“No. Let’s see who it is before you open the door.”
Nerves erupting, Rhianna followed her out into the main living area. Mimi’s loft apartment was a typical LoDo conversion. High ceilings. Wood floors. Industrial décor. Her front door was wrapped in decorative beaten copper. A wide-angle door viewer was built into the center of a beaded spiral pattern.
Mimi looked through the peephole then whispered to Rhianna, “It’s okay. Just some guy.” Leaving the guard in place, she cracked the door open a few inches and they both peeped out.
A tall, stick-thin African-American man stood in the hallway. He took off his ball cap. “I got something for Shameeka Washington. This her apartment?”
“I’m sorry,” Mimi said. “I don’t know anyone called Shameeka in this building.”
“I got the wrong address, maybe. Sorry for the interruption.” He hesitated. “You ladies chasing?”
“Do you mean drugs? You sell drugs?” Mimi glanced over her shoulder with an excited little smile, like their visitor was Santa Claus.
“Thanks anyway,” Rhianna stepped in before her best friend could explore this idea, “but we’re not interested. Have a nice day.” She closed the door.
Mimi sighed. “My friend with the indoor garden got busted a month ago.”
“Then you need to find another old Deadhead just like him. Don’t get mixed up with people who probably have their own meth lab.” She returned to the guest bedroom with Mimi trailing after her, wringing her hands.
“I think you’re making a mistake,” Mimi said as Rhianna pulled the handle up so she could wheel her case to the door. “You’re letting this creep ruin your life. He’s taken everything away from you. Your job. Your home. Your friends and family. It’s not right. You could move in here and live with me. Then you wouldn’t be alone.”
“Mimi. If I stay here in Denver he’s going to kill me. It’s that simple. I’m not placing you at risk as well. But thanks for the offer.” She collected her overnight bag from a chair nearby and perched it on top of the larger case. “I need to go.”
“I’ll ride down with you.” Mimi’s mouth trembled. Rhianna could tell she was only just managing not to weep noisily.
She sniffed a few times as they locked the apartment, and they both jumped when the elevator doors swung open before they could press the button. Rhianna couldn’t believe her eyes.
“You!” Mimi glared.
Jules stepped into the hallway. Her gaze fell to the luggage. “Leaving?”
“What do you think?” Rhianna tried to look straight through her, but her eyes insisted on a lengthy top-to-toe feast.
Jules must have noticed the overt appraisal. Her pupils dilated and for a split second something hot hovered between them. “Can we talk?” she asked.
“She’s got nothing to say to you. Bitch!” Mimi was only five foot two, but she was a kick-boxer. Rhianna could see her rolling her feet in anticipation.
She touched her friend’s arm. “Go back inside. I can handle this.”
Mimi protested, but in the end, with Rhianna standing over her, she stepped back into the apartment. “What’s
she
doing here?” she whispered irately.
“I have no idea,” Rhianna said very softly. “But she can ride down to the garage with me and say whatever she needs to say, then I’m out of here.”
“Whatever. You know where to find me.” Mimi stepped back with visible reluctance. “I love you. Be careful.”
“I love you too. I’ll phone when I get to Grand Junction.” Rhianna headed into the hall again.
“You’re on your way back to Oatman?” Jules asked as soon as the apartment door closed and they were alone in front of the elevator.
Ignoring the question, Rhianna jabbed the Down button. She had no plans to explain her movements to her attacker’s hired gun.
“Could we go get a coffee or something?” Jules persisted.
“No. What are you doing here?”
“I want us to discuss this.”
“What is there to discuss?” Rhianna retorted. “What’s done is done.”
“Rhianna, I had no idea. How could I?”
“What would you have done differently if you knew?”
“Quite a few things. If I hadn’t found out at the last minute, I would have had some options.”
“I don’t believe you.” Rhianna stared fixedly at the steel doors delaying her escape. “In exchange for money you ruin innocent people’s lives. Men who should be in prison get to walk away. I think that says it all, don’t you?”
“Maybe it does. Maybe things are that simple and I’m just a bad person.” Jules looked like she hadn’t slept in days. Her white shirt was rumpled and her hair was drifting from the band at her nape. Shadows bruised her eyes. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry. I know this hurt you, and I wish to hell none of it had ever happened.”
The doors whooshed apart and Rhianna released the breath she’d been holding. Hauling her bags into the carpeted confines of the elevator, she said, “It’s way too late for
sorry
.”
Jules wasn’t going to make things easy. “Oh, no. This is not how it ends.” She came after Rhianna. “I want you to listen to me. I can help you.”
“I think you’ve helped me enough.” The doors slid together and Rhianna pressed the button for the parking level, then sagged against the rear wall, completely drained. “For God’s sake, Jules, just go. We have nothing to talk about.”
“I can’t.” Jules took a step closer, her eyes pleading. “I care about you. What we said to each other…in bed that night. I meant every word and I still do. Can we find a way to get beyond this?”
“You must be joking.” Rhianna stared up at the floor display, frustrated at the slowness of the descent. “Are you obtuse, or just insensitive?”
“I know you’re angry. You have good cause, but it won’t solve anything. Neither of us gets to rewrite the past.”
Rhianna willed herself to stay calm. In just five minutes, she would be driving out of here and her nightmare would be over. “If that’s all you came here to say, could we ride down in peace now and go our separate ways?”
“Is that really what you want?” Jules tugged roughly at her collar. A couple of buttons flew off. “You want to run away from everything? From him. From everyone who cares about you. From me. You think that’s your best option?”
“What are you saying? I’m a coward?”
Rhianna stepped out into the oil-stained chill of the parking basement. The concrete structure was virtually empty, and the rental car, a silver Ford Taurus, was parked about twenty yards away. Inhaling the lingering taint of stale exhaust fumes, she walked briskly toward it, dragging her luggage after her. The urgent tap of her shoes echoed in alternation with a more muffled step, as Jules kept pace with her. A short distance from the car, she caught Rhianna’s arm.
“Stop! Please. I know you’re afraid and you’re trying to stay safe. That’s why I’m here. Just let me help.”
Rhianna stopped and released the suitcase. Wheeling around to face Jules, she blazed, “If you wanted to help me, you would have made sure Werner Brigham went to prison!”
“Actually, that was Norman Clay’s job. I’m a defense counsel and I did what I get paid to do. Maybe if you’d trusted me enough to tell me one fucking thing about what was going on for you, we could have—”
“Oh, this is
my fault
. You’re ethically stunted, but I’m to blame for my situation?”
“We were sleeping together!” Jules shouted. “We agreed that it was more than a fling and we were going to give it a chance. But even then you didn’t tell me who you were or what was going on with you.”
“We barely knew each other,” Rhianna yelled. “Do you think I’d risk telling you?”
“How could we get to know each other if you didn’t?” Jules was pale with anger. Her chest heaving, she grated, “What if I was some other woman and not involved in any of this? Were you planning to just drive out of my life, too?”
“No!”
“Really? When were you going to be honest with me?”
“As soon as it was all over,” Rhianna said quietly.
Jules circled her, hands on hips. “I knew something was wrong. We were making love but you were on another planet. I should have listened to my instincts. Jesus, what was I thinking?”
“You weren’t thinking and neither was I,” Rhianna said. “We were too busy fucking.”
She would not have believed she could feel worse than she did in the days immediately after the attack. But for the first time in this ordeal, utter despair overwhelmed her. She had come
this
close to seeing him locked up. If the woman in front of her had wanted to, she could have made that happen. And to think, Rhianna had been serious about starting a relationship with her. She swung a quick automatic look around the parking garage, watching for any movement, then opened the Taurus’s trunk.
Reaching down for the lighter of her bags, she muttered, “I wish we’d never met.”
“Don’t say that.” Jules caught her by the wrist.
Rhianna tried to jerk her hand free, but she met Jules’s eyes and could not look away. The stare seemed to suck the oxygen from around them, and a strange undercurrent stirred beneath the emotional surface of the moment. Something primal welled up, smothering anger, grief, and reason. Shocked, Rhianna forced her gaze down to the hand clamped around her own. She could feel the weight of Jules’s eyes on her. The bag fell from her fingers. Common sense and self-respect washed out in a low tide that left her unbearably exposed. She saw then what had been invisible amidst the swirling debris of her life, a sweet hope Jules had brought to life, the bright, shining glimmer of possibility.
Jules mattered; the realization shocked her profoundly. They didn’t know each other at all, but no one had come close to touching her as Jules did, to slipping beneath her guard and wooing her inner self. Her pulse raced and a frantic sense of resistance hammered in the back of her skull.
“Let go of me.” She forced the words from her dry throat.
“Rhianna.” It was not so much a plea as a softly spoken invocation. Jules’s face was etched with anguish. Its naked vulnerability seemed impossible. Tears brimmed around her eyes. Her mouth looked chewed. With none of her usual finesse, she blurted, “Please come back to L.A. with me. I’ll take good care of you.”
Rhianna crushed the giddy yes that fluttered from the cocoon of her heart. “I don’t think this is a U-Haul moment.”
Ignoring Jules’s outstretched hands, she loaded her bags mechanically into the trunk and slammed it closed.
Jules’s stare was unwavering. She lifted a shaking hand to her jacket and took an envelope from the breast pocket. “I want you to have this.”
“What is it?”
“A hundred thousand dollars.”
Rhianna could not process the information at first. She gazed at the innocent white envelope like it was a speck in the distance, looming before her, ready to burst open at any moment and reveal its shocking contents. Rage found a way to her then, marshalling its forces in the deepest recesses of her mind and sweeping all aside in her defense.
She took the envelope, ripped it in half, then slapped Jules hard across the face. “Fuck you,” she said with icy disdain. “And you can tell your precious client from me, if I ever see his face at my window again, I’ll kill him.”
Chapter Twelve
Jules cupped her palm to her cheek and mumbled, “Damn,” as Rhianna screeched out of the parking garage. So much for her powers of persuasion.
She picked up the two pieces of envelope and stalked back to the elevator. As she waited for the doors to open, she heard the sound of an engine and turned sharply, but the car that purred into view wasn’t the silver Taurus. A Lincoln Town Car with dark tinted windows slid toward her and halted a few feet away, angled so its passenger could exit near the elevator. A rear door opened and, to Jules’s astonishment, Werner Brigham emerged, brandishing a bouquet of at least five dozen red roses.