Читать книгу Like Silk - Mary Baxter Lynn - Страница 13

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?

She voiced that thought. “Are you okay?”

“Don’t try and change the subject.”

“Okay, I was involved in a minor auto accident,” she lied. “I ran off the road and hit a tree.”

A smirk tightened his lips. “It looks like your boyfriend might’ve worked you over.”

Brittany winced, then said in a dull tone, “I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“Well, you should. Do you ever have any fun?”

“I’d rather not talk about me.” But then, he wasn’t really interested, anyway. He hadn’t even bothered to ask for any details. While she should have expected his self-centeredness, it still smarted. She wondered what he would do if she really had been in an accident and couldn’t come see him.

“Okay, we’ll talk about me,” he said bitterly, “and all the fun I’m having in here.”

“Tommy, please—” Her voice broke. “I know you hate this place, and I hate you being here. But right now, there’s nothing more I can do.”

“What if you went back and tried to find Renee?”

“Oh, Tommy, she’s long gone. You know I went to her trailer and tried to find her right after it happened.”

“I know, but maybe she’s come back.” He moved the receiver closer to his mouth. “What about knocking on that shithead lawyer’s door again? The one who sold me down the river. Maybe he’s had a change of heart.” Tommy finished with a sarcastic smile.

Heaven forbid, Brittany thought, hiding her dismay. She didn’t relish the thought of facing Darwin Brewster again. “You know better than that,” Brittany responded in a tired voice. “He’ll never admit to any wrongdoing. You’re just grasping at straws.”

Tommy thrust a hand through his hair. “But you don’t understand. You can’t understand. Some days I think I won’t survive if I have to stay here. It’s making me nuts.”

Brittany fought back tears. “You’re making it harder on yourself.”

“Don’t preach to me,” he said angrily. “I get enough of that shit in here.”

Some days there was no pleasing Tommy. Today was one of those days. It appeared that no matter what she said or did, it would be wrong. Something had happened to ignite his temper, though she didn’t dare ask what.

“Is there anything you need?” she asked instead.

“Yeah, but you obviously can’t hack it.”

Another low blow, which she didn’t deserve, but she took it, nonetheless. If only she didn’t feel so responsible for her brother, so responsible for everything that concerned him—good, bad or indifferent. She continually berated herself for not having taken better care of him, for not keeping a tighter rein on him. If she had, then maybe he wouldn’t have ruined two lives—his own and Jackson Williams’.

Realistically she knew she couldn’t hold herself responsible for his behavior on the night of the accident or any other night. Considering the way they’d been reared, she’d done her best. And while she remained loyal to him and really did believe in his innocence in this particular situation, she wasn’t blind to his shortcomings.

Tommy had done a lot in the past to bring shame on both of them.

Still, she loved him and would continue to work diligently to get him released, back into society where he could get counseling for his problems.

“How ’bout some money, sis? Maybe a little extra for this week. What you gave me two weeks ago didn’t last. Cigarettes keep going up.”

“Sure.” Although she didn’t have any extra money, she fished what she did have out of her purse and clutched it in her hand. Before she left, she would stop by the office, where the cash would be put in his account. “I wish you’d try and stop smoking.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Paling under his insulting tone, Brittany stood. Enough was enough. She’d had all of his ill-temper she wanted for today. Maybe next time he would be a little more considerate.

“Where are you going?”

“Home.”

“What’s your hurry?”

“Your attitude.”

“How the hell would you like it if you were innocent,” he lashed back, “and no one believed you?”

“I believed—believe—you.”

“Then get me out of here.”

Brittany suppressed a tired sigh. “I’ll see you next week.”

Collier found Jackson in his suite, parked in his usual place, in front of the fireplace, staring into it. Although he could only see his profile, he knew Jackson was brooding. “I hear you’re under the weather, big brother.”

“So?”

Collier barely held on to his temper. When Jackson was in one of his moods, which was all the time lately, he could be as trying as hell. After Mason had told him that Jackson was suffering with a bout of the flu, he’d detoured by the mansion on his way home from a Sunday in the office to check on him, hoping to cheer him up a bit. So much for his gesture.

When the silence became stifling, Collier made another attempt to carry on a normal conversation. “Once you’re up to it, I could sure use your help on this sexual harassment case I’m working on, or that’s working on me, I should say.”

“I think you have enough attorneys on staff to assist you,” Jackson muttered darkly.

Collier lost it. “Dammit, Jackson, you won’t give an inch, will you?”

“If you’re going to start—”

“Start what?” Mason asked, walking through the open door.

“Same old shit,” Jackson said petulantly, rolling his wheelchair toward the window, turning his back to both men.

Collier looked at his stepfather and shook his head in frustration, loving and hating his brother all at the same time.

As if he could read Collier’s mind, Mason spoke to Jackson’s back, “Son, you’re not being fair.”

Jackson turned his chair abruptly and glared at the two of them. “Look, since I feel like hell, I’d prefer to be alone.”

Without a word, Collier headed for the door with Mason in tow, his features set like concrete, then swung back around. “I’ll concede this battle, big brother, but you’re not about to win the war. Sooner or later, you’re going to have to give the outside world another shot.”

“Don’t bet on it.”

Later, in the foyer, Mason balled his fists and said, “What are we going to do? We can’t just let him keep going this way.”

“He’ll snap out of it,” Collier said with more confidence than he felt, concerned for his dad as well as his brother. Jackson’s attitude was taking more of a toll on Mason each day. “Maybe you should cancel the dinner party, though.”

“No.” Mason’s tone was obstinate. “Somehow I’ll get him out of that room. I refuse to give up on him, dammit. You’ve got to help me.”

Mason’s desperation was almost palpable. Collier reached out and squeezed him on the shoulder. “We’ll think of something.”

“Such a goddamn waste,” Mason said, looking away, talking more to himself than to Collier. “Even if he is in a wheelchair, he could be in the running for a judgeship.”

Collier flinched inwardly. “You’re exactly right.”

Mason whipped around, his mouth working. “Look, Collier, I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I—”

“Forget it,” Collier said in a bleak tone. “I understand, and I couldn’t agree more.”

A few minutes later, he drove off, feeling as if he’d just been gutted.