She chatted with Julie, telling her about her morning confrontation, when an uneasy feeling rushed over her. Damn it, she liked Royce, but he really was messing with her head. Feeling a sudden need to free her hands, she paused at a trash can and tossed her untouched coffee, then slid her purse strap across her shoulder and chest.
“That coffee cost me five bucks,” Julie complained. “You didn’t touch it.”
“It had a bitter taste.”
“Oh well, then I’ll complain when we go back to your building. Now, talk, girl. Details on Royce and now. If he’s as good as he looks, oh baby, I know what kind of weekend you had.”
Lauren struggled for a reply, distracted by a sense of being watched. “He’s different than other men I’ve know.”
“Different how?”
“I’ll let you know when I figure it out,” Lauren said, stepping to a curb packed with pedestrians, the proverbial sardine can of New Yorkers this busy area created.
“You know I’m not going to accept that answer.”
The light remained red but people darted across the street anyway, dodging cars. “Yes, I know,” Lauren assured her, as several people shoved her and Julie.
Julie grabbed Lauren to keep from falling. “Damn New Yorkers.”
“We’re New Yorkers,” Lauren reminded her when a sharp burning sensation on her arm had her jerking to her left, to the many bodies surrounding her. “Ouch. Oh God.” Her hand flew to the point of discomfort, pain radiating from hand to shoulder. “Damn, damn.” She grabbed Julie’s arm. “Don’t cross. I need out of this crowd.” She moved away from the curb, with Julie on her heels.
“What happened?” Julie asked urgently. “What’s wrong?
“I don’t know.” Lauren lifted her arm to show Julie, and pulled at her sleeve, trying to see the damage, and finding a large burn hole in the material.
“Holy moly,” Julie said. “Some asshole burned you with a cigarette. I swear it looks like someone shoved it at you and held it there. Your sleeve is too poofy for it to get to your skin easily.”
“Apparently it’s not.”
“We need to get you some ice quickly. Those kinds of burns hurt like a bitch. I know. My mom smokes and I landed at the end of her cigarette more than once as a kid.”
Lauren looked down at her throbbing arm, the pain growing with each passing second. The hole in her sleeve seemed overly large, and she suddenly wasn’t so sure this was an accident or a cigarette at all. “Ice.” Lauren agreed. “Yes. I need ice.”
“Damn cigarette smokers,” Julie muttered. “Why in the hell does a person light up in a crowd like that?” She paused, her brows dipping. “You okay, sweetie? You’re really pale.”
Nodding, Lauren tried a smile but failed. “It’s easing up,” she lied. “It felt like I got stuck with a huge pin or something only the prick never stopped hurting.”
Julie pulled back the silk of her shirt. “Dang Lauren, that burn is deep. I’m not sure it was a cigarette. Let’s grab a cab and go to the ER.”
“No,” Lauren said, knowing she couldn’t miss work before her trial. “I have some Advil in my purse, and I can get some ice at the restaurant. If it still hurts after that I’ll consider it. It’s feeling better already.”
Julie didn’t look convinced. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.” Only she wasn’t sure. She wasn’t sure at all.
***
Dirt Diver was already sitting at a corner table of Lauren’s favorite restaurant, out of her line of sight, when she and her friend walked in. Lauren was nothing, if not predictable.
He watched her slide into her booth, holding her arm where he’d taken his military issue mobile welder and scored her a new tattoo. Burned like hell, he bet. Well, that’s what the little bitch deserved. Tear her down, one piece at a time. That was Dirt Diver’s plan but it was proving so damn easy, even with her new boyfriend, that he was quickly becoming bored. He was going to fix that though. He was going to give himself a challenge and prove to her just how vulnerable she was, how much it sucked to feel like a victim that couldn’t escape her torture. Because he was that good. He could let her nestle down in the Walker Brothers’ castle, let her pull down her guard, and feel safe, and still destroy her.
It was time to turn this into a full-fledged nightmare for her.
Chapter Twelve
Lauren sat in the corner booth of her favorite lunch spot, and instead of anticipating the first bite of the heavenly chocolate cake the place was famous for, she fantasized about the ice Julie was scavenging for her.
“Here you go,” Julie said, sliding into the seat across from Lauren. “Relief is here.”
Lauren held it to her arm. “Thank you.”
“No problem. And I ordered our usual. I wasn’t sure if you would be up to staying long, so I thought we should rush the food.”
Lauren felt the chill on her arm, a slow numbness easing the pain. “This helps.” Her attention locked on a familiar face. “Isn’t that David Sullivan?”
Julie turned in her seat. “Where?”
“Too late. You can’t see him anymore.” Lauren made a face. “Weird though. I know that was him. He looked right at me and pretended not to see me.”
Julie gave Lauren a hard stare. “Of course he did. You prosecuted the biggest case of his career, and he lost.”
“And so he avoids me?”
“He was passed over as partner after losing the case. I’m pretty sure he thinks you ruined his life.”
Lauren’s eyes went wide. “I did not ruin his life. That’s like blaming you for breaking up the marriages you legally dissolved.”
The waitress appeared and set their food down in front of them, forcing Julie to put her reply on hold. The minute the woman walked away, Julie leaned forward, her voice low. “Of course you didn’t ruin his life. But you know how people can be. They look for someone to blame and since I went out with one of his buddies a few years back, I happen to know he blames you. He’s a big blame thrower, that guy.” She stabbed a piece of chicken on top of her salad.
“Why didn’t you tell me this?”
“I didn’t tell you because I knew it would upset you, just like it clearly is. I knew you’d tear yourself up over it.”
This day was not going well. Her world felt like it was imploding on her. Her idea of getting out of the office, and not letting fear control her, certainly had backfired.
She shoved her plate aside, knowing she should have listened to Royce. “I’m going to the ladies' room.” She dropped the bag of ice on the table, and grabbed a napkin to soak up the water on her arm. “Get my salad to go, will you?”
Fortunately, the restroom was empty, and she had a few blessed moments alone. She dried her shirt the best she could, her mind a jumbled mess. It was hard enough to put someone on death row, regardless of their crime. She really didn’t need the added weight of other types of guilt. Like being told she'd ruined the life of her opposing counsel.
Several people funneled into the restroom, eyeing Lauren’s arm with interest. So much for her escape. She headed for the door, pushed it open, and ran straight into a hard wall of muscle, and when she might have flinched and pulled back, her nostrils flared with a familiar spicy scent of man.
“Royce,” she breathed out, relaxing into him. “Oh, thank God, it’s you.”
He guided her into a corner, hands settling on her waist. Reaching up he brushed a piece of hair out of her eyes. “Julie said you were burned. Let me look at your arm.”
Lauren felt her lips quiver as she nodded. “You had me followed, didn’t you? That’s how you’re here?”
He glanced up at her. “Yes, and I’m pissed as hell that you left the building. However, I’ll save my lecturing – and there will be lecturing – for when we’re alone and you’re not in pain. But damn it, this isn’t a cigarette burn and this wasn’t an accident. What if he’d have used a knife under the cover of the crowd? You might not be here right now.”