by Deanna Lee
Placing a small kiss on the flat plane of his stomach, I let my hands move to take both of his hands. Threading his fingers with mine, he pulled me to a standing position and took my place on the bed. Letting him guide me, I found myself sliding astride his thighs. He let my hands go and lifted me. I clasped his shoulders as he carefully lowered me onto his cock.
There it was, that hot bite of pleasure and pain that always came when I took him inside me. I let my head fall back as I sank onto him; the physical connection was deep and overwhelming. When I could, I lifted my head and met his eyes. The light from the bathroom gently revealed his face. He pulled me close as I started to gently rock on him.
I formed my hands into fists on his back to keep from digging into his skin with my nails. “I never understood.”
“Understood what, baby?” His hands moved over my back then, gentle and thorough in their exploration.
“How something could be so good that it hurt.”
He moved his hand between us, his thumb pressed against my clit, and every bit of control I thought I had fell away. The flush of orgasm was quick. Shaking, I barely recognized he’d stood from the bed until he laid me down on my back and started to push into me with deep, measured strokes.
CHAPTER 10
S imply put, I didn’t have time for a disaster. But life has a habit of waiting until that moment when you can’t take one more piece of straw and then it just jauntily tosses a two-hundred-pound bale your way. From the top of the stairs, I watched in wonder as Lisa Millhouse stood in front of James Brooks, repeatedly poking her finger against his chest. Language I normally reserved for being stuck in traffic poured out of her mouth, full of vehemence and conviction. If cursing someone out had been an Olympic event, I was sure Lisa could have medaled. Inclining my head, I looked to Jane. She was an avid audience member, and for once, I couldn’t blame her. James and Lisa made an exciting and dynamic pair.
I repositioned my bag on my shoulder and strode forward with what I hoped was a tolerant smile on my face. “Good morning!”
Both of them turned on me, ready to bite, and then they both looked at the floor. Thankfully, reminded that they’d been giving fourteen people entirely too much entertainment, they were silent. I cleared my throat and motioned toward my office. “Why don’t we continue this discussion in my office?”
Over my shoulder I shot Jane a look and gave her the universal I need caffeine now expression. She nodded and bolted away. I suppose she was relieved to be out of the line of fire. I entered my office and shut the door. Lisa and James were both sitting in front of my desk, each on different ends of the three-chair arrangement. I took my time getting settled.
“Now.” I leaned back in my chair and looked the two of them over. “Since I wasn’t even aware the two of you knew each other, I can guarantee you that I have no clue what you could be arguing about. Without using the phrase ‘he started it’, Lisa, tell me what happened.”
Lisa crossed her arms over her chest and glared at me for a long, silent moment. Then she sucked in a deep breath, bit down on her bottom lip, and burst out, “But he did start it!”
“The hell I did!”
“Mr. Brooks,” I murmured. “It’s not your turn to speak.”
James slouched in his chair. “This isn’t fair.”
It was like talking to five-year-olds. “Is this conflict business, or is it personal?”
“Business,” Lisa snapped.
“Personal,” James corrected through clenched teeth.
Lisa blushed, and I started laughing. “I see, so the show you put on for the staff a few minutes ago was foreplay?”
Lisa stood. “You don’t have to be insulting!”
“You’re the one being insulting,” James snapped in response.
“Oh, fuck you.” Lisa stomped out of the office, slamming the door so hard the glass wall shook.
I looked at him. “Mr. Brooks, is it your intention to alienate all the artists who currently work with the gallery, or is it just Lisa you are out to vex?”
“This is none of your business, Mercy.”
“Granted.”
James rubbed his face and stood up. “The woman is an unreasonable wench. Most women don’t mind being asked to dinner!”
I tapped one nail against the surface of my desk. “Did you in any way imply that her status here at the gallery could be affected by having dinner with you?”
“Thanks,” James muttered. “I had no idea you thought I was a sexist bastard.”
“I didn’t say that.”
With exaggerated care, he took a deep breath and said, “No, Mercy, I didn’t imply that her status at the gallery would be affected by going out with me.” He glared at me as if he thought I didn’t believe him. “Jane introduced us, and I told her that I liked the work I’d seen from her so far. She was here to discuss that high-school project with Jane. I horned in on their meeting because I was attracted to her. At the end of the meeting, Jane used her supersecret teleportation device to disappear.” He shook his head and glanced at Jane, who had just returned with the coffee, which she put on my desk before retreating. “She has an amazing talent for that.”
I laughed, understanding what he meant. “She’s rather stealthy. So, what happened after Jane left the room?”
“I asked Lisa to have dinner with me, and I said I was interested in finding out more about the source of her inspiration. I’ve never seen a female sculptor with that kind of quiet passion and violence.” He looked at me, and I knew that my thoughts were all over my face. “What?”
I sighed. “Lisa values her privacy.”
“I can understand that.”
“No.” I shook my head. “Lisa is compulsive about her privacy. You’ll have to mend this fence with her, and I honestly don’t know how you can accomplish it.” I looked out into the bull pen and sighed. “You might ask Shamus for some advice.”
“I thought you and he were—”
“We are, but he’s had a relationship with Lisa in the past. He knows her much better than either one of us.” I watched James stand and shove his hands into his slacks. “And James, I wouldn’t suggest you call Lisa an unreasonable wench to her face. The woman does own a blowtorch.”
James nodded and, with a small smile, left my office. I’ll give Jane credit, she waited until he was down the stairs before she shot up out of her chair and hurried to the doorway of my office.
She shut the door, walked sedately to my desk, and then whispered in awe, “She called him everything but a cock-sucker. She didn’t even repeat herself.”
Dropping my gaze to my desk, I tried to keep a straight face, but in the end, I lost the battle and laughed outright. Jane went and sat in the chair that James had abandoned. She waited until I was finished laughing before she continued.
She brushed her slacks as if she’d found lint on them and met my gaze. “They are so hot for each other.”
I nodded and sighed. “Yeah, I noticed.”
With his plans for hiring Jeff King thwarted, Milton had started in on the rest of the gallery. It took him about four hours to alienate nearly the entire administrative staff, and the whole day to get the best of the sales staff. Sales personnel are used to dealing with difficult people and have a high tolerance for bullshit. The women in the bull pen had taken to hiding in the bathroom in shifts of two or three. The two men who worked in the gallery hadn’t been targeted by Milton, so they mostly ran interference for everyone else.
It was almost noon before Milton made his way to my office. He shut the door and tried to glare at me. He’d always struck me as an evil plus-sized leprechaun, though Lisa’s garden-gnome idea had merit. Milton was a large man—it was his personality that made him seem so small and useless.
“What can I do for you, Milton?”
“Are you going to put Jane Tilwell in your place?”
“Yes.”
“She isn’t suited for the job.”
“Ms. Tilwell holds degrees in b
oth accounting and art history. She is perfect for this position.”
“You’d be better off hiring Jeff King.”
“No.”
“I still have power around here.”
“I don’t consider the ability to bully and berate others power.” I watched his face get red with anger, and I was surprised to see a tiny grimace of guilt. It rankled that he might be human after all.
He muttered something under his breath and left my office. I looked toward Jane’s desk and found her on the phone. I sighed, and when she caught me looking, I motioned her to come in. I felt she had a right to be warned about Milton’s irritation and his knowledge about her future at the gallery.
I’d forgotten about James Brooks until I got to Shame’s gallery. Letting myself in with the key he’d slipped on my key ring, I hurried up the stairs and found James sitting in my red chair, a beer in one hand. He was waving his free hand around as he spoke. I frowned; I didn’t like him sitting in my chair.
“The damn woman doesn’t have a right to be so mean.” His tone was petulant.
Shame laughed. “Women are possibly the cruelest creatures on earth. They all have too much attitude, but since they also have all the pussy, we just have to deal with it.”
If I hadn’t been carrying my big purse, I would have thrown it at him. “Mr. Montgomery.”
He looked in my direction, pulled off his safety glasses, and shoved a tool in the pocket of his jeans. “Sweet Mercy, we were just talking about you.”
I laughed and shook my head. “Why do I put up with you?”
“Ask me that again later. I’ll be happy to remind you.”
“I will.” I raised an eyebrow and looked him over.
I started toward the second set of stairs, but stopped to pull off my shoes. “Are the two of you drinking your dinner?”
“He’s drinking.” Shame laughed and motioned to James, who was looking mournfully into an empty beer bottle. “I’m working. I ordered food. It should be here soon.”
I nodded and paused at the feet of the stairs. “James.”
He looked at me and offered me a smile. “Yes, Mercy?”
“You aren’t going to find the answer to your question in the bottom of a bottle.”
“I’m drowning my sorrows tonight. Tomorrow I’m going to practice groveling and begging. Then I’ll go do it for real on Lisa’s front porch.”
I chuckled. “You might want to get some body armor.”
“Excuse me?”
“At the very least, a cup would be a good investment.”
As I started up the stairs, James asked Shame what I meant, and Shame laughed. “Lisa likes to shoot uninvited guests with a paint gun.”
“Are you sure you want to go home?”
I laughed and let my fingers slip from Shame’s as we came down the stairs into the gallery. Repositioning my purse, I nodded. “Yes. I have some things to take care of, and I have to prepare for a meeting with Samuel Castlemen. He’ll be here in the morning.”
Shame pulled me close and cupped my face with his hands. His mouth was soft and tender on mine. I could so easily blend into him, but after a moment I slipped away from him and out the door into the night. With one glance over my shoulder to give him a smile, I went to my car. He didn’t shut the door until I was in my car with the doors locked.
The trip back to my apartment was spent mostly regretting not getting laid before I left. At my apartment, I found a Post-it from the maintenance department in my building. They’d fixed the door and replaced my chain with a much stronger one. After entering my apartment and locking myself inside, I went to my answering machine out of habit and hit the button.
There was one message from my mother. Sighing, I listened to her talk about her recent shopping trip. She never stopped talking until my machine cut her off. “So, you just have to call me so I can come over and show you my new hat—it’s a vibrant purple with a—”
The machine clicked, and I shook my head. I couldn’t imagine what was on top of that hat, and a part of me really didn’t want to find out. I pulled my hair down as the next message started. There was a loud sigh, and I looked at the machine and waited for Lisa to continue. She was the only one who sighed at my machine.
“Mercy, call me when you can. I’ve got the last piece ready for the gallery, and I’m digging a hole for a body. You just tell that asshole Brooks to stay in Boston, or he’ll be in that hole.”
I rubbed my face as I sat down, torn between laughing and crying. God, I hated the hostility she had for men. Hated it, understood it, and desperately wanted to help her heal it. Instinctually I understood that Lisa’s past was horrifying, and I didn’t want to know all the details. However, as her friend, I thought I had a responsibility to help her get on with her life.
The third message started. “Hey, Mercy. It’s Jane. Look, when I came home this evening Jeff King was waiting on my doorstep. He’s gone now.”
I heard the machine click off as I hastily opened my front door and shoved my feet into a pair of shoes that I found by the entrance way. Once in my car, I forced myself to calm down and concentrate on driving. Jane only lived ten minutes from me by car, but it was the longest ten minutes of my life. I hated the thought of him being near her.
Her laughter and easygoing smile seemed so fragile then. I parked in front of her building and ran inside as if the devil were behind me.
Her apartment was on the first floor; I banged on her door and then tried the knob. “Jane?”
Locks clicked, and Jane opened the door. For a moment, I just stared at her. She was dressed in a nightshirt that read FUCK OFF, I DIDN’T ASK YOUR OPINION. She motioned me inside, her stuffed baby-seal-shaped house shoes flopping as she moved away from the door.
I said, “I haven’t seen pink rollers like that since, well, in a long damn time.”
She shot me dirty look and yawned. “What’s up, Mercy?”
I swallowed hard and shook my head. “Jeff was here?”
“Yeah.” She stretched and sat down on the couch. “I don’t know what he wanted.”
“How did you get him to leave?”
Jane snorted. “I pointed my 9mm at him.”
Mouth hanging open, I sat down, and was pleased when my ass connected with a chair. “You have a gun?”
“Yes.” She shrugged. “My brothers and my father are cops. In fact, I went through the academy and graduated myself.”
“You could be a cop?”
“No, that’s why I wear clothes that are too expensive and look at pretty things all day. I couldn’t be a cop.” She tipped over and lay across her couch. “Mercy, you woke me out of a dead sleep.” Yawning again, she met my gaze across the room. “What’s wrong?”
“Jeff came here.”
Jane sat up abruptly. “You were worried about me.”
I nodded and then shook my head. “Yes. I was worried. I kept thinking that he had hurt you or that he would. It would have been my fault, Jane. If he’d hurt you…” I took a deep breath.
I stood and turned my back on her. A sigh turned into a sob. I didn’t realize she’d left the couch until her arms came around me and she hugged me tightly. I accepted her embrace and then let her lead me back to the chair.
“All of this time, I considered what happened to me personal.”
“It was personal.”
“Yes.” I nodded. “And it was something more. How could I think that his punishment was less important than my dignity?” My demand was met with silence. “I knew deep down that I had to make an effort to protect other women from him. At least if he were labeled as a sex offender, it would be something.”
“Is it too late?”
I shook my head. “I don’t think so.” I glanced at her, saw the concern on her face. “I’m so sorry, Jane. Sorry that you were exposed to him, that he felt he could come here and threaten you because he couldn’t get to me.”
“He did get to you.” Jane stood and walked away from me. “The moment
I started leaving that message I realized that I had done exactly what he expected. He wasn’t out to hurt me, Mercy; he was just using me and your affection for me as a weapon.”
It had been effective. I looked at Jane then, saw her control and her ever-present I-can-do-anything attitude, and I knew that I no longer had the luxury of hiding behind my dignity. There was another woman out there somewhere; she would get in Jeff King’s way, and he would hurt her if I didn’t do something.
I stood. “I have to go.”
“Mercy?”
I looked back to her. “I can’t keep this inside any more.”
She didn’t follow immediately, so I waited outside her apartment door until I heard her turn the locks. Returning to my car, I dug through my purse for my wallet. There was a card in my wallet. I’d carried it since that first day in the hospital. I looked at it, tattered and worn just by being transferred from wallet to wallet as I changed purses.
For a moment, I just stared at the woman’s name. Denise Moore. She’d been a detective when she’d attempted to interview me. I wondered what rank she held now, how far she had moved in her career. There were times when I lay in my bed thinking about her face as she’d turned to look at me in the doorway of the exam room. It looked as if she thought she could will me into telling her what she needed to know.
I picked up my cell phone and dialed the number she’d scrawled on the back before I could change my mind. It rang several times, and then a groggy female voice answered. I swallowed hard and lowered my head as she said hello for the fourth time.
“My name is Mercy Rothell.”
There was a long moment of silence, and then she cleared her throat. I could hear her moving around as if she were leaving her bed. “What can I do to help you, Mercy?”
“You can tell me it’s not too late to make the man who raped me pay for it.”
“How long ago was it?”
“Roughly two years.”
“Did you file a report at the time?”