan made it perfectly clear that not only would he not settle the suit against Cassie, he wouldn't accept anything less than her complete and total ruin.
Cassie ignored her former brother-in-law and scanned the papers. "The deposition is tomorrow? I can't–"
"Oh, but I think you can," he practically purred with satisfaction. His hand grazed over her arm in a possessive way, and she jerked away from his touch.
Typical of the King men. Total power over everyone around them. It was the only language they understood, the only position they would accept.
She choked back her impulse to send a snap kick into his groin. Maybe if there weren't any witnesses...
"Sorry, you'll have to reschedule." She broke away from his grasp and moved past him to the exit. She needed fresh air; room to breathe that wasn't polluted with the stench of wealth and corruption. "I have plans."
He followed her outside onto the stoop, but remained in the cooler shadows of the building. Blood sucking vampire.
Richard had his share of problems. Being the youngest born to a powerful, rich family had a lot to do with his need to exert total control over everyone he met, especially Cassie. A need she hadn't recognized until after they were married and he became abusive.
But Alan was the worst of the bunch. A man with one code: power was everything, and no one stood in his way. She knew he'd manipulated Richard into forcing her resignation from Three Rivers and bringing the lawsuit against her.
"Cancel your plans," he said.
She held her ground, basking in the hot sun. Maybe it was time Alan King learned the world didn't revolve around him and his family. "No."
He pursed his lips in mock consideration at her refusal and reached into his coat for another stack of papers. "Then, I'll be forced to file these." He held them out to her, translating as she shuffled through them. "We'll need complete accounting of the Liberty Community Center's funding from all principles involved. The Center's assets and accounts will be frozen until we're satisfied and the audit is completed."
Cassie felt the blood drain from her face. "You couldn't—you wouldn't. If the Center doesn't open by September first we lose our matching grants."
Not to mention forfeiting Drake and Ed Castro's personal lines of credit they used for startup costs. It would set them back months, maybe even permanently. Ultimately destroying the one place that offered hope to the residents of these ravaged neighborhoods where kids couldn't even get to school because no bus drivers would venture near.
"Why?" She forced the words from between numb lips.
"Sources claim you're using the Center to shield your money from possible forfeiture if you lose the case." He shook his head, tsking like an old schoolmarm. "Really, Cassandra, you should know better."
"Everything I gave to the clinic was before you filed the lawsuit. You know that." Cassie knew she should just let Juliet handle Alan. He was bluffing, she was certain. But she couldn't risk the Center, Drake's dream. She pounded her fist against her thigh, unable to strike o
ut at the true object of her fury. "Do you hate me so much you would destroy a place that will only help the people of Pittsburgh?"
He shrugged, the smile on his face revealing his delight at her discomfort. "I'm obligated to act in the best interest of my client. The man who lost his entire future because of you. But feel free to take it personally."
Cassie bit her lip and turned away, looking past the overflowing construction dumpster toward the ravine behind the building. A pleasant breeze swirled through the oaks and maples that towered from the sides of the ravine. From this vantage you could barely hear the sound of the busway, could almost imagine you were far away from urban life.
Safe from the machinations of lawyers.
"What do you want?" she whispered. At his look of triumph she cursed herself for asking. She knew damned well what Alan King wanted.
Everything she had. Her reputation, her medical license, her house, her money, her pride.
He thought he could take it all, make her suffer a painful public humiliation as payment for the pain she'd caused his brother and their family. It was all about the Kings and their prestige, their reputation.
Her stomach clenched as she tried to control her anger and keep herself from lashing out, making things worse than they already were.
"I'll be there tomorrow." It was the only way to protect the Center and everything she and the others had invested here. She turned her head, looking through the open window beside her as Tony and Antwan raced past, the four-year-old giggling with glee. So many people had worked so hard to make this dream come true. She couldn't let them down.
"I thought you would. See you tomorrow, Cassandra." He brushed past her, his body pressing against hers for a too-long moment, before he continued down the steps to his Porsche.
Cassie watched in frustration as he squealed out of the parking lot. Tammy joined her.
"Anything I can do?" she asked.
"No, I'll work something out," Cassie said with grim determination.
