Out of Luck

by Kendall Talbot

  Ledbetter’s eyes flicked to Noah with a blaze of excitement; then he stood, buttoned up his jacket, and cleared his throat. “The defense calls Doctor Adam Bancroft.”

  When Noah’s client released a gasp, he glanced down at her. What he saw confirmed that she’d just committed his least-tolerated error in judgment. Bridget Stoneham had withheld information from him. Whatever it was, judging by the fear piercing her eyes, it was critical.

  The double doors at the back of the courtroom opened, and a tall man sporting horn-rimmed glasses and dark hair pulled into a ponytail shuffled into the room. His eyes remained downcast, and it was obvious he was present under duress. Noah had no idea who the doctor was, but Bridget’s ashen face was enough to know that he was trouble.

  Noah leaned into his client’s ear. “I’m very disappointed in you, Bridget.”

  “I… I don’t know how they—”

  “They always do.” He cut her off. “I told you, no secrets.”

  The doctor slouched into the witness chair and was read his rights.

  “Please, state your name and occupation for the record.” The judge’s voice was cloaked with boredom.

  “Doctor Adam Bancroft. I’m the senior OB/GYN for New York OB/GYN and Associates.”

  Bridget groaned, and Noah glared at her. The stupid bitch’s decision to conceal information meant she was going to pay the price. He was too. And that meant he had a record-breaking tsunami on his hands. Ledbetter glanced at Noah, then at Bridget, then turned his gaze to the doctor. “Doctor Bancroft, please, advise the court what your specialty is?”

  He cleared his throat. “I’m a board-certified obstetrician with specialized training in abortion.”

  A couple of the jurors gasped.

  “I see. I know you are restricted by doctor-patient confidentiality. However, can you please confirm to the court if you have ever met the plaintiff, Mrs. Bridget Stoneham?”

  The doctor looked like he was about lose his lunch as he nodded his head. “Yes, I have.”

  Ledbetter’s stage show was impressive. And while he did a worthy job of avoiding questions that broke the confidentiality rule, it was enough to cement the implication to the jury that Bridget had indeed visited Doctor Bancroft for an abortion.

  The major stake in his case had been that Mrs. Stoneham’s husband had claimed to be impotent and therefore had not touched her in years. If she’d had an abortion, as Ledbetter was implying, then that meant either her husband wasn’t impotent or Bridget wasn’t as pure as she’d claimed.

  When the court adjourned for recess, the look on Ledbetter’s face was a triumphant one. But there was something else. His look indicated there was more to come. Noah clutched Bridget’s upper arm and led her to his private interview room.

  He slammed the door as she crumbled into a chair and burst into tears.

  “Shut the fuck up.”

  She gasped, and he relished in the fear blazing across her eyes. “I don’t deal with liars.”

  “I’m sorry. I thought—”

  “Well, stop fucking thinking and start talking.”

  Bridget sucked back a sob. “I got pregnant three years ago.”

  “Who’s the father?”

  Remaining silent, she wriggled her head and sucked her lips into her mouth.

  “Tell me!”

  Again, she shook her head.

  He slapped his palm onto the table.

  Yelping, she jumped back. “No. I’ll never tell.”

  “The defense knows, and in about twenty minutes the whole world will know.”

  “That’s impossible. Nobody knows. We were careful.” Tiny blood capillaries snaked across the whites of her eyes.

  God. If Noah had a dollar for every time he’d heard that, he’d be able to update his jet. He chuckled. “You stupid, naïve shit. I’ll tell you now, Ledbetter has his name. So whether you tell me or not, I’m about to find out anyway.”

  Bridget ran her long pink fingernails dangerously close to her eyeballs, catching the tears before she looked up at him. She swallowed, then sat back with her hands folded across her chest. “I’ll take my chances.”

  A knock on the door indicated the judge was ready for them to return. He made one final plea to his client. But whoever the father of her aborted child was, Bridget was willing to risk everything to keep his name a secret. Noah was both furious and fascinated by the mystery.

  He made a show of portraying confidence as he shuffled Bridget along the aisle of the packed courtroom to their seats at the front. The judge required three bangs with his gavel to quiet the courtroom before he looked down at Ledbetter. “Please, call your next witness.”

  “The defense calls Mr. Timothy Pearce.”

  Noah’s jaw dropped. Bridget gasped. The courtroom erupted into a frenzy of excited voices, and Ledbetter’s grin had Noah’s gut churning.

  Noah’s brain was in a fog as he turned to the back of the courtroom and watched the double doors swing open and his very own business partner walk down the central aisle.

  Noah could count on one hand the number of times someone he knew and trusted had betrayed him. But when Pearce met his gaze, Noah knew this one was going to be the most costly.

  The remainder of the afternoon crawled along like a crippled dachshund, and the realization that he’d lost a case hit him in the final grueling hours of the day. The second the judge hit the gavel for the last time, Noah stormed from the courtroom with Pearce calling after him. But Noah had nothing to say to him. Not yet, anyway.

  He quickly sought out two of his girls, who were standing behind the frenzied reporters salivating at the court steps, before he slipped into his waiting car. As the limo pulled away, he saw his client and his partner crawling through the throng of voracious reporters.

  As Mansour navigated the limo along the busy New York streets, Noah deflected call after call. Every second one was Pearce. But he wasn’t ready yet. The next time he spoke to Pearce, he’d have an arsenal of ammunition to throw at the man he’d considered his only confidant.

  At his office, he strode to the liquor cabinet, poured a healthy dash of XO cognac and swallowed the shot in one gulp. He poured another and strolled to his window with the glass in his hand. Closing his eyes, he clenched his teeth until his jaw hurt. Noah didn’t lose. But that wasn’t what infuriated him the most. It was the humiliation. He gulped back the cognac and hurled his glass at the floor-to-ceiling window. When it bounced off and landed back at his feet, he kicked it across the carpet, leaving a trail of golden drops in its wake.

  His phone continued to hum in his pocket, and he ignored it. Very few people had his number, and those who did were important to him. But he couldn’t bring himself to respond to what was likely to be a major blip in his career. He needed his brain to simmer, and he needed a plan of attack.

  The door clicked, and he turned to watch Indigo and Tarsha sashay into the room. They strode to him with seductive movements of their hips and an alluring sparkle in their heavily made-up eyes. The girls were young, gorgeous, and handpicked by him at Madam Athena’s exclusive service. Madam Athena was paid well for both the abilities of her team and their confidentiality.

  Confidentiality.

  It was a powerful word. A powerful commitment. One that he’d used many times in the courtroom.

  But never had it been used against him. Indigo touched his shoulder, and he slapped her hand away. He wasn’t ready yet. With the flick of his hand, the women turned to each other. Their lips met, and as Indigo cupped Tarsha’s breast, Tarsha glided the zipper down Indigo’s back.

  Noah topped up a fresh glass and sipped his cognac while watching the erotic show before him with zero interest. Even when the girls were stripped completely naked, his arousal remained nonexistent. That showed the extent of the damage his partner had caused.

  The phone on his d
esk trilled, and his eyes snapped to it. Only a handful of people had that number, and he knew who it’d be. Pearce. He had no intention of answering it.

  But when the answering machine kicked in, the voice on the phone made his already horrific day a thousand times worse.

  “Hello, Noah. Remember me? It’s Diego, your partner down under. Are you there, Mr. big-shot lawyer?”

  “Get out.” Noah screamed at the girls.

  They froze, their eyes bulging in his direction.

  “I said, get the fuck out.” He shoved Indigo in the shoulder, and she stumbled sideways but managed to remain on her feet.

  They clutched their clothes from the floor and raced for the door. Noah bolted the door behind them and strode to the phone. Diego’s voice still dribbled from the machine.

  “What the fuck do you want, Diego?”

  “Ahh, you are there. Good. I have fascinating story for you.”

  “I don’t have time for this shit, Diego.”

  “Oh, but you do. Believe me.” Diego’s laughter slithered down the phone line like a cobra.

  Chapter 20

  Charlene’s scream had been cut short when her back slammed into a pool of water. It was like smashing through plate glass, and the impact knocked the wind out of her. Pushing through the pain, she clawed through the murky water, aiming for the light at the surface. Gasping for fresh air, she screamed again as invisible things brushed against her legs. Hurling herself toward the edge, she dragged her sodden body out of the foul water.

  Panting, she rolled to a standing position, and it was a couple of thumping heartbeats before she found her voice.

  “Get me out of here!” Her voice echoed about the darkened room.

  “Hey!” She screamed until her throat hurt. “Don’t leave me here.”

  But there was no response, confirming that they had indeed left her. Her eyes darted about the space. Above was the circular hole that she’d been thrown through, and she could see blue sky and clouds. A scraggly vine had made the wall up to the hole its home, and while the root dangled into the water, the rest of it spread like gnarly veins over the brickwork. The room was dome-shaped, and her best guess was that it was once some form of bathhouse.

  Squeezing the water from her hair, she stepped from the pool to examine the walls. If it was a bathhouse, then there had to be a door. Nearly every inch of the floor and walls was covered in some kind of vegetation, from moss to vines to shrubs. Some were alive, but most were dead. Sunlight streaming in from above cast as much light as it created shadows.

  A series of uneven steps curled around the left-hand side, and using the wall for support, she inched up the stairway. At the top, recessed into a nook, was a door. It looked like something from the Dark Ages. The wood was black and chunky, carved without fanfare, and metal rungs studded with round bolts held the door together.

  Charlene banged her fists against the solid wood. “Get me out of here!”

  “Hey, please. Help!” She screamed until her throat burned, and her fists were red. Beyond exhaustion, she slumped to the floor and looked down upon the room. The pool was green and swamp-like; lily pads floated on the top, along with olive-green scum. Above the point where the pool touched the wall, there was a rectangular hole; based on the wear on the bricks, she assumed that was where water was once pumped into the pool.

  Charlene climbed back down the stairs and crawled along the raised bricks skirting the edge of the pool. At the rectangular hole, she eased onto her hands and knees and peered into the darkness. “Hello.” She screamed into the void, and her voice bounced back to her. Charlene wriggled onto her stomach and peered into the black hole. But that’s exactly what it was. A black hole. No light anywhere. Something tickled her cheek and, screaming, she yanked her head back and wriggled away.

  She climbed to the highest point on the stairs and glared up at the circular hole above the pool. “Hey! Let me out of here!”

  It seemed like an eternity before she gave up and returned to the edge of the well. Only now did she realize that she’d lost a sandal in the water. That’s where it was going to stay. The enormity of her situation hit her like a paralysis drug, and she sat staring at her bare foot. Her previous image of being washed up on a shore as a Jane Doe flashed into her mind again. But this time it wasn’t American soil she was on. It was Cuban.

  A sob burst from her throat. She’d known what she was doing was risky, but she never envisaged anything like this.

  She suddenly realized Peter’s cane was gone too. In light of this new development, the cane seemed like a stupid idea anyway.

  A mild breeze drifted down to her, and she shivered. Slinking into the shadows, she removed her dress, squeezed the excess water from it, and put it back on. A flash of yellow in the corner caught her eye, and she strode toward it.

  Her breath caught as she bent down to pick it up. It was a teddy bear wearing a yellow waistcoat. Her heart quickened as she recalled having exactly the same bear when she was a child. She searched the room again, looking for something, anything that seemed familiar, and little by little the memories came creeping back.

  She’d been down here before. Charlene recalled sitting on her mother’s lap, as her mother sat with her back to the wall. They’d both been crying. They were scared and hungry, and her mother had an enormous bruise over her eye. The images that flashed into her mind were so vivid she couldn’t understand why she’d never seen them before. They were real, raw, and frightening. Her mother had been petrified. The room had been less overgrown then, and the water wasn’t as foul. But there was no doubt it was the same room.

  She’d slept in her mother’s lap and could recall crying because she was so hungry. How long had they stayed down there? She frowned at that thought, trying to recall every last detail. At night, they’d huddled together, and it’d become pitch-black and cool. The cold stones and rising damp had made her body ache.

  Another memory came tumbling in. It was her mother tearing the hem from her skirt. Charlene remembered her mother’s bleeding hand, and then—just like that—she knew exactly what it was. Her mother had written a note in her own blood onto the hem of her dress.

  Charlene sat upright. They’d hidden the note in this very room. Behind a brick.

  A quick glance around the room didn’t help. She stood and scanned the nearest wall, directly behind where she’d found the teddy bear. The bricks were covered in vines and moss. In the twenty-two years since she’d last been trapped down here, the vegetation had flourished and then died. Something had changed to the detriment of the plants—most likely the water, given its disgusting green color and swampy smell.

  Yanking at the vines with her bare hands, she tugged them free, desperate to see the bricks beneath. But every brick looked the same. She pushed them with her fingers, hoping the one her mother had hidden the note behind would still be loose.

  At a grinding noise, she snapped around. Someone was coming.

  She tossed the teddy bear into the corner and stepped to the side of the room in an attempt to conceal herself in the shadows.

  The door at the top of the stairs sprung open and banged against the wall. The sound was like a shotgun blast.

  Diego entered the room.

  He eased down a step, his hesitation confirming he was searching for her.

  Second step.

  She waited. The lower he was, the better chance she had. A sliver of light crossed his face, allowing her to see the damage she’d already done with her cane. His nose was swollen and red, and a slice of raw flesh was open across the bridge. His left eye was a hideous shade of purple. He wouldn’t get off so lightly this time.

  “Where are you, Claudia?”

  Claudia? The name was oddly familiar. His voice was too. Especially as it echoed about the damp walls.

  Fourth step. He was nearly at the bottom. Two more steps to go. Pr
oblem was, he’d see her any second now. Her heart slammed in her throat as she silently launched at him, fist clenched, and aimed right at his already swollen nose.

  He reacted faster than she’d anticipated, kicking out with his foot, intent on slamming his boot into her head. But he was a few steps above her. Charlene ducked beneath the blow, grabbed his foot at the same time and twisted it, and with an almighty roar, she dropped her weight. Diego lost his balance and tumbled into the room with her.

  She sprang to her feet and timed her attack perfectly to slam the heel of her palm at his nose again. Diego howled, and when he shielded his face with his hands, she dropped her full weight on him, elbow first, aimed directly at his solar plexus. He buckled under her blow, howling again. She pushed off him, ready for her next attack.

  Her long ponytail was her downfall. He grabbed her hair and yanked her down.

  She screamed and rained punches onto his torso. But her close proximity to him lessened their power.

  He pulled harder, forcing her to change attack. She clawed at his face, intent on scratching his eyes out.

  But he had her now.

  He yanked her hair, and she screamed as much from the pain as fury over her failure. Using his grasp on her hair, he pinned her face to the floor and clambered to a standing position.

  “You stupid, fucking bitch.” He kicked her in the ribs.

  Charlene was thrown toward the raised bricks encircling the well. She scraped at the bricks, desperate to find a loose one to use as a weapon. The second kick came out of nowhere. Pain ripped up her back. Howling against the agony, she tried to stand. But she was too late. Diego’s clenched fist hit her just below her left eye. She screamed as she tumbled sideways into the water.

  She clawed for the surface, but her head was above the water for barely a second when Diego grabbed her hair and shoved her under again. Her mind screamed as she attacked his hand, clawing her nails across his flesh. But he held her there. It was impossible to go down, impossible to up either.