CHAPTER 14
Viveka
The moment I pull myself out of my car and stare over the roof of it at my office, I know it’s going to be a crappy day.
The hole through the front window is a good indication. Leaning back into my car with a sigh, I grab my purse and briefcase from the passenger seat, then make my way inside to see the extent of the vandalism.
My rent in this strip is affordable because I’m in an area of the city that has a few unsavory characters around. It’s something I easily adapted to, especially with Frannie giving me pointers. It usually means I don’t walk out to my car if it’s dark unless Frannie is watching. If she’s not available, I have on occasion called the police. They never seem to mind. I also carry pepper spray, and I stay hypervigilant of my surroundings at all times.
Given all of that, I have sort of lapsed into perhaps a false sense of security because in the eleven years I have been here, my office has never been vandalized.
I unlock the front door, the deadbolt squeaking loudly as I turn the key. The minute I step inside, I see the offending weapon. A brick had come through the window. It managed to land perfectly in the middle of my desk. Thankfully, it missed the computer monitor sitting six inches to its left.
I also immediately realize this is not a typical vandalism as there seems to be a white piece of paper rubber-banded around the brick.
A message?
Minutes later, I’m dialing the police department and asking for someone to come out to take a report. Had it not been for the note wrapped around the brick, I would have merely turned this over to my landlord to fix. But when someone scrawls a personal message—Die, Cunt—on a brick that comes through the window, I kind of feel the need to at least have the police acknowledge what happened. That way, there will be a paper trail in case anything else occurs.
The front door of my office flies open, and Frannie storms in. “What in the hell happened?”
I hand her the note I’d been holding onto after I unwrapped it from the brick. Frannie reads it, and her hand flutters at the base of her throat as she peers at me with worried eyes. “Who did you piss off?”
I shrug. In my line of work, I’ve pissed off a lot of people.
“It could be the man I sued so his wife could have custody of their dog in their divorce proceeding, or the thug I helped the DA prosecute for animal cruelty because he was running a dogfighting ring, or hey… it could be the real estate developer I just sued to save an endangered woodpecker. Take your pick.”
No lie. It could’ve been any one of those people and probably half a dozen others. My money was on the man who doesn’t want to give up custody of the dog in the divorce, though. Divorce proceedings are some of the nastiest types of law anyone will ever practice. Throw the love of an animal in there, and I’m not surprised it’s taken eleven years for somebody to throw a brick through my window. I know plenty of domestic attorneys who arm themselves with guns in their desk drawers because there have been some violent people who come after them.
Surprisingly, it doesn’t take long for a patrol car to show up. Two helpful but ultimately powerless police officers come in and take the report. They’re polite and say they’ll check the surrounding businesses to see if any of them had working security cameras they could look at. They are not, however, hopeful this would yield anything because this area is so rundown the people here really can’t afford such security. We just have to kind of hope nothing bad happens.
While I talk to the police, Frannie calls the landlord, since he owns the entire strip of businesses on this block. He promises to send out a maintenance crew to at least board up the window until he can get it replaced.
When the police officers leave, Frannie turns to me and says, “What are they going to do to catch the bastard who did this?”
I give her a sympathetic smile and love her even more for her concern. “Not much they can do. No eyewitnesses and probably no security footage.”
“But surely they’ll investigate the people you might have pissed off in your legal cases?”
I shake my head. Another sympathetic smile. Poor Frannie. “Not really. I can’t divulge anything about my clients without breaching confidentiality.”
“You’re not giving them info on your clients, just the people on the other side of the cases,” she points out.
“Yeah, but to do that would reveal who my clients are, and that’s getting into a gray zone. I’d rather not.”
“You’re awful Zen about this whole someone-throwing-a-brick-through-your-window thing,” she observes with a skeptical look thrown in on top.
I shrug, a contented and somewhat sly smile curving my lips as I head into the small utility closet where I keep a broom. The broken glass spread over the floor is not going to clean itself up.
Apparently, because I am willfully refusing to explain the smile I gave her, Frannie goes ahead and gets to jumping to conclusions.
“Oh my God. Ford Daniels is the one who put that smile on your face, isn’t he?” Her eyes are bright and twinkling, and she is truly excited for me.
I grin as I start to sweep. “He may have stayed over last night.”
“You like him,” she says in an accusing voice. Not because she would be unhappy I like a guy, but because I am holding all of this too close to the vest and being stingy with details.
A tiny laugh escapes and I assure her, “Frannie… when I figure out what this is with Ford, you are going to be the first person to know. In fact, you will be the only person to know.”
Frannie sits down in one of the guest chairs while I sweep underneath my desk. “So do you think this could get serious?”
“I have no clue. But I do really like him.”
She leans forward in the chair and pins me with that look. The one that says I can’t bullshit my best friend. “You’re not telling me something.”
I don’t even think about holding out on her. I pause in my sweeping, holding the top of the broom handle loosely in one hand and the dustpan in the other. “He’s not exactly a long-term relationship kind of guy. He’s admitted as much.”
Frannie stares at me like I’m nuts. “Who cares? Just have fun while it lasts.”
“Easy for you to say,” I chastise and turn back to my sweeping. “You’ve got a man to go home to every night.”
“You don’t need a man, Viv,” she says boldly. “You are a fierce, independent woman who can take care of herself.”
Squatting down, I sweep the glass shards I’d accumulated into a pile into the dustpan and tip it over into my garbage can.
When I stand up, I say, “Put aside his assertion he’s not long-term material, Frannie… He’s like perfect in every other way. Charming, intelligent, interested in what I have to say, doting, gallant, and oh yeah, the best sex I’ve ever had in my entire life.”
I let that last statement kind of hang in the air because while I’ve never been one to focus in on that aspect of a relationship when trying to prioritize things that are important, I’ve come to learn very recently it actually is something incredibly important between a man and a woman.
“You really like him,” Frannie says once again, this time reiterating exactly what my fears are by her tone of voice.
“Yeah… I really like him. And I’m probably going to like him more and more as time goes on.”
Frannie nods at me sagely, and then finishes my sad prediction for the future. “And when he’s decided he’s had enough because he’s not a relationship type of guy, your heart is going to be broken.”
“And there you have it,” I say softly.
“Are you going to give up?” she asks with absolute challenge in her voice.
“Fuck no,” I tell her. She knows I’m not the quitting type.
Just then, my cell phone rings and I nab it off the edge of my desk. A brief glance at the screen indicates it’s Dr. Granger, the veterinarian who first enlisted me to take this case. I tap the screen to accept the call and answer, “Hello, Dr. Granger.”
“I’ve told you to call me Alton,” he chides in a voice he tries to make sound charming and even a little flirty, but that’s exactly why I call him Dr. Granger and not Alton.
My only hesitation in taking this case when he originally brought it to me was because he was also coming on to me and I wasn’t interested.
But the case fascinated me, and my heart went out to this endangered species. Since then, I’ve made sure that all of my dealings with this man have been overly professional so he gets the hint.
“What can I do for you?” I ask, keeping my voice light and friendly, but making the statement when I don’t acknowledge his request that I use his first name.
It’s obvious by his voice he’s not happy about it because his tone goes cool and professional. “We’ve had a very interesting donation, and I wanted to let you know about it. Someone dropped off a check today. They wish to remain an anonymous donor to anyone else within the organization, but as the president, I accepted the donation for five thousand dollars.”
“And?” I ask, prompting him to get to the meat of the matter.
“The condition of anonymity also went along with a very specific request that the donation go to help fund your case.”
My entire body sizzles with adrenaline. With this donation, I can afford to hire a good expert. Or I could hire two mediocre experts. I know quantity is going to be as important as quality when it comes to putting this information in front of the judge, and Ford already told me that he’s going to be spending a lot of money on multiple experts.
Another zap of adrenaline hits me, and not in a good way. My face flushes, and the center of my chest burns.
Ford.
He’s the only person who knows I can’t afford to hire an expert.
We are already skirting a dangerous breach of ethical duty to our clients by sleeping together, but him helping to fund my case? He could get disbarred for that.
“Dr. Granger… I’m going to need to talk to you about this later. I’ve got something urgent that has just come up.”
“Of course,” he stammers. “Call me back when you get a moment.”
I disconnect the call. “You think you can keep an eye on this place until the maintenance crew gets here?” I ask Frannie.
“Of course,” she says. “Just leave me your keys and I’ll let them in.”
I nod. Quickly scribbling a note to tape to the front door, I direct them to go over to Frannie’s when they arrive.
“Where you are going?” she asks.
“Downtown. I need to go see a meddling attorney and rip him a new one,” I answer angrily.
♦
It is a rare occasion I will pull out my “bitch attorney” persona. But I don’t have time to be jerked around by the Knight & Payne receptionist who is somehow managing to look down her nose at me even though she’s sitting down and I’m standing up. “I’m sorry, but Mr. Daniels has no appointments available and he’s busy right now.”
I have no idea if this is true or not, but between clenched teeth, I say, “If Mr. Daniels finds out I was here and you did not let him know, your job is going to be in jeopardy. Now I suggest you pick up your phone to call him and let him know Viveka Jones is here to see him.”
Her perfectly arched eyebrows fly up high. She only hesitates a second before her lips thin out and she picks up the handset. I keep a neutral expression on my face even though I want to smirk in victory when she says into the phone, “Mr. Daniels… I’m sorry to interrupt and I’ve told her you’re busy, but there’s a Viveka Jones here insisting to see you—”
Her eyes cut sharp to mine, and I go ahead and give her a victory smile.
“Of course, Mr. Daniels,” she says in response to whatever it is he said to her. I can, of course, only imagine. “I’ll send her back immediately.”
The door leading to The Pit is locked, but the receptionist stands up stiffly from her desk and walks over to a key card reader. Her employee identification badge is hanging around her neck on a lanyard, and she bends over slightly to hold it up to the security pad. When I hear the click of the door unlocking, I give her a genuinely grateful smile and say, “Thank you.”
She nods stiffly, but she’s also already forgotten. I push through the door and enter The Pit.
The noise of so many people talking, moving about and rustling papers is overwhelming at first but by the time I hit Ford’s office, I’ve blocked it out. I’m both angry and frustrated by Ford’s behavior, because he has crossed a line. In my opinion, his actions put our entirely short, but amazing, relationship in jeopardy.
He sees me approach through the glass wall. I am almost knocked over by the dazzling smile of joy on his face when he sees me. I have to grit my teeth because my mouth wants to naturally smile back, but we need to get a few things straight first.
Ford walks around his desk to greet me as I push open his door. My hand reaches out and automatically slaps at the button that fills the glass with smoke, so we can’t be seen.
I almost feel sorry for him when I see his eyes go dangerously hot and sexy over my bold maneuver. My other hand goes up, palm facing him, and I say, “Stop right there.”
Ford does my bidding and his body goes rigid as he takes in my defensive posture and the cool tone to my voice.
“What are you doing here?” he asks in a neutral voice.
I twist to open the purse on my shoulder, and then grab the certified check I just had issued from my bank. It was a quick stop I made on the way to Ford’s office.
I pull it out and walk up to him, pushing it up against his chest. His hands come up and automatically grab it from me, but he doesn’t look at it. Rather, he locks his eyes onto mine. They’re filled with confusion as well as challenge. He knows I’m mad about something, so he’s automatically gearing up for a fight.
I pull my hands back, and he finally glances down at the check I have just handed him. I watch his face carefully, but there is no surprise registered there.
But I didn’t expect there to be. He knows what it means.
Still, he tries to play it off. “What’s this for?”
“Don’t play stupid with me, Ford,” I hiss as I go to my tiptoes to get in his face. “You gave that money to Justice for All Animals. And by doing that, you have put yourself in danger with the North Carolina bar. You could lose your license.”
Not a single muscle on his face twitches, and his voice is casual. “I didn’t give any money to Justice for All Animals.”
Yes, I am really pissed at Ford for doing this. I’m also ridiculously charmed and warmed beyond measure that he is trying to help me. But I’m mostly pissed.
“Don’t bullshit around with me.”
Ford bends down to put his face within inches of mine, and his voice is hard as he clips out. “I did not give any money to Justice for All Animals.”
I am not falling for his denials. I have come to learn a lot about this man, and I know he likes to play the role of the alpha protector. But I’m not having it right now. Not when he could hurt himself in the process.
I take two steps back from him, crossing my arms over my chest. I nod at the check in his hand and say, “It was either you or Leary, and I don’t care which. But that check had better be cashed by the end of the day to reimburse whoever made that generous donation or—”
“Or what?” he growls. It seems Ford doesn’t like being told what to do or for it to be insinuated he’s done something wrong that he believes was chivalrous.
“Or,” I say dramatically as I sweep my hands from my shoulders downward. “You can kiss this fabulous body goodbye, because you are not having any more if you’re going to put yourself at risk for me.”
Ford’s lips start to curl because I’ve amused the hell out of him. Before I can try to say something to wipe the smile off his face, my phone rings.
“Low Rider” by War belts out from inside my purse.
Frannie’s ringtone.
I snag my phone, connect the call, and hold up one finger to Ford to indicate I need to take this but the argument is not over, just on hold. Putting the phone up to my ear, I say, “What’s up, Frannie?”
“The workmen are here to board up the window,” Frannie says, and I immediately go on guard by the stiffness in her voice. “But they said the landlord isn’t going to pay for the repair, and they want assurances you will pay them before they start.”
“You have to be fucking kidding me?” I snap into the phone, not at my bestie but at the situation. But it’s a rhetorical question. Frannie would not kid around about that. So I tell her, “I’m on my way. I should be there in fifteen minutes.”
“All right, sweetie.” Frannie gives a little cough and then says in a sly voice. “But I can pay them, and you can pay me back. You don’t have to rush out of there if you don’t want to.”
“I’m on my way,” I say firmly.
I disconnect from Frannie but before I can stuff my phone back in my bag, Ford is demanding. “What’s going on?”
So bossy. So nosy. Both things are really hot because I can hear within his voice that whatever is wrong on my end, he wants to fix it.
I give a casual shake of my head, trying for a carefree smile as he’s tried to fix enough stuff in my life already. “It’s nothing. Someone vandalized my office last night.”
“What?” Ford shouts.
Oh, wow… he’s completely pissed off.
“Someone threw a brick through the window with a colorful message attached to it.”
“What was the message?” he demands slowly.
His eyes are now scary dark and murderous.
“It’s not important.”
“What. Was. The. Message,” he clips out.
I swallow hard, because I’ve never heard that tone from him. I don’t even think to lie because I know he’d know it was a lie. “Die, cunt.”
Ford spins away from me to grab his suit jacket that had been laid over the back of his chair behind his desk. He shrugs it on. Stuffing the check that he had been holding into the front breast pocket, he swipes his keys off his desk and shoves those in his front pant pocket, taking only a moment to bend over and shut his laptop.
He spares me a very brief glance as he starts to walk toward his door. “I’ll talk to you later. I’ve got something I have to do.”
My arm shoots out and my fingers clutch onto his suit jacket, which pulls him up short. He gives me an impatient look.
“I don’t think your client did this, Ford, if that’s what you’re thinking.”
He just stares at me, a muscle in his jaw jumping.
Oh yeah, he totally thinks his client did it.
“Not that your client isn’t a dick, “I tell him softly in the hopes of dissuading him from doing something stupid. “But I have a lot of people who would be higher up on the candidate list than Drake Powell.”
Ford’s voice is tight as he asks me, “In the eleven years you have been in that office and doing this type of law, has anyone ever thrown a brick through your window with a message that says, ‘Die, cunt’.”
I have no choice but to admit, “Well… no.”
Shadows of retribution flicker in his eyes, but his voice is eerily calm when he says, “Let go of my arm.”
I automatically release my grip on him because I can tell there is no stopping whatever it is he is planning to do. Hopefully, he’s not going to do something stupid. At the most, I can only imagine him going to see Drake Powell to ask him if he or any of his cronies had anything to do with it.
I’m going to have to trust he won’t get himself in trouble. Still, I need to make sure he doesn’t forget the most important thing about my visit.
I call out as he opens his office door, “Ford… that check had better be cashed by the end of the day.”
I get nothing back but a grunt before he’s out the door.