Damage: The Men of Law (The Men of Law Series Book 2)

by Casey Clipper

  “You’re welcome. Have you called your family?”

  “No.” She avoided eye contact, focusing on the white material in her hands. “I’m afraid of causing them anxiety.”

  “You need a ride home. The doctor doesn’t plan on keeping you.” He motioned to the only chair. “Mind if I sit?”

  She shook her head.

  “I don’t know what to do,” she whispered.

  “What’s going on, Josie?” He might as well toss it out there. She was lost, the tragedy of her life sinking its hooks into her. She was on the edge of losing herself. If Dean could help her, in any way, he would.

  “Your arms.”

  His brows slanted together, not understanding. What about his arms?

  “You didn’t have your jacket on.”

  He’d left it in the car because he’d gotten warm while driving around, trying to clear his mind after leaving the salon. To say he was off kilter would be underestimating Josie’s allure. She was absolutely lovely. Delicate, feminine in every way, from her finely manicured nails to her flawless makeup, despite the fact her skin tone ran pale because of her recovery. She wore Victoria Secret yoga pants and form fitted shirts that sparkled. And she was tiny at five foot three inches. She was a girly girl in every way.

  She was everything opposite of his Erin, who he’d loved since his senior year of high school. Erin, who’d been tough and rocked jeans and favored his T-shirts. Erin, who would toss her hair up in a messy bun and go days without makeup. Not that she needed it. She’d been gorgeous au naturel. And she’d been tall at five foot eight. His wife had been perfect in every way.

  His entrancement by Josie threw him for a loop, and he detested it.

  “Your arms are just like his.” A teardrop dripped onto her hospital jimmy. “So big and built.”

  Jesus Christ. She’d specifically told him about the man’s arms. One of the things she’d noticed. He hadn’t considered that his own body might be a trigger for her.

  “I’m sorry.” He felt like shit.

  “It’s not your fault that you work out.” She finally raised those jade eyes, large and vulnerable, filled with pain and fear. “All I could see was his arms straining while his hands wrapped around my throat.”

  God, she’d never be able to have someone on top of her again. Not a boyfriend, a husband, anyone who could possibly be seen as a physical threat to her. A man in a tight T-shirt who worked out might prompt post-traumatic terror at any given time or place. He could only give her the advice he’d given countless victims and hoped she took it. “Have you talked to someone? Sought professional help?”

  She snorted, a cute yet obnoxious sound. “Nice detective.”

  “What?”

  “You could have used a bit more couth.”

  He smiled, Erin used to complain about his inability to use a gentle tone. He had zero bedside manner. Well, except for his LEO brothers. But even with them, he could tell it like he saw it. “I could have but don’t know how.”

  Josie stared past him, deep in thought. “I should seek help. I don’t know what it’s going to be like when I walk into my house again. Alone. At night.”

  “I think it would be best if you spoke with someone.” He wanted to assure her everything would be all right, but that would be a bold-faced lie. The one thing he never did was give a victim a false sense of security when it wasn’t there. He wanted to tell her to go home, because it was clear she craved the return of her normality. Unfortunately, her normality would forever be transformed.

  He wasn’t comfortable with her living alone with three potential suspects out there. Also, telling her to return to her home when she wasn’t prepared for the mental jar wasn’t fair. Fucking hell. He needed to talk to Nick and see what was happening with Jason and Hannah coming on board with the case. They needed help to find the person who attacked her quickly. Maybe give her back a sense of security, to move forward.

  “Do you mind calling my mom to pick me up?” she asked, her gaze still directed outward.

  “Not at all. Anything else you need from me?”

  She turned back to him and looked him dead in the eyes. “Find the man who destroyed my life.”

  Dean met her stare straight on. “I promise you, I will do everything in my power to make sure he’ll never harm you again.”

  ***

  “Dean,” Hannah Campbell greeted him.

  He gave her a once over, his brows popping up to his brow line. His best friend’s newlywed wife was dressed in gray short shorts and a black threadbare Pittsburgh Steelers T-shirt that conformed to her heavy-chested figure. She was dressed for a day at the beach, not forty-five degrees in December.

  “Hot flashes,” she said, answering his unspoken observation. “Don’t judge.”

  He held up his hands. “I’m only judging the size of those breasts, honey. I didn’t know they could get larger.”

  “Dude, don’t ogle my wife’s chest.” Jason appeared behind Hannah, wrapping an arm around her waist.

  Dean stepped into their home. “Can’t help it. I mean, seriously, how do you take her out in public?”

  “Don’t forget, I’m capable of knocking you out.” Hannah warned him with a bat of her long lashes and far from innocent smile. “And I think I might enjoy it.”

  “And I’d let her.” Jason held out his hand and they gave each other manly slaps on the back. “What are you doing here, asshole?”

  “Nice,” Dean said.

  “Beer?” Hannah asked.

  “Thanks.”

  Hannah sauntered away, her luscious hips swaying. God, was his best friend a lucky man.

  Dean’s head snapped forward as Jason smacked him upside it.

  “Knock it off. That’s my wife.”

  Yeah, he stepped over the line, but damn.

  “How was the honeymoon?” Dean asked.

  “Too short.” Jason sank down onto the sofa, motioning for Dean to join him. “Hannah has a brilliant idea of moving to Hawaii and starting up a PI business there. My mom put the ax on that plan immediately.”

  Hannah sashayed back into the room and handed him and her husband a bottle of beer. “It’d be so nice to live in a tropical state. No crappy minus three degree winters and overly humid summers that last a month at the most. It is so ideal.”

  “I bet.” Dean took a swig of his drink. “But you have to listen to Mommy.”

  Hannah snickered while Jason flipped him the middle finger. “Don’t make fun of my mom. She’s the best.”

  “I love your mom. She is a fantastic woman.” Dean grinned devilishly. “But you haven’t unlatched from her nipple.”

  Hannah burst out laughing as Jason glared at her over his shoulder. Jason lunged his direction, both tumbling to the floor, their beers clattering as they dropped to the floor. They wrestled around, trying to get one up on the other. Punches that wouldn’t do either harm, thrown.

  “Get off me,” Dean strained, taking a fist to the gut. This is what he needed. Stupid male bonding, letting off steam of a stressful job.

  “Don’t say stupid shit.”

  “I’m only telling you the truth.”

  “Fuck you.”

  A clearing of the throat came from above them. They both looked up to find Hannah, trying desperately to contain her laughter, standing above them tapping her bare foot. Next to her stood Roy, Hannah’s best friend and former heist accomplice, his brow pulled down in perplexity.

  “You’re scaring Roy. Knock it off.”

  “What are they doing?” Roy asked, truly confused.

  “Stupid boy stuff,” Hannah said with a flip of her hand in the air. “Displaying an unreasonable need to show their masculinity, in the form of punching each other. Makes perfect sense.”

  Dean and Jason’s chests heaved, trying to get air into their lungs.

  “Babe…he…questioned my…manhood,” Jason said.

  “Honey, I do that every time you visit your mom,” she countered. “You spilled beer on
my carpet.”

  “I love Mrs. Campbell,” Roy said factually. “She bakes me brownies.”

  Jason’s head snapped up. “What? She doesn’t make me brownies.”

  “She likes me better,” Roy goaded him.

  “What the hell?” Jason leapt to his feet, snatching the bottles off the floor. “I’m calling Mom.”

  He stormed out of the room toward the kitchen.

  Dean pulled himself up and straightened his jacket. “Well, that doesn’t prove my point or anything.”

  “You’re rotten.” Hannah pegged him with her finger.

  Dean’s hand flew to his chest. “Moi? You have room to talk. You just poked the bear for your own enjoyment.”

  “He’s too easy,” Hannah said, giggling. “And it's far too much fun at his expense.”

  Roy plopped down on the sofa and Dean sat next to him, slapping his knee. “I see you’re doing better.”

  Roy had a condition called agoraphobia, where he was scared to death to leave the house. When Hannah managed to move him into Jason’s home, they couldn’t coax Roy to leave the second floor of the home for a week. They seemed to have tackled that issue.

  Roy shrugged, which Dean didn’t expect anything less. Roy never addressed his condition.

  Hannah left and came back with a sponge and towel, tossing it on the stain, then sat down across from them. “Jason will clean his own mess.”

  “How are you sweetheart?” Dean finally asked.

  “I’m good. I’m battling morning sickness and am drained of a lot of energy but I tend to feel better in the afternoons and evenings after resting when I wake.” She adjusted her shirt and her hand went to her flat stomach.

  Dean’s gaze followed, a stab of pure anguish ripping through his core. He had to look away from her. Was he happy that his best friend had a child on the way? Absolutely. But his thoughts couldn’t resist slamming him back to Erin, pregnant with his boy. They had just found out only two weeks prior to the tragic accident that he was going to have a son to carry on the Rooney name. He’d been beyond ecstatic. Indescribably so.

  “Dean,” Hannah whispered. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t.” He didn’t want her pity.

  Roy glanced back and forth but didn’t say a word. He gave the kid credit for his indiscretion.

  Jason stalked back into the room, two new brews in hand, opened his mouth and then shut it when he caught the aura had significantly changed. “What’s going on?”

  Dean quickly changed the subject so they wouldn't delve into his life's backstory. “So, did Nick talk to you?”

  “About your case? Yeah,” Jason said, his eyes narrowing. His friend knew him and his demons all too well, aware the sudden veer from topic was purposely done. Jason handed Dean a beer. “He talked to me.”

  “Us,” Hannah corrected.

  “Us.” Jason smiled, propping himself on the edge of the sofa next to his wife. “How’s Miss Conley doing?”

  “Not well. I picked her up from work today to give her a ride home, she still can’t drive, and she had a panic attack in the car. I had to call an ambulance when she blacked out.”

  Jason cursed. “What the fuck kind of man attacks a woman with such brutality?”

  “One who wants to see her dead,” Dean growled.

  “What do you want us to do?” Hannah asked.

  “Are you two up and running?” Since Jason quit the detective unit, to not only keep from testifying against his then-girlfriend, but to also choose Hannah over his career, the couple decided to open up their own PI agency. Jason easily walked away from his job, which had been taking a significant toll on him. Hannah was his perfect excuse. That decision had done his best friend a world of good and it showed in the lack of stress lines that no longer plagued him. Dean envied his former partner’s new life. He’d once been where Jason was−happy and content with a wife.

  “We’re getting there. We’re going to work from home at first and then once business starts to come in, we’ll move to an office. I’ve taken on serving warrants and workman’s comp investigations. We also took on a cheating spouse case. Only took one day to get that information.” Jason absently ran a hand up and down his wife’s back.

  “You’ve done all that when you got back a week ago from your honeymoon?” Dean asked, astounded. Jason had to have utilized his LEO contacts to get his business off the ground running.

  “Might as well get under way immediately.” Jason shrugged. “Hannah’s signed up for PI classes. I’m getting my license and Roy is going to help by taking online classes as well. He’s our research guy.”

  “Well, I see you have a plan.” Dean admired the couple for plugging forward after their relationship had been tested. Even the best of men might have an issue when they find out the woman they had fallen in love with was a brilliant jewelry thief. Jason had struggled with the realization when he’d discovered who he’d been dating. But after accepting why she’d been forced to live a life of crime, he’d helped her change to a life on the straight and narrow.

  “Is she getting help?” Hannah asked, toying with Jason’s fingers. Dean found himself absorbed by the motion, the hands of a loving couple, unable to keep them to themselves. His heart hurt watching the interaction. He forced the pain into the door he tried unsuccessfully to keep locked.

  “I talked to her about it earlier.” He shrugged, but he couldn’t deny he was worried as hell about Josie. He didn’t want her to lose herself in fear. He didn’t want to see what he knew had to be a bright star lose her shine.

  “She’ll need it,” Jason said. “Nick gave me the details.”

  Dean stared at his former partner, who shouldn’t be privy to any information in the investigation. Police departments didn’t use PI services. It could ruin a case. There were legal procedures to follow and PIs didn’t exactly abide by strict laws to get the information they desired.

  Jason gave the hard stare right back. He knew. He’d worked too long in law enforcement to know that asking Jason, Hannah, and Roy for help wouldn’t be approved by any police agency. Let alone the precinct his wife had royally screwed over.

  “I think Nick wants you both to keep an eye on the one brother. We don’t have enough manpower and they’re both suspects.”

  “I did some digging,” Roy interrupted. When the young man says digging, what he meant was hacking. Roy was computer genius extraordinaire. “It seems that Harry Conley is in deep debt. School loans, an overpriced car loan, and credit cards have racked up one hundred and fifty thousand dollars in bills.”

  Jason whistled.

  “How has he accumulated that much when he lives at home?” Hannah asked, tilting her head.

  “He doesn’t buy cheap. He lives a celebrity lifestyle on a cook’s salary,” Roy answered.

  “What does he do for a living?” Hannah snatched a pad and pen off the coffee table.

  “He’s a legal assistant,” Dean answered.

  “Well, isn’t that interesting,” Hannah mused. “He’s well aware of the law. What about the twin?”

  “He’s in debt as well, but only school loans and not significant,” Roy said, shifting his legs. The young man's anxiety was starting to make an appearance. “He drives a beater car and continues to live at home without paying any bills. He’s a physician assistant.”

  “He makes slightly better money,” Jason said. “Though in Pittsburgh, not that much more with a saturated market in the healthcare industry.”

  “Exactly.” Dean pointed to Jason.

  “What about this guy who found her?” Jason asked. “Steve?”

  “He’s a piece of work. Josie dated him for a couple years but from what we gathered, their relationship never blossomed and Steve was a bit controlling. He wanted her to run her business his way.” A part of Dean he couldn’t understand was proud of Josie for getting out of that stifling relationship. Clearly Josie knew how to run a business. She was doing extraordinarily well for herself. She didn’t need a man to
come into her life and order her on how to run her salon. She needed a man to support her and have her back, be there when she needed help. Encourage her to succeed and thrive. He’d do that. He’d never force his unknowledgeable opinions upon her. Wait, what? Where the hell did that come from?

  “So she broke up with him, smart girl,” Hannah said, grinning. “Did she kick his ass, too?”

  Dean’s eyes rolled so hard he probably strained them. Hannah was kind of big on the girl power motto, and she had the mojo to back it up. She would shove her boot up any man’s ass for trying to tell her how to run her career.

  “Do you think he did it?” Jason planted a kiss on Hannah’s forehead.

  Fucking hell. Did Jason have to display his love and devotion to his wife at all times? It was killing Dean to witness what he no longer had.

  “I’m not sure. There’s no real evidence. His DNA is around the house but Josie and him kept in contact. Hell, he’d made a pass at her recently.”

  “Dirt bag,” Hannah mumbled.

  “No DNA came from under her fingernails. She has no description, except he was in decent shape and had large, muscular biceps. He was dressed head to toe in black.” Dean snuck at glance at his arms.

  “Interesting,” Hannah said, tapping her lip with the pen.

  “How so?” Roy asked.

  “Well, whoever attacked her, did it during daylight hours.”

  “Barely,” Dean said. It started to turn dark around five.

  “Still, it was done during the day, which would lead me to believe that whoever entered her house did so not in disguise. Neighbors would most certainly notice a man creeping through the neighborhood fully masked. I venture that they entered the house without turning a head, like they’re supposed to be there.” Hannah looked up at Jason. “Actually, it’s smart. No one would be the wiser. She’d be left for dead for however long. Whoever did this didn’t know that she had a dinner date planned. In my opinion, that leaves Steve out of the equation. He found her. If he hadn’t, she’d be dead and you’d be investigating a murder. If he had been the one to attack her, why the hell would he call the police?”