Pieces For You (12 page)

“You sure were
accommodating
this morning, but I don’t recall you being the one on your back.”

Ev gasped.  “I can stop anytime, just you wait.”

In response, Hunter kissed her collarbone and dragged his lips up the column of her neck until he nipped her earlobe.  Ev visibly shuddered from the pleasure.  Hunter then whispered something in her ear and Ev blinked before nodding rapidly.

“Sorry Sam, we have to go organize my DVD collection,” Ev apologized as she pulled Hunter down the hall.

Hunter looked over his shoulder and winked at me.  Another point for Hunter—Ev was never going to score…but who cares, with the amount she was going to be scoring in the bedroom tonight. 

Over the next few days a pattern developed.  I worked nine to five at Higher Yearning, and at 4:55 Griffin would show up to get a cup of coffee before the gym.  By the time I was done, Griff had finished his coffee and was ready to accompany me—I had unofficially obtained an official workout buddy.  He was the perfect partner, ensuring proper execution of each exercise, encouraging me to push myself, and supplying an entertaining distraction to pass the time.  After each session he administered a quick massage to keep me feeling limber and pain-free.  I’m not going to lie, most days it was the promise of a massage that provided motivation to get my butt to the gym. 
And,
the previous position that triggered a negative reaction was no longer an issue when I looked over my shoulder at Griffin—another victory.

By the following Tuesday, I was actually a halfway decent barista, thanks to Meg’s help.  While mildly sore after my workout, the ache in my abused muscles was significantly less than the previous week—I had Griffin to thank for that.  I found myself looking forward to therapy with Thia on Thursday so I could brag about my homework successes.  Since it was nearing the end of my shift, I brewed Griffin’s new favorite—Colombian with a shot of espresso and a shot of steamed milk, dubbed the “super charged”—so it would be cool enough for him to sip when he arrived.

The chime of the door alerted me to a customer.  When I turned to greet him, I was rewarded with a man worthy of the cover of GQ magazine, dressed in a stunning single-breasted suit.  His brown hair was styled in the perfect ‘I’m professional, but I don’t try too hard’ tousled look.  He stood six feet tall with a lean, fit build.  His model-perfect face, boy-next-door smile, and warm caramel eyes contributed to the ‘I need a second look’ package. 

I returned the smile, but before I could ask for his order, he presented me with a business card.  I looked at him quizzically while accepting the card—Westly E. Black, Attorney at Law.  I eyed him suspiciously.  It was my experience that an attorney visiting your place of work—or anywhere, actually—was a harbinger of bad news.

“Would you care to join me for a brief conversation, Miss Whitney?  I have a proposition for you.”

This was definitely not going to be a light-hearted chat.

“Are you with the District Attorney’s office?” I asked, my last glimmer of hope.

He looked down at his attire as if it was all the answer I needed.  Dammit!  No one working at the DA’s office would be outfitted in Ralph Lauren Black Label.

“Let’s get this over with,” I groaned.

I followed him to a set of wingback chairs located as far from customers as possible.  I sat down, uneasy, my posture rigid and defensive.

“I’d offer you coffee, but I have a feeling I will be asking you to leave before it’s finished brewing.”

“Are you always so pessimistic, Miss Whitney?” he asked blandly.

“When it comes to attorneys, Mr. Black, yes I am.”

He sighed as if put out by my generalization.  I would have felt guilty if I believed there was even the slightest chance I was wrong about the assumption.

“Miss Whitney, I represent the Varbeck family—”

“Get the fuck out.  Now,” I hissed at him, blessedly keeping my volume at a respectable level despite my profanity.

“Now, now, let’s not be hasty.  I have a mutually beneficial offer I think you would be wise to consider.  The Varbeck family is willing to provide you a significant sum of money—with a signed non-disclosure agreement, of course—if you decide not to testify as a part of the county’s case against Heath Varbeck, should it ever reach trial.  Which is doubtful, I might add.”

Was he saying the name of the sick bastard who raped me to screw with my head?  If so, it was working.  My body began to shake uncontrollably, making it difficult for me to speak.

“Yyyou nnneed to lleave.  Now!” I forced out with great effort.

“You’re upset, which is understandable, but you need to calm yourself and think about this rationally.  Do you really want to sit on a witness stand and have your life opened up and examined under a microscope in public?  We all have secrets we would rather keep in the dark recesses of our minds.  Do you really want a defense attorney shining a light into those dark places?  Do you want to subject your family to that ugliness?  Sam, take the money and move on.  Nothing will undo what you’ve been through.  Testifying will not bring comfort or healing—you will only be exposing yourself to further suffering.”

“Was that a threat?” a voice, unrecognizable in its fury, asked from behind me.

“Sir, this is a private conversation.  I’ll thank you to mind your own business.”

“I asked you a question; don’t make me repeat myself.”

“I have no need to threaten Miss Whitney, I was simply bringing to her attention facts she may not have previously considered.”

“Since we are stating facts, here’s one for you—if you don’t remove yourself from the premises in the next ten seconds, you will no longer be capable of doing so.  And to save you the trouble of threatening
me
, I am prepared to deal with the consequences of putting you in the hospital.  I have my own set of lawyers in overpriced suits.”

Westly rose to leave, but Griffin stopped him with a hand on his chest.

“Approach Samantha again and you will find out just how far I am willing to go in order to protect her…from any threats,” Griffin said, barely above a whisper—not a threat, a vow.

The attorney held Griffin’s eyes.  He didn’t appear afraid, which made me question his sanity.  With a quick nod in my direction, he departed unhurriedly.

Griffin was at my side with surprising speed, scooping me into his arms and sitting us on the nearest couch.  He positioned his body so I had the illusion of privacy while I gathered my senses.  Distress receded and anger rose to take its place.

“Who the fuck did that piece of shit think he was to come to my place of work and shove a ridiculous bribe in my face like I was a corrupt politician?  To embarrass me, to threaten me!  I should have stomped on his ridiculously expensive Ferragamo-clad feet and kneed him in the balls—put those self-defense classes to good use.  Maybe he would think twice before threatening another innocent victim…if nothing else, his threats would be delivered several octaves higher, lessening their impact.”

Griffin’s chest rumbled as he chuckled.  I looked up, confused by his mirth, when realization dawned.

“I said all of that out loud, didn’t I?” I asked.

“Yeah, but it tamed my desire to follow him to the parking lot and reiterate my message without words.”

“Violence is never the answer,” I said, not meaning it.  Sometimes a good ass-whooping was exactly what the doctor ordered.

“That’s true.  I wouldn’t want to do something like stomp on his foot and kick him in the balls.  Such physical displays of anger are simply barbaric.”

“Ha, ha.  You think you’re so funny.”

“No,
you
think I’m funny, and you happen to be right.”  He kissed the top of my head while rubbing my back soothingly.  “You okay?”

“Yes.  It was an overload of competing emotions: shock, offense, sadness, anger…lots of anger.  There were too many to process at once, and he just kept saying
his
name over and over.  I know I will have to face worse at trial, face
him
, but I’ll be prepared—this was just a sneak attack.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t get here sooner.  I feel like I am always arriving too late where you are concerned,” Griffin confessed, as if anything that had occurred was his fault.  Men!  Why did they insist on ignoring things that were actually their responsibility (like putting down the damn toilet seat), but jumped to claim responsibility for something they had no control over?

“Seriously, what’s wrong with you…forget to pay your psychic cable bill?  Is your reception fuzzy?” I asked, heavy on the sarcasm.  “Don’t be stupid, you big lug, you showed up exactly when I needed you.”

He said nothing, not wanting to argue but clearly not conceding. 

“I guess we know why so many of the witnesses have backed out of testifying at trial.  The DA contacted Ev last week to reconfirm she and I were both still on board.  I couldn’t understand why he would even ask—now I do.  The Varbecks must have systematically bribed or scared the others.”

Griffin growled, causing me to laugh.

“Oh, yay!” I clapped my hands and bounced like a child, “Yogi is back.”

“I do not growl.  But I guess I should be grateful that you went with a bear, the hippo was just…wrong.”

Despite my teasing, I was annoyed with myself for turning into a stuttering mess at the mere mention of
his
name.  Before the attacks I would have had Mr. Westly Black walking out of here with his head bowed and tail between his legs.  I had progressed enough that I could sling a scathing retort at a random stranger, but where
he
was concerned, I lost my confidence.

“I hate being this weak girl,” I said, giving voice to my troubled thoughts, “ I just want to be normal.”

“What is normal, Lo?  Is that the goal—to blend in with everyone else?”

“I’m not sure.  I want to be me, but sometimes I’m not sure who that is anymore.  I don’t want to be a basket case, riddled with triggers and anxiety at the slightest provocation.  I know I don’t like
that
girl.”

“You have the patience of a four-year-old on Christmas Eve.  It’s been five and a half months.  You’ve survived, healed physically, and are facing your fears daily.  What the hell else do you expect?  There is no magic pill, and if there was, it would be a temporary Band-Aid—not a true fix.  Keep doing what you’ve been doing and you’ll get to where you want to be, even if you aren’t sure where that is yet.”

“You make it sound so easy.”

“Not easy, definitely not,” he said with conviction.  “When walking through hell, most people try to hide…feeling fucking hurts, healing fucking hurts.  That’s why so many people avoid experiencing that level of honesty with themselves.  Where do you think addictions stem from?  Why do so many relationships fail?  Where does all the anger and violence in the world originate?  People desperately trying to avoid experiencing exactly what you are facing head-on.  They search for quick fixes, substitutions, temporary releases—but there is no easy route through hell.  You’ve been dealt one of the shittiest hands imaginable; most will never be challenged with a fraction of what you have.  You are one of the few with the bravery to walk through the fire, let it burn you to ash, and rise again, changed but all the more beautiful for it.”

He kissed my lips tenderly, exploring their texture and contours with his own and causing my eyes to drift closed at the pleasure and intimacy.  His lips left mine as he placed a kiss on the tip of my nose, followed by both of my eyelids, and finally my forehead.  It was both comforting and tantalizing.  I wanted more…needed more, which led me to entwine my fingers through the hair at the back of his neck and pull his lips back to mine.  I didn’t allow a gentle caress or tease, I demanded heat and power.  I wanted to explore and be explored by this man.  I traced the outline of his lips with the tip of my tongue before licking the seam.  His ensuing groan provided the opportunity for me to slip my tongue into his mouth and begin my expedition—I was Columbus and, holy shit, I had found the New World.  He was delicious, minty and warm with a hint of something dark and rich…he reminded me of an Andes crème de menthe chocolate.  I loved those freaking things.  I couldn’t get enough of him, discovering every nook and cranny of his mouth as if it was my life’s purpose.  I nearly stamped my foot and pouted like a two-year-old when someone cleared their throat behind us.

“I hate to interrupt, but that is not a pay-by-the-hour couch, so knock it off.  You are making my customers either jealous or uncomfortable, neither of which is encouraging sales,” Ev said sternly, but I saw the twinkle of pleasure in her eyes.  She was getting what she had hoped for, even if she wasn’t pleased with
where
.

Griffin blushed—actually blushed—which was positively adorable, and caused me to laugh.

“Love that sound,” he said under his breath.

I made a move to rise but Griffin held me firmly in place.

“Uh, Griff, I’m going to need you to release me before Ev puts us in time-out.”

“She’s right.  I will revoke your coffee privileges if you don’t keep it PG.”