Heart in Wire: A by a Thread Companion Novel (38 page)

“Come on,” she said, pulling him inside, “I have dinner and I’m ready to see how this shit goes down.”

He slapped her ass and followed her into the kitchen. She’d poured herself wine already.

“So I got these recipes off Pinterest, I hope you like them.” She spooned some of the potatoes into her mouth.

“I’m sure I will, I’m easy to please.” He laughed and dipped his finger in the mashed potatoes and nodded. “Yep, these are good.”

“So, I got the call today that the trial is starting in two weeks. I’m going to be second chairing the case with the U.S. Attorney from the Montgomery office,” she blurted out while they were standing over the food in the kitchen. “Sorry, I just couldn’t wait to tell you.”

“Really?” He knew this was a huge deal for Marly. She was making a name for herself in the government. She deserved it, she’d worked hard for the recognition. “That’s huge.”

“Well, no one else knows the case like I do. I’ve read every single interview, deposition, and every report from the agents.”

He smiled and leaned in to kiss her, grabbing her breast. “Your obsession and missed dates with me paid off,” he whispered.

“Hey!” she said, knocking his hand away.

“Just because you’re smart as shit and excellent at your job doesn’t mean I can’t fondle what’s mine.”

“Yours?” She laughed.

“Is it not?”

“Well, I’m pretty sure
they
are mine.”

“They are on your body, but I believe I enjoy them more than you.”

“True.” She nodded, putting the food on their plates.

“I dream about them,” he continued. “Have you ever dreamed about your boobs?”

“I can honestly say that I have not.”

“I’ve memorized the curve from under your boob to the tip of your nipple.” He ran his finger from the bottom on her breast to the middle, rubbing a little bit to create friction.

She laughed. “Okay, okay you can manhandle my boobs anytime.”

“So how long are you thinking you’ll be gone?”

“The trial is going to be long, maybe a month,” she said and handed him his plate, walking into the den. Her flat screen was already paused on the face of Jesse Pinkman.

“Damn, seriously?”

“Yep, this is a career-making case for me. I can’t believe they’re letting me second chair!” She beamed at him, acknowledging how much this meant to her.

“Why so long?”

“The first week will be all motions in limine and arguments before we even pick a jury, then that will take a while too. I think opening statements will take half a day themselves. We will present our case first and we have 32 witnesses, which I need to get drafting questions for…” She pressed play. “I saw your eyes glazing over,” she commented.

“You make smart sexy,” he said, digging into his chicken.

She giggled and shushed him as the show started.

He and Marly had been seeing each other exclusively for six months; he was taking her out to a very nice dinner to celebrate. Since she was leaving on Monday for practically an entire month, he wanted to spoil her a bit. Things were better financially for him in Atlanta for a lot of reasons—he’d saved some money the three months or so he’d lived with Jesse, for one, and the rent was cheaper than living in DC, even though he lived in a one bedroom apartment. He still sent money home to his mother to help out.

Marly had been the biggest surprise of his life; he couldn’t believe how lucky he was to have found her. She was sexy as hell and kept him on his toes. He’d learned she graduated from Tulane Law in the top third of her class, which meant she was smart as shit. She made him remember himself, his real self, not how he was around El. When he was with El, it was like part of him disappeared. Marly gave that back to him. He was slowly opening up to her, but worried it was too soon.

They had to hide their relationship at work, which sucked, but dating in the office wasn’t allowed and it was something he didn’t know how to resolve.

Fortunately, she owned a house in Ashford Park and turned out to be only a few blocks from his apartment. She had a dog, some sort of terrier that was small and sort of fluffy. It was a yippy dog and annoyed him. He wouldn’t be caught dead walking it himself, it was a chick’s dog. It made him miss Cooper.

Patrick put his jacket on as he went to the door. She opened after the second knock, barefoot but clad in a tight red dress.

His jaw dropped. “I change my mind. We’ll be staying in tonight,” he said, taking in her dress. He pulled a bouquet of white roses from behind his back and gave them to her.

“For me?” she said in faux shock.

“Only if I get to peel that tight ass dress off you later.”

“Well, you’ll be disappointed when you do.” She took the roses from him and walked into the kitchen, where she filled a vase with water.

“Why’s that?”

Marly didn’t even look at him. “Because I don’t have anything on under it.”

Patrick lunged at her and pressed her against the counter. He ran his hand up her inner thigh and groaned. No underwear.

She smiled mischievously. “You thought I was lying?”

“No, I just wanted to make sure.” Patrick began pulling the dress up her thighs and she moaned, pushing back against him.

They both looked up when they heard a beep.

“Oh, I got us a car to drive us to dinner tonight,” he remembered aloud.

“What?” she squealed and pulled her dress down. “Shit!” she yelled as she ran through the house. “I’m not even ready!”

“I hired the driver, he can wait.”

Silence.

“Marly!” he called a few minutes later.

She walked back in the kitchen with mile high heels that matched her skin, making her legs go on forever. She would be wearing those later, he decided.

“So where are we going?” She pulled on a coat over her dress.

“Woodfire Grill.”

“Really?” She ran the three steps to him and kissed him. “Thank you.”

Patrick knew she’d wanted to go to that restaurant since she’d been in Atlanta; it was really popular and the menu changed daily based on the local fare available. He knew it was fucking expensive, too. He grabbed her ass and took her hand, leading her to the car waiting in the driveway.

“Anything for you.”

Chapter Thirty-Two

DÉJÀ VU

An undercover operation wrapped today; Patrick was on the team that came in after the fact to obtain evidence and take all the perps into custody. The other team had really done all the work, they were the team that made sure the lawyers got everything they needed for the cases. He liked learning this part of the process, he enjoyed growing in different directions. The Atlanta position had been exactly what he needed.

He was just shutting the door on the van loaded with gun runners when his phone buzzed. When he was in the field, it was protocol that he only had his ATF phone; he left his personal phone in his car.

“Greer,” he barked.

“Patrick, babe…you need to get to your personal phone.”

A cold chill skated across his spine. “Marly? What’s going on?”

“Babe, I don’t want to tell you where you are. Understand?”

What was it? Why couldn’t she tell him?
He checked his watch, it was a little after ten at night, and Marly wasn’t even in Atlanta. She’d been working on a huge gun trafficking case in Birmingham for the last two weeks.

“Okay, let me step away for a minute.”

The crime scene was bustling, but he was able to walk a few houses down, where it was quiet.

“What is it?”

“First of all, I’m sorry to have to be the one to tell you this, especially where you are. I wish you’d leave and just call me back.”

“Fucking tell me,” he demanded.

“It’s Trevor.”

Trevor
. Marly didn’t even know about Trevor, he didn’t tell anyone about Trevor.

“What about him?” he choked out.

“Baby, he passed away a few hours ago.”

“What?” he croaked.

“He and your mom were in a car accident. Your mom’s okay, she’s just banged up.”

“How?”

“They were on 95 and there was an accident and he was killed on impact. That’s all I know.”

“How do you know this?”

“Oh…” She was quiet for a minute. “Stella messaged me on Facebook when she couldn’t get in touch with you.”

“El?” His mind wasn’t processing anything at the proper speed.

“Babe, do you have someone who can drive you home?”

He stared at the flashing lights around him.

“Babe…Patrick?”

“Oh, I’ll drive myself.” He looked down at this trembling hand. “I have to go. Thanks for getting in touch with me.” He disconnected and looked for Larry, his supervisor for this operation.

After he told Larry his brother had died, he got in his car and drove to his office to pick up his car. Then he called his sister.

“KK?”

All he heard was crying. There was a rustling sound. “Patrick?”

It was his mom. “Mom! Are you okay?”

“I’m just a little bruised. Trevor died, Patrick.” Her voice was spookily calm. “He died in the car with me.”

“I’m leaving now, Momma.” He pulled into a parking space and got out. His mind was racing, worrying about checking in with work and letting them know he’d be gone, panicking over how the fuck El found Marly on Facebook, and trying to figure out if his only suit was clean.

“Be careful,” she said with a sigh. “We’ll be at the house. I’ve got to make all the arrangements tomorrow. You can help with that.”

“Okay.” Patrick rubbed his face with his hand. He didn’t know how to feel; it was too much of a shock.

Life was so tenuous. His brother had survived being shot, but was killed in a car accident.

“Momma, I love you.”

“You too, baby boy.” She hung up.

He made it to Savannah in less than four hours. It was a little after 2:00 am when he got to his mom’s house. He used his key and was surprised when Katrina and his mother were awake, drinking wine. They were on bottle number three. Despair hung in the air and permeated the walls and carpet
.

What an impossible situation
.

His sister jumped up and hugged Patrick. “I can’t believe he’s gone,” she mumbled into his chest.

Patrick’s mother stayed sitting on the couch, drinking her glass of wine.

“Is she okay?” he whispered in Katrina’s ear.

She shrugged and then shook her head.

“I’m glad you made it okay, baby boy,” his mother said as Patrick pulled her into his arms.

Katrina walked to the kitchen and got a glass for Patrick. He didn’t like wine too much, but he’d drink what he could at this point. He couldn’t stay here; it was too much. He’d get a hotel the next night. He was a pussy. He was selfish.

Patrick pulled his phone out and texted Marly that he got to Savannah okay. She was in the last few days of a very high profile case. She’d told him she was trying to get a continuance or get the other attorney to cover for her. The problem was, the last two days of the trial were hers and the other attorney wasn’t prepared. Marly assured him she’d get there as soon as she could. Patrick understood, and to him, this finally felt like closure on something that happened over a decade ago. He was a horrible person for thinking Trevor was better off dead than in a perpetual state of puberty, but the Trevor he knew would’ve been mortified at what he’d become.

“Momma, what happened?” he finally said.

“The car’s totaled,” she answered.

Patrick looked at Katrina.

“The police said a car was just stopped in the middle lane of 95, just stopped,” his sister supplied, “no lights on or anything. Mom didn’t see that car and rear-ended it going about 80 miles per hour. Then her car was hit by an 18-wheeler.” She looked at her feet, shuffling them. “Trev was killed on impact. I’m surprised Mom wasn’t too.”

“Holy shit.”

“He was just stopped in the middle of the highway,” his mother said absently. “I didn’t see him. I didn’t see him.” Her voice disintegrated into tears.

Patrick moved to hug her again. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Do you remember when Trevor got his scholarship to Georgia Southern?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Remember how happy we all were?”