CHAPTER 10
Melissa
Bethany’s little son grins at me, showing off his bottom teeth and flapping his arms. I kneel on the floor with them and sign to Bethany. Can I hold him?
Of course, she motions, turning Peyton toward her. Do you want to go to Aunt Melissa?
Like Bethany, little Peyton was born with severe hearing loss. Already he seems to understand a great deal. He angles around to face me, offering a sweet smile and reaching for me when I hold out my arms.
“Oh, sweet boy,” I say, gathering him to me.
I love babies: the way they coo and smile, and their total innocence completely melts me. Sometimes, though, I grow a little sad being around them. It’s not that I’ve given up on marriage and family, but working where I work, and doing what I do, makes it impossible to meet a potential baby daddy.
A knock on the door has me looking up. “Hey,” I say when I see Declan standing there.
Okay . . . maybe not completely impossible.
He grins back at me, reassured I’ve given him the smile he likes, the one that means “I haven’t pissed you off today” as he puts it. Funny thing, he doesn’t piss me off. We don’t always see eye to eye, and sometimes we go back and forth before we reach an agreement, or at least find common ground. But . . . things are better between us. I sigh at the way his light blue dress shirt brings out his eyes. No, they’re a lot better.
“I don’t want to interrupt your meeting,” he says, his eyes sparkling as if on cue. “But I have a meeting in another half hour, and I need you to sit in on it.”
I cuddle Peyton closer, rubbing his small back. Today is a little easier to keep my smile having this sweet baby so close, regardless of where I see this conversation going. Most days, though, are harder. Declan and I have handled too tough many cases lately, all surrounding horrific circumstances, forcing us to work late. Between my Dad starting chemo and hardly any time to myself, I’m ready to snap. And if it weren’t for Declan, I likely would.
Declan has completely chiseled his way into my heart. Just two months ago, I wouldn’t have believed he could. I viewed him like so many politicians I interact with, an overly inflated ego stuffed into a suave suite, driven to succeed no matter who it harmed. Now, I can’t find any joy until I see him.
“Does this case involve ‘R’?” I ask.
Bethany is too busy looking at Declan to read my lips, but I have to keep things confidential. He gives me a stiff nod, his smile vanishing. I let out a sigh. Rosana called me crying the other day and told me her mother’s pressuring her to drop all charges against Iker. I reassured her that she has our full support and counseled her on the phone until she calmed. If Declan is meeting with them this whole thing is getting ugly.
“I’ll be there,” I assure him.
“Thanks, Mel,” he says. He nods to Bethany who incidentally can’t stop gawking at him.
Who’s that? Bethany signs.
I perch Peyton on my lap. Acting District Attorney Declan O’Brien, I sign. I’m doing my best to appear casual, but the size of my grin gives me away.
How long have you been seeing each other?
I lower my chin to kiss Peyton’s head and give my face a moment to cool. We’re not dating, I motion. We’re simply colleagues.
Colleagues don’t stare at each other like they want to take each other’s clothes off, Bethany responds.
That’s not how I was looking at him, I insist, even though that’s pretty much how I look at him every time we’re alone. But if Bethany, who doesn’t know me well, can see right through me, who else knows I’ve fallen for Declan as hard as all those women I used to make fun of?
I think you found who you need, she signs.
I think you’re reading way too much into this, I tell her.
It’s what I say, but I already know she’s right.
My long floral skirt bats against my legs as I swoop into Declan’s office. “Hi,” I say.
His suit jacket is hanging on a hook behind him and about ten case files are spread across his desk. “Hey,” he says, smiling despite the hot mess in front of him.
Instead of taking a seat in front of him, I walk around to stand beside him, crossing my arms as I skim through the file names. All are particularly violent cases and require immediate attention. “You have to reassign these, don’t you?”
He nods. “Curran ripped into me for giving Tess three of them, claiming she’s pregnant and I shouldn’t be giving her cases like this.”
Curran is only watching out for Tess, but Declan and I are watching out for all these victims. “And how is Tess taking it?”
He rubs his jaw, like he does when he’s troubled. “She assures me she’s ready and up for the challenge.” He drops his hand away. “But she’s one person. I need Carmichael and Saunders to handle the rest, but they’re greener than Tess.” He shakes his head. “These cases are complex and will likely go to trial if we can’t agree on plea. I’m giving each two. I can’t handle them all myself. And if I give them more, I don’t think they’ll last the remainder of the year.”
“Which leaves you with three additional cases,” I reason.
“That’s right,” he says.
Which means he’ll likely try seven major cases over the next year. It would have been eight if he didn’t successfully plea out Tricia’s case. “I’m having lunch at the Fat Salmon with the governor on Tuesday.”
He slumps in his seat. “Awesome. Order the Dragon Fly, you won’t be disappointed.”
I lean against the desk in a half-sitting position so I can meet his face smiling slightly. “I want you to come with me. You’re doing a great job, but you’re taking on too much.”
His eyes skim along my body, just like they do every time we’re alone. At first, he was more subtle. Now, not so much. It’s like he no longer cares what I might think and wants me to know he’s looking at me.
“What are you thinking?” he asks.
That I want to kiss you. I fantasize about his lips all the time. How they would taste and whether I could stop once I started. Kissing Declan wouldn’t be an innocent gesture. I’d start at his mouth and keep going, down to his throat and chest and further yet.
I’ve never told him, but each time, it becomes harder not to at least drop a hint. I don’t though, choosing to talk about business instead. Business is safe. Declan isn’t, not when I’m feeling more than simply lust.
“The D.A. offices need more staff in SACU. I’m limited to what I can offer on the law enforcement side, but perhaps you and I can convince the governor we need more A.D.A.s in this unit statewide.” I motion to the stack. “This is ridiculous, Declan. One attorney can’t take on all this alone.”
I grip the sides of the desk, waiting for him to argue. Declan often allows his ego to get in the way, pushing him to do more than humanly possible. He knows how hard this job is. This time, he thankfully doesn’t give me a hard time.
“All right,” he says. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me yet. We still have a governor to convince.”
I start to push away from the desk, but the gentle sweeps of his fingers across the back of my hand keep me in place. My breath lodges in my chest. Such a delicate touch shouldn’t create such a firm hold or warm my skin the way it does, and it most certainly shouldn’t send a wave of goose bumps along the length of my arms. Except that’s the power Declan seems to have over me. I love it in a way, but in another, it frightens me.
“Who was that woman in your office?” he asks.
His gaze sears into mine, making it impossible to answer right away. “Her name is Bethany. She was a victim of domestic violence. One of the local agencies helped me relocate her to Canada when the case against her ex-husband was dismissed.”
His fingers stop against my knuckles. “Excuse me?”
“It’s something that happens a lot,” I confess. “When the victim is in danger and the system has failed.”
“You’re aiding and abetting a woman kidnapping her own child?”
I shake my head, hoping he’ll understand. “Bethany was five months pregnant when the charges against her abuser were dropped due to lack of evidence. If she would have stayed, Tomas would have killed her. I took her to a battered woman’s shelter, knowing that they’d help transport her out of the country and to safety. The only reason she returned is because Tomas is currently serving a life sentence. He met someone almost immediately after Bethany left. This woman didn’t make it.”
“Jesus,” he mutters, dropping his hand away.
The memory surrounding the incident breaks my heart and I wish Declan hadn’t pulled away. The way he stroked my hand gave me comfort I could use as I explain. “In an ideal world the A.D.A. would have tried and won Bethany’s case, justice would be served, and Tomas would be sentenced and held accountable for the multiple assaults he committed. That wasn’t what happened so, off the record, I did the only thing I could for her.”
“So she had her baby, and now that it’s safe she came back.”
His voice is so quiet, I have to read his lips. Not that it stops my smile. “Not the best happily ever after,” I admit. “But I’ll take it.”
The corner of his mouth lifts into a lopsided smile. “You looked good holding that baby,” he tells me. “Happier than I’ve ever seen you.”
I laugh, slightly embarrassed. “I adore babies and want a million.”
He chuckles. “Impressive. We’re Irish Catholic and I don’t think we can manage that many.”
I glance down. “I’d be happy with one, a healthy one.”
“What do you mean by healthy?” He frowns when I don’t answer. “You don’t mean one who can hear, do you?”
Declan has a way of reaching me down to my core. My voice splinters despite that it’s not what I want. “I like who I am,” I begin.
“Good,” Declan says, his frown firmly in place. “Because I like who you are, too.”
He’s trying to be sweet. I try to make him understand without sounding like I’m feeling sorry for myself. “I like who I am,” I repeat. “But as much as the great things in my life have shaped me, like my father and his kindness, there have been some awful things that have shaped me, too.”
I push off the desk. “My birth mother neglected me so severely, I didn’t attend school until Dad stepped in. I was significantly delayed as result. Dad fought to make sure I’d receive all the help I needed, but the process to adopt me was lengthy, limiting the services I was eligible for regardless of my needs.” I shrug. “Learning ASL and to verbally speak, in addition to reading and math, took longer and was more challenging as result.”
“But still you learned,” he reminds me. “And not only did you catch up, you likely surpassed those your age.”
“I did,” I agree. “But I never felt like I belonged.”
“Belonged where?” he asks, clearly confused.
“Among my peers.” It’s what I say, but it’s only partly true. Growing up, I never felt like I belonged anywhere, except with my dad. “It was hard being different,” I admit. “I wish I didn’t care so much what others thought of me when I was growing up, but I did.” It’s hard to tell him what I do, and I almost turn away. Somehow I manage to keep my chin up and continue. “For a long time, I stopped wearing my hearing aids.”
“Why?” he asks.
My mind wanders, and for a brief second, I’m there, walking the halls of my high school alma mater. My mother’s actions significantly impacted me, but what occurred within the walls of that school also took their toll. “Kids would say things, mean things,” I clarify. “They’d make fun of the way I spoke, that sort of nonsense.”
“Is that why you’d take your hearing aids off?” he asks, anger finding its way across his features. “So you wouldn’t have to hear what they said?”
I answer so quietly, I barely hear myself. “Yes.”
He reaches for my hands, holding them within his. “Was that the only reason?”
I don’t know if it’s the kindness I sense in Declan’s voice or the gentle way in which he holds me, or if maybe the memories I’ve suppressed for so long have found their way to the surface simply through his presence. Whatever the reason, my eyes sting in a way I wish they wouldn’t. “When something brushes too close to my hearing aids, it creates a back noise, like a squeal. It’s uncomfortable.”
“Does it hurt?” he asks.
Wow. No one’s ever asked me that. “It can. If it’s loud enough.” I try to relax my stance and pretend that what I say no longer affects me, even though that lump building in my throat reminds me that it does. “Girls couldn’t whisper their secrets because I’d react in a way that made them uncomfortable, even though I was the only one who’d hear the squeaks and squeals.” I swallow hard. “There were these boys who found out. When they’d pass me in the hall, they’d tug on my hair or flick my ear just to watch me jump.”
The strong angles along his face tighten, reflecting his anger. I try to steady my emotions. I don’t want him upset over things no one can change, and I don’t want him to pity me. I also need him to understand that despite the traces of pain that linger, I’m all right.
“It was hard,” I confess. “I pushed through and survived. But because I know what it’s like to grow up and live with special needs, and because I’ve seen how cruel people can be, I don’t want my babies to struggle.” I smile, for me, and for him. “That doesn’t mean that I’d love my child any less if he or she had issues. I’m only saying I wouldn’t wish that kind of heartbreak on anyone.”
“Neither would I,” he says. “But like you said, everything you went through, good and bad, helped you become who you are.” The steel hard look mixed with ardor he pegs me with knocks me on my ass. “And I think you’re fucking amazing.”
“Ah.”
Be it my face, or my oh-so brilliant response causes a very slow and absurdly sexy grin to ease across Declan’s face.
I’m in trouble. Serious trouble. And I must say, trouble has never looked so hot.
Declan’s phone rings. He barely blinks, keeping his eyes on me as he hits the speaker icon. “O’Brien,” he answers.
His secretary’s voice echoes through the speaker. “Declan, Detective Melo and your witnesses are ready for you.”
“Send them in please, Ellie.” He stands when the phone clicks, his playful expression daring me to follow. “You and me, have to do something about this.”
I turn around as he shrugs into his jacket, my eyes scanning the pile of cases littering his desk. “Do something about what?” I ask, stacking the files as if I have no interest in straddling him.
His hand presses against the small of my back, stilling me in place. “You know what I mean,” he whispers.
I start to deny it because I think I should when Detectives Melo and Hernandez bust in with Rosana in hysterics. “What happened?” Declan snaps
I hurry to Rosana. She falls into my arms as I gather her close. “My mother wants me to drop the charges,” she stammers between huge gulps of air.
Detective Melo shuts the door, appearing seconds from losing what remains of his cool. I lead Rosana to the leather couch against the wall, trying to put some space between her and her mother. She sobs against my shoulder as I ease her down. She’s devastated and feels betrayed. How can she not? Her own mother is siding with the man who robbed her of her innocence.
I want to shake Vilma, scream at her for failing to protect her child. But when the first of her tears stream down her face, I’m reminded that she’s as broken as her daughter and likely a victim herself.
Declan turns his full attention on Vilma. “Why are you protecting the man who hurt your daughter?”
His question is blunt and his tone stern. He’s not yelling, but his frustration and anger spread along the air like a mounting storm.
Valencia Hernandez sits beside Vilma, waiting for her to speak. “You need to answer my question,” Declan tells her.
Vilma lowers her chin. She knows Declan won’t stop pushing her until she answers. Valencia interprets as she speaks. “His family is from the same country I am. They’re calling Rosana a liar. They say this is an injustice and if Iker isn’t released they’re going to kill my family.”
Jesus.
Every emotion I feel plays along Declan’s features, but the most dominant is fury. He looks at Detective Melo. “Do you still have old army buddies living in Honduras?”
Detective Melo smiles. “As a matter of fact I do.” He looks to Vilma as Valencia continues to interpret. “They’re missionaries now, but not exactly the kind who do God’s work. I’m sure they won’t mind finding Iker’s family and politely requesting they stop threatening yours.”
Vilma shuts her mouth, but she doesn’t seem any happier. She’s ready to run away screaming from this whole mess.
Declan won’t let her.
“Here’s the deal,” he says. “I don’t bend to anyone. That’s not my job. My job is to put criminals behind bars and that’s what I intend to do. You’re not supporting your daughter. I don’t like it. But legally, there’s nothing I can do to make you.” He leans forward. “Just so you know, she has my full support, and that of my office. I swear to you, I won’t stop until Iker gets exactly what he deserves for hurting Rosana.”
There are moments so profound and silent you can hear a pin drop. This is one of those.
No one moves. It’s not just what Declan says, it’s the force behind his words.
Rosana stops crying, lifting her head from my shoulder. She’s not relieved or unafraid, far from it. She simply knows Declan believes in her.
For now, it’s all she needs.
Vilma doesn’t say anything, nor does anyone else when they pile out minutes later.
Except for me. I have plenty to say. “Have dinner with me.”
Declan leans back in his chair, analyzing me closely. “You want to have dinner with me?” he asks, as if he can’t believe I’m finally caving.
This time, I’m the one flashing a sexy smile. “Yes.”