Like Silk

He’d counted every slow turn of the ceiling fan in his room before daylight had forced him out of bed.

Forget her.

He might as well. He sure as hell couldn’t see her again. It would be political and emotional suicide. He might as well get a gun and shoot himself in the head and be done with it. If he didn’t, Kyle would, he reminded himself brutally. Despite that, thoughts of Brittany refused to die a natural death, regardless of how many drinks he took or how often he saw Lana.

It was inconceivable that it had only been a week since he’d left Brittany. It seemed an eternity already. Lust for her gnawed constantly at his gut.

“Good, you’re here. Since Pamela wasn’t manning the desk, I thought I’d take a chance on catching you.”

That was the only reason Darwin Brewster had made it into Collier’s office. Pamela knew better than to let that happen.

Still, Collier was glad of the interruption, even if Brewster was the only attorney in the entire firm he had trouble stomaching. The guy badly needed an attitude adjustment, and, on several occasions, Collier had obliged him.

“What’s up?” Collier asked, pushing his folder aside and peering at his uninvited guest.

While not handsome, Darwin did have a gift of gab that seemed to charm his clients, especially the women. His deep brown eyes, thick hair and perfectly groomed mustache apparently made up for his lack of stature. He was short, and thin almost to the point of gauntness. Collier suspected his arrogant attitude stemmed from the “little man syndrome.”

When in a group, Darwin’s demeanor proclaimed he was the best, brightest and most intelligent one in the room. If you didn’t believe him, you could just ask him. He would admit it. That arrogance irritated the hell out of Collier. If he’d had his way, he would never have taken the man on board the firm.

But Mason had been Brewster’s champion, something Collier failed to understand, especially since he had been the court-appointed attorney for that Rogers kid who was responsible for Jackson being in a wheelchair.

Shortly after the scumbag was sent to the pen, Mason had insisted on hiring Brewster. Ever since, Brewster had been in like Flynn. And though Mason’s high regard for him stuck in Collier’s craw, he had to admit that the man knew the law and had won some tough cases.

He hoped Darwin’s track record would carry over to the personal injury case they were working on together. Darwin was second chair.

“There’s something I want to talk to you about.” Darwin looked up from the folder in front of him. “We go to trial next week.”

Collier hadn’t needed a reminder. “I know.” To his knowledge, the details had been pretty much worked out, and he was ready. Apparently Darwin wasn’t. “So what’s on your mind?”

Darwin cleared his throat, though his eyes didn’t waver. “I want to be lead counsel.”

Collier didn’t so much as flinch. “Oh, and why is that?”

“For one thing, I feel like I’ve put in more work and know the facts better. Also, the last few weeks, I’ve really bonded with our client. She’s the one who asked that I be in charge.”

“So you asked.”

Darwin looked a bit confused. “And?”

“The answer is no,” Collier responded in a smooth and controlled tone.

“But—”

Collier stood. “No buts, Brewster. Consider yourself lucky to still be on the case. Now get the hell out of my face and out of my office.”

Nine

Would her life ever get back to normal? Would she ever get her energy back?

Since the accident, she’d not only been exhausted but restless, edgy, as if something else terrible was about to happen. For one thing, she kept waiting for Rupert Holt to come through the door of the agency. To date that hadn’t happened, and maybe it wouldn’t. With any luck, he was running scared, not because of her and what she would do, but because of his wife.

According to Sissy, Angel Holt’s family was the money behind Rupert. So why had he taken the chance of cheating on her? Maybe his wife didn’t care. Maybe she did her thing and Rupert did his, which was to take advantage of unsuspecting women like her. How many other notches did Rupert have on his sexual belt?

Despite the warmth in her Honda, Brittany shivered. She couldn’t get out of her mind just how close she’d come to losing her life that night on the lonely stretch of highway. The resurgence of that thought made her breakfast congeal in her stomach.

A part of Brittany had been tempted to throw caution to the wind, make a phone call and rat on the sleazebag. If she told Rupert’s wife what her husband had done, surely that would bring him to his knees. But she couldn’t. That wasn’t the way she operated. When and if she got the chance to nail Rupert, she wouldn’t use his wife as the hammer.

She simply wanted never to see him again and to get on with her life. A bitter smile erupted. She could have done that if she hadn’t met Collier Smith. He had her mind so fractured, her insides so tangled, nothing made sense anymore.

Did she want to see him again? Was that what all her stewing was about? Apparently so, or she wouldn’t be in such a mess. She thought about him constantly, when she was in bed, in class, at the diner, at the agency. It didn’t matter; he seemed to have attached himself to every aspect of her mind and body.

She’d even gone so far as to envision Collier walking in one day with a lovely bouquet of flowers and asking her to dinner. After he’d wined and dined her, he would take her to his place and make slow, leisurely love to her, his lips and hands acting out her fantasy.

Ridiculous.

She told herself that over and over, but to no avail. She couldn’t seem to close the door on him. Shifting positions, Brittany took a deep breath, then let it out. Just as it had been for her outer wounds, time was the perfect healer for the mind, she reassured herself. It would take care of her heart as well as her face. When she didn’t see Collier again, he would soon fade from her mind and become nothing but a sweet memory.

Meanwhile, her goal had not changed. She’d been sidetracked, for sure, but she would get her degree, no matter how many tables she had to wait on or how many creeps like Rupert she had to deal with at the agency.

But no one would ever violate her again.

She wouldn’t put herself in a vulnerable situation again.

Regardless of who promised to help her or Tommy, she wouldn’t fall for it. Her brother was her responsibility, always had been and always would be. As soon as she got her degree and a decent job, she would be able to help him.

Thinking of Tommy made her realize she was near the prison. Suddenly her anxiety increased, not because she was about to go behind prison walls, but because of how she looked.

Tightening her lips, Brittany shifted her concentration back to the highway. At least the sun was shining, she thought, trying to buoy her spirits. Where she was headed might be depressing, the beauty surrounding her certainly wasn’t. Fall in the South had a way of cloaking itself with such bursts of brilliant foliage that it took a person by surprise.

Brittany soaked up that beauty, feeling its serenity comfort her like a balm. It wouldn’t last long, this feeling of peace. As soon as she was seated in that stark room and saw Tommy in his drab prison garb, looking lean and strained, that black, hard core of grief would settle in the pit of her stomach once again.

One of these days, he would walk out of that miserable place.

Realizing she was on the prison grounds, Brittany whipped into the nearest parking space and got out, the immense size of the plain brick buildings further intimidating her. Gritting her teeth, she made her way inside, refusing to acknowledge the smells, the sounds, that were part of this drab world.

Soon she was through security, seated, and waiting for her brother. When she saw him coming, she plastered a smile on her face, though she had to catch her lower lip between her teeth to keep it from quivering. Now that she was here, she realized anew how difficult it was going to be to keep the truth from Tommy.

Once he was seated behind the glass directly in front of her, they both picked up their phones simultaneously, though Brittany hated touching those phones with a passion. She’d been tempted to bring a can of Lysol and spray the receiver, except that she knew it would make her brother feel worse than ever.

“Hey, sis,” he said, then narrowed his eyes and added, “What the hell happened to you?”

“Hello to you, too, brother dear,” she said in a light, forced tone.

“Who hit you?” he asked coldly, his brown eyes narrowing to slits.

Hesitating on purpose, Brittany perused him closely, as she did every week when she saw him, checking to make sure he wasn’t run-down or ill. Before his incarceration, he’d been thin and small boned, like her. But he was tall, which made up for his lack of weight, and very healthy, rarely sick until he started smoking pot. At one time he might have been considered good-looking, with his dark wavy hair, dark eyes, tanned skin and sullen-slanted mouth.

Now, after three years behind bars, his entire face had become sullen, which made him anything but good-looking. He appeared much older than his twenty-three years. She noticed right off that he’d lost some weight, which didn’t help his appearance. Had he been ill?