Rising (7 page)

“He was talking to me, dumb ass.” Riley sighed. “I almost feel sorry for you. Meth has made your brain mush.” He half turned toward Bobby Jack. “This shit is fucking with my beauty sleep. You want left or right?”

“I’ll take right this time to shake things up a bit.” Bobby Jack stepped forward.

“Fine, I call dibs on Clay.” Riley tightened his grip on the crowbar.

The smile of his cousin’s face faltered. “You need to suffer for what you did to Jessi.”

“I’m not the SOB who got her hooked on drugs.” Bobby Jack slapped his palm with the wood.

“Hey, butt boy, you done talking yet?” Riley let the anger riding him go free. “Don’t leave any motherfucker standing.” He pulled the switchblade from his back pocket with his free hand.

“You read my mind.” Bobby Jack crossed in front of him. “I’m going let you have Clay, but I want Isaac.”

“When the time comes, I’ll flip you for him.” Riley ran forward and sliced his blade across Clay’s throat.

His cousin threw a fist before clutching his throat. Blood seeped from between Clay’s fingers as he staggered back. It was only a flesh wound—he wasn’t close enough to do any real damage with a blade. A chain wound around his arm and he was wrenched back. Pain sliced through his limb and the blade fell from his hand. He looked up to see a skinhead wrapping the end of the links around his hand. The asshole stomped toward him. Riley flicked his arm and clutched a length of chain in a fist. He yanked.

Riley turned, swinging the steel bar as the big bastard lumbered forward, catching the guy across the chest. The guy stumbled to his knees. Riley dropped the crowbar.

Connected to the man, Riley crossed behind him and circled the chain around his neck. He pulled with all his strength as the fellow clawed at the metal.

Bobby Jack threw a punch at another man, and two guys grabbed an arm, holding his cousin down. He had to help his cousin. Riley heaved up harder. His attacker dropped to all four as spit dribbled from the Nazi’s lips, and he gasped for breath. The man’s skin turned a putrid shade of purple.

Riley glanced up and a fellow wielding a pipe was running toward his cousin. Bobby Jack lifted his legs and planted both boots in the guy’s chest, shoving off.

Pain shattered his concentration; he let go of the chain as another skinhead kicked his ribs in rapid succession. Riley fell back and turned to protect his side. His thigh brushed the metal bar and he slapped the ground, searching for it. His finger grazed the cool steel and he snatched it, swinging it as he turned. The bastard kicking him cried out.

Riley struggled to his feet and swung the bar again across the man’s cheek. He spit out the fluid filling his mouth and marched toward the big bitch, still gasping for breath. Aiming his steel toe boot in the direction of the guy’s face, he kicked. The fellow’s head snapped back and he tumbled back.

He had to get to Bobby Jack. A dog pile covered his cousin. Four men lay on top of his cousin, throwing punches at his body and driving their knees into his side. He gripped the man on top by the collar and tore him off the group. The fellow swung a meaty fist, connecting with Riley’s eye. He rammed the curved end of the steel bar into the man’s gut before clipping his foot. The fucker fell forward. Riley gripped the asshole’s hair and jerked him up. He brought his knee up, connecting with the bastard’s nose. Blood splattered his jeans.

He released the skinhead and spun around. Bobby Jack had worked himself free and gotten ahold of a knife. His cousin twisted and sliced across a guy’s chest.

Sirens filled the air. They all stopped. The sound was closer than it should have been. Riley staggered toward his cousin. “It’s time to go. We made our point. Leave the bastards to the police.” The skinheads backed off, some stopping to help their brethren up.

“Did you see where Andy and Clay went?” Bobby Jack slipped an arm around Riley’s waist. “Think you can make it?”

“That sweet-ass bitch Clay is probably the one that called the police, and I saved your ass, cousin.” Riley snorted. “Move a little faster; the last thing I need is to have to explain your incarceration to Whit.”

“I’m still on paper. You would have a lot of explaining to do. Know what just occurred to me?” Bobby Jack didn’t allow Riley to get a word in. “You need a woman to care about your dumb ass getting in fights.” He limped along. “I wonder if Whit has any college buddies…”

“I know that last thing you want is to fuck up is your parole and I can find my own lady friends, thank you.” They reached the truck. Riley dug in his pockets to pull out the keys and tapped the fob. “Try not to get blood on the seat.”

Chapter Six

The sun’s heat warmed her skin; she tilted her face toward the sky, reveling in it. The garden adjacent to the courthouse was in full bloom and the scent of roses comingled with jasmine was heavy in the air.

Savannah shifted on the cement bench. The coarse surface pulled at the threads of her skirt. She checked her watch to confirm the time. It may not have been one of her smarter moves, calling Trenton, but she was truly concerned about him. His actions that day in the Clerk of Courts office had to be because of a bad day.

But what’s his excuse for the other times?
There really wasn’t any valid explanation.

She asked him to meet her around ten. Guilt about her behavior, leaving him lying unconscious on the landing assailed her. He’d needed her and she’d abandoned him. She owed him an apology.

“What’s that look for?” Trenton stepped into the light, casting a shadow over her.

She lowered her head to stare at him. “I was just pondering some things. Are you all right?”

He took a seat next to her. “Yeah, I’m good. A few bruised ribs, a cracked molar, and whatever the SOB hit me with was hard enough to give me a mild concussion.”

“Oh wow.” Savannah covered her mouth with her hand as the corners of her lips inched up. She might not have agreed with Riley’s methods, but he’d come to her rescue again. “Well, I’m glad you’re okay. Do you need anything?”

“Have dinner with me.” Trenton clasped her hands and pulled them into his lap. “You’ve been here a few weeks and I feel like you’re avoiding me. I thought your moving to Mobile would be a fresh start for both of us. When the detectives told me you were safe, I was relieved. All I could think about that night in the hospital was if you were okay.”

“I appreciate your concern, but all you had to do was call me. Why did you report me missing?” Savannah gently tugged her hand free. “Trenton, don’t you remember what happened?”

He stretched out his legs. “Why don’t you ever call me Trent? Even in law school, you called me by my full name.”

“I like Trenton. That’s how we were introduced and that’s the name I prefer to use.” She leaned forward. “Are you sure you’re okay? How long were you in the hospital?”

“I don’t understand something, Savannah. Through school, I tried to get your attention and you never gave me the time of day.” He sighed. “No matter how many girlfriends I flaunted in front of you, you just smiled and kept studying. Wasn’t I ever good enough for you?”

“What are you talking about? What does that have to do with you being attacked?” This wasn’t turning out the way she rehearsed their conversation in her mind. “We were study buddies. We helped each other get past tests. Get through the grueling law courses. I don’t understand.”

“Bear with me. I’m getting to my point. For some reason, black women have begun thinking they are better than black men. A year and half ago, some bitch chose a white racist over me.” He gripped her knee. “I thought you had grown up—changed—but you’re no better than she was.”

“What do her actions have to do with me? Trenton, you aren’t making sense.” She tried to ease back.

He tightened his hold. “While we were in school, one day I decided to drop by your house to bring you a few books I thought you could use. You weren’t home, but your dad was. Mr. Westmore told me all about your attitude problem. How you believe you’re better than everyone else because you have some trust fund. I didn’t want to believe you could be that shallow—”

She swung her leg back and forth to free her knee from his grasp. “Trenton…Trent, you’re hurting me.”

“Be quiet,” he whispered harshly. “You were always so standoffish. No matter what I did…what I do, I’m not good enough for you. You have a job because I arranged for your interview, you’re in an apartment because I took time from my busy schedule to go house hunting for you. I did everything for you, so you would have a smooth move, and yet anytime I want to spend time with you…you can only spare a few moments out of your day. But you’d talk to some inbred country-ass racist. His sorry ass is worth your time of day? I think you should be offering me up some gratitude.”

No emotion crossed his face. He gazed at her with indifference.

Fear slithered up her spine. There weren’t many people in the garden area. Chimes floated up from her open purse between them. “I need to get that. It’s probably Brad, my boss.”

He eased back, giving her room to drag her bag into her lap. She took the opportunity to yank her leg free. Savannah scooted to the edge of the bench. She dug through her bag with shaky fingers. Clearing her throat, she answered the call. “Yes.”

“Ms. Regis?”

She glanced at the screen. It was an unknown number. “This is she.”

“This is Whitney. I’ve been trying to reach Mr. Pardy, but—”

“He’s in court.” She got up and took a few steps to put distance between her and Trenton. “I can take a message.”

How did she get her personal number?
Brad might give out his number, but he had no reason to share hers.

“No, that’s okay. Ummm—do you have a minute?” Whit’s tone was soft and cautious. “I’m sorry for bothering you. Your business card was in the information packet Mr. Pardy gave us.”

“I’m with someone at the moment. May I call you back at this number?” Savannah stared at her old friend, holding his cool gaze.

“Yeah, thank you.”

Trenton moved and she shuffled back. Thorns from a rose bush scraped the back of her hand. She drew her arm back. Dots of blood welled up along the long scratches. He shot up and strode toward her, snatching at her wrist.

He lifted her arm, took the handkerchief from his pocket, and brushed the droplets away. Trenton was almost tender, his tone softened. “See what happens when you don’t pay attention. This is why you need a man—me—around.” He released her limb and cupped her chin. “I’ll pick you up at seven for dinner.”

“I need to clear my desk. Brad has a case in Family Court and I have a mediation to prepare for.” She looked past Trenton’s arm toward the flowering plants behind him.

He grasped her chin, tightening his hold, and forced her to look at him. He raised his wrist and glanced at his watch. “Make time. I’m taking you someplace nice, so dress accordingly.”

Trenton smiled and let go of her face. He buttoned his suit jacket. “I have court, but I will be at your door exactly at seven. Don’t disappoint me.” He turned on his heel and strolled toward the courthouse.

She rubbed her jaw and watched as he jogged across the street. How did she get herself in these situations? The better question was—how was she going to take care of this problem? She needed to think, but for the time being, the one place she wouldn’t be was home.

Her issues with Trenton were personal. She needed to get back to Community Law. There were files on her desk that she needed to research and return to the lawyers. Organize a few mediations. She would bury herself in work. Her job became the balm against the folks that ripped at her soul.

Her phone chimed, and she lifted up to check the ID. Della’s name scrolled across the screen. She ignored the call and marched toward her car. Before she did anything else, she needed to book a room at a hotel for a few days. That would solve her immediate problem with Trenton.

Savannah clutched the door handle when pain sliced through her chest. She couldn’t catch a breath. Panic set in. She closed her eyes and focused on her breathing. Her therapist’s words drifted through her mind.
Recognize your symptoms for what they are and own them
.

It wasn’t a heart attack. This was her life and no one could take that control from her. The constriction on her lungs eased. She rested her forehead on the roof and gulped in air. Gently, she pulled the door open and dropped into the seat. The leather was cool against the back of her arms and neck.

“Work first, and then you can hide under the covers when you find a place to go,” she muttered to herself. Savannah scrolled through her phone for the unknown number and tapped the call icon.

A smooth, Southern accent filled the earpiece. “Yeah.”

She knew that voice. How the hell did she call
him
? “I was—ah, returning Whit’s call.”

“Hold on. Whit!” Even yelling, Riley’s deep tenor was sexy. “Give her a minute.”

“Thank you.” Savannah stared out the windshield. How did Whit know Riley? Excitement sent goose pimples rising along her arms.

A child’s laughter was in the background. “Hello?” Whit’s breathless voice came on the cell.

“Hi, this is Savannah Regis. I’m returning your call.” She would stay professional. What she really wanted was to ask about the man that answered the cell.

“Sorry, we’re going to be grilling some fish if the guys ever catch some.” Whit spoke quickly. “I wasn’t expecting a call back so soon.”

“I can give you a call later. Enjoy your lunch.” Why was she disappointed? She was talking to a client, not trying to meet a man.

“You’re welcome to join us, or Bobby Jack and I can come to your office later…” Multiple voices drowned out some of Whit’s words.

“If you have questions about your case, you really should be talking with Mr. Pardy.”

“Of course, but would you like lunch?” Whit lowered her voice. “There’s nothing like fresh-caught fish hot off the grill. Bring Mr. Pardy if you like; this is just our way of thanking you for working so hard on our case.”

“I’m sorry, he’s in court for most of the day.” Savannah started her car and glanced at the clock.

“Oh, too bad.” Whit didn’t sound disappointed. “Still, you need to eat. Come on by. Let me give you the address.”

Savannah typed the information into her GPS and leaned back in her seat. “Got it.”

“Great, see you in about an hour.” Whit’s tone was chipper.
What the hell?

She couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d been expertly maneuvered into going to Whit’s house. Riley was there. It’s not like anything would happen.

Yeah, but why the sudden urge to see a man that has warned you off?
Not the last time, she argued with herself.
He only offered to walk you to your car and you were too scared to take him up on it.
Shut up and let me enjoy the little pleasures in life. There is no harm in looking.
Keep telling yourself that
. I am.

She gazed at her reflection in the rearview mirror. “Worry about the bullshit happening around you later.” She texted her boss, giving him an update on a case he inquired about that morning. Then she told him she was taking her lunch and would see him that afternoon.

****

Riley sat on the small dock, teaching Little Isaac how to fish. He lifted a worm from the can and placed it in the toddler’s hands. The kid giggled and pushed it around with his finger.

“You lift it like this.” He pinched the end of the worm between his thumb and index fingers. “Then you push it on the hook.” He pierced the bug’s flesh with the metal hook and released it. “We throw the line out as far as we can.” Riley whipped his hand back and flicked it forward. His movements sent an ache reverberating through his ribs. The line hit the water with a plop. He gazed down at Isaac. “Now we wait.”

“Okay.” The child picked up another worm out of the can.

He peered up at the house. He’d sent his cousin to fetch them a couple of beers, but Whit was no longer at the fire pit. Her phone was sitting on the same rock he’d picked it up from earlier.

While he was starting the fire, her cell rang. He didn’t think about it, he simply answered it. He knew the succulent tone on the other side; Savannah. That was the name on her ID when he’d glanced at it while dropping off her car. Question was, how the hell did she know Whit? Worse, Bobby Jack’s wife invited her out to his place.

He kept checking for that little green sports car. Why her? Maybe there was something wrong with the genes on Elizabeth’s side of the family, too. Who was he kidding—his family was fucked up from every angle. He shouldn’t be attracted to a colored girl.

“Riley?” Isaac tapped him on the arm. “We got fishes.”

He followed the line and watched the bobbin sink before floating to the top. “Yeah, seems we do. You must be good luck.” He smiled down at the boy as he reeled the line in.

“Hello?”

Savannah’s voice reached him as he lifted the trout out the water. “Down here!” he yelled as he held the pole in one hand and tried to direct Isaac to get the net with the other.

She appeared at the base of the dock, a tight skirt molded to her hips like a second skin and heels that made her legs look damn long. Her hair was pinned up in some style that left a pony tail hanging from the knot. The woman was hot and completely off limits.

“You mind giving me and Isaac here a hand?”

“Please?” the kid added.

She rushed forward, her heels creating hollow thuds on the wooden pier. “How can I help?” Savannah leaned to the side and peered into the water. She paled. “I’m not touching fish.”

Isaac laughed. “I will.”

“You have,” Riley said as he exhaled. Suddenly he wasn’t teaching one person. “Isaac has the net, but he can’t reach far enough to get lift the trout out. If you don’t mind helping him…”