Defender: A Stepbrother Romance (8 page)

I
stormed
into the house and rushed right upstairs to my old bedroom. I needed the comfort of something familiar. I crawled under the old threadbare quilt that still lay across my childhood bed and pulled the quilt up over my head. I wanted to disappear. I wanted everything that had happened since yesterday to go away. In fact, it would have been nice if I could go all the way back to the day of my blind date and just not go. Or, even better, refuse to let Jeannie set me up on the blind date in the first place.

If the accident hadn’t happened, Crawford wouldn’t have come home. If the accident hadn’t happened, I wouldn’t have been arrested and then…last night wouldn’t have happened.

“Eden?”

I felt the weight of my Dad sitting on the edge of the bed seconds before his hand rested on my hip. It reminded me of when I was a very little girl and I had a bad day. He’d come and sit with me just like that, waiting for me to be ready to talk about it.

But this I couldn’t talk about.

“It must have been a terrible experience, being arrested like that.”

I nodded, but he couldn’t see me.

“I’m sorry. Crawford warned us…I shouldn’t have let him open the door.”

“It’s not your fault, Daddy,” I said, peeking out at him. “They would have arrested me whether someone opened the door or not.”

“Maybe.” He pressed his hand to the top of my head and forced a smile. “I can’t imagine how awful it all was.”

“Not that bad,” I lied, rolling onto my back so I could see him better. “Crawford got me out as quickly as he could.”

“So he said. Thank God we have a lawyer in the family.”

“Yeah.” I closed my eyes, a headache pulsing behind them.

“Do you want me to take you home so you can get some rest?”

I shook my head. “I need to call work, let them know why I’m not there. And then—“

“You don’t need to call work.”

I opened my eyes, afraid I already knew the answer to the question that slipped from my lips before I could stop it. “Why not?”

“They called here a few hours ago,” my Dad said, his eyes dropping to the floor. “They’ve asked that you start your summer vacation a few weeks early.”

I sat up faster than my aching head could stand, sending my vision swirling around the room. “They fired me?”

“No. They just want you to stay home until this case is decided. The principal assured me you would still receive your regular salary.”

“They’re paying me, but they won’t let me work?” I climbed off the bed, not sure where I intended to go. “They can’t do that. I need this job. I want to work.”

“Eden, you have to understand the position this places the school in. It’s a small town. Rumors spread quickly.”

“I’m sure the whole town already knows I was arrested. But making me stay away from work is like telling them I’m guilty. I won’t do that!”

“You don’t have much choice.”

I stopped in the doorway, suddenly hit with the realization that he was right. My whole world was falling apart around me, and there was nothing I could do. I couldn’t even remember the damn accident! And I was being sued, accused of driving drunk, of reckless driving, and attempted vehicular manslaughter. As if my life couldn’t get much worse, now I couldn’t go to work. I just…I was so frustrated that I wanted to scream.

“We can call Crawford and see if there’s anything he can do about it.”

I laughed. “Crawford doesn’t want to get involved in this.”

“He’s trying to help you, Eden.”

“He’s doing what his mother asked him to do. But this…this goes beyond a favor for his mother. He won’t do anything.”

“Crawford cares about you, Eden. If this is important to you, it’ll be important to him.”

I just shook my head. The idea that Crawford cared about me almost made me laugh again. He didn’t care about me. If he did, he never would have said the things he said that morning. And I wouldn’t be there, hating myself and everything that was happening around me. I looked over at my Dad, searching for a little comfort, and all I saw was pain and worry and the deep wrinkles of years of stressing out over me and the messes I made. And in that moment, I knew. I was a fuck up, just like Crawford always said. I was a fuck up who was tearing my family—and this good, kind, loving man—apart.

I walked to my father and wrapped my arms around his neck. “I’m sorry, Daddy,” I whispered.

“It’s okay.” He brushed the hair from my face and studied my eyes for a long second, a slow smile brightening his eyes. “You have nothing to apologize to me for.”

“I have everything. I’ve so screwed up, and it’s hurt you and Mom—“

“This isn’t your fault.” He took my face in his hands and repeated himself slowly, “This-is-not-your-fault.”

Tears welled in my eyes and rolled slowly down my face, coating the backs of his hands. But I wasn’t crying for myself or because I believed what he said. I was crying because he was such a good man and I didn’t deserve his unwavering support.

I
stared
out the window of the plane the entire flight, trying not to move my hands near my face because they still smelled of Eden, and it was the last scent I wanted to smell. But avoiding it did nothing to keep her off my mind. The moment she disappeared into our parent’s house I wanted to jump out of that rental car and chase after her. But I knew if I did, I would be lost. No matter what we said to each other, no matter how she responded to my actions, I wouldn’t be able to put the prior night behind me and refocus on the things that mattered the most: my career, my partnership, my life.

The moment the plane landed, I was back in the hustle and bustle of life in New York City. I grabbed a taxi and went to my place to have a shower and a change into a clean suit. Then I was at the office before the rest of the staff was headed out for the night, jumping into the files left piled up on my desk. I had nine open cases and the case Mr. Stone’s nephew had gotten himself caught up in. There were so many emails in my inbox that it took me more than two hours to address them all. A dozen of them were from Mr. Stone, his sister and his nephew, each addressing the same thing: the charges against him had been amended. Now, instead of a felony possession charge, they were calling it possession with the intent to sell.

Fuck.

I called the assistant DA and spent an hour trying to talk him into reducing the charges again. But, apparently, they had witnesses from the frat house willing to testify that Stone’s nephew sold to them in the past and had mentioned that he had more to sell just before the raid. Their case was rock solid.

I’d have to talk the kid into taking a plea. That was the best he was going to get at that point in the game. And even that was not going to be easy. Not only would I have to call in a favor with the assistant DA to secure a deal in the first place, Stone’s nephew was one of those spoiled rich kids who thought he could get away with murder if he paid the right lawyer. He would never agree to any jail time. But with his previous convictions and the witnesses, even having the best lawyer in the country wouldn’t get him out of a time behind bars.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

My assistant, Kendra, came into the room with a stack of messages in her hand. I watched her, my eyes automatically taking in her slim figure and her caramel colored skin. Last week, I would have imagined her naked in my bed—I actually had imagined her naked in my bed last week—but right now, I just wanted her to disappear. I wanted to concentrate on a case I had a potential of winning. I wanted to do something productive, something that would have a good ending. I wanted to help someone. But I suspected she wasn’t approaching with good news or something that would even remotely help me meet that goal.

“I’m having some trouble getting the paperwork from the Lubbock police on your sister’s arrest. They’re saying that it hasn’t been processed yet?”

“I’m not surprised.”

“I did talk to the cop who arrived first on the scene, though.”

That got my attention. I looked up and gestured for her to continue.

She shook her head. “He gave me the company line: ‘It was a MVA involving two cars. Your sister’s car struck the back of the other guy’s car, causing extensive damage to her car. She was transported to the hospital while the other guy refused medical care on the scene.”

“Did he happen to mention the blood alcohol test he told my stepfather they’d performed?”

“No.”

“Did he mention the fact that he put the other guy in cuffs upon arrival?”

“No.”

“Did he mention if they did a field sobriety test on the other guy?”

“No.”

“Then what good is that going to do me? It doesn’t offer anything more than what I already knew.”

Unfazed by my annoyance, Kendra just shrugged. “I suppose it proves that he’s willing to talk. We just have to figure out how to get him to tell the truth.”

I started to tell her she was wasting my time when I realized that she was right. The fact that the cop talked to her at all was encouraging. I inclined my head slightly and turned back to my computer.

“Mr. Stone’s been calling down here several times a day since you left. He says he needs to talk to you about a personal situation.”

“I know what that’s about. The next time he calls, tell him I’m talking with the DA.”

“And your mother called. She said that she needs to talk to you about something to do with your sister’s job.”

Mention of Eden made the words on my computer swim. I just nodded and gestured for Kendra to leave me alone. But I could feel her eyes on me even as I tried to ignore the fact that she was ignoring me.

“Is there something else?” I asked, my words clipped.

“I was just wondering if you needed anything else?”

“If I did, I would have told you.”

She nodded. “Good to have you back.”

It might have been sarcasm, but it didn’t sound that way. I watched her walk away, again thinking that I should be thinking about her perfect ass. She looked like a model, like Tyra Banks or Vanessa Williams, her fit body displayed nicely under her tight skirt and silk blouse. But while I sat there watching her, all I could think about was Eden in that cheap, terrycloth robe the night before.

I needed a drink.

I gathered my files and dumped them in my expensive, well-used briefcase and headed out, causing some of the secretaries to cast odd looks in my direction. I rarely ever left the office before midnight unless I had a date, and on those occasions I was often back behind my desk if the date didn’t go well—or if it did. Work was my obsession. But that night I just couldn’t concentrate.

I thought maybe if I had a few drinks, got back into a regular routine, maybe Eden would get out of my head and I could go back to a normal life. But even as I raced to the courthouse the next morning to enter a plea for a client, I thought I saw Eden walking along a busy sidewalk. When I burst through the office door of the assistant DA handling the case for Stone’s nephew, I thought I heard her voice coming from one of the many cubicles laid out behind me. Everywhere I went, Eden was there.

T
wo days
after returning from Texas, I couldn’t avoid Stone any more. I was summoned to his office just as I’d secured a plea deal from the assistant DA. I thought I would present it to him, and he would balk but eventually see my side of things. I was wrong.

“My nephew will not plead out.”

He said it calmly, his eyes level with mine. It was almost like we were discussing the weather or something.

“This is really his best option. I got him five years. If he goes to court, he could face fifteen or more.”

“I know the law,” Mr. Stone said, his tone like ice. “My nephew isn’t guilty.”

“They have witnesses.”

“Witnesses lie.”

I nodded. I knew that. I’ve come across dozens of witnesses who swore they saw my clients do any number of things. But when I cross examined them in court, those stories always fell apart like a cookie crumbles in a toddler’s hand. It was possible these frat boys were lying. But instinct told me they weren’t. And my instincts never lied the way witnesses do.

“I don’t think we should take the chance.”

Stone sat back in his custom made office chair, his arms crossed over his chest. “You don’t think? Is this your nephew we’re talking about?”

“No. But I know that when family’s involved—“

“I realize you’ve had some family issues recently, Mr. Foster. But don’t confuse your problems with mine.”

I stiffened as anger coursed through me. He had a lot of nerve bringing up Eden’s case, as if what she was wrapped up in could compare in any way to what Mr. Stone’s nephew had done. I sat a little straighter in my chair and literally bit the inside of my cheek to keep from saying what jumped to my tongue.

“You will find witnesses who can counter the witnesses against my nephew. And you will take this case to court and you will win it.”

“And if I don’t?”

“You can kiss any chance of obtaining a senior partnership in this firm or any other in New York goodbye.”

I nodded, aware that he would make that threat, aware that he was the kind of man who was petty enough to think that that kind of threat would work on me, aware that he had enough clout in the legal arena of New York—not just the city, but the entire state—to follow through on the threat. I was even aware that if I was in his position, I probably would have made the same threat. That was the cut throat business we worked in and the world that we thrived in.

“I don’t think this case is winnable, Mr. Stone. Your nephew has a record. He’s been caught with substantial amounts of illegal drugs before. The only reason he wasn’t charged with intent to sell before was because you pulled in a few favors. In fact, I suspect the only reason I’m on the case this time is because you called in every favor you could already and don’t have any left. You were counting on the fact that I have some favors left with the DA’s office.”

Stone just stared at me, not denying what I was saying, but not confirming it, either. But his silence was enough to suggest I was right. The truth was, I’d known all this from the start.

“But I don’t think I want to use up all my favors to help out your nephew.” Now that was a surprise to me. I hadn’t realized I was going to say it until it was out of my mouth. But the moment it was, I realized that I meant every word of it.

Mr. Stone’s arms unfolded, and he stared at me with steel in his eyes. “You better watch yourself,” he told me quietly.

“You need to accept the fact that your nephew is a drug dealer, and no lawyer in this town, no matter how good, will get him a better deal than the one I got him.”

“Are you slow, Mr. Foster? We will not be taking a plea deal.”

“Five years is unheard of in a case like this.”

“My nephew is twenty years old. Five years is a lifetime to a kid that age.”

“He should have thought of that before he decided to become a drug dealer.”

Mr. Stone slammed his hand against the top of his desk. “I will not say this again, Mr. Foster. You will get my nephew off. I don’t care if you have to work night and day. I don’t care if you have to give up your personal life. I don’t even care if your little sister goes to jail for ramming her car into that cop kid’s car. My nephew will not go to jail!”

I suddenly saw red. I was controlling my anger until he brought up Eden. If he hadn’t done that, I liked to think that things might have gone differently. But he brought her up and put an image into my head that I’d been trying to avoid since my mother first informed me of her accident. I’d seen the inside of a Texas prison. I wasn’t going to let Eden see one.

“Then you’d better find him another lawyer.” I stood up and destroyed my career in one simple act of defiance. “No one can keep that boy out of prison, and the deal I got for him leaves this room with me. So, I wish you luck, Mr. Stone.”

“You leave this room and you’re fired!”

“I kind of figured that already.” I smiled mockingly as I turned to leave the room.

I
was well
on the way to being drunk when someone knocked on my door. I stood up, sloshing a couple of drops of whiskey onto my hand as I walked unsteadily across the room. When I wrenched open the door, I was mildly surprised to see Kendra standing there, dressed in her typical office wear—a pencil skirt and pink silk blouse. She had a stack of files in her arms and a soft smile on her lips as she took in my bare feet, jeans, and vintage t-shirt.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, proud that I hadn’t slurred my words too badly.

“I thought you could use these,” she said, gesturing with the files. “The police report from your sister’s accident and copies of the photos.”

“You made hard copies?”

“They sent them. I just got them this morning.”

I started to reach for them, but I still had my drink in my hand. I gestured for her to come inside, and she hesitated only briefly. I slammed the door once she was clear and went into the kitchen to top off my drink. When I walked back into the living room, she was looking over the files I’d been studying all day, reading through the notes I’d made.

“You think they did a blood alcohol test on him?”

“I think it’s possible.”

She nodded, setting her files down next to the files I’d printed from my email—the investigative report on Eden’s accident, part of the hospital records, and her arrest warrant. She had hard copies and more importantly, the photos. I sat on the edge of the couch and watched as she laid them out exactly as I would have done. I found myself staring at Eden’s unconscious form with that horrifying gash across the top of her head. I felt the scar that it left that night…I couldn’t get the memory of it out of my head. It could have been so much worse.

“She’s pretty,” Kendra said.

“Yeah,” I said, the word half-drowned in a swallow of whiskey.

She glanced back at me but didn’t say anything. Instead, she turned back to the photos and continued to lay them out. Once my coffee table was covered in photos and various paperwork, she turned to the couch and laid more there. I was barely able to focus, my eyes drawn repeatedly back to the pictures of the gash in Eden’s head.

“What caused that?”

Kendra turned to the photos and studied them too. “Could it be from the steering wheel?”

I shook my head. “The steering wheel in her car is fairly low. For her to hit the top of her head like that, she would have had to be sitting at an odd angle.”

“What about something in the car? An object that flew around on impact? I’ve heard of that happening.”

I picked up the photo and looked at it a little closer, focusing on the gash rather than Eden’s bruised face. It was a long, wide gash that had jagged edges. That meant that whatever cut was blunt. It couldn’t have been the windshield. And the air bag deployed, so it likely wasn’t anything around the steering wheel. But it could’ve been the edge of a door…

“Are there pictures of her car?”