by C A Vincent
“I’ll kill him! I’ll kill him! The only reason he’s pleading guilty is so he can talk about what he did. He’s enjoying himself. You sick son of a bitch, Jared! I hope they rape you in prison. Let me go!” she screeched. Her words turned to screams of terror then as one of the guards handling her inadvertently touched her breast. In the next instant, things escalated to the point where neither guard could manage her. Nate stepped forward, calling out for them to just release her.
“Hey, guys! Just let her go and she’ll – ” His words were cut short by the sight of one of the guards slamming his fist into the distraught woman’s face. Before he could stop himself, he flew into a rage and went after the creep.
* *
“Thanks for bailing me out,” he said quietly. He kept his eyes closed against the flashes of city lights speeding by. It was late and his head was pounding, not so much from the mediocre beating the guards had lain on him, but from sitting under fluorescent lights all afternoon and evening, listening to the incessant bellowing and crying of a terrified kid several cells down.
“With your own money,” Liz answered. “Are you happy, Nate? You’re on the news. ‘Businessman Attacks Courthouse Guards’. What were you thinking?”
“What if you’d been the one freaking out and terrified? What if the guard cold-cocked you, Liz? Put yourself in that woman’s shoes then tell me what the hell you think I was doing,” he growled. She made a huffy, indignant noise in response then muttered a single word. Nate didn’t hear what she said, so he told her to repeat herself.
“Diane,” she growled. “Her name’s Diane. I didn’t think she was for real. She was just too – composed – through all of the pre-trial preparations. A little high strung, but cool as a cucumber. Turns out she was – what’s it called – internalizing? I don’t know. She wouldn’t even let the female EMT’s touch her.”
“Hey,” Nate whispered. They were stopped at a particularly well-lit intersection and not even closing his eyes helped dull the pain.
“What?” Liz asked. She still sounded peeved.
“Who’s driving?” he asked. Liz chuckled.
“Now you notice?” she huffed. “I asked Dimitri to handle your case. I figured since he wasn’t representing me anymore, he could represent you instead. Your car is where you left it. You can pick it up tomorrow. Overnight parking has already been paid.”
“Thank you,” he answered. He was about to ask Dimitri for the names of the guards when his cell phone shrieked. Or at least that’s what it sounded like to him, given the pounding in his head.
“This is Nate,” he answered. He recognized the number as being one from his IT department. His gut twisted. “Please tell me you have some good news.”
“Well, yes and no, sir,” Ira Means answered. Nate had to swallow a rather violent string of curses. At some point during the time he was in Trinidad, someone in his office unwittingly unleashed a virus into the company’s network. It was a nasty thing which somehow kept coming back every time the IT guys thought they had it removed. Doing business over the last three months had been hell.
“Have you at least figured out who keeps spreading it?” he asked, massaging his temples.
“Ahm… Yes?” Ira answered. His hesitancy and the fact his answer sounded like a question alerted Nate to the fact he really, really wasn’t going to like his answer. And if he was going to dislike the answer that much, it could only mean one thing.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” he roared. “Three Goddamned months this thing has been cycling. Which bloody program is it attached to? Which file? Have you at least figured that out?”
“Whoa. Hey. Calm down,” Liz exclaimed. “It’s not – ”
“Me. I’m the one. I haven’t been able to grow my business in three damn months because of some file I opened,” Nate spat, cutting her off. “Talk to me Ira. Tell me you’ve got it figured out enough to finally fix it.”
“That I do, boss. We’ve isolated it for good this time, now that we’ve found its source. As for the program and files, it was something you opened in September. On the twentieth, to be exact. The last time you opened the files, and there were several, was two weeks later, in October. It wouldn’t have mattered if you’d opened the files again after though because this bastard little virus is set to re-deploy weekly once it’s installed. Now, would this be a good or a bad time to ask for permission to buy the licensing for the upgrades I’ve been suggesting?” Ira asked. Nate could just picture him, sitting in front of his multiple computer monitors, a smug, self-satisfied smile on his face.
“Besides the licensing, what else am I looking at?” he asked. Let the punk stew for a bit.
“Anyone who’s handled work email on their cell phones will need to upgrade. Clean sweep, boss, complete with new numbers. I’m not risking having old data in the system that may or may not have the virus attached,” Ira said. He really sounded a lot happier than the situation warranted for. This made dollar signs flash before Nate’s eyes. The string of curses he’d been holding back finally escaped, making both Liz and Dimitri flinch.
“Fine. Do whatever is necessary. Just get me up and running again. Oh, and Ira?”
“Yes, sir,” the kid answered, though Nate knew he really shouldn’t consider him a ‘kid’, given there were only six years difference between their ages.
“If I get wind of gaming software installed on my systems again, not even your genius IQ will save you,” he said quietly. He also made sure there was just enough menace in his tone to let his employee know he was dead serious. “Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, sir. Ahm … Very much so,” Ira answered, every last trace of smugness gone.
* *
“You had something you wanted to discuss?” Nate asked angrily. He’d been waiting for Dimitri for nearly twenty-five minutes and if the lawyer didn’t talk fast, he’d be late for his next appointment.
“You’re acquitted,” Dimitri said, dropping into his seat. He looked done in. Nate started to check his watch for the date and realized the time piece was analog and not digital.
“Say what? It’s been less than a week.” He would have made a comment about getting cases mixed up, but Dimitri was the best on the company’s legal team. The man had it together, even when he didn’t.
“The judge heard what happened. While he doesn’t condone violence, he ‘appreciates your valiance’. Did you know that while you were fighting Hernandez, the guard with the fists, Diane was planting her own tiny, incorrectly fisted hand into Mike Donovan’s face? He’s the handsy guard who likes to grope women.”
Dimitri thanked their server for the glass of water she placed in front of him. The young woman blushed prettily before beaming at him brightly and going about her business. Nate bit back a half-hearted grin. While the lawyer wasn’t handsome in any real sense of the word, he was always polite and considerate towards women. He didn’t even have to speak to them yet they seemed to sense his quiet respect.
“Turns out that while his touching of her breast may have been accidental, the hand up the back of her skirt most definitely wasn’t. Even though the cameras caught that one, the judge has decided to come down hard on her. He feels there was enough of a time lapse between Donovan’s groping and her hitting him to make her actions ‘premeditated’. She’s – ”
“Guards talk amongst themselves,” Nate cut in, suddenly angry. Who the hell did this judge think he was? “Interview every last one. If Hernandez and Donovan made even the slightest remarks against women – ”
“Already on it, Nate. I wouldn’t be any kind of lawyer if I wasn’t,” Dimitri grumbled defensively. Nate expelled a frustrated sigh through his nose. Then, unable to stop himself, he massaged his temples.
It’d be really nice if this damn headache would die already, he thought, waiting for Dimitri to mention it. What excuse would he give this time? Sleeplessness? Stress? Anger? All of the above? When no comment was made, he continued.
“Check o
n the judge too,” he added, the fight gone out of him as suddenly as it had come. “Find out if he’s made any specific requests on who gets to replace Hernandez. I find it uncomfortably ironic the Hispanic gets sent down for having a knee-jerk reaction to a bad situation while the lily-white Irish perv gets a walk.” Dimitri shook his head angrily, prompting him to ask a tired, “What?”
“Already on it, Nate. If you took two seconds to think about it, you’d know I’ve got that covered too. You’re not usually this far off your game. What the hell is going on? Are you missing a dark-skinned beauty? Do you need to go back to Trinidad?”
Nate winced as images of Alicia’s beautiful, passion-flushed body popped unbidden into his mind. He sucked in a slow, deep breath as his headache spiked briefly. Would this pain ever go away? And he wasn’t thinking of the one in his head this time. Maybe if he could sleep it might. But every time he fell asleep, he dreamt of damn Alicia Danvers. Beautiful, sexy, sweet-up-to-the-point-she-sticks-a-knife-in-your-heart Alicia Danvers.
“No,” he muttered. “I will never go back to that place again.” Then, realizing how much emotion there was in his voice, he cleared his throat roughly and checked his watch. The numbers blurred before his eyes, making him swear out loud.
“So sleep deprivation it is,” Dimitri said, checking his watch. “Get yourself some melatonin. My mother swears by the stuff.” He stood and gathered up his briefcase. Before he left, he added, “You can get it at any pharmacy. It’s usually in with the vitamins. Non-narcotic and all natural. I’ll call you with the results of my investigations.”
Even though neither he nor Dimitri ordered food, Nate left a decent tip. Out on the sidewalk, he flagged down a taxi. Since getting back from Trinidad, he drove himself less and less. This was entirely due to the fact he was so mentally and physically exhausted, he didn’t trust himself to make proper judgement calls. The last thing he was going to do was put other motorists and pedestrians at risk.
Dimitri’s question about Trinidadian beauties stayed with him as the taxi pulled into traffic. It was hard to believe he was still so stuck on Alicia, three months after the fact. He’d had flings before. Hell, he’d even been burned. One woman he dated, long before he met Liz cleaned out his bank account, stole his Dad’s Rolex and pawned it, then took off with her biker husband. Despite how stupid he was to become involved with her, and how much she set him back, he didn’t remember what she looked like and was only half certain on her last name.
He attributed the lack of memory to the fact life had happened since. He’d completed his education, started his company, met other women, then Liz. Along with everything those events entailed, they’d served to help him get over the bad and worse spots.
As he considered this, he wondered, How long will it take life to eradicate the memory of Alicia? Then he remembered the fact the biker-witch situation happened in college and groaned. At the rate he was going, his life would be well over before he forgot her.
“Everything okay, man?” the cabbie asked.
“Yeah. Stop at the nearest pharmacy, please. I’m going to sleep tonight if it’s the last damn thing I do.”
Chapter 21
Four months later…
“The job may be beneath her, but she does it without complaint,” Judge Herman Michaels explained, yet again. He didn’t understand why Mager couldn’t comprehend the fact Alicia was happy in her position as his clerk. He hired her when she explained she wouldn’t be fighting Joey Ostlund for the money his brother left her, provided she could find a job. He liked the fact she had enough pride to stand on her two feet, rather than take handouts from a dead man. And Joey Ostlund had used his inheritance to good ends. The kid now had his own gallery and an ever-increasing list of high-profile clients. It was nice to see he hadn’t squandered everything.
Herman considered how happy he was Cheryl, his long-suffering clerk of eight months, quit on the same day Phillip Ostlund’s will was read. Unlike the rest of them, she took the elevator down to the first floor. The damn thing jammed, holding her hostage for seven hours.
He shuddered to think of what would have happened had he, Mager and Alicia been trapped in there with her. The young woman was smart, but incredibly high strung. Either he or Mager would have had to knock her out. The thought made him uncomfortable. Hitting a woman was unforgivable.
“She’s a fully-trained paralegal,” Mager argued. “Cassie, honey. Don’t throw pebbles at your brother. No, he did not ‘start it’. Behave, or you’ll get a time-out.” They waited to see if Cassie would test her father’s threat. When she saw them both watching, the six year-old decided she’d better listen.
“You do well with them,” Herman said quietly. “Does Jacob still cry for his mom at night?” Mager shook his head, his jaw setting. He hated talking about Eileen. After everything Justin had done and given up for her, she’d gone and left him for a professional surfer. Every now and again, Herman saw pictures of the deserter and her man-whore on the cover of sports magazines, their beaming, airbrushed smiles glaring up at everyone.
“Where the heck is she?” Mager asked, checking his watch and effectively changing the subject. “Alicia is never late.”
“Have you seen her lately?” Herman asked. “She’s lovelier than ever.” Justin choked on his sip of water.
“What?” he croaked. “You – You’re not – ”
“Oh God no, son. She’s young enough to be my daughter. Besides, there’s only room in my heart for my Maggie, God rest her soul. I simply appreciate the beauty of a woman who’s carrying and nurturing a new life. A pregnant woman could have the face of a dog and I would still find her beautiful,” he explained. He was saved from hearing Justin’s indignant response by the trilling of the man’s cell phone.
“Hello? – Alicia! Where – What? – No, you can’t – It’s too soon. Are you – Okay, okay. Calm down. We’ll be right there. – Yes, Alicia. We’re on our way. Calm down. Breathe. Are you breathing? – Good. We’re on our way.”
“She’s in labor?” Herman asked. Then, realizing he’d asked an obviously redundant question, he grunted. He hated redundant questions. “All right then. You better get going.”
Mager was a bundle of nerves as he buckled Cassie and Jacob into their car seats. He kept muttering, “Too soon. It’s too soon.” One would think he was the papa, the way he was carrying on. He wasn’t though, and maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing. Herman liked Mager, but found him to be too emotional. Like now, for instance. He was practically tearing up, he was so worried.
Grow some balls, man! Herman thought as Mager pulled out and drove the second half of his horseshoe driveway. As he turned back toward the house, he stopped short, debating following in his own car. It was too soon. By almost two months. He shook his head. Mager would call, all hysterical and bawling, if anything went awry. Besides, Alicia had the best OBGYN in the city at her beck and call. He’d made sure of it. With one of his patented grunts, he headed to the back yard to clean up the lunch dishes. The menial task would help him keep both his hands and mind busy.
* *
“What took you so long?” Justin snapped. A contraction chose that moment to rip through her, so when she answered, her tone was much harsher than she’d intended.
“Another dead-air call, okay? God this hurts! Will you just go?”
“Was it the same number as last time? The one that got your hopes up about Nate?” Justin asked. Alicia shook her head, moaning.
“I don’t know. I didn’t look. I had other things – ”
“You better not get your hopes up again, Alicia. Not now, when you’re having a baby,” Justin snapped. “It’s not healthy for either of you if you get worked up.”
“Operative words, Justin. ‘Having a baby.’ Drive, damn you!” she yelled. Another contraction made her swear and two little voices piped up from the back seat.
“Don’t swear, Auntie. It’s rude,” they said. Alicia struggled for composure as the pain peaked and held for
several seconds before ever-so-slowly easing.
“Sorry,” she breathed. Thankfully, Justin finally put the minivan into gear and was backing out of the driveway. His words stuck with her as she silently prayed for him to actually do the speed limit for a change. He tended to be over-cautious whenever his kids were in the vehicle.
What if it was Nate calling? She didn’t get many hang-ups. Her number was unlisted. And the one Justin was referring to did have a U.S. area code. Alicia kicked herself mentally for not checking the number out this time. She’d been too preoccupied with getting ready to go to the hospital. Silent tears of pain and misery rolled down her face as she clutched the door and the seat, another contraction pulling her stomach muscles ever tighter.
Much to her relief, Justin put the petal to the metal and got her to the hospital in record time. Even still, she had time to remember the call he’d brought up. It was shortly after she was made to face the fact she was pregnant rather than fighting a prolonged tropical flu and, for the first time since arriving home, she was sleeping soundly.
It was the day Eileen left and a distraught Justin woke her from a deep, deep sleep. Dazed and muzzy-headed she told him she’d be over as soon as she could shower and wake up. No sooner was she in the shower than the phone rang again. Thinking Justin was calling back, she ran for it. It was Judge Michaels. He wanted her to pick him up on her way to Justin’s so they could both offer their support.
No sooner was she back in the shower again than the blasted phone rang a third time. This time, when she ran for it, she slipped in the puddles she’d made previously and slammed her foot against the bathroom wall. In horrible pain, she was gasping and whimpering when she finally managed to stop the incessant ringing.
… ‘Hello?’ she answered, struggling to keep from crying. The last thing she needed was for Justin to drive to her house in his distraught state, just because he was worried about her. When no one answered, she checked her Caller ID. The number was completely unfamiliar. ‘Hello?’ she said again. By now the pain was radiating up into her ankle and it was all she could do to keep from sobbing. In the next moment, the line went dead.