Authors: Dianne Venetta
Diego was not privy to their personal relationship and to have him witness insubordination by Vic was unacceptable. She drew distinct lines between considering his professional opinion and listening to his personal input—lines that were thick and solid and if Vic thought she was going to smudge them because they were sleeping together, he had another thing coming. She wouldn’t. And if he couldn’t maintain a solid line between business and pleasure then perhaps they should rethink the nature of their relationship.
Vic toned down his attitude, but not his disagreement. “They’re on the losing end of this case unless we hand it to them on a silver platter.”
Sam crossed arms in front of her chest and felt the heat rise to her cheeks.
“What could they possibly say that would change your mind?”
“Add a public apology, a promise to install AEDs in all their facilities and the right amount of money, and I believe I have everything I need from this case.”
“Except Scaliano.”
There it was again. Sam fastened on to his personal reference to the man in charge. Scaliano. For Vic, it seemed this entire case was about one man, and one man only.
“Letting Perry go with a phony apology and a couple of bucks isn’t what I thought you had in mind when you said you wanted justice for Mrs. Albright.”
His attitude grated on her, not to mention the budding insight Diego was gaining into their relationship. “Don’t tell me what kind of justice I should seek. This is my case and I’ll try it as I see fit.” If Diego thought Vic could push her around the office because they were sleeping together it would undermine her authority. “When I’m interested in your
two cents
,” she underscored the words, “I’ll ask for them.”
“But if you’re willing to accept a settlement,” he pushed, “then why are we wasting time with a mock jury?”
“Because I make the decisions around here. If you have a problem with the way I’m handling this case, perhaps you should talk to Raul about a reassignment.”
Vic said nothing, but his eyes understood the threat. This was her case, not his.
Hole in one, she mused, gratified to see a sweep of humility brush over him. Sam shifted her weight to one heel and placed a hand to her hip. From the periphery of her vision, she could see Diego had grown sober, too. Good. Her anger eased. It wouldn’t do to allow Vic free passage over the boundary between business and pleasure.
# # #
Vic walked into his apartment, still raw from the conversation with Sam. Depositing briefcase and keys onto the kitchen counter, he chucked his loosely coiled tie along with them. Knots riddled his neck, his shoulders. Tension squeezed his chest.
He went straight for the stainless steel refrigerator and swung open the door. Grabbing a bottle of beer from a near-barren shelf, he forcibly unscrewed it and tossed the cap into the sink, the metal ping ricocheting against the sides. Vic chugged back his first swallow. The tangy frothy liquid sliced through him, raced down his limbs, signaling relief was on the way. Vic went for the couch and dropped himself onto the stiff cushions.
Located on the edge of the Gables, the apartment was remodeled with the latest and greatest appliances and cabinetry, ceramic floors, the furniture basic. No lamps, no accessory items, not so much as a picture. Décor had not been a priority, because he didn’t intend to stay.
Shoving a flat pillow behind his back, Vic kicked off his shoes and laid his feet on the wooden table. Outside, amazing amounts of water dropped from the sky, the rain continuing its steady pound on the rooftop. He’d heard of these tropical storms, but never experienced one. They definitely earned their reputation for major storm system—the drive home had been a nightmare.
Setting beer in hand to rest beside him, he dropped his head back and closed his eyes. Running through the events of the day, Vic feared his entire move may prove a waste of time. Because money talks. Money slides between palms and slips into pockets. Money buys freedom, and spits in the eye of justice.
Mock jury or not, it seemed Sam had practically inked her signature to a settlement deal. If it was big enough, she’d take it. Which discouraged him. No. He was more than discouraged, he was pissed. Making an eager jump for the fat wad of cash being shoved her way undermined everything he was trying to do.
All because she wanted it over, Scaliano would walk.
Vic threw back another swig of beer and thought, then what? What would he do? Keep chasing him? Continue to track him like an escaped convict on the run?
If only that were the case. If only the bastard had spent a day in jail, a week, a
year
even, then Vic would have some comfort knowing justice was served. At least attempted.
Anna deserved it. He pinched the bridge of his nose and massaged, fighting the sense of looming failure. She deserved a hell of a lot more than that and it was his job to see she got it—that Scaliano got what was coming to him.
And Sam was the key. He couldn’t let her settle. Not after all the time he invested. He had to do something or fifteen years would be as good as wasted. Fifteen long years.
Years that had taken their toll. His family had been patient, allowing him to chase his demons but now his father was pushing for his return. If he didn’t get Scaliano this time, he may have to give up and return to Philadelphia and take over the family law practice. Work for them full-time, like he promised. Vic dug in his fingers, forcing his attention to focus on the discomfort of physical pain and avoid the emotional knot slowly unwinding in his gut.
His mother hated his absence. Over the last couple of years she had begged him to let it go. Let the man go and move on with his life. They’d suffered enough already.
But he couldn’t. And now that Sam had allowed him access to inside the Perry case he couldn’t let Scaliano slip through his fingers. Not when he was this close. Once he nailed the bastard’s carcass to the wall,
then
he’d return home and fulfill his obligations.
All that remained was to figure out how.
# # #
Jessica fidgeted in her chair while Luke sat calmly in his. Hair pulled back into a perfect ponytail, collared shirt pressed and tucked into his jeans, he appeared to wait without stress.
Because he didn’t have to worry about the stuff going on inside his body—or what they might want to do to it. She glared at him when he looked her way, but he only smiled his reassurance.
It wasn’t fair! she wanted to scream. Luke didn’t have to worry if it would hurt, or whether there would be consequences that would affect her forever. No. Jessica crossed her legs and crossed her arms and stared at her feet. Luke didn’t have to bother himself with a thing. Only
support
, she derided in the privacy of her mind. Love and support and a bunch of other useless emotional crap while
she
had to deal with reality.
Which totally sucked.
Jessica popped to attention when the doctor strolled into the office, his expression cheery, despite the late hour. She resented
him
, too. All
he
had to do was deliver the news. He didn’t have to suffer through it. He didn’t have to worry about anyone finding out, or what they might do when they did.
No. He could just strut in here, deliver the news, go over her options and then skate out, scot-free.
Dr. Anderson took his seat before them, scooting in close behind the shiny, but cluttered wooden desk where everything seemed to have some reference to babies. It was freaky. Statues, figurines, doctors holding fat little babies, mothers cradling newborns while plaques touted the blessing of motherhood.
And there were enough frickin’ crosses to make her wonder if he wasn’t some kind of religious fanatic. She narrowed in on the man sitting across from her. Was he a holy roller? Would he try and convince her to keep it?
“Jessica,” he began with a heavy, fatherly sigh. “You’re pregnant.”
She groaned inwardly.
Tell me something I don’t know
.
“We won’t have the results from your blood test for another day or so, but your urine tests positive.”
She dug fingernails into her rib cage.
“Furthermore, my exam revealed you’re in excellent physical shape. The bleeding you mentioned may have been limited to those few occurrences, so I wouldn’t concern yourself with it.”
Luke gawked. “You’re bleeding?”
She swiped a glance in his direction. Why did his question feel like an accusation? “It was only a couple of times.” It wasn’t like she did anything wrong, she thought. Her friends told her it happened, sometimes. No big deal. Her shoulders slumped. She was still pregnant.
“Luke,” the doctor asserted, “let me assure you, breakthrough bleeding can be completely uneventful. Some twenty-five to thirty percent of women experience it during the pregnancy and more than half go on to have normal, healthy births.”
“They can?”
“Yes, and with your history, Jessica,” he returned to her, thick tortoiseshell glasses perched on the edge of his nose. “There is no reason to assume you would not have a normal, healthy pregnancy.”
Would not, which translated, means
won’t
. She breathed in deeply. So he wasn’t going to convince her to keep it. She deflated her lungs. A small part of her felt betrayed that he wasn’t even going to try.
“Have you given any thought about what you’re going to do?”
“Like have an abortion?” she asked, depressed by the sound of hearing herself say it aloud.
“Yes. Terminate the pregnancy. If you’re going to do so, you should do it soon.”
Soon.
“Based on my exam and what you’ve told me, I estimate you’re about nine, maybe ten weeks along, which means you’re nearing the end of your first trimester.” The doctor folded his hands on his desk and his expression grew somber. “If you’re going to terminate, time is a critical factor. The longer you wait, the more difficult the procedure becomes.”
The procedure. Her heart sunk.
The removal
.
“What if we want to keep it?” Luke asked.
Jessica’s head swung to face him. What was he doing!
The doctor’s brow rose in surprise. He removed his glasses and his gaze moved between the two of them. “You’re considering keeping the baby?”
No
!
“What if we are…?” Luke said, glancing in her direction but not daring to linger. He positioned his weight to a more forward posture, his question aimed solely for the doctor. “What can we expect?”
Dr. Anderson leaned back into his chair. He set his glasses on his desktop and spoke mainly to Luke, yet kept a wary eye on her. “Well, Jessica would begin a schedule of prenatal visits, one every month up to about the twenty-eighth week, whereby they would increase to twice a month. During the final month, she will need to see her doctor every week until the baby’s born.” He then addressed her and said, “You need to contact your physician in Tallahassee right away, Jessica.” He paused, almost as if uncertain how in-depth he should counsel her. “If you keep this child, I assume you will have the baby delivered while you’re away at school.”
While I’m at school…
Jess’s heart cried foul. School.
College
. Did Luke hear him? Was he getting it?
There’s no way I can have this baby! Her nerves sputtered, her cheeks flushed with heat. I’m still in school—
college
. I have class every day, for another year at least, maybe more. What if I want to go after my Master’s? What will I do with a baby? Put it in my backpack? Set it on a nearby desk?
“If it’s something you think you might want to consider, I’ll be happy to contact your physician and transfer your records from today.”
Both men were looking at her, waiting.
The strength drained from her limbs.
“What do you say, Jess?”
About what? Suddenly furious with him, she wondered why Luke was putting her on the spot. Was he serious about keeping it? Did he even know what he was asking?
“Maybe you two should take some time to talk,” the doctor suggested. “This is a big decision.” He sighed. “One you can’t take back.”
“We will, doctor,” Luke replied, warm and reas-suring. “We’ll go home right now and discuss it.”
Frustration boiled inside her. She wanted to choke Luke.
“I think that’s wise,” Dr. Anderson replied. He took a pen from his coat pocket and reaching across his desk, retrieved a business card and scribbled something onto the back. He stood, and handed the pale green card to her. “This is my cell phone number. Please, if you have any questions, call me. Don’t worry about the hour.”
Rising quickly, Luke said, “Thank you. We appreci-ate it.”
“Sure, thanks,” Jessica mumbled and stood. She took the card, cursing the tremble of her fingers as she stuffed it into her purse. She didn’t want to talk about it. Not with Luke and not with the doctor. She wanted the whole thing to be a bad dream.
Luke grasped her by the elbow and led her to the door.
Dr. Anderson followed. “Take care of yourself, Jessica. And call me if you need anything.”
“Sure.”
When the door came to a soft close, Jessica yanked her arm free. “What the hell were you pulling in there?”
He gaped at her. “What do you mean?”
“Don’t play innocent with me,” she demanded. “What was all that talk about keeping it?”
He took a step back.
“We
can’t
keep this baby, Luke. Don’t you get that?”
“Why not?”
Was he whacked
? “Why not?” she hissed, careless to the nurse down the hall. “Because we’re in school. Because we’re too young. Because we’re not married and not ready for this kind of responsibility!”
Luke didn’t say a word. He just stood there. But in his eyes, Jessica saw his feelings as plain as if he spoke them aloud.
Disappointment. Like she had stomped on his last dream, swiped the pot of gold from his rainbow. She felt a stab of guilt. He was hurting and she held the knife.