Blurred Lines (Behind Closed Doors Book 2) (10 page)

“I'm sure you agree with her,” Wayne barks at me but he doesn’t take his eyes off the road as he navigates the traffic on the beach front. “You think I'm an asshole too.”

“It's Ashleigh,” I dismiss, looking out the passenger window. I can’t help but wonder if Ashleigh hadn’t pissed Wayne off, twice, then our night might have ended differently, like maybe we’d have taken a romantic stroll along the beach. Something we haven’t done since the attack. But instead of feeling affectionate toward my husband, I'm not in the mood for stroking his ego. Between him and Ashleigh, my birthday celebrations were ruined. Maybe tonight wasn’t the right time to tell his family we might not be able to have children, but did he have to belittle our situation and place the blame entirely on my shoulders? If he hadn’t have hit me I’d have never left our apartment at all! So yes, at this moment in time, I think he's a bastard. “She's a bitch. Get over it.”

Wayne slams on the brakes and the wheels screech, and the car swerves into the rest stop beside the road.

He grabs the fleshy part of my upper arm and he yanks me around until I face him. “Don't speak to me like that.” I'm about to say that's rich after the way he's spoken to me all night when his eyes glow with rage. “Don't look at me like that either.” His hand grips me harder. “Who do you think you are?” Again, his grip tightens, pinching me and my arm starts to burn. “You are my wife.” Am I? Because this guy isn't my husband. He's lost behind his rage. In fact, whoever this man is, he's starting to scare me.

My heart races a mile a minute. Tears begin to burn my eyes and I tug my arm away, but he just grips harder. “Wayne,” I cry, trying to pull away. “You’re hurting me.” He’s never acted this way before and I don't know what to do. What if he doesn’t like what I do and it sends him over the edge, whatever that edge may be.

As I try to scramble away I smack my head against the edge of the open window with a hard thud and the sharp edge digs in to my skull as I realize I’m trapped against the passenger door. My eyes close, squeeze tight against the searing head pain that’s momentarily overpowering the agony caused by Wayne’s grip. I hold as still as possible. I don't dare breathe just in case I do it wrong.

“Babe?” I don’t dare look at him. “Precious, are you okay?” He doesn’t sound angry anymore and it occurs to me that he’s not holding my arm. The relief gushes from my lungs and the tears spill over on to my cheeks. “What the fuck? Julia, you're bleeding?” I reach for the sore spot just above my temple, and when I look at my hand my fingers are stained with blood.

Wayne gasps, and as he leans forward my heart leaps into my throat. I don't want him near me. I have no idea what's going through his mind or why he's just freaked out like that. “What have you done?”

“I… you…” I feel a little dazed. Did this really just happen? “Why are you so mad at me, Wayne?”

He hesitates for a moment, then opens his door and gets out of the car. He slams the door before marching away. I shift in my seat so that I can see him. He only moves a few steps before he stops. Returns to the driver’s door and stops again. He turns away again and gets as far as the car’s trunk before he stops again. Runs his hands through his hair and holds them there. I turn to get out of the car but before I have chance, the door opens.

He squats beside me as he reaches across to open the glove box. Inside is a small travel sized first aid kit. “Let’s just get you cleaned up.” I nod. I can't speak and even though I don’t want to wait that long, I don’t object.

We sit in silence while he tears open the antiseptic wipes and begins cleaning the cut just inside my hairline. I try to focus on the sound of the tide coming in rather than the pain. It’s not so much the physical pain of the wound as he tends to it as much as the emotional pain of being shut out. I hate feeling like he’s keeping something from me. Especially because whatever he’s hiding is troubling him so much. But I don’t think I have the courage to push him.

I don’t take my eyes off his expression as he continues to assess the wound. He momentarily looks down and my gaze follows to what has taken his attention. He takes a small sterile adhesive dressing from the first aid kit and just holds it.

My hand trembles as I reach for his. He freezes under my touch. “Please, Wayne.” It’s a few seconds before his eyes lift up to meet mine. “What is it?”

“I… I can’t say,” he mutters. “It’s a work thing.”

I search his expression and know he’s not going to tell me. I look away, and try really hard not to show him how much that hurts me, but fail. As I blink, the tears blurring my vision spill over and drop onto his hand.

“Babe,” he whispers as his thumb wipes away the tears from my cheeks. At the same time he lifts my chin so I look at him. “This case is harder than I expected.”

I want to shout at him that’s obvious but instead I nod. I don’t know what else to do.

His hand drops from my cheek and he tears open the dressing and rips off the adhesive strips on the back. He gently places it on the edge of my hair line, then cradles my face in his hands. “I’m so sorry, babe,” he says quietly. “Seeing you standing at the back of the restaurant, recklessly unaware of your surroundings like that. Anything could have happened.”

I go to reassure him. I was fully aware of my surroundings and how unnerving they were, but Wayne continues, “This guy that I’m looking for...” He rests his forehead on mine. “He has a preference for petite blondes and every time I go to a crime scene for a split second I think it could be you.”

Oh dear, I know he shouldn't have told me that. But I guess because I'm five-two and now that I’ve dyed my hair blonde I'm torturing him. I guess that I'm just what this guy wants, which alarms me. In fact, it scares the hell out of me. “You want me to dye my hair again?” Maybe I will anyway. “I'll do the whole freaking rainbow if it makes you feel any better.”

He chuckles, sweeps a hand through my hair. “No, precious,” he says quietly. “We shouldn’t stop living our lives the way we want to because some psychopath decided to punish me by attacking you.”

It’s a very brave outlook for our lives, but how can we avoid doing just that? The consequences of said attack stops us from having the future we had planned and Wayne is different, much more protective of me as a result, and I’m different too. We moved to a house that has a high wall and installed electric gates, with CCTV to see who’s there before I let them in. Our lives have been changed.

“Besides, I like this color on you.” Wayne toys with a stray strand of my hair that’s fallen out of its style. “You’re gorgeous.” His lips meet mine and... oh... he hasn't kissed me like this in months. After a moment he pulls away and rests his forehead against mine. “I don’t know how I got to be so damn lucky.”

Chapter Eleven

September 2007

I sit in the court room galley and watch my brother as he hugs Mom and Dad and then turns to Anna. It’s hard to believe that doing a favor for a contact has led to Sean facing at best a fine and a criminal record, at worst time in prison. His informant inside NYPD is about to testify that Sean knew what documents were in the envelope he took out of the bar the night he was arrested, in exchange for a more lenient sentence. Sean was fired from the newspaper immediately and his reputation as an award winning journalist obliterated in the newspaper’s attempt to clear its association with Sean’s dishonest investigation tactics.

I watch Sean and Anna’s awkward embrace. He kisses her cheek and turns away, walks past the point of no return. I’m sure he said he’d called Ashleigh’s former firm on this but as he sits down beside his lawyer, I’m not so sure. The young guy looks so nervous I wonder how long it will be before he bolts through the door in search of somewhere to hurl. The lawyer mutters that his second chair better arrive soon and I wonder if he knows what he's doing at all. Part of me wishes Ashleigh was here. In fact, I’m surprised she isn’t.

I know she's in New York. I haven't seen her all summer because she’s been filming a low budget movie somewhere in Southampton. I feel like she should be here. I'm sad for Sean that she’s not. They may not have spoken in over two years but I never really believed that was the end until the final blocks of my brother’s life crumbled. I don’t know how he’ll come back from this if he’s convicted. This past year, my brother has transformed into someone entirely different under the pressure of not being able to work.

My cell phone rings again. Wayne's called twice this morning already. We're still waiting for the judge to enter the court so I answer and tell him I can't really talk because of where we are. “Can I call you when we're done?”

“Sure, precious, I just wanted to check you were alright.” His concern is touching. “From what you've said it's not looking good for Sean.” I haven't said too much. I don't know anything to say, but I have a bad vibe about the novice from Worthington and Associates.

There's something familiar about the red head in the pale teal tailored shift dress and jacket combo as she walks passed me and through that little gate separating the court actors from the spectators. I'd recognize those simple, low heeled black pumps anywhere. Ashleigh was sent a pair four months ago and she burst out laughing at them.
As if I'd ever put those on Krystal's feet!
As I pull my eyes up her amazing legs, over the beautifully fitted suit, my jaw drops open. No. Way.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Sean hisses.

Ashleigh slams her briefcase on the table and shakes the red hair over her shoulder as she replies, “Did you or did you not hire Worthington-Jordan and Associates to represent you?”

I don't know what to say. This isn't the Ashleigh I've become accustomed to over the last couple of years. The fake nails, fake hair, fake tan, fake eyelashes. It’s all gone. She's turned back into the timid lawyer in a power suit and stilettoes, who left New York and my brother behind.

“Sit down, shut the fuck up, and let me do my job,” Ashleigh snaps at Sean. Oh-kay maybe she's not so timid anymore.

“Babe,” I whisper into the phone. “I've got to go.”

I close my phone, waiting for Sean to reply. Eventually he nods. There's no more time to do or say anything as the judge enters the court room. I look at Mom on one side of me. She squeezes my hand reassuringly and winks at me, like it's the first time in months she actually believes everything is going to be okay.

“Good call, Julia,” she whispers, and I realize she thinks this was my doing.

I quickly look over to Anna on my other side to deny I had anything to do with it but her head is down, her eyes are closed and her fingers are folded together on her lap. Her lips move. I hear the quietest of prayers.
Dear Lord, please tell me I did the right thing by bringing her back into our lives…

#

A couple of hours later the judge bangs the gavel and declares the case dismissed with a personal apology to my brother that his case ever got this far. I guess sometimes people will say anything to get themselves out of the shit and its taken Ashleigh's persistence to prove Sean really did not have a clue about any of the accusations being made against him. The only thing my brother is guilty of is letting his mind step out for long enough he didn't see when he was being set up. He's usually much smarter than that.

Ashleigh climbs out of her chair like blowing away her opposition and their dodgy evidence is an everyday occurrence. She gives Sean a curt nod and says, “Congratulations, Sean. I hope you, Anna and Stephi can move on from this travesty swiftly.” With that, she says goodbye and turns away.

“What? Wait.” Sean grabs her arm. “Ashleigh, is that it?” I'm relieved actually. I don't understand why she would go to all that effort to just walk away afterwards. But she looks at the hand wrapped around her wrist and then back up at Sean as he says, “You're not even going to ask how I am.”

There's this rumor in the industry that Krystal Valentina is as cold as the artic; some guy even accused her of being dead on the inside not so long ago. But it's the first time I've seen Ashleigh transform into the ice queen. She looks across at Anna and says, “No.” Her voice is so deep and dark, void of any attachment to my brother at all as she turns her attention back to him. “Because asking implies I want some level of involvement.” She turns to walk away again but Sean tugs at her arm still in his hand. “No!” She snatches her hand free. “You texted me, Sean.” She pokes a finger into his chest. “You asked me to come to your hotel room and you refused to let me explain why I didn't come, like my sister’s attempted suicide was insignificant.”

Wait—What? When did Mimi try to kill herself?

Suddenly, the newspaper from the day Ash announced her return to LA flashes through my mind. Mimi had overdosed. She went to New York and never came back. Part of me knew there was a reason Ashleigh’s return to LA had been so quick. But she never explained it. Had refused to even. I’d always assumed it had something to do with my brother, but I guess I was wrong.

“So you—” Ashleigh pokes her pointer finger into Sean's chest again. This time it’s so hard he steps back. “—are insignificant to me.” Ashleigh looks across at Anna. It's like a silent understanding passes between them before she turns back to Sean. “Now, you have a wife and a daughter, and they need you. So get your head out of your backside, Sean, sort your shit out and start giving a damn about your family. I made a once in a lifetime deal with your wife so if anything like this ever happens again I'll let you rot in your mess and misery.”

My entire family watch, slack jawed, as Ashleigh marches away until all that was left of her was the click of those low heeled pumps echoing in the distance.

Sean turns to Anna. The way she's glaring back at him is like she's just caught them in bed together or something equally worse as Sean accuses, “You called her?”

“You lied to me,” Anna hisses. “You told me it was you who ended the affair!”

“How many times do I have to say I never slept with her? I wouldn't do that to you, Anna.”