Pierced (29 page)

“That was it. Luc, her eyes were so clear for a moment. She seemed to really see me instead of looking straight through like she usually does. I tried to get another response from her, but it was like she had blanked back out almost immediately. I spoke to her doctor, and he thinks it’s a good sign. It’s the first time in eight years she’s shown any recognition toward anyone around her.”

It’s then that I hear it. My cocky, self-assured friend is crying. The woman he’s loved for most of his life…the woman who had a psychotic break after attempting to kill herself…and me-the man she professed to love. That night changed our lives in ways the three of us have never recovered from. On that night, the only person she did kill was my son…my unborn son. And the only other person who was there…who tried to save us all, was Aidan. In our twisted love triangle, Cassie taught me what it was to love and in the next breath, she taught me loss, despair, and finally hate.

I feel the need to cry along with Aidan but for totally different reasons. I don’t know if I am ready to handle a world where Cassie might one day be free. I’m just learning to live again with Lia, my beautiful girl. “Aidan…” I begin, just as Max bursts into my office. “Hang on,” I say quickly, pushing the mute button. Raising a brow to my lawyer that conveys my irritation at his unannounced interruption, I ask, “What’s going on?”

“Sorry, Luc, but Cindy wasn’t at her desk. I tried to call you, but you weren’t answering. It’s Jim Dawson; the court released him a few hours ago. He’s out. We should have been notified earlier, but someone fucked up.”

“Son of bitch,” I snap. “What else today?” Putting the phone back to my ear, I say, “Aidan, I’ll call you back. I need to take care of some things here. Just…we’ll talk later, okay?” Part of me is just relieved to have a reason to end the call. Communicating with Aidan about Cassie is difficult at best. He loves her and I hate her. At what point could we meet in the middle on something like that? The only way I can have a rational conversation concerning her is to think of her as the girl we used to know and not the woman who had damn near killed me.

By the time I end the call, Max is sitting in a seat in front of my desk. It’s never good news when your lawyer feels the need to make himself comfortable. I really just want him gone so I can check in with Lia to make sure everything is okay and also to warn Sam about Jim Dawson’s release. “Luc, about the other matter you asked me to check on.” At my look of confusion, he promotes, “Lia’s biological father.”

“Ah, yeah. Did you find something?” I had asked Max to use his connections when Lia told me she’d never known her father. I thought Lia might need the information one day; plus, I like to know everything about the people close to me. I wasn’t expecting much after meeting Lia’s mother in the courtroom. She was an attractive lady, but what a bitch. I can’t imagine that time has changed much there.

Max gives me a look mixed with equal parts amusement and disbelief. “You could say that. Of course, this would have to be confirmed through a blood test, but my investigator has been able to confirm who Maria Dawson was involved with around the time of her pregnancy with Lia. Luckily for us, she didn’t have a lot of men in her life, so it wasn’t hard to pinpoint it.”

When he doesn’t continue, I wave a hand, prompting him. Shit, does he think I have nothing else to do today but play fucking guessing games? “I don’t need the background right now, Max, just get to the point.”

I swear the bastard looks almost giddy as he asks, “You’ve heard of Lee Jacks?”

Surprised, I say, “Of course, who hasn’t? What’s that got to do with Lia?” At his look, my eyes widen. “Are you saying…?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. As far as I can tell, Lee Jacks is the father of Lia Adams. Looks like her mother either had a sentimental or mean streak when she named her daughter Lia.”

My head reels as I rub the persistent knot of tension in my neck. Lee Jacks is a real estate developer who owns half of Asheville and its surrounding cities. Hell, I purchased the apartment I call home from his company. I’d met him a few times through the years at various charity events. I figure he’s in his late-forties or early-fifties, so it’s possible he could have a daughter Lia’s age. How in the hell had her mother gotten involved with someone like him, though? “Holy fuck, it just keeps on coming today.” I fill him in briefly on my conversation with Aidan, which in turn causes him to look as shell-shocked as I feel.

“Christ, I can’t believe that. She’s been completely out of it for, what, eight or nine years? Do you want me to check into it?” Max, as my lawyer, handles most of my affairs, including Cassie.

“Let me talk to Aidan again first. Possibly, it was just a one-time thing. Who knows if she actually knew he was there or not. May be just a coincidence.”

Max clears his throat as he moves to the edge of his seat. “Luc, I would guess you’ll hear from Lee Jacks or someone in his employment. There’s no way he’s missed the fact I’ve been asking questions about him; he’s going to want to know why. It won’t take much digging for him to find out I work solely for Quinn Software…and you. I’ll leave it up to you to answer that question.” Unspoken between us is the fact we both know Lee Jacks is well known in the area for more than his real estate holdings. It’s long been rumored he’s well connected on both sides of the law. Undoubtedly, Max is right; a man who rides the gray line as closely as Lee Jacks will almost certainly know when someone unusual is asking personal questions about him.

“Thanks for the warning. I’ll let you know if I hear from him.” Max stands, taking my words for what they are-a polite dismissal, for now. “I’ll call you later after I speak with Aidan.” As he shuts the door behind me, I am already dialing Sam. I need to update him on Lia’s stepfather.

Lia

I set my pencil on my desk, fighting the urge to do a fist pump. My last test of the day is complete, and I know I did well. I had easily known the answers to the majority of the questions, and I am finished well ahead of schedule. I quietly make my way to the front of the classroom, handing the test to my teacher, Miss Riddle. She gives me an absent smile and waves me toward the door. I have almost an hour before Sam is picking me up. I look around the empty halls for a moment before heading toward the courtyard and the coffee shop. I’ll kill some time by having a frappe while I wait. I know he would drop everything and come early, but I don’t want to put him out; he’s already doing enough by driving me everywhere I need to go.

I text Rose when I get settled with my cold drink-hoping she’s finished early, as well-but know when there’s no immediate reply that she’s still in class. As I take the first sip of my drink, I accidently squeeze the cup too hard and the top pops off. “Shit,” I gasp as the cold, icy liquid splatters onto the front of my shirt, making an ugly stain right over my left breast. I dab it with a handful of napkins, but the stain only spreads. Just great. Now I’m stuck sitting here, or worse yet, walking around for forty-five minutes looking like I have a leaking nipple.

My bra is now uncomfortably wet and sticky, and I can’t fathom having to meet Sam looking like this. Suddenly, it hits me. My apartment is only a block away. I need to get some more clothes to take to Lucian’s anyway. He’ll be pissed if he finds out I’ve gone by myself, but if Sam mentions it, I’ll just say I met up with Rose. If I hurry, I’ll be back in plenty of time to meet Sam. Standing, I hold the still-messy cup far away from my body and throw it in the trashcan on the way out the door. I walk through the back gates of the university, skirting the delivery trucks coming and going.

When I reach our apartment building, I feel a touch of nostalgia. I have hardly been here at all the last few weeks. For all intents and purposes, I have unofficially moved in with Lucian. I’m also still cleaning his apartment, despite his various and vocal protests. I thought men liked it when women took care of them? He seems to feel guilty every time I wash a dish or a load of laundry. It’s really nothing new to me; I have always taken care of myself along with being my mother’s slave for years.

I miss the girl-time with Rose, sitting around watching a Lifetime movie while gossiping. I love going to sleep and waking up with Lucian each day, though…and the sex. Oh, my, the sex. Lucian likes it a lot, and he needs very little recovery time between. I feel my face heat just thinking of the way he touches me, possesses me. Just one look from him and I am melting in a puddle at his feet.

My face is stretched into a sappy, goofy grin, and I thinking of nothing but him as I enter our building. I stop by the mailboxes, finding mine is overflowing. As I sift through the pile, pulling out the junk mail, I am surprised more than alarmed when arms come around my body and a hand clamps over my mouth. My first thought is Rose or even Jake, though it is hardly his style to manhandle me. Lucian even runs through my mind. Maybe he’s found out I walked home and is here to give me hell over it.

When the arms tighten and I am bodily-dragged across the floor toward the now-open door that leads to the tenants’ storage lockers, I start to panic. This isn’t right. Lucian, nor any of my friends, would do this. Whoever is holding me is far stronger than Rose and taller than Jake. I am struggling now in earnest, knowing instinctively that something bad is going to happen if I am pulled through that door. My foot stomps down, connecting with the person’s foot that is holding me. I hear a grunt and then curses. “You’ll pay for that, cunt.”

The strength suddenly leaves my body. I sag weakly against my attacker as he pulls me through the door and shuts it behind us. Oh, dear God, I know that voice. Please, oh please, let me be wrong. As I am shoved roughly against a wall, a rag smelling of gas is shoved into my mouth, almost immediately followed by a wide, silver piece of tape over my lips. In my panic, I can’t breathe. I move my hands to claw at the tape, but they are wrenched above my head, restrained tightly together with the same silver tape. Stars dance behind my eyes as I start to hyperventilate. My face is roughly pulled up, forcing me to look directly into the eyes of my captor. Jim Dawson, my stepfather, stares back at me, looking triumphant. “No,” I mumble around the rag in my mouth. The spinning, black void rises to claim me, and I slump limply to the floor, barely registering the pain in my head as it connects with the metal corner of a shelf. Oblivion is what I need now, and I go into it willingly.

Chapter Nineteen

Lucian

“Sam, how long until you pick up Lia?” As soon as Max leaves my office, I pick up the phone to call Sam. He needs to be updated on Lia’s stepfather.

“I’m picking her up at three. I’m here now waiting for her.” I take a quick look at my watch, frowning when I see it’s now ten minutes past that time.

“That was ten minutes ago. Is she in the car or isn’t she?”

“No…she’s not here yet, Luc. I’m out front now, walking around the courtyard. Maybe she got held up in her last class.”

“Fuck,” I hiss; can’t anything go smoothly today? “Listen, Sam, Lia’s stepfather was released from jail earlier. I don’t have any reason to think he’d come for her, but we need to be on our guard. Head to the office and talk to Mrs. Phillips. Tell her I need to know Lia’s schedule today and then track down her last class. I know Mrs. Phillips’ husband, so she’ll give you the information. Call me as soon as you have something.” Without waiting for a reply, I end the call. Running a hand through my hair, I kick the side of my desk in frustration. Today has been nothing but one big clusterfuck; nothing has gone as planned from the moment I walked through the doors this morning.

Cindy sticks her head inside my office, probably alarmed by the sound of me blowing off some steam. She knows me well. She gives me a silent look that asks if I need anything from her, I shake my head briefly, and she pulls the door closed behind her. I pick up my cellphone and dial Lia’s number. It goes straight to voicemail without ringing, as if it’s turned off. I try to assure myself it’s just because she’s been in class all day. Of course, she’d have her phone off; she wouldn’t want to get any calls during her exams.