by Meghan March
“I didn’t have a choice.” His jaw muscle ticks, and I know there’s a lot more to the story than what he’s telling me.
“You always have a choice.” That’s one thing I believe without question.
“I didn’t then, but I do now. And I’m here.” His eyes plead that he’s sincere, and yet I still can’t trust him.
“No other explanation? What would you do if you were me, Cav? What if I’d been the one to stand you up and bail out of your life for three years with no word? Wouldn’t you have questions? Want a few more answers that weren’t total bullshit?”
He doesn’t even blink. If anything, his stare gets more intent. I’m unable to look away, hostage to his gaze.
“I’d thank whatever gods and devils I needed to that you found your way back into my life, and I’d worry about the details later. You wanted this, Greer. You never would’ve posted that ad if you didn’t. So, what’s it gonna take to make it right? You want me to grovel? Because I’m not the kind of man who will ever do that. But if you want proof that I’m here for real, I won’t stop until you believe it.”
I look away first. Cav has always been so damn intense—a force unto himself. Whatever his reasons were for leaving, it’s clear I’m not getting the explanation I want so desperately.
Can I live with that? I don’t know.
He climbs off the bar stool and grabs his plate, then tosses the rest of the omelet in the trash. I watch wordlessly as he rinses the plate, lays it in the sink, wipes his hands, and heads for the door.
“Make up your mind, Greer. This time it’s not a game.”
Cav’s words play in a loop in my head as I gear up to interview my client. I’ve never been to Rikers Island before, and if Creighton knew I was going, he’d put me under 24/7 security. When my driver gives me a double take at the address I deliver, I know it’s only a matter of time before my brother finds out.
My tattletale of a driver texts him immediately, and my phone rings.
“Please tell me you did not just ask to be driven to Rikers Island, Greer.”
Glaring at Ed¸ I mouth, Really?
“Hello, darling brother, how are you? I’m fine. Just salvaging some self-worth by continuing to work after I quit my job that I should’ve been fired from but they were afraid of you.”
“Greer . . .” Creighton’s growl carries over the line, and I can hear roadies in the background and someone calling out orders.
I really don’t want to get into the same conversation we had last time, so I jump on a subject guaranteed to grab his attention. “How’s Holly? The baby bump is looking so damn cute in the pictures I’ve been seeing online.”
“Don’t even try to change the subject.”
Plan? Fail.
“Seriously, Crey. I’m working. It’s not a big deal. Their security is tight, and I’m in absolutely no danger. Stand. Down.”
“If I were in the city right now, I’d go with you myself. You need to take Ed inside with you. I’m not taking chances with your safety. Who the hell are you interviewing anyway? And we have a whole shitload of other stuff to discuss. Like why you’ve suddenly decided prisoners’ rights is an appropriate use of your free time.”
“I’ll make sure Ed comes inside with me. I won’t go alone. I’m not an idiot.”
With that, Ed puts the car into drive and we’re officially headed to Rikers. God, I hope this isn’t just one more bad decision in a long line of bad decisions I’ve made lately.
“You know I’m worried about you.”
“I know, but you should worry about your wife and your baby on the way.”
My subject change works like a champ this time.
“Holly’s fine. Radiant, actually. I’m going to keep her barefoot and pregnant for as long as I can.”
I laugh, and it’s the first genuine humor I’ve felt in days. “You better watch yourself. If she overhears you, she’s going to tear you a new one.” My sister-in-law is nothing if not feisty.
“I’m already getting the look of death from across the room, but thank you for your concern.”
“Where are you?”
“Denver, tonight anyway. Who the hell knows tomorrow. We’ll be back in Nashville next week, and she’s done with touring until after the baby is born.”
A giant grin stretches across my face. I’m going to be an auntie, and I can’t wait to spoil my new niece rotten.
“That sounds like a good plan. Keep her happy, Crey. I’ll talk to you soon.”
Creighton starts to say something else, but I’m sure it’s just going to be more orders, so I hang up. When my phone doesn’t start ringing again immediately, I count myself lucky. Being Creighton Karas’s little sister isn’t the easiest thing in the world, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything.
The drive out to Rikers is long enough to set my nerves on edge, especially as we approach the prison. There’s a really good reason I didn’t go into criminal defense, namely, the criminals. So, why did I grab the damn file? I could have left it and never worried about it again. The firm would have had me withdrawn from the case, and I could have tried out carefree trust-fund princess as a job title. But apparently that’s not something I’m capable of.
I’m cursing my decision as we work our way through security, and then again as I wait alone in the interview area. Creighton’s going to be pissed if he learns the guards won’t let Ed inside the room for the interview because he doesn’t have proper clearance in advance. Let’s hope Ed decides to leave that fact out of his report to Creighton. A guard stands not more than six feet away, so I take comfort in that.
But when Stephen Cardelli steps into the interview room in shackles, my heart rate picks up. I can do this. I can do this. I’m on his side. He’s not going to hurt me.
There’s something about his self-satisfied smile that instantly makes me feel dirty. Swallowing back the fear, I stand and nod.
“Mr. Cardelli. Thank you for agreeing to sit down with me to discuss your case. I apologize for not getting here sooner.”
“If I’d known you were such a sweet young thing, I’d have been a hell of a lot more interested in talking to my lawyer.”
Deep breaths. Be professional, Greer. I flip open my file and read through issues enumerated in his complaint.
“Can you tell me, in your own words, more about the issues you’re claiming impinge on your constitutional rights?”
He smiles again, his teeth yellow and brown near the edges, and his greasy gray hair falling over his forehead. “Let’s talk about the fact that I didn’t commit the murder they say I did. I was framed. And you’re going to get me out of here.”
Uh, nope. I certainly would not be doing that.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Cardelli, this is not an Innocence Project case. You filed a prisoners’ rights complaint and that’s what I’m here about. If you think you’ve been wrongfully convicted, I can give you information about the Innocence Project and they may be able to help you. In the meantime, perhaps we can help you win this case and make your life a little more palatable inside these walls.”
His smile morphs into an angry glare that’s fierce enough to scare the living hell out of me. “If you think there’s jack shit you can do to make life inside palatable, then you’re dead fucking wrong, girl. You want to hear the real story?”
“Sir, I understand you must be very frustrated, but I’m limited to the case before me.”
“Well, listen the fuck up, bitch. You’re gonna do what I tell you.” He stands and the guard is by his side within seconds, hands on his shoulders, slamming him back into the chair.
“Sit the fuck down, Cardelli, or this interview is over.”
Cardelli bares his teeth like an animal, and I’m doubly glad this case has nothing to do with getting him out of here.
“Fine. Get the guards to stop shoving their batons up my fucking ass, and maybe it’ll be a little more fucking palatable.”
“Done, Cardelli. You’re fucking done.” The guard
yanks him out of his seat and drags him toward the door.
I’m pretty sure the guard shouldn’t be allowed to do that because this is a meeting with counsel, but at the moment, I’m not moved to protest. I’m in over my head and I know it.
Work through the fear, Greer. Pull up your big-girl panties and step outside your little bubble of a world to do something for someone who doesn’t have anyone else fighting for him.
Why couldn’t I have some kind of battered-woman case? Someone I feel sympathy for? Someone who doesn’t scare the shit out of me?
Maybe this is some sort of a test. Maybe this is exactly what I need. Penance for the stupid stunt I pulled that cost me my job in the ivory tower.
When the guard returns, my hands are still shaking as I shove papers back into my file.
“Sorry about that, Ms. Karas. He’s not a good one. You might want to hand this case off to someone else. Don’t think this is right for you.”
The guard’s patronizing attitude pisses me off, and quite frankly, makes me all the more determined not to give it up.
“Thank you for your concern, but I’m a professional. I’m more than capable of handling this case.”
“What would your brother say about that?”
Oh. No. He. Didn’t.
I smile brightly, my face about to split wide open from the force of the fake expression. “I’m sure that’s none of your business or his. Now, could you please show me out? My driver is waiting.”
The guard leads me out of the interview room and through the maze of hallways and secured doors. I don’t breathe easy until I reach the waiting area where Ed is sitting.
“Thank you for waiting.”
He studies me, his attention pausing and holding on my shaking hands as they grip the file. “You okay, Ms. Karas? You look a little pale.”
I dig out the fake smile again. “I’m fine. Let’s head back to the city.”
I pound on Greer’s door, and I don’t fucking care that I left with the ball in her court, determined for the next move to be hers. This shit don’t fly.
Greer tugs the door open, still dressed in dress pants and an expensive-looking blouse.
“What the fuck did you think you were doing?” I demand, pushing through the opening and slamming the door behind me.
“How did you get up here again? This is a secured building. They can’t just let you up. You’re not on my list.”
“Baby girl, I’m on every fucking list these days. Now answer my goddamn question. What the fuck were you doing at Rikers?”
Her glare is cute, but not cute enough to distract me from the verbal ass whupping I’m about to lay on her.
“My job.”
“You don’t have a fucking job, Greer. You quit.”
“How do you even know all this? You’re worse than my brother. If you’re keeping tabs on me, you need to stop. I’ll tell you what I want you to know, when I want you to know it.”
I step closer to her, gripping her chin with my hand. “That’s not how this works, Greer. Not when you decide to put yourself into situations where you don’t belong. Who the fuck were you meeting in Rikers?”
“None of your goddamn business. Now back off.” She shoves at my chest, but I don’t move.
“If your brother isn’t going to keep a leash on you to keep you safe, then I will, because clearly you can’t be trusted to make the right choices when it comes to your personal safety.”
As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I know they’re the wrong thing to say, but I don’t care. There are few circumstances under which I’m willing to piss Greer off, and anything having to do with her safety is one of them. She can fight me all she wants. It’s a pointless battle she won’t win.
“I’m afraid that’s confidential. As in attorney-client privilege, you asshole. Now back off.” She shoves at my chest again.
“I leave you for a few hours and you run right to the nearest place you could get shanked. Smart, Greer. Really fucking smart.”
She crosses her arms and stares me down. “It wasn’t like I wandered down a dark alley in the Bowery in the middle of the night by myself. There were guards. Security. He was in shackles. I’m fine. And I am fucking smart, so don’t be a dick or I’ll call security right now and toss your ass out. Were you always this overbearing? Did I forget somehow?”
Only one word of her little speech penetrates my anger. “Shackles? Who the fuck were you meeting with? A murderer?”
Greer’s little growl would be cute if my vision weren’t turning red. She needs a keeper.
She doesn’t have a quick, snarky reply, and that’s when I realize I’m right.
“Fuck, Greer. This is done. Whatever case you’re working on while you’re unemployed is over.”
“You don’t get to give orders here. I’m not asking for your permission. You’ve been back in my life for less than twenty-four hours, and I’m already questioning why I wanted you back so badly.”
That penetrates. I rein in my rage and calm the fuck down. But she still needs to understand that her safety isn’t something to be taken lightly.
“You wanted me back so badly because you know I give a fuck, and I’m not a pussy like the last guy who clearly didn’t have two brain cells to rub together if he fucked things up with you.”
Her mouth drops open. “Oh, you’re one to talk.”
“Shut up, Greer. I’m here. I’m not leaving. And if you’re not going to make your safety a priority, I will.”
I think about adding something about her brother agreeing with me, but I have a hunch it would be less well-received than the rest of my decree. Either way, Greer needs to wise up and quick.
“I’m not dropping the case.” Her tone is downright mulish.
“Then I’m going with you next time. Nonnegotiable.”
Greer’s brows draw together, confusion clear on her face. “How long are you staying in New York? Don’t you have a movie to get back to somewhere?”
“I bought a place here. I’ll be here as long as I can, and figure out something that works.”
Her eyes widen with shock. “You bought a place? In New York? You haven’t been back to the city in the entire time you’ve done the acting gig, and all of a sudden you’re homesick enough to buy a place?”
“You gave me a reason,” I say, keeping it simple.
“And I wasn’t reason enough before?” Her question comes out quietly.
I drop my hold on her chin and grip the back of my neck. “It’s not that simple. I had to make something of myself first. I couldn’t come back until now.”
Greer shakes her head. “I don’t understand.”
I stare into her beautiful dark eyes and give it to her straight. “Do you really think your brother would’ve let you date a maintenance guy, Greer? Would he ever believe I was after anything but your money? Do you think I’d ever be able to respect myself if he thought that?”
Realization dawned over her delicate features. “It never mattered to me. And what my brother thinks shouldn’t have mattered to you either. Do you really believe I’m that shallow? That I gave a fuck what you did for a living?”
“It’s called pride, Greer. I wasn’t about to swallow it. I couldn’t come to you until I was an equal. And when I finally got there, you were dating a guy who was from your world. What the fuck was I supposed to do? Come in and crash something I thought made you happy?”
“Is that the only reason you stayed away this long?” she asks.
I look her dead in the eye and lie. “Yes.”
“Oh my God, he fucked you up against the wall?” Banner’s gushing over drinks the day after Cav and I had the Rikers discussion that ended in a stand-off. “This guy gets my vote for sure.”
“Shhh . . .” I glance around to see if anyone else heard her from this isolated corner in the loud bar. No heads are swinging this way, so I consider it a lucky break. “He bought a condo in my building, B. He says he’s staying for a while. Waiting on some contr
act to get worked out for his next role, so he’s got time to kill in between.”
She picks up her dirty martini and sips. “So, when do I get to meet him? This is the friend-approval stage, and we need to check all the boxes this time around.”
Last time around, Tracey approved of Cav mightily, and even with a hint of jealousy. Sadness pangs me when I think of her. Three months before graduation, and only days before Cav disappeared, she was killed in a hit-and-run near the law school.
Even now, it seems so senseless and inexplicable. Survivor’s guilt still plagues me because I should have been with her—we were training for a couch to half marathon—and I would have been if Creighton hadn’t asked me to accompany him to a meeting to sign a bunch of paperwork for my trust.
“I guess you’ll get to meet him when I figure out what the hell I’m going to do with him.”
Banner eyes me with confusion. “Do with him? We’ve already determined what you’re going to do with him—let him bang you repeatedly up against walls. Bent over counters and couches work too. And in the shower. Wait until you get bored to start fucking in a bed. Oh, and elevators. Maybe the backseat of a limo?”
Her list of suggestions comes way too rapidly for her not to have spent some time thinking about this. But then again, she’s Banner, so she’s always thinking about this. She should have been a writer or something, but Banner always goes her own way.
“I haven’t even decided if I’m going to . . . bang him again.”
Her expression is comical. If her jaw could drop any further, it would be nearing the table. “Are you shitting me? Girl, you were born to walk a red carpet on the arm of a man that gorgeous. And I’m going to Hollywood to find one of my own, tagging along with your little party.”
And it all becomes clear. “You’re going to use me and Cav to find yourself a man?”
“Hell yes! What best friend wouldn’t? I’m sexy. I’m single. Some guy would be lucky as hell to lock down this ass. If I ever give one the chance.”
She’s right. Any guy would be lucky to have a shot with her, if she’d give them a chance past the first date. Banner is most definitely an I fuck on the first date kind of girl, because she doesn’t usually go back for seconds and she’s got “needs.”