Bad Bitch (16 page)

“You going to spank me, Lincoln?”

“Oh, that’s a definite. Just not right now.” His voice was a rasp.

His promise made me shiver despite the hot water. The fog lifted a bit as I remembered how he’d manhandled me the last time we’d made love. Funny, I’d never thought of it as “making love” until just then. Then I remembered everything in between. The things I’d done. Wash.

“Oh, Lincoln, I’m so sorry.” My voice came out in a wail.

He took my chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Shh, everything’s okay. I forgave you a while back, long before you asked. I still want an explanation, but after tonight I think I have a pretty good idea why you did what you did.”

His look, his tone, everything about him was a comfort to me. He felt like coming home.

He released my chin. “Now let’s finish getting you clean.”

“I’ll never be clean.”

“Don’t believe that for a second. It’s not true.” He turned his hand around so I could see the scars that crisscrossed his knuckles. “You can change.”

My tears mixed with the running water as he continued his work. After he’d washed my hair and done a quick soap-and-rinse himself, he turned the water off and scooted me out of the shower. He wrapped me in a fluffy white towel and hustled me back to his bed. He wrapped a towel loosely around his waist and sat next to me before arranging his first aid materials.

“It’s going to sting, but I don’t think it will scar where anyone will see it. It’s sort of up in your hairline.” He spread some antibacterial ointment on my cut, giving me the promised sting. Then he placed gauze and tape over it. He was so focused, intent, his movements small and smooth.

“Okay, good as new.”

He dropped his hands to his lap and studied me. He searched my face, though I didn’t know what he was hoping to find. There was no redemption in me anywhere, just the fog and the darkness.

“How do you feel? Headache?”

“No, just a little fuzzy.” I shook my head, trying to clear it without much luck. At least the ringing in my ears had cleared.

“Look me in the eyes. I need to see your pupils.”

I did as he asked. His eyes were brilliant green, almost sparkling even in the low light. His hair, still wet, looked even darker than usual, setting off his lighter complexion beautifully. I didn’t even deserve to look at him.

He stared into one of my eyes and then the other before going back and forth.

“I’ve had a few concussions in my time. You got knocked a good one, but I think you’re okay to sleep now. You’ve been awake long enough for everything to have settled down.”

“It was that bad?” I still couldn’t remember all of what happened. I knew there was a wreck, but the other parts were missing. I felt like I’d gotten a mail-order piece of furniture without all the screws, and now I was sitting on my living room floor with a half-built side table and no clue about how to finish it.

He leaned in and brushed his lips against mine. “Let’s discuss it over breakfast.”

“I should get home?” I meant it as a statement.

“Absolutely not.” He tensed and gripped my arm.

It was disconcerting. Someone else had grabbed my elbow like that. Earlier that night, maybe? The piece of a memory that filtered through the fog made me feel sick. I looked at the floor to stop the room from spinning. Lincoln loosened his grip.

“It’s okay, angel. Everything’s okay. I promise. Just sleep here with me tonight.” His voice was so soft, gentle, like a lullaby.

I let out a breath, the feeling of panic fading along with the air from my lungs. Whenever he called me angel, I knew things were going to be all right. No one had ever called me something so endearing.

He cupped my jaw and dropped another light kiss on my lips before pulling me into him. I calmed against his steady warmth, breathing him in until I fell asleep.

Holy fucking headache, Batman. I was in a strange bed in a strange room. But that didn’t really matter. No, what was of utmost importance at the moment was the railroad spike that seemed to be embedded in my temple. I tried to open my eyes, but the light filtering into the room only made the spike vibrate, jarring even deeper into my brain. I needed to figure out where I was, so I kept on blinking, ignoring the pain as best I could.

Lincoln’s bedroom. I remembered it, mostly because it was the size of a walk-in closet. I struggled to sit up. Bad idea. The pain swirled around me, putting black dots in my vision. I stilled, one hand at my head, the other clutching the sheet to my chest. Lincoln was nowhere to be seen, and his apartment had an empty feeling, like when you know you’re the only one home.

I moved my head slowly to look around. A note lay on the bedside table. I struggled to focus on the words.
Take these. Don’t go outside. Don’t call anyone. Only open the door for me. No one else. I’ll be back soon.
“These” were some painkillers next to the note. I followed that instruction to the letter, downing the pills with the glass of water he’d set nearby. Slick.

The alarm clock said 9:14 a.m. I’d been out all night and into the day. Night. Last night. My memories hit me, dwarfing the pain in my head until it was laughable. I had been kidnapped, was going to be murdered, but I’d saved myself. I’d wrecked the bastards, and Lincoln had pulled me to safety. I was alive because he’d found me.

Even more incredible, he’d said he’d forgiven me. What I’d done was unforgivable, something that I could never live down. But Lincoln, the man with a violent past, had given away his forgiveness like a freebie. It was too good to be true. More accurately,
he
was too good to be true. I would never deserve a man like that, a soul like his. But I could try to do better. Scratch that. I
would
try to do better. I didn’t know how, not yet. But I would make it up to him somehow.

Where had he gone? Was he safe? Would the men who’d kidnapped me be back, assuming they’d survived the crash? I shivered. The fear raked its claws across its cage in my breast, a threat. I took a deep breath. If I was going to have any chance at being a better person for Lincoln, and for me, I was going to have to change. To do things differently. I approached the fear and set it free.

“I am afraid.” I said it out loud, as if it would have some effect.

At that moment, I decided that fear wouldn’t rule me any longer. If I was afraid, well, fuck, then I was just afraid. I would live. I would move on. What I would
not
do was betray the ones I loved. Love. I loved Lincoln, loved him even more than I loved myself. I knew it now. Now that it was probably too late.

The memory of deafening Mediterranean music wafted through the pounding in my head, and I remembered Lincoln walking away into the darkness toward the contract killers. Then there’d been a fire blazing through the dark. What had become of the rough men?

My vision cleared a bit, the pills working quickly on my empty stomach. Any clothes I’d worn the night before were gone. I saw the belongings from my purse piled on top of Lincoln’s chest of drawers, but the purse itself was missing. My cell phone was there, too, though it was dismembered. He’d separated the pieces and ditched the battery, making it unusable and me untraceable. I suspected he’d taken my clothes and my bag and burned them or got rid of them some other way. Any blood that might have been on them was gone, charred or covered up. He’d erased any evidence that I’d been in the wrecked car. Smart. I wouldn’t have to worry about explaining anything to the police. Not that I’d talk to them anyway.

I threw my feet over the side of the bed to stand. The blood defied gravity and somehow rushed to my head, causing an intense ache as I slowly locked my knees. I stumbled to the bathroom and rinsed my face with cool water from the tap. There was a bandage at my temple. I removed it and grimaced at the cut. Then I saw the dark circles under my eyes, the telltale sign of head trauma.
Jesus
.

After toileting, I dressed in one of Lincoln’s shirts. All of his pants swallowed me, so no hope there. I couldn’t go back to my apartment. DiSalvo had likely already discovered his men had failed. He’d send more and more until I was dead. No place was safe. Not even here, under an AUSA’s lock and key.

I sat back down on the bed and stared out Lincoln’s window, past the fire escape and into the blue sky beyond. The rain of the previous night seemed to have swept the firmament clean, giving it a new start. If only new starts were more readily available for the people on the ground.

I laughed. I was alone, laughing like a crazy lady in someone else’s apartment. I guess that’s all you can do sometimes. When you realize you’re royally fucked sideways with a studded dildo, what else is there to do but laugh at the humor of it all?

I calmed myself, putting a lid back on the hysterical stew bubbling up inside.

I knew what I had to do.

I fumbled for Lincoln’s phone. It was the corded type with huge numbers, like for elderly people. Must have come with the apartment. I dialed.

My receptionist picked up, chirping “Pallida and Associates” into my ear with far too much cheer for my tastes.

“Vinnie, please.” My voice was a raspy croak. She didn’t realize it was me.

“Sure, may I ask who’s calling?”

I rolled my eyes. “Amanda.”

“Amanda who?” she trilled.

“Huckinkiss.”

“All right, Ms. Huckinkiss, I’ll connect you.”

A few moments of hold music later and Vinnie picked up. “I’d like to know who is ‘a-man-to-hug-and-kiss.’” He sounded better than the last time we’d spoken, at least.

“It’s me, Evan, and keep it down. Don’t let anyone know it’s me.”

“Hang on, I’ll close my door.” He set the receiver down, and I heard the click of the door latch, then the scrape of the receiver and his voice. “Okay, boss, what’s up? Where are you? Judge Crane put the trial on hold until you’re found. The phone’s been ringing off the goddamn hook. Castille is losing his mind. I’m pretty sure Wash fucked Jena last night. We need you here now.”

I sighed. “Remember when you said you hoped I knew what I was doing?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I don’t. Shit just got real. DiSalvo tried to have me killed.”

His breath whooshed out, causing static over the phone. “Are you shitting me right now?”

“Shh! And no, Vin, I’m not shitting you. I have the concussion to prove it.”

He let out a long string of expletives. Pride bloomed in my chest at his ability, but it was quickly stifled by the reason for my call. “Vinnie, I need you to watch your back. I don’t think DiSalvo will come after you. He would have already done it if he suspected you were a threat. He knows I hold all the power in the firm and keep his secrets. There are still a lot of things you don’t know about him.” I took a deep breath. “Or about me. Things that I never wanted you to find out. I didn’t want you to think, well, to think less of—”

“Evan, not possible. You know the family I come from. I know the way the world works. There’s nothing you could do, not a goddamn thing, that would ever tarnish you in my eyes. Fucking ever. Know that.” The conviction in his voice pierced me like a bullet.

“I’m in real trouble, Vin.” I couldn’t help the quaver in my voice, the tears that threatened. “I’m afraid.” There, I said it.

“I’ll make some calls.”

“No. I don’t want you involved. I need you to stay clear of me. I need you and your wife and baby to be safe. Understand? I can’t talk my way out of this. If I pop my head up, DiSalvo will take it off. I can’t let you run the same risk.”

“Evan, you know the connections I have. I can arrange protection. Whatever you need.” He was pleading now. I looked to the ceiling, bidding the tears back down.

“The firm is yours, Vin.” God, it hurt to give it away, but I knew it was the right thing to do. I knew because I hadn’t done the right thing in a long, long time, so the feeling was alien to me. It felt wrong, so I knew it had to be right.

“No, Evan—”

“Yes. It’s yours. You’ll need to rebrand. Cut the dead weight, get rid of some associates. I’d keep Cassie and Drew for sure. Revamp your client list. The rest is up to you. As soon as I get off the phone with you, call Castille and tell him I said that his retainer never went through and that we need him to pay it again. Now, of course, it did go through, but he probably won’t check and will just repay the same amount over again. That should cover your costs for the work so far and give you a little cut on top of it. Once it goes through and you’ve got the money in hand, fire him. He’s a ticking time bomb. Wash your hands of him. Ship all his records back to him. Destroy the files in our computers. Burn that shit if you have to. If he threatens to complain about the double retainer—”

“Give him the Pallida treatment.” Vinnie finished for me.

“Exactly. Tell him you have no problem spreading his filthy laundry out for all to see.”

“Okay.”

“Good. I’m going to need you to dump any clients that are tied up in Castille’s mess. Get the cross-check list Drew made and go through it on a slash-and-burn basis. Cut anyone ever connected with DiSalvo or with any families you don’t know or trust. It’ll keep you safe, though it will definitely hurt your bottom line. But you’ll get new clients, so I’m not too worried. You know the back storage room with the double locks?”

“The forbidden zone?”

“That’s the one. The keys are taped to the underside of my middle desk drawer. I need you to have all DiSalvo’s files taken out of that room—every last box—and put into a storage facility of your choosing. Somewhere in Jersey. Just leave the information about the location with Trish at Sal’s. I’ll pick it up from her later today.”

“Evan, what are you planning? I mean, I’m getting the general idea that you are going to do something reckless. Don’t. You’ll never be able to practice again. You’ll be disbarred. Ratting on DiSalvo? You’ll be hunted.”

“I’m already hunted. This will turn the game right back around on him. And I have ways of disappearing.”

“This is dangerous.” There was a knocking sound, as if he were bouncing his forehead on his desk again.

“I knew that when I started all this.”