Resisting Redemption

by Amabel Daniels

  Her teeth pulled at her lower lip. Worried.

  Grant respected and sympathized with how stressful her tasks could be. He’d spent a couple years assisting senior attorneys when he’d been a youngster in law school. It was never fun to deal with witnesses balking at interviews, rescheduling, or even simply refusing to cooperate. He and Roxie were seeking answers and some would want nothing at all to do with them. Hell, out of the five VIP guests, they’d only spoken to one.

  But he had yet to catch Roxie worrying about her troubles. Annoyed, irritated, peeved. Yes, she’d displayed all of those with her signature smartass spunk. It seemed the harder it was to get what she wanted, the more determined she became.

  Her frown and gnawing on her lip hinted she might be anxious about something else.

  “Roxie?”

  “Huh?” She jerked her face up and met his gaze. “Oh, right. Um, no. I haven’t gotten a reply yet from Wayne. I’ll try again around lunch.”

  She must have forgotten she’d already answered that question five minutes ago.

  “Right. Something bothering you?” He slanted his chair back to normal position and set his chin on his palm, elbow on the files.

  It’s the fucking autopsy report. I knew it. She just wouldn’t stop pestering about seeing the coroner’s notes, all the grim and morbid details about how Josh’s body was mutilated. He regretted giving in and showing her the reports. It didn’t matter if she’d worked with the blood and guts of animals before. He should have stuck to his instinct of sheltering her from murder and mutilation.

  “No, no. I’m fine.”

  “You do know I can tell when someone’s lying, right?”

  “Maybe. But at least you can’t read my mind yet.”

  “You’re distracted.”

  “Well, yeah, I am. Why wouldn’t I be? I can’t figure out which server would have been Jaydon’s second lover. I’ve got no idea where Richelle is, thus no interview. Sonny never returns his calls—”

  “Sonny? Why are you trying to reach Ben’s bodyguard again?” Grant left his desk and came to sit next to her on the couch.

  “I just thought maybe he’d say something for a change.”

  He laughed and slouched back in the cushions. “Roxie, he’s not going to. He’s going to stick to his story of nothing, and there’s no changing that. Frustrating as it is, his loyalty to Ben is ironclad.”

  “Well, I thought I’d try.” She flicked the paper she was holding to the coffee table and slumped back next to him. Her hands rubbed over her face and she exhaled deeply. “Funny you seem so at ease with the reality he’s got to be lying and covering up for Ben somehow.”

  Grant shrugged. “He’s given his statement. It’s not my place to accuse him of perjury until any physical evidence can hint otherwise. Seriously, what’s eating you?”

  Her apple-colored hair skimmed over her face and she puffed it away as she met his gaze. “It doesn’t help that your ex has been calling, stopping in, and making herself annoyingly available all morning.”

  Tara? He’d been at court for a minor issue from a previous case for the first three hours of his day.

  “She was in here? What did she want?” To his knowledge, Tara had more or less surrendered the case to him as soon as Ben pleaded ‘not guilty’.

  Since the arraignment in court, she’d not once spoken to him or Roxie, or demanded collaboration. She was conveniently stuck in an unexpected appeal of one of her cases from last year, but he’d viewed her lack of involvement as the greatest gift. She’d given up on the case and was butting out, likely fantasizing and planning her future with old dickwad prosecutor Henry.

  “Has she been bothering you?”

  “Not until today. First she came to demand to see your agenda for the day. Then to review the notes you have on Dave. And again to double-check on when we’re meeting him. It’s like she woke up today and realized she wanted to be all in on this case.”

  “You didn’t—”

  She waved a hand at him. “I’m well-versed in the ways of dismissing people who want answers. I didn’t give her anything and said not a word. I don’t see how it’s her business.”

  He patted her thigh. “Good.” According to the senior chairman of the firm, he and Tara were still “assisting” each other on the case. But he would keep her at more than an arm’s length. Naturally, Roxie would be a good guard to the case. “So what’s bothering you then?”

  A quirk of her lips almost hid her wince. “Nothing. Can’t I have a bad day like any other person?”

  “Time of the month?”

  “Never ask a woman that.” She rolled her eyes. “I’m fine. It’s nothing.”

  Fine? AKA far from fine. When he’d been married to Tara, he suffered plenty of her mood swings. Tara was the kind to lash out, belittle him, and pick fights with anyone and everyone when she was bothered. Roxie, though? She was too independent, too bottled-up, and self-burdening. It nagged him that she wouldn’t at least tell him what was the matter. Maybe he could help.

  He scoffed and grabbed her phone before she could perform another OCD check of the screen. “It’s something if it’s making you look at your phone a hundred times a minute.”

  Her face paled. “Hey, come on. I’m on it. I’m working on Wayne’s PA. And… Look, I’m not slacking.”

  Grant dropped her phone and slid closer to rub the back of her neck. Jesus. So smooth. What does she do, put butter on her skin? “I didn’t imply you’re slacking. But if something is bothering you, you can’t be much help to the case.”

  She ducked away from his hand. “Grant, I can handle it.”

  Damn if she wasn’t defensive as hell. “I know you can. But I can tell something’s off. And as long as I’m wondering what it is, I can’t concentrate on finding Josh’s killer.”

  “Well, you should. Focus on the case. Not me. You don’t know something is off with me. You don’t know me.” She shook her head.

  He gripped the back of her neck and pulled her closer to rub the satiny skin again. Not once had he ever jumped the line between professionalism and intimacy with an assistant. Not even with the knockouts Juanita used to hire.

  But Roxie wasn’t just an assistant. She was more of a corroborator. Smarter and sharper than he’d expected her to be. And very incorrect.

  “I’ve been working with you every day for nearly a month. You’re at my side for hours of the day, and on the other end of the phone all hours of the night.” And sneaking into my dreams until the sun rises. “I can’t not know you, Roxie.”

  She relaxed under his massage and he peered closer to see her face.

  “And I know I need you. Your help. Is it Lucy?”

  Her eyes closed, she nodded. “Sophia has to go to the hospital for a therapy session. I thought we’d meet with Dave on Monday, like the original plans, and I’d be somewhat free this afternoon to be able to figure out something with Lucy… It’s not like Sophia can do PT with a baby crawling around.”

  Grant paused rubbing her neck. He couldn’t believe she’d admitted it. Without any fight. The last time he’d seen Lucy, Roxie declared he’d never have to see her again. That she could handle the provision of a babysitter and devote her workdays to him.

  “So?”

  She snorted. “So Sophia will be in the hospital, and I’ll be at Dave’s with you. I haven’t found a clone yet. And I don’t know of any daycares I trust, nor do I have the money to afford one.” She squirmed from the grasp of his hand again. “She’ll just have to take Lucy with her and—”

  “Bring Lucy with us,” he said.

  “Excuse me?”

  He patted her knee before he stood up. “You heard me.”

  “Bring Lucy with us? To meet with Dave?”

  Grant smiled with his back to her as he walked toward his desk for his keys and phone. “Yes. It’s just a talk with a musical-talent manager. We can go get her now, grab lunch, and make it to Dave’s on time.” He turned around, sliding his coat on. She
hadn’t moved from the couch, her phone still in one hand, and her mouth hung open.

  “Aren’t you the one who blew a gasket when I had to bring her to the dinner with the Rohns? Something about an infant not being welcome at important meetings?”

  He shrugged, hating the fact he’d been such a jerk about it. He hadn’t been angry at Lucy’s existence that night, more caught off guard at the reminder of—

  “Doesn’t mean we can’t allow for flexibility.”

  “Are you sure?” She frowned as she stood, stuffing things into her bag. “I mean she’s a good baby. She doesn’t fuss much. But I don’t want you to…think I can’t do this job.”

  “I don’t need to wonder if you can do this job. You already have been doing it for a month.”

  Roxie didn’t speak another word until they got into his car in the parking garage. By the lines on her forehead and the downward curve of her mouth, she was likely confused but too desperate to ask any more questions about his offer. In her silence, Grant resisted analyzing why he had jumped to the solution of having a baby girl come to an interview with them.

  When he’d met the baby at the dinner with Ben’s family, she didn’t cry much or distract them. Roxie treated her as just another person at the table. Like it was absolutely natural for a baby to be with them. Grant had been flustered and off track, but to his discomfort, it was because the kid was just too damn cute. He had no nieces and nephews to dote on or play with. No babies to watch.

  Nope. No babies. He swallowed hard.

  While he was sure Lucy’s presence at the meeting with Dave would be a surprise, it wouldn’t bar them from having the discussion they needed to. More than anything, Grant hoped he could tamp down his excitement of seeing the baby again, and lessen his curiosity.

  “Where to?” he asked.

  Roxie directed him to a poor section of downtown, and while he never missed her subtle mentions of needing money, he hadn’t been prepared to visit the block where she called home.

  How can a baby girl grow up in this neighborhood?

  Grant sat with his car idling on the street as he waited for Roxie to run into her apartment complex to fetch her daughter. If it could be called an apartment complex. With a continuous roof and all windows intact, it still missed major points for curb appeal. Broken bottles littered the doorsteps, and graffiti decorated the bricks of the first floor walls. A homeless man rocked and muttered on the sidewalk, and a stray dog squatted to deposit a pile on the patch of dead grass next to the shot-out streetlamp.

  Roxie returned quickly with a car seat hanging from her elbow and a large bag on her opposite shoulder. He unlocked the car, took the bag, and set it in the backseat while she configured the seatbelt around convenient notches of the car seat. No noise came from the carrier, so he assumed Lucy was napping.

  As they took their seats again and Grant drove off, the lack of speech was deafening. He glanced at Roxie, finding her auburn tresses blocking her face as she stared out the window. On her lap, she scraped her index fingernail back and forth on her pencil skirt.

  Returning his attention to the road, he frowned and tried to resist the questions. How could she have ended up in that hole? So intelligent, witty, clever, and determined. What happened with that horse to make her leave vet school just before the finish line? How could she have given up the promise of a solid career and a safer home? How did she sleep at night, putting her child in that slummy environment?

  His wonderment wasn’t disapproval, or pity. Only mystery. Another peek at her convinced him she had to be embarrassed about him seeing her residence.

  How could she have even tried to accuse him of not knowing her? Not familiarizing himself with the almost missable ways she deflected attention. The ways she stuck her chin up and resisted roadblocks—from him and from work.

  She wrinkled her brows as she expressed nagging worries for him to remember to eat and buckle his seatbelt. When she was impatient and peeved, she would bounce her left ankle on the floor. If someone irritated her, including him, her smile would only halfway reach her eyes with a mischievous smirk. When she over spoke and treaded indelicately on conversations, her smooth cheeks would redden to a hue that rivaled her hair. As they were now.

  She cleared her throat. “It’s all I can afford for now. The inside is cleaner than the exterior. Until I can figure out something else, it’s warm, secure with triple deadbolts, and vermin-free.”

  His throat caught as he swallowed. Maybe she was ashamed of her residence, but it wasn’t going to hold her back. Not his Roxie. Of course she’d picked up on the elephant in the car and addressed it head on. So she noticed that he’d taken note of her lowly surroundings. Didn’t mean she’d take his pity. Pride swelled in a silly and small way.

  His Roxie?

  “Because you anticipated affording a nicer and safer home with the income of a vet?”

  “Well, you know what they say about making plans.”

  At the next light, he turned around to see that the seatbelt was still strapped around the carrier. “How come you allowed yourself to be expelled from school? What motive did you have to plead guilty to killing that horse?”

  “It wasn’t a motive. It was a mandate. I couldn’t have lived with myself if I’d done otherwise.”

  Because she didn’t care about the horse, or because something else mattered more? Clearly she had to have loved animals as a wannabe vet. And no one would endure nearly a decade of college to simply throw it away. “You do know I can investigate this and find out for myself.”

  “I’m surprised you haven’t already.” She mock-gasped. “Oh, right. Because you have a more important case and matter at hand. Proving Ben is not guilty.”

  A warning to fuck off if he’d ever heard one. “Are you telling me to butt out?”

  “Are you in any mood to talk about your divorce with Tara?”

  He slanted his brows. She’d never miss a chance to throw it back on him. If she could be defensive and mum, could he? No. He couldn’t allow for her to remain an enigma to him.

  “No need to get touchy. I’m curious. Had you graduated from school, you wouldn’t be renting that dump.”

  “Gee, thanks for the reminder. Had I graduated from school, I would have lost the most important thing in my life. Another day, Grant. Maybe another day.” She straightened in her seat. “Why are you stopping here?”

  He shifted to park and turned the engine off in a lucky spot off a side street. She wouldn’t bend and tell him what happened? He was peeved, because he had to know, but he was also proud, because she was strong enough not to be swayed—even by him. Another day. I’ll take you up on that, Red, and I won’t forget.

  “We’ve got an hour before we meet Dave. His office is about four blocks down and I’m starving. Figure we can grab something on the way.” They exited the car and he watched her open the door to the backseat.

  Fuck. He hadn’t considered Lucy. Sure, she was going to come with them, but Roxie hadn’t brought a stroller or baby-transport mechanism when she’d left her apartment. How did this work?

  “Okay. I’ll put her in the carrier as soon as she wakes up. Easier.”

  Because she spoke without her usual smirk and avoided making eye contact, he figured she was still unsure of his insistence to tote Lucy to the meeting with them. She unbuckled the car seat straps and slowly pulled Lucy to her chest. Sleeping away. Roxie’s tote slipped down her shoulder, dragging the straps of the other—diaper?—bag to her wrist.

  “Here, maybe I can help?” He jogged to her side of the car and took the bags from her shoulder as she propped the sleeping baby against her chest. Lucy’s eyes were closed, her chubby thumb was in her mouth, and her red ringlets stuck to her head.

  “Thanks. When she wakes up, I’ll wear her in the carrier.” She set off on the sidewalk.

  “Doesn’t it get heavy wearing her, after holding her?”

  She smiled. “No heavier than it was carrying her inside of me.”


  He hadn’t considered that. As they walked in the late autumn brisk breeze, he studied her, admiring her knowledge. How did she just know how to do it all? There was no sight more beautiful than a mother with her child, belonging to one another in the most profound ways. The bond between the females at his side twisted something within his chest. Perhaps jealousy knifing its way in again.

  Lucy woke with an adorable yawn a few minutes later. She blinked at him as though she was weighing his importance.

  “Good morning, sunshine,” Roxie said. “How about some tacos, Grant?” She nodded toward a take-out establishment a few buildings ahead.

  “Fine by me. Maybe we can take it to go and eat at the park up ahead. Get a bench or something?” He did a double-take at Lucy, still staring and judging him.

  What do babies think about?

  “I can run in and order us something. Kind of need to go, though. Do you think you can, uh, manage her for a few minutes out here? So I don’t have to haul her in the bathroom with me?”

  Did she hesitate in asking him because she didn’t trust him with Lucy, or because she doubted he could watch her alone? Either way, he was determined not to fail.

  “Sure. Yeah, sure.” He held his hands out, hoping it would go smoothly. How the fuck do you hold a baby?

  She raised her brows when he held his hands up in the air, out at arm’s length. Propping Lucy to her hip, she reached into her purse for her wallet. Then she offered Lucy to him.

  He grabbed Lucy under her armpits and matched her steady gaze. Still judging him. Jesus, it was a probing study.

  Roxie took off into the carryout. He tried to smile at Lucy, hoping to break her serious expression. Nothing doing.

  “Hi.” Still nada.

  It was as if the kid could search into his soul and examine his every mistake.

  In a flash, Roxie rushed back out the door, without food, heading toward him on the sidewalk. “My God. She’s not a bomb.” She took hold of Lucy’s waist, underneath where his hands had been, and gestured at his hip. “Hold her like a koala.”