His challenge was met with a new surge of color in her cheeks, which somewhat diluted his mounting fear. He hated to think that every time something unpleasant was discussed she would end up in the E.R.
“He never admitted he…did anything wrong.” Mary shuddered, her eyes filling with tears. “And he never will.”
Cutler knew she couldn’t say the word rape. He had the same difficulty; just the thought filled him with such rage and disgust that he couldn’t think straight. But under no circumstances could he lose control. That would surely send his mother toppling over that dark edge. More than ever, she needed his strength.
“If it’ll ease your mind any, I don’t want any details concerning your relationship with him.”
“It wasn’t a relationship,” Mary said sharply. “It was a mistake, a gross error in judgment.” Mary’s sharp tone turned bitter.
“I know how hard this is for you.”
“You have no idea.”
“Mom, I’m sorry, but I can’t make promises about Drew that I can’t keep.”
Tears spilled down her cheeks, and he wanted to comfort her, but he couldn’t. Not when his own insides felt as if they were in a shredding machine.
Mary stood and took a succession of deep breaths. “Just promise me you’ll be careful, that you’ll watch your back.”
“Now, that I can promise.” Cutler leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. “You take care of you. I’ll be all right.”
“Don’t forget I’m a survivor, Cutler.”
“Like Kaylee.” He smiled. “The two special women in my life are cut from the same bolt of cloth.”
“But you’re not.” A flat statement.
Cutler was taken aback, and showed it. “What does that mean?”
“It means that you haven’t had the hard knocks that a lot of us have, whether by choice or circumstances. Until now, that is.”
“I can’t argue with that.”
“Finding out that you were a product of—” She broke off with another shudder.
“Puts me in that league. Is that what you were going to say?”
Mary nodded as though her throat was too full to speak. “Trust me, I’ll be fine. I’ve got enough of you in me. While I wish you had told me long ago the circumstances of my birth, I will get through this.”
“Oh God, son, I pray so. But I’m frightened.”
“Your fear is something I have no control over. Again, you’ll just have to trust me, trust in the system.”
“So you’re going after Drew legally?”
“I’m making no promises there either.” And he wasn’t. If legal didn’t work, then he’d take another route.
But what his mother didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her.
“It’s time I was going.”
Cutler nodded. “I’ll talk to you later.”
With a heavy heart he watched her leave. Because of Drew Rush his life had become a disaster. His mother was hurting and so was Kaylee.
And right now he couldn’t do a damn thing about either.
The Neiman’s show had gone off without a hitch.
For that Kaylee was profoundly grateful. Now all the agency’s efforts could go into the Versace show. Yet she was scared, too, scared that she wouldn’t be able to pull off a show of that magnitude.
Maybe her sudden lack of confidence stemmed from the conversation with her husband.
Her husband.
She still couldn’t believe that she was married. Since she had spoken her vows, she’d had to pinch herself mentally over and over in order to convince herself that she was now Kaylee Benton McFarland.
While she remained ecstatically happy, she couldn’t deny that Cutler’s shocking and disturbing news had knocked the props out from under her.
Drew and Cutler—father and son?
How could that be?
It was too coincidental. Too unbelievable. Not possible.
Only, apparently it was. As was her husband’s vendetta against his birth father—her godfather. And she was caught in the middle.
Kaylee’s stomach pitched. How could circumstances have swung so quickly and so drastically? It had been so long since her life had changed on a dime, she’d become complacent and forgotten that nothing was sacred or forever.
But why now? her heart cried.
She had everything she’d always wanted—a great career, a great father, a caring godfather, loving friends and last but not least, a doting husband.
However, Cutler’s declaration of war against Drew had put her happiness and security in grave jeopardy.
Only if you let it, her subconscious whispered.
While she dearly loved Drew and knew in her heart that he was innocent of the alleged charges against him, she could not let her allegiance to him rank above her love for and loyalty to Cutler.
Yet right was right and wrong was wrong. And Cutler was wrong. He just had to be. That left only one alternative, and that was prove it to him.
“You look deep in it.”
Kaylee thought about venting to her assistant, who’d just bopped into her office. But if the truth ever got out, she was determined it wouldn’t come from her. If Cutler wanted it known that Drew was his father, then he’d have to be the one to tell it. She sensed he wouldn’t. It was something he was apparently ashamed of.
“I am. Too deep for my own good.”
Sandy sat down with an inquiring look on her face. “Tell me you’re still happily married.”
Kaylee smiled. “I’m still happily married.”
Sandy ran a hand over her brow as if to wipe off imaginary sweat. “Whew! You had me worried there for a minute.”
“So far, I have no complaints.” That she was willing to air, that is.
“Well, let me tell you, you did good. He’s a hunk of eye candy, if I ever saw it.”
“I always thought you had great taste, and now I know it.” Kaylee grinned. “No pun intended, of course.”
“Of course.”
They both laughed; then Sandy said, “I’ve got a ton of stuff to go over with you. But first I have to tell you something.”
Kaylee groaned. “Are you going to rain on my morning or my entire day?”
“Your entire day.”
“Thanks.”
“Sorry.”
Kaylee set her chin. “Let’s have it.”
“Nicole’s been beaten up again. She’s all black and blue.”
Thirty-One
“McFarland, wait up.”
Cutler froze in disgust. He didn’t have to turn around to know who had hailed him, and it irked him no end that he couldn’t ignore the summons.
“Ah, Judge,” he said, turning slowly as James Jenkins strode up to him, stopping so close that Cutler smelled his breath. Instinctively he backed up.
If possible, Jenkins’s features contorted even more, which made him that much more unattractive. He was a small, scrawny man with a thatch of curly gray hair and tobacco-stained teeth. No wonder he had to bribe women to sleep with him, Cutler thought, then felt a twinge of guilt. Since his office hadn’t been able to prove that allegation, he should withhold judgment. However, that wasn’t easy; his gut told him Jenkins was as guilty as sin.
“What can I do for you?” Cutler asked.
“Stay out of my affairs. That’s what you can do for me.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Listen, you dirtbag, you don’t know what trouble is until you’ve crossed me.”
“Are you forgetting who you’re talking to?” Cutler asked. “I’m well acquainted with your tactics in the courtroom.”
“You haven’t seen anything yet, boy.”
“I’m just doing my job, Judge.”
“You’re more than doing your job. You’ve got a vendetta against me because I don’t kiss your ass in court.”
“You’re entitled to your opinion,” Cutler pointed out in an unruffled tone, though inside he was seething. It was a struggle not to deck the cocky littl
e bastard. For a moment he thought seriously about doing just that and to hell with the consequences. Then his sound judgment kicked in. Jenkins wasn’t worth losing his career over and that was exactly what would happen.
Granted, the judge might be unlikable and unethical, but he was still a judge. When it came to the legal system, judges walked on water. Besides, if he played his cards right and did his job, he’d nail Jenkins. It boiled down to timing and patience.
“McFarland, you’d better hope you don’t appear before me anytime soon.”
“Is that a threat, Judge?”
Jenkins was close enough for Cutler to see the spittle on the sides of his mouth. It was all he could do not to visibly flinch. But he held himself steady. Spittle or not, he wasn’t about to let Jenkins know that he’d rattled him in any way.
“You’re damn straight it is.”
“I guess we’ll let the chips fall where they may, then.”
“I do my job and I do it well.”
“If that’s the case, then you don’t have anything to worry about.”
Jenkins punched Cutler in the chest with a finger. “Now, you—”
“If you don’t remove your finger, I’m going to break it,” Cutler said with a smile.
The judge’s finger froze and his face paled. Though he removed his finger, he didn’t back down. “Call off your dogs, McFarland.”
“Can’t do that.”
“Okay, don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Jenkins raised a hand again as if to poke Cutler in the chest, then obviously thought better of it, because he lowered his hand just as quickly as he’d raised it. “I’ll find your Achilles’ heel. Make no mistake about it, and then I’ll use it to sink your ass.”
Cutler’s thoughts jumped to his mother, sending a shudder through him. Yet he continued to smile. “If you’ll excuse me, Judge, I have work to do.”
“I’m going to take pleasure in knocking your dick in the dirt, boy. And it’s coming. Count on it.”
Cutler’s smile held steady. “Have a nice day, Judge.”
With that, Cutler pivoted and walked down the hall, his piss factor so high, he figured anyone who passed him could see his burning rage. No doubt about it, his personal hit list was growing.
Not only was he bound and determined to nail Drew, he would nail Jenkins right along with him, though for totally different reasons, of course. Yet in his mind, the two were alike. Both disrespected and mistreated women, and that amounted to two faults he couldn’t, wouldn’t tolerate or dismiss.
“Hey, McFarland.”
Cutler groaned as he pulled up short. Again. He whipped around with no more excitement than he had moments ago. Actually, he’d rather have had a root canal than face his opponent, Winston Gilmore.
Cutler clenched and unclenched his hands, then jammed them into his pockets. This was another bastard he’d like to see get his comeuppance.
“Gilmore,” he said by way of acknowledgment.
“How’s it going?” A grin was plastered across the attorney’s handsome face.
“Can’t complain. How about you?”
“Couldn’t be better,” Gilmore said with a wide and confident smile that showed his pearly whites to perfection.
“Glad to hear it,” Cutler responded.
As if Gilmore picked up on the hint of sarcasm in Cutler’s voice, his face darkened and his eyes narrowed. “You’re a cocky son of a bitch whose ass I’m going to enjoy stomping.” He smiled. “In the polls, that is.”
“That remains to be seen,” Cutler countered with ease.
“You’re really chalking up the enemies, my friend.” Glee was in his voice again.
Cutler let the “my friend” pass, seeing no reason to carry the insults to a new level. All he wanted was to get out of the courthouse and back to his office before he completely blew his gasket and did something he’d regret, like putting a dent in pretty boy’s smug face.
“I saw, even heard, a bit of your exchange with the judge,” Gilmore said with more of that glee.
Cutler merely shrugged.
“You’ve always thought you were a law unto yourself, McFarland,” he said for Cutler’s ears alone, “but that’s about to change. I find it’s my honor-bound duty to show you otherwise.”
“Like Jenkins, you do what you gotta do.” Cutler didn’t know why he bothered to respond. Nothing was getting accomplished. But then, this kind of verbal bashing was Gilmore’s forte. He wanted to win and it didn’t matter how low he played to reach that goal.
Cutler rued the day he’d ever gone out with Gilmore’s wife. Even though they hadn’t been married at the time, Gilmore had always held that against him, thinking he, Cutler, still had the hots for his wife, which couldn’t be further from the truth. Convincing Gilmore of that was another story altogether.
“I’ll see you around,” Gilmore was saying, an idiotic grin still plastered on his face. “Or rather on the campaign trail.”
Not if I can help it, Cutler thought. “Looking forward to it.”
Cutler had taken two steps when Gilmore said, “Oh, by the way.”
Though furious at being further held up, Cutler stopped and turned, not bothering to curb his irritation. “What?”
“How’s your mother?”
A gut-knifng fear shot through him. “She’s fine. Why do you ask?”
Gilmore’s smile was too innocent to suit Cutler. Yet he made sure his fractured emotions didn’t show.
“My sister attends her church.”
Cutler lifted his brows, waiting for the hatchet to fall, if indeed it was going to.
“She was told your mother had been ill.”
“Like I said, she’s fine.”
“Good, because Lucy’s planning to get married and wants her to perform the ceremony.”
“I’m sure she’ll be delighted. Tell your sister to give her a call.”
“Will do,” Gilmore said before turning and striding off.
Cutler didn’t know how long he stood there with his heart stuck in his throat.
“You look like you’ve been drawn and quartered.”
“Thanks, Angel. I’ll do you a favor sometime.”
Angel grinned. “Don’t mean to be insulting. I’m just calling it like I see it.”
“You’re right,” Cutler responded in a reluctant tone. “It’s been another one of those days.”
“You kicked butt in court this afternoon. You should be feeling good about that.”
“I won’t feel good until the jury comes back with a guilty verdict.”
“I don’t see how they could do otherwise, after your closing. It’s one of your best.”
“We’ll see. But thanks for the kind words. I could use them.”
“I know you’re pissed at the picketers.”
“Actually, I wasn’t even aware of them until I left court.”
“I think several were arrested when they wouldn’t stop shouting obscenities about you, calling you a woman hater—among other things.”
Cutler’s mouth turned down. “Whatever floats their boats. I feel confident I proved that Gail Sessions knew exactly what she was doing when she drowned those babies.”
“I’m on your side. Unfortunately, those bleeding-heart liberals don’t see it that way.”
“And some of them just might be on that jury,” Cutler pointed out.
“Like you said, we’ll see, but not any time soon, I expect.” Angel paused and cocked his head to one side. “Meanwhile, is there anything I should know about?”
Cutler told him about his encounters with Jenkins and Gilmore.
“No wonder you’re out of sorts.”
“That’s an understatement,” Cutler said flatly. “So has Snelling got anything on the judge yet, something we can sink our teeth into?”
“Not to my knowledge, but I’ll check with him.”
“Build a fire under his ass, if you have to. I’m sure he’s still dragging his heels on purpose.”
“He sh
ould just do his job and keep his opinions to himself,” Angel said with censure in his voice.
“He’s playing it cautious, since he’d like to move into this office one day.”
“Seems as though a lot of people would like to occupy your chair.” Angel grinned, then drawled, “That would be all right, if you wanted to vacate it, that is.”
“Gilmore has a chance to whip me.”
“Nah. That’s not going to happen.” The room fell quiet for a moment, then Angel said, “On a brighter note, how’s married life treating you?”
Cutler perked up. “Great, actually.”
Angel scratched his head. “Man, I still can’t believe you took the plunge, and out of the blue, too.”
“I can’t either,” Cutler responded much more seriously than he intended.
Angel gave him a puzzled look. “Do I hear a strain of regret in your tone?”
“Absolutely not. Kaylee’s the best thing that ever happened to me.”
And she was. Even though he wasn’t in love with her and had married her under the worst of circumstances, he had no regrets. And while he was still in shock over that himself, he was making the most of it and having a hell of a good time.
The only hitch in their relationship was their disagreement over Drew. Even though that was a serious breach, he hoped that, too, would work itself out. Again, there were no sure things in life and he wasn’t prepared to let Drew off the hook, marriage or no marriage.
“Give her my best.”
“Will do. Anything new on Drew Rush?” Cutler asked.
“Still working on it, but so far I don’t have enough to make an arrest.”
“Keep your nose to the grindstone on that one, too.”
“I’ll let you know the second we get something concrete.”
Following that conversation, they discussed several more ongoing and upcoming cases. When his assistant finally left, Cutler felt more spent than ever. What he needed was a beer, followed by a hot shower.
With his wife.
Thinking of Kaylee brought a smile to his face. He reached for the phone and punched out her cell number.
“Hello, baby,” she said in that lilting voice of hers.
Evening Hours Page 21