Secret Worlds (571 page)

Settling into the uncomfortable chair, Ari told him what happened in court and described Hope’s story. Stanton—or really, Quinn Stanton, but everyone at the office called him by his last name—listened to her story while leaning back and rubbing his shiny, bald head. He was the best at what you could be around here—dedicated, calm, hard-working. His clients and the system never got him frazzled like Ari’s cases often made her.

Stanton’s desk chair squeaked as he shifted. “I can understand your reaction. I tend to agree with you—if anything, she was probably trying to get out of the violation.”

“I know, but you know how they usually hate you for getting in their business and forcing them to behave? This wasn’t why she was upset. She was upset because I didn’t believe her. I never believe anything any of my kids say. I’ve been lied to, too many times. Plus, she was so scared. I’ve never seen her afraid—of anything.”

Stanton sighed. “Look, there’s nothing you can do. She violated her contract—not only by being away from home, but also for getting arrested. And if she really is afraid of something, then she probably is safer in the county lockup than anywhere else.” He nodded toward the files in Ari’s lap. “Everything okay then with those new cases?”

Ari narrowed her eyes at him, trying to look fierce. “No, it’s not. I don’t want any more lost girls on my caseload! The abuse and how they sell themselves and the pain and the men and the scars—” Ari sighed, cutting off her argument. Everything about that day felt hopeless … but there was nothing she could do but try her best. It was her job.

Stanton’s dark brown eyes lit up a little. “You do a good job, Ari. These girls trust and need you—even if it’s just for the short period they’re in our custody.”

Under the weight of her bag and files, Ari struggled to her feet. She shot him a false look of anger. “Way to hit me in my soft spot, Boss.”

Laughter bounced off the walls and he picked up his pen to continue working. Ari heard him mutter as she walked out the door and down the hall to her office, “Not my fault you’re a sucker.”

***

The rest of the day passed in a blur of phone calls and paperwork—something Ari rarely had the opportunity to do. Most days she was either in the field, visiting homes or placing a child in residential care. Not to mention the days spent traveling across the state to check on clients in long-term lockup. But that afternoon, her calendar was relatively free so she took the opportunity to catch up on some work and leave on time.

Ari lived close to the office—only a short commute of about ten minutes without traffic. That night she made it home easily, pulling her car onto her tree-lined street and parking in her driveway. She loved her house. The porch and swing, the leaded glass windows, the historic door. The Craftsman bungalow she purchased a year prior was painted a soothing seafoam green, with buttery-yellow trim. It was small—only a thousand square feet, two bedrooms and one bath, a tiny galley kitchen, but it was hers. She shared it with a roommate—one she chose to help make the mortgage payments, and for safety. Plus, he was Ari’s best friend.

Removing her bag and the paperwork from the car, she left the doors unlocked before climbing the porch steps and pushing her key into the deadbolt. Living in a neighborhood like this, one learned things, like to never lock car doors. If someone wanted to break into a car, it was best to just let them. No need to pay for glass repair. Before Ari could get the door open, two cats wove around her legs. Another rule of the neighborhood: never feed a stray cat.

Oliver wasn’t home yet. He worked at a law firm downtown and his commute was harder and longer. After changing, Ari set about making dinner. By the time he arrived 30 minutes later, she had two plates of pasta ready.

“Thank God!” he muttered, as he walked in and smelled dinner. “Have I told you how much I love that you cook? ’Cause I do. I was going to order pizza and cheese fries.”

“Wait …” Ari asked in mock seriousness. “That’s an option? ’Cause really, this can save for later.”

Oliver disappeared to his room and came out two minutes later in shorts and a stain-covered T-shirt. His blond hair was no longer business tidy, but disheveled. The messy hair better represented his personality. A little wild. Definitely silly. And very hot. “Nope sorry, my ass—”

“Language,” she called in warning. She’d instituted a no-cussing policy once she started with the juvies. Teaching by example, or something like that.

“Sorry, my booty is hitting that sofa and isn’t moving until I’ve watched three hours of bad reality TV programming.” He swung by the kitchen and grabbed drinks and utensils while Ari brought the plates to the living room.

Flipping on The Bachelor, Ari knew she was lucky to have Oliver. He was game for anything as long as it involved food or a good time. He kept his mess in his room, paid his bills on time, and generally didn’t pry into Ari’s life. He was good-looking in a scruffy, shaggy-haired, one-night-stand kind of way. Fortunately for Ari, their friendship outlasted the awkwardness of their own one-night stand.

“So you’re not going out tonight?” she asked between forkfuls of pasta.

“Nah, I’ve got nothing going on, and work? It’s kicking my ass a little.”Ari smacked him again for his language.

Oliver and Ari met in graduate school. He was in law school while she majored in social work. They both found jobs pretty easily and where Ari worked long hours for little reward, Oliver worked long hours for a shot at a big office with a nice view. Sometimes, she wasn’t quite sure it was a fair trade. Okay really, it definitely wasn’t a fair trade.

Oliver set his plate on the coffee table and glanced away from the TV. “What about you? Plans?”

Ari also pushed her plate aside and pulled her knees to her chest. She casually confessed, “Rebecca thinks Nick is going to ask me out to dinner.”

“Did he?”

Ari leaned back against the couch. “No, but I would have said no if he did. It was a long day and I’d rather be here.”

Oliver snorted. “Yeah, good try. He’s okay, though. I never heard any bad stories about him.”

Oliver and Nick had been classmates in law school, although the only thing Oliver could tell her was that Nick was a top student and good at basketball. Typical Oliver with the complete lack of details.

“I suggested getting together this weekend, but I don’t know. Even though I worked at my desk all afternoon, I’m still behind.”

They cleaned up from dinner and Oliver got out his briefcase and began working on some files in front of the television. Ari paced a bit, bored and antsy. All the drama from the day had taken its toll. No way could she get to sleep anytime soon. Half her dreams involved finding a client dead, the other, monotonous cycles of running through the courthouse trying to find the right room, afraid she was late. A year before, she and Oliver would have been out at that hour, drinking or dancing even though it was a work night. But he wanted a promotion and spent a lot of extra time working for it.

“You know, I think I may go to the gym before it gets too late,” Ari said. She’d joined the 24-hour one due to her erratic schedule.

“Now?” Oliver didn’t even look up from his paperwork.

“Yeah, I need to work off some of this stress.”

Ari went to her room and grabbed her gym bag. She stuffed it with everything she needed—combat boots, cargo pants and a black tank. She could work this stress out at the gym, or she could work it out on the dance floor.

“Be careful,” Oliver said.

“I will,” she gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Don’t wait up.”

***

Ari changed in the backseat of her car in the club parking lot. Once she was inside and had a drink in her system, she immediately felt better. Glorious, a dance club deep in the industrial district, had been their favorite hangout before she and Oliver “grew up.” She still loved the way the loud, thumping music echoed against the warehouse walls, vibrating into her skin. It was just what she needed. Mind-numbing music to take the insanity of the day away.

It wasn’t the first time she’d snuck out on Oliver looking for a release. He had no idea she came here alone at night, and she was sure he’d be shocked to find out. All she wanted was some time alone with the loud music and to work up a good sweat. Better than jogging on a treadmill for an hour.

“Hey girl, wanna dance?”

“Can I buy you a drink?”

“Looking for something? Someone? Me?”

The pickup lines came and Ari skirted past them all, smiling at the guys, but kept her eyes jaded. That’s not what she came for. At least not on purpose.

The only offer she entertained was a dance. Of her choosing. They had to already be on the dance floor. Feeling the music on their own. Male or female. It didn’t matter. All she wanted was a dance partner, maybe the heat of skin next to hers.

The energy shift on the floor was fast, the hip-hop music turning decidedly rap. She looked over her shoulder and saw a guy doing a handstand, challenging gravity in some kind of breakdance move.

“What’s this?” she yelled at the girl next to her. “Break dancing?”

“Kind of,” she said. “It’s this parkour thing? Freerunning.You know, the flips and stuff?”

Ari had seen it before—on the Internet. Crazy guys leaping from rooftops and taking backflips off subway walls.

“There’s a group of guys that do it here in the city. Occasionally, they show up in clubs like this.” Both women watched as another guy joined in doing a series of choreographed back handsprings. “They’re hot right?”

Ari snorted. Hot was an understatement. The strength required to do the tricks was obvious, as were the muscles under their shirts. “Holy crap,” Ari said, seeing the tight stomach on one of the guys peeking out from under his shirt. He flipped from his back to an upright position and his dark eyes met hers.

The song ended and the guys were swallowed into the crowed. Ari tried to find them, any of them, but there were too many people clogging up the dance floor. She checked her watch and saw it was near one. She needed to go soon so she wouldn’t be a zombie at work the next day, but she’d just started to relax.

She re-entered the dance floor and got lost in the throng of dancers. A couple of guys tried to grab her arms but she shook them off, uninterested. She knew whom she was looking for. Mating and dating and anything of the sort could only be called a game. Chasing was part of the thrill. Ari had more pride than to chase a guy down in a bar, but four years of partying during college taught her how to lure one out.

Ari spotted him in the middle of the floor, dancing with a group of girls in the hazy light. Fangirls from the looks of them. One had her finger in his belt loop, near the button. Another had a fistful of shirt at his side. Possessive much?

Spinning away from him, Ari found the closest guy and began to dance. Nothing dirty, she didn’t want to cross any lines, but her hips swayed to the beat and the guy she’d picked was more than willing to be her partner. He had a shaggy mop of hair, kind of like Oliver’s except it glowed red like a halo in the lights near the stage. Damp with sweat, it fell into his eyes. He brushed it aside and Ari saw the hooped ring through his eyebrow. She moved her head to the music, laughing a little at his skinniness, the way his pants slid off his hips. They were saved by a leather belt.

Ari felt the lightest touch on her back, near the tattoo that peeked out of the top of her shirt. Maybe not even a touch. Perhaps just energy. She didn’t look. She wouldn’t dare. Not yet.

What she did do was shift her body backwards, not enough to touch the guy behind her, but enough to enter his zone. Despite their lack of physical contact, the guy behind her must have put off quite the vibe, because the boy in the droopy pants figured it out quick enough, giving Ari a little wave before turning toward another girl.

The tempo notched up again and Ari moved closer to her new partner, yet never touching or speaking. Her chest shuddered with each beat, releasing the stress from her body. She wanted to exhaust herself, forget about armed robbers and child prostitution. She closed her eyes and danced.

The song shifted and Ari turned. She opened her eyes, taking in the man in front of her. Shaved head. Light brown skin. Tall and slim, but ripped. She’d seen his abs before. The way he looked at her in return set her stomach on fire, and she ached to feel his hands on her skin. Something hard to cut away at the numbness. She lifted an eyebrow and tilted her head just a bit. Then she left the dance floor.

It was impossible to tell which beat harder, her heart or the music. Ari made her way through the crowd. She’d never done anything like this without a wingman—someone to keep an eye out and make sure there wasn’t any trouble. She liked to have fun, but her job made her aware of the dangers lurking in seedy bars and dark dance clubs.

Yet, she couldn’t seem to make herself care. Not now.

Pushing past the bar, Ari made her way to a dark corner. Taking a deep breath, she turned around and sure enough, he’d followed her. Dark-eyed and dangerous.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi.”

“I saw you out there, doing that stuff, the parkour?”

“Yeah.”

Ari considered that he might be stupid or slow or something, but the smile on his face said otherwise. He knew what she wanted.

“I just … you know … don’t ever …”

“Right.” He nodded. “Me—”

Desperate, she cut him off, grabbing at him with needy hands. Her fingers wove into the cotton of his shirt and she pulled him forward, kissing him on the mouth. The connection felt like a jolt of electricity running through her veins, melting the numbness, bringing her to life in the most dangerous way. She didn’t care, and obviously, neither did he, because his hands lifted her up, pressing her back into the wall.

The murky light formed a shade around them, the club-goers a curtain of protection. Ari and this stranger lost themselves in the throbbing music and one another.

Ari woke the next day feeling like she’d been run over by a truck. She couldn’t blame it on alcohol, just the lack of common sense and some kind of lust-driven desperation.