Pas de Deux: Part Two (A Cross and Pointe Novel Book 2) (21 page)

She glanced up, seeing her mother, father, sisters, brothers-in-law, and Uncle Gino standing before her. Her whole family was there; everyone who was important to her.

Almost everyone. Where is he?

Thinking about Cillian made her stomach knot up even more. Since she'd lost her phone somehow, she hadn't been able to get a hold of him. Her sisters had cell phones, but Sammi couldn't remember Cillian's phone number. Once he'd programmed it into her phone, she hadn't bothered to memorize it.

Now he probably thinks you hate him, on top of everything else he's got to be going through right now...

She'd heard and seen how the tournament turned out. Despite what had happened, she had to know how he'd fared out at the tournament, and her heart had lurched when the announcers called Clay Cavasso's name as the winner. She was no MMA expert, but even to her inexperienced eye, it looked like Cillian had won.

You can't think about him right now. You have to focus on what you're here to do.

“Hey, cupcake.” Her father sat down next to her and slipped an arm around her shoulder. “Doin' okay?”

She nodded.

“Sure you don't want me to go in there with you?”

“No, Pop. I don't want you to hear—all that stuff again. I just need you guys to stay in the conference room, okay?”

Joe shook his head, staring off down the hall. “I wanna kill that son of a bitch.”

“I know. And that's another reason why I don't want you to go in there.”

“Not just him. Cillian, too.”

Sammi grasped at her belly, stress tugging hard on the knot in her gut that had lived there since Saturday. “Daddy—please don't do that. Please. He's gonna be here soon, and I don't want you giving him a hard time.”

“Sammi, I'm sorry. I know you like that boy, but he was supposed to take care of you. How the fuck does your information wind up in the hands of the press?”

“It's not his fault, Pop.”

“It is his fault because he promised me that you would be safe, and you weren't safe. Sweetie, open your eyes. Don't let your judgment get clouded because of some guy.”

“I'm not an idiot, Pop.” Sammi stared down at her hands. “He's...very important to me.”

Joe looked at her for a long time. “Sammi...”

“What?” She lurched to her feet. “Do you think because I got raped I'm incapable of feeling something for someone? I'm not a child, Dad. I'm not a broken little girl who doesn't know what she's saying. I care about Cillian, and I won't let that fucking bastard in that court room take
that
away from me, too!”

She didn't know she was crying until Joe quickly rose to his feet, pulling her into his arms. He patted her back, cradling her head, murmuring, “Shh. Shh.”

Sammi clutched her father, burying her face in his chest, mumbling wordlessly.
Everything is so fucked up. Why is everything always so fucked up?

Joe pulled back and sighed, using his thumb to brush tears off her face. She blinked up at him, causing more tears to spill out and run down her cheeks.
So glad I didn't bother with makeup today.

“Sam, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. I just—I always need to make sure you're okay. I think he's a good man. I got a good radar for bullshit, and I didn't get that from him. But I had my reservations about you goin' to that place with him. He couldn't have known what was gonna happen—but I'm mad at him, anyway.”

“He wanted to quit. He wanted to leave and come after me. Forfeit the whole thing. And he ended up losing.”

Joe shook his head. “I'm sorry about that. I hope he can figure somethin' out. But I need to talk to him about all of this to feel better about it. To feel better about my girl bein' with him.”

“Just don't lose your temper.”

“I'll try, cupcake, but I don't take lightly to people fuckin' with my daughters. It's my job to protect you.” Joe's eyes gleamed suddenly with wetness, and Sammi looked at him in alarm. Joe looked away and cleared his throat, swallowing several times before he could continue. “It's my job as your father. I failed you before. And I'll never let it happen again.”

Sammi stared at him in shock.
He's crying. I've never seen him cry before.

“Everything I just said about Cillian—I could say to myself. I couldn't keep you safe back then. But I gotta do what I can to keep you safe now. You, your sisters. That's what a father's supposed to do.” His jaw trembled slightly, and Sammi's heart broke.

“Daddy.” Sammi hugged Joe tightly. “Dad, don't. It wasn't your fault. It's nobody's fault but his.” She jerked her head in the direction of the courtroom.

“I appreciate it, Sammi, but I'll never not feel responsible.” He smiled sadly at her. “I love you, cupcake. I always want you to be safe and happy.”

“I love you, too.” Sammi leaned her head on Joe's shoulder. “Dad. Promise me you'll give him a chance.”

“I'll try. That's the best I can do.” He looked at his watch. “You check on him to see where he is? Trial starts soon.”

“I guess I really lost my phone, after all. I searched my bags and I can't find it. And I don't have his number memorized.”

Joe lifted a brow. “You don't remember his number?”

“C'mon, Pop. You don't have to these days. You just plug it in and it's there.”

“Except when it's not.” Joe sighed. “I don't know how much longer we can wait, kiddo. Isn't there anyone you can call? His dad, his sister?”

Sammi shrugged helplessly. “I never had their numbers. I don't know.”

The door to the courtroom opened up and a female bailiff stepped out. She had dark brown skin, her black hair pulled back into a bun. She had beautifully manicured nails and wore elegantly applied makeup.
She must not cry at trials.

“Samantha Carnevale?” The bailiff offered her a kind smile, her voice low and almost soothing.

Sammi nodded slowly, and her heart rate immediately sped up, and the sick feeling in her stomach returned.

“Please come with me. You've been called as a witness.”

Sammi swallowed hard and looked around at her family. Niq, Toni, and Carmela looked like a little flock of crows, dressed in the same black that Sammi wore. They held onto each other, with Niq and Toni supporting their mother. Niq nibbled the nails of her free hand while Toni's eye were skittish; but they all offered her soft, reassuring smiles. Niq reached out and squeezed her hand, and Sammi returned it weakly.

“Be waitin' for you when you're done, kid,” Niq said.

“Love you, Sam,” Toni added.

“Be strong, baby,” Carmela whispered, her eyes streaming tears. “I'm so proud of you.”

Sammi's head felt like it weighed a single empty ounce.
Please don't pass out.
She met Joe's gaze, his steady brown eyes grounding her.

“One more for the road, Pop?”

He enfolded her into a warm hug, his strong arms wrapping tight around her. His hug reminded her of Cillian's hugs—she always felt untouchable when his arms were around her. Above any danger, free from the ugliness of the world.

Cillian, where are you?

“Um, Bailiff...can we wait just another—I'm expecting someone else.” Sammi's voice was small to her own ears.

The bailiff shook her head. “I'm sorry, Ms. Carnevale. We have to proceed. If your party shows up after you're inside the court room, they can join your family in the conference room down the hall.”

“We'll be waitin', baby,” Joe promised. He pointed down the hall. “That one there. Okay? We'll watch out for Cillian, too. “

“Okay, Pop.”
Cillian. I need you here...

She stepped away from the protective warmth of her father's arms and followed the bailiff into the courtroom, her heart sledgehammering in her chest with every step.

Her low heels thunked hollowly against the polished wooden floors as she passed rows of empty benches, the sound bouncing off the hard walls of the small room in a seemingly endless echo. The prosecution and the defense sat opposite each other at two long tables on either side of the center aisle. The judge's bench, a tall, imposing polished wooden structure at the back of the room, was currently empty.

When does he come out?
Sammi glanced around the room; aside from the lawyers, a couple of security guards, and a handful of NYPD police officers, there was no sign of the judge.

Every set of eyes swiveled to her, but she paid them no attention, because there was one last person in the room she was suddenly fixed on.

The man who had done everything in his power ruin her life sat in a chair at the defense attorney's table. The bright courtroom lights glinted off the bald spot on the top back part of his head, his thinning brown hair ringing it like a crown. His unnaturally bright blue eyes bored into her.

Sammi stood rooted in place, unable to break the gaze she held with Roger Eich. Then, practically imperceptibly, he smiled.

Her head spun and waves of nausea roiled through her stomach. Sweat beaded her skin and her pulse accelerated to a level that left her shaking and breathless. Blindly, she reached out to steady herself on the back of a bench.

“Ms. Carnevale?” the judge called gently from his booth. Sammi's eyes shifted to the white-haired, grandfatherly face peering at her from behind a pair of spectacles.
Didn't even see him walk in.
“Would you please come forward?”

Sammi glanced back toward Roger Eich, and suddenly, she gagged. She clapped a hand to her mouth as her eyes watered involuntarily.

“Bailiff, please escort Ms. Carnevale to the restroom,” the judge said quickly. “We'll hold briefly for the witness to compose herself.”

Sammi pulled away from the bailiff and rushed out of the courtroom into the now-empty hall. She hurried down the corridor to the women's restroom and burst into a stall, dropping to her knees as she gagged violently. Only a thin yellow stream of bile came up, because she hadn't been able to eat breakfast, and tears streamed down her face as she gagged again.

She leaned against the cold tile wall, her knees to her chest, struggling to catch her breath. Gradually, the urge to vomit again passed, but her nerves buzzed in her body like an enraged nest of hornets.
Gotta calm down.
Her fingers drifted down her bare leg, stroking the inside of her ankle. The skin was slightly uneven to the touch; the scars were dark pink. Sammi imagined them red and dripping.

That's what I need.
Unbidden, the thought materialized in her brain, accompanied by a wave of guilt strong enough to make her eyes sting. Her head drooped, her chin on her chest.
No. I don't need it. I'm past that.

She struggled to believe it.

Finally, Sammi rose to her feet, her knees wobbling. She palmed the tile wall for support, but her palms were so clammy they slid right down and she almost stumbled back to the floor.

“Come on, Carnevale,” she snapped at herself. When she was upright, she made her way to the sink, wincing at her reflection—all of the color drained from her olive complexion, even from her lips, and she looked as waxy and pale as a corpse.

Sammi splashed cold water on her face and then took a long drink. When her pulse calmed and her breathing slowed, she took a deep breath and gave the hem of her suit jacket a hard yank to straighten it. She smoothed her hair, then pinched her cheeks and bit her lips for a little color.

You can do this. Do not let him get to you.

She walked out of the bathroom and back up the hallway to the courtroom door she'd entered earlier. For a moment, she paused with her hand on the door, squeezing her eyes shut and taking a deep breath as her heart threatened to come out of her chest. Tears stung her eyes and her mouth trembled.

I can't do this now. I can cry later, but I have a job to do right now.

She brushed the traitorous tears that slipped down her cheeks and reached for the handle of the door. One last deep breath, and Sammi lifted her chin and walked inside. The judge lifted his brows at her, his forehead creased with concern.

“All right now, Ms. Carnevale?”

She clenched her jaw, taking a good, long look at Roger Eich, and let herself get angry. She let her hands tremble with fury and clench into fists. She reveled in the hot flow of her blood, the rage pulsing through her ears with every hard beat of her heart.

You're not gonna do this to another woman, ever, if I have to get on TV and tell the entire world, in detail, what you did to me. You're done.

Sammi met the judge's steady gaze and nodded.

“Yes, Your Honor. I'm ready.”

An hour later, the bailiff opened the door for her and Sammi walked through it, her knees wobbling. All she wanted was her family around her, holding her up with their love and support.

“Did good, honey,” the bailiff said quietly, holding the door. “You did real good. You were real brave.”

“Thank you,” Sammi said. Her voice was steady, and a flash of pride glowed in her chest.

You did it. You just made sure he can never hurt anyone...ever again.

Roger Eich had remained expressionless and motionless during her testimony. It was hard to look at him and know that he'd once been a good boss to her. And that he had brutalized her as easily as he ran his business.