Justice For Abby (5 page)

“What the fuck?”

Abby’s eyes popped wide, and she barely kept the juice from dribbling out of her mouth as she stared at Jerrod. Never ever had he raised his voice. And she’d rarely heard him utter the f-bomb. “Easy there, big guy. The Lakers aren’t doing that bad.” She expected a smile, but didn’t get one.

“Abby, this story’s about Lily.”

“What?” She set her glass down with the first stirrings of unease and scooted close to Jerrod again, looking over his shoulder.

LILY THOMAS BRAND EXPLOITING THE EXPLOITED read the headline. Below it were pictures of Monique, Tera, and Trista walking the catwalk at last month’s show. “What
is
this?”

“A big goddamn problem. Who’s Toni Terrell?”

“Uh, she’s only one of the biggest fashion reporters in LA.” She glanced at the byline, noting Toni’s name.

“Damn.” Jerrod stood and grabbed his phone from its holder against his hip, texting something, as she pulled the full-page article in front of her.

…Lily Thomas, known for her philanthropic acts…former prostitutes walking the runways in the fashion queen’s wears…paid below standard wage…damage to an industry already under scrutiny for exploitation…

“No.” She pushed back from the table and stood, afraid she would lose her breakfast. “No. This is wrong. I didn’t—I would never take advantage. They’re going to school. The money they earn is giving them an education and a shot at something better.”

“Abby, this isn’t your fault.”

Her eyes flew to his. “Yes. Of course it is. I asked Lily to hire them.” Her cell phone rang on her worktable. She hurried forward, her breath tearing in and out, and snatched it up, glancing at the readout before she answered. “Lily?”

“Did you see
The
Times
?” Lily’s raspy smoker’s voice barked into the phone.

“Yes,” she struggled to answer as unshed tears tightened her throat. “Why did Toni do this?”

“Because she’s a bitch and she can. Rumor has it she’s feeling slighted by the lack of backstage access before and after the shows.”

“Because of me. This is all because of me.”

“Abby, that’s bullshit,” she paused, sucking on her cigarette no doubt. “Toni probably got word that I granted Harold Burgis exclusive, behind-the-scenes coverage for our upcoming Fashion Week preparations.”

She slid a strand of hair behind her ear. “So this is payback, humiliating three women?”

“My attorneys are already on it. I’ll have her ass for this. I won’t have my name dragged through the mud because her panties are in a twist. God knows we pay more than standard rates for our models. And prostitutes…”

“I don’t know how she found out.” Abby paced to the window and back. “No one was supposed to know.” She plunked herself in her chair, her forehead resting in her hand.

“How she found out about what?”

“Trista, Monique, and Tera.”

“What about them?”

“Lily, they
are
former prostitutes, ‘former’ being the key word here.”

“Oh for Christ’s
sake
, Abby. Do you have any idea what kind of firestorm this is going to create? Already has created? Why the hell didn’t you
tell
me?”

“No one needed to know.”

“I did.”

“No.” She shook her head. “I promised them no one would ever know.”

“Abby…” Lily sighed.

She rushed to her feet again. Her job was on the line, but worse, she’d broken her word. “They’re beautiful women who fit the modeling bill. What they did before they walked the runway is no one else’s business. They’re out of the halfway house, sharing an apartment. They’ve all passed their GEDs and are enrolled at USC changing their lives. Lily Brand is helping them accomplish this with a decent paycheck.”

Lily muttered something and laughed. “Hot damn. You’re fucking brilliant, Abigail Harris. Tell Jerrod I’m coming by at four.”

“I’m supposed to meet Monique for the fittings if she’s feeling well enough.” If Monique would even talk to her again.

“Cancel.”

“Lily—”

“Just let me work my magic. I’ll see you at four.”

“Okay. Bye.” She ended the call, staring at her phone, struggling with the confusing ending of their conversation. Lily seemed surprisingly fine with Toni’s article, but she wasn’t. Trust had been broken, a vital component between the women who attended her support group.

“Here.” Jerrod tapped her juice glass against her arm.

“No thanks.” She sniffled as she blinked, looking at him. “This isn’t how it was supposed to be. They had a right to move on with their lives without anyone knowing what they did to survive.”

Jerrod set down the glass and shoved his hands in his pockets. “What did Lily say?”

“That she’s going to work her magic.” She pressed her lips firm as they trembled. “What if she can’t? This could seriously damage everything Lily’s worked so hard for. And Trista, Monique, Tera… This is awful. I feel awful.”

“Everything will work out.”

She wiped at her face as a tear fell. “I need to call them. I need to find a way to make all of this okay.”

“You didn’t do this, Abigail.”

“No, but they trusted me to give them a chance. I wanted them to have what I could offer without strings attached.” She shook her head. “I need to make some calls.”

Jerrod nodded and stepped back, letting her pass.

~~~~

Jerrod leaned on the edge of his desk, wiggling a pen between his index and middle fingers while he, Jackson, and Ethan dissected the latest threats to Abby via conference call. New Year’s Day had quickly turned into any other workday the moment he laid eyes on Toni Torrell’s shitty article.

The team dealt with frequent complications. Curveballs and tactical issues were expected in their line of work, but this was an angle they hadn’t seen coming. Jerrod spent the last six months shielding Abby from photographers and other prying members of the media only to watch their situation turn critical at the hands of some bitchy reporter seeking her revenge. Abby’s quiet, off-the-radar life was in jeopardy. Every precaution they’d taken would be for naught if she was somehow connected to Lily Brand’s PR-crisis.

From the beginning, Abby’s main concern had been Lily and the models. Her heart was so big she naturally thought of everyone else first, but Jerrod thought only of his principal.

“The risks are certainly there,” Ethan said. “Lily will be under more scrutiny than usual, and she contends with plenty when things are good. The press will be up her ass until this dies down.”

“Yup.” What more did he need to say? Jerrod tossed the pen on the small stack of paperwork he had yet to get to and rubbed at his jaw. Abby’s current situation was one he’d never dealt with in WITSEC. The men, women, and families he relocated were assigned low-profile, simple lives where the likelihood of discovery was almost nonexistent. This, however, was a ticking time bomb waiting to explode.

“Abby’s going to have to lay low until this thing blows over,” Jackson said. “She’ll hate the hell out of it, but I don’t see anyway to avoid it.”

Jerrod grunted his agreement as he moved his hand, kneading at the ache along his neck and shoulders. “We’ll steer clear of Lily Brand’s corporate offices for awhile or anywhere else the bastards might be waiting to grab a picture of her.”

“She and Lily may need to sever ties for the time being,” Jackson added.

Jerrod stood and walked to the window, looking toward the skyscraper housing the Ethan Cooke Security offices. “Abby won’t go for it.”

“She may not have a choice,” Jackson replied.

Abby had gone along with every precaution they’d asked of her since the beginning, but she wouldn’t accept this one. Breaking ties with Lily, even temporarily, meant risking her spot on the Fashion Week Team. She wouldn’t give that up for anything. “I don’t know, man. Abby’s always cooperative, but she’ll fight this.”

“I’ll talk to her,” Jackson said.

“Be my guest. You two are family, but I’m telling you it won’t fly. She’s worked too damn hard to earn her spot.”

“Then what’s the solution?” Ethan asked.

Jerrod shrugged and shook his head. If there was an answer, he needed to figure it out. Abby’s healing was going better than even her therapist had expected; working for Lily Brand was a huge part of that. Her career gave her purpose. Her passion gave her the fire she needed to make it through the rough patches. “Honestly, I’m not sure, but I know she still has a shit-ton of stuff to do before the team heads to New York next month. She’s mentioned fittings with Monique and the rest of Lily’s models several times.” He glanced toward the offices again as an idea began to take shape. “We can set it up so they meet us at Ethan Cooke Security. We’ll have someone bring them and take them home, which will keep the press at bay. Abby can use one of the conference rooms.”

“And Abby can keep in touch with Lily via conference calls for the time being,” Jackson added. “We’ll have her use Ethan Cooke Security phone lines. If someone decides to get nosy we don’t have to worry about e-mails being traced back to Abby.”

“Yeah. Okay.” Ethan gave his approval. “Sounds like a solution for now.”

“What about the models?” Jackson asked. “Abby talks about them a lot, but should we be worrying about backlash? Do you think they’ll offer Abby up to the press?”

Jerrod sighed, hating the idea. Abby had done nothing but good things for all three young women. “The thought’s crossed my mind, and we’ll monitor the situation, but I don’t think so. They’re really close to her. She’s given them opportunities they wouldn’t have had without her help.”

“Well that’s something at least,” Jackson said. “Hopefully Lily can turn this thing around before it goes any further.”

“Supposedly she’s working on something. I’ll get the details when she swings by at four.”

“She’s coming to the condo?” Ethan asked.

Jerrod walked to his king-sized bed and lay back against the chocolate- and cream-colored comforter Wren had insisted on for his room. “She and Abby planned it, but this will be our last visitor that hasn’t been cleared by me first. I’ll need someone to pick up Lily and drive her over. I don’t want to worry about a tail.”

“Stone can get her,” Ethan supplied. “I’ll have Mia give Lily a call and set it up.”

“Good. Thanks.”

“So, what’s the plan with that high school fashion show Abby was telling Alexa about, and the one next weekend?” Jackson wondered.

Abby told him on more than one occasion how much she was looking forward to the upcoming events, but she was going to have to be willing to give and take for the foreseeable future. Scheduling fittings at Ethan Cooke Security was one thing; fashion shows in the middle of a media firestorm was entirely different. “She’s going to have to bow out. Her world’s about to get real small, but there’s nothing I can do to change that. No risks.”

“Sounds like we have things under control for now,” Jackson said.

“As much as they can be.”

“We’ll keep our ears open. Evacuation plans are ready to roll should the shit hit the fan,” Ethan added.

“Let’s hope the hell not.”

“Hear, hear,” Jackson said. “Give us a call if you need anything else.”

“Will do.” Jerrod hung up, letting the phone drop to his side as he closed his eyes, weary after a mostly sleepless night and completely shitty start to the day. Things weren’t looking to improve anytime soon. Eventually he and Abby would have to talk.

Opening his eyes, he tilted his head in the direction of Abby’s voice as it filtered through the wall, trying to figure out how he should tell her that her life was about to change yet again, that even more safety measures were officially in effect, and the upcoming fashion shows were out of the question. She wasn’t going to like it, and he hated the idea of putting the sad, wounded look back in her big blue eyes. She ripped him to pieces when she cried, but what the hell else was he supposed to do? He’d done everything he could think of to make Abby’s situation better. He was trying to meet her halfway.

He sat up and jammed a hand through his hair, catching the ridiculous direction his thoughts were taking. Why was he worrying so much about Abby’s feelings? Since when did he make security decisions based on emotion? He didn’t. He stood and walked to his desk, plunking his ass in the chair to focus on the work he needed to finish up. His job was to keep Abby alive at all costs. Her feelings and emotions were not the priority. Safety always took precedence; that was exactly the way it was going to stay.

Jerrod stacked the pile of paperwork he’d signed off on
and glanced at his watch—one-fifteen. He’d spent the last few hours catching up on the work Abby’s busy schedule hadn’t allowed him to get to. Now that he’d answered the dozens of e-mails and submitted January’s projected budget, he needed to talk to her. He stood with a reluctant sigh and walked to the next room, knocking on her partially opened door.

“Yeah.”

He peeked in, breathing in Abby’s subtle flowery scent as she sat at her desk in front of her own mound of paperwork. “Looks like you’re busy.”

“No. Come on in.” She set her pen down and unfolded her legs out from under her. “You’re the perfect excuse for a breather. Have a seat.”

He glanced at the bold blue comforter and layers of plush yellow pillows on her queen-sized mattress, flashing back to the nighty she’d worn only hours ago, and slid his hands in his pockets. This wasn’t where he wanted to have their conversation. “Have you had lunch?”

She shook her head. “I’m not really hungry.”

Abby’s appetite was the first thing to go when she was upset. Her small frame couldn’t afford to miss many meals. “I am. What do you say we split a sandwich?”

“I should probably have something.”

That’s exactly what he’d been counting on. If he could plop a few chips and a piece of fruit on her plate, she might eat that too. He smiled at her as they walked to the kitchen, and she immediately grabbed the loaf of whole grain bread.

He stepped in front of the refrigerator, opening the door before she had a chance. “I’ll make lunch.” It was the least he could do before he ruined the rest of her day.

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.” He snagged the loaf from her hand and reached for the package of deli-sliced cold cuts. “Let me guess, turkey breast and avocado.”

“Mr. Quinn, you know me so well.”

“It’s almost like we live together or something.” He glanced over his shoulder, smiling at her, and brought the various sandwich fixings to the counter.

“I guess I’ll get the fruit and make a salad—with extra cantaloupe—because I kind of know you too.” She gave him a gentle jab to his side on her way by.

“Who can say no to extra cantaloupe?”

“Not you.”

They worked side-by-side, as they often did, Jerrod pulling bread from the plastic packaging and Abby prepping fruit. “How did things go with your friends?”

“Good. Better than I expected, actually.” She stopped slicing the bold red strawberries. “They’re pretty upset with the situation, but they’re still in for the show next weekend. All three have assured me this isn’t my fault.”

“It’s not.”

“I feel like it is.”

“Nope. You aren’t responsible for some bullshit article.” He spread a healthy glob of Dijon around the slice of soft multi-grain and layered several slices of meat on top, deciding that now was as good a time as any to move the conversation along. “So I had a chance to talk with Jackson and Ethan a while ago.”

“Oh?” She paused, glancing at him, then added grapes to the bowl.

“We’re going to have to make a few changes—mix things up a little.”

She stopped, her hand resting on the container of cut cantaloupe. “Like what?”

He hated the guarded look that came into her eyes, but he couldn’t blame her for preparing herself for the latest round of changes. Every time they had this conversation, Abby lost another piece of her independence. “Well, we won’t be able to go into the Lily Brand offices for awhile.”

She nodded, her shoulders visibly relaxing as she got back to work. “I figured as much.”

“And after today we’ll probably keep contact with Lily limited to phone conferences.”

Her brows furrowed. “What does that mean exactly?”

“She can’t come to the condo for a while—her or any of your friends.”

“Jerrod—”

“We can’t risk it, Abby. We can’t risk the press following one of them and getting a picture of you. We’re going to move all of the remaining fittings to Ethan Cooke Security. We’ll give you one of the conference rooms to use.”

She stared at him, frustration radiating in her eyes before she looked away and reached for the cling wrap in the drawer to her right.

He digested her stony, pissed off silence and clenched his jaw. Might as well finish it off and give her the rest. “And the upcoming fashion shows are out.”

Her eyes flew to his. “
What
?”

“They’re out, Abigail.”

“No.” She yanked plastic wrap from the roll and covered the small salad she’d prepared. “No,” she repeated, shoving the box back in the drawer and slamming it closed. “There has to be another—”

His phone rang, cutting her off. He glanced at the readout. “It’s Stone. I need to take this.” He pressed ‘talk,’ looking at Abby as she stared daggers at him. “Quinn.”

“Hey, it’s Stone. Lily popped up at the office. She wants to come over now.”

“Now?” His gaze followed Abby around the small kitchen as she shoved Tupperware containers back in the fridge and yanked a plate from the cupboard.

“I can be there in ten maybe twenty minutes, depending on who’s following me.”

“Yeah, come on over.” He rubbed at his jaw, cursing Lily’s crappy timing. There was no way he and Abby were going to sort this out in the next hour, let alone ten to twenty minutes. She was as mad as he’d ever seen her. “We’ll see you soon.” He hung up. “Lily’s on her way.”

“Fine,” she said coolly as she started toward the bedrooms.

He followed. “Where’re you going?”

She stopped and turned. “I have to change, but don’t think this conversation is over. Not by a long shot.”

“This is where we’re at, Abby.”

“No discussions, just this is the way it is.”

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “Pretty much.”

Her nostrils flared with her exhale, and she whirled, leaving him staring as she walked away.

~~~~

Abby sat across from Lily at the dining room table, picking at the Chinese food Lily had insisted they order. She caught another whiff of her boss’s garlicky chicken dish and shuddered, pressing a hand to her nauseas stomach. The idea of eating was more than she could handle after the long day of troubling events. First Toni Torrell’s article, then Jerrod’s lunchtime bomb. No visitors to the house. No fashion shows. More changes she couldn’t control.

Sighing, she glanced at Jerrod as he sat on the couch, watching football, chowing down on eggrolls. He looked over his shoulder, and their eyes met before she stared down at the shrimp and sautéed veggies on her plate. This entire situation wasn’t his fault. Somewhere deep down she understood that, yet she couldn’t banish her anger. Every time Jerrod, Jackson, and Ethan ‘changed things up,’ she lost more freedom. Luckily, Lily was amazing and willing to go along with the latest round of precautions Jerrod had laid out while they waited for their food to arrive, but she herself wasn’t. At the rate these new measures kept falling into place, she would be confined to her bedroom by the end of January, which would ultimately make her as much a prisoner here as she had been in the stash house.

“…that’s taken care of. I’ve talked to them as well, so we’ll move forward as planned.”

Abby set down her fork, shaking her head as she realized Lily was talking. “I’m sorry, what?”

Lily smoothed back her sleek cap of silver hair as she huffed out an impatient breath. “Abby, you’re all over the place this afternoon.”

She winced. “I know. I apologize.”

“I said we should plan to move forward since the girls are all set. This is actually a great opportunity for them to make a statement.”

Abby nodded. “I agree. Toni’s article is crap. She doesn’t get to make them feel like they’re worthless.”

“Certainly not. And she won’t, especially by the time I’m finished with this.” Lily stabbed a peapod and popped it in her mouth with a smirking smile.

“I hate that I can’t be there. I hate that I have to sit back while the four of you take the heat alone.”

Lily snagged her hand and squeezed. “I’ve dealt with bigger problems than this. Your safety is more important than giving that bitch the finger.”

“I
want
to give her the finger.” Abby squeezed back, returning the gesture of support. How could she put into words the desperate need to do
something
? She stood, no longer able to sit. “I want to strut down the runway with my friends and tell Toni to go to hell. I’m so sick of living in this
bubble
.” She gestured to her surroundings. “I hate that I’m always a step removed.”

“Which is a huge fucking improvement, Abigail.” Lily gave her a firm nod. “Not all that long ago you were more than happy to hide out in the background.”

“No.” Abby shook her head. “Not happy too, just afraid to do otherwise.”

“As you had every right to be.”

“But I’m not so afraid anymore.”

“Damn right you’re not.”

Abby returned Lily’s smile. Her fifty-something boss, with all her Botox and collagen injections, trademark stylish black-framed glasses, and top-notch wardrobe, was one of the strongest women she knew. She couldn’t help but feel more powerful in Lily’s commanding presence.

“This whole thing will be over soon, and you’ll have your spotlight back, my dear. I have plans for you—very big plans. In fact, I want you at my party tomorrow night in San Francisco.”

Abby’s eyes grew wide with the idea. How long had it been since she’d been to a real function? Parties had been limited to gatherings at Ethan and Sarah’s. “Yes—”

“Uh, Lily.” The TV switched off as Jerrod got to his feet and walked to the table. “That’s not going to work.”

“Sure it will. It’s a very low-key deal—just a few of my good friends at the penthouse for dinner.”

“I’m guessing there will be some big names among those good friends.”

“Well, yes of course, but this isn’t a media event. I would never invite Abby if I didn’t think she would be perfectly safe. You can use the private jet, and I’ll have a car pick you up at the airport.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets as he gave Lily a shake of his head. “That sounds good, but we’re going to have to pass. There’s a little more involved with a security detail than that.”

Abby glanced from Lily to Jerrod, then stared at the floor, balling her hands into fists as she listened to him make more decisions regarding her life without asking or considering what she wanted or needed. “I’m going.”

The room fell silent.

“I’m going,” she repeated as she looked up, locking eyes with Jerrod’s.

“I need to use the restroom.” Lily scooted her chair back. “If you’ll excuse me.”

“Sure,” Jerrod said, never taking his calm, steady eyes from hers.

Abby waited for Lily to close the door to the half bath. “What are you doing?”

“My job.”

“What about mine? I have a job to do too.” On a frustrated huff, she skirted the bar and walked into the kitchen, grabbing several Tupperware pieces from the cupboard, needing something to do as she grew angrier.

He followed. “I’m sorry, Abby, but the party’s out.”

His calm apologies stoked her irritation higher. “No,” she mumbled on her way back to the table.

He stopped at her side, leaning his head closer to hers. “What?”

She set the plastic down with a weighty snap. “I said no.”

“I wasn’t giving you an option. As head of your security I’m telling you you’re not going.”

Her hands shook with the rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins—part fury, part fear—as she dumped the contents of the take-out box into the container. This was her first confrontation with a man since her early days in the stash house. Even so, she continued on, trying to remember that Jerrod would never hurt her. “And I’m telling you I am.”

“Abigail—”

“Don’t ‘Abigail’ me in that school teacher tone of yours.” She smashed the lid on top. “Two hours ago you told me I can’t have my boss and friends over for the foreseeable future. If I want to finish my alterations for Fashion Week, I have to cart my stuff over to Ethan Cooke Security and inconvenience the models. Now you’re telling me I can’t attend a simple dinner party? What else, Jerrod? What else are you going to ask of me?”

“Whatever I have to,” he said with a hint of apology.

She dismissed the tone of regret. “I’ve gone along with everything you’ve asked.
Everything
since day one.”

“I know.”

“Don’t you get it? Don’t you understand that every time we take a step back he wins? Renzo never gets to win again.”

“I don’t—”

“I didn’t ask for what I got.” She walked to the fridge and shoved the leftovers away. “I didn’t ask to be thrown into the back of a van and have everything change. I’m trying to pick up the pieces of my life.”

“They’re trying to
end
your life, Abigail. Their goal is to see you dead.”

She swallowed, knowing he was right. “If I spend the rest of my life hiding, I might as well be dead. I’ll meet the models at the office. I’ll even miss Saturday’s show, but I’m going to Lily’s party tomorrow night and to the mentoring event Wednesday afternoon. If I have to attend on my own I will.” She shoved passed him and walked to the windows across the room, staring out at the sun starting its decent, trying to find the reins on the temper she hadn’t set free in so long. Spewing her frustrations had been somewhat liberating, but even more, it had been wrong. “I’m sorry,” she said, turning, but Jerrod was gone.

Lily’s heels echoed on the flooring as she joined Abby. “Feel better now?”

She shook her head. “No.”

“You look a little lighter without all of that on your chest.”

“I don’t like being unkind. I know he’s doing this for me…” She closed her eyes, again on the verge of tears.

“He’s a big, strong man. He can take a little heat from time to time.”

“But he doesn’t deserve it.” She crossed her arms at her chest, attempting to rub away the chills she felt despite her navy blue sweater. “I’m so done with this. All of it. I’m a survivor, yet everyone still sees me as the poor, fragile woman who was abducted into the sex trade.”

“Bullshit. Since when do you let other people define you? You and me, we define the world. You remember that.” Lily kissed her cheek. “Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow night if Jerrod thinks it’s safe enough after all.”