Michael Beard was all business—that was for sure. He waited patiently for me to answer his question and didn’t seem to be the least bit nervous or rushed. Considering Rinaldo must have told him who I was to his organization, I was somewhat surprised at how calm he was. Often, when I was first introduced to someone, they would be all fidgety around me.
“Answer him, Arden,” Rinaldo commanded when I didn’t respond right away.
I tried not to focus on the use of my last name as I swallowed, nodded, and faced the lawyer.
“When I returned from Germany,” I told him. “That was three years ago. I was discharged in May of that year.”
Michael made some notes on his legal pad. I could almost see him in one of those little school desks, jotting down notes during an English Lit class with his knees all tucked up underneath the desktop.
“Were you medicated as part of your treatment?”
“Yeah, for a while.”
“Do you still take drugs as part of treatment, either prescribed or illicit?” Michael’s eyes watched mine as I answered, and I had the distinct feeling he was watching for any untruthfulness.
“No.” I leaned back in the chair and planned on keeping my gaze on his, but the clang of the handcuffs distracted me. I clenched the arms of the chair and took a couple of deep breaths.
“Do you have nightmares or recurring thoughts about what happened to you?”
I swallowed hard.
“Yes.”
“How often?”
“Every time I close my eyes.”
I didn’t miss Rinaldo’s narrowed eyes as I admitted this to the attorney. Yes, I had been too broken to come to him after I had killed Terry and Bridgett, but it was obvious the nightmares had been getting worse for a while. I hadn’t told him about those. Even when I confessed that Bridgett had slept in my bed with me, I never told him the reason why.
“Do you ever feel numb?”
“Most of the time.”
“Have you ever thought about hurting yourself or someone else?”
I actually laughed, which caused Rinaldo to smile slightly as well.
“Evan’s right,” he told the attorney. “That’s a seriously stupid question.”
“Moving on,” Michael muttered. “Do you have trouble focusing?”
“Yes.”
“Do you ever talk to your family or friends about what happened to you?”
“Fuck no.”
“Are you going to diagnose him or get him the fuck out of here?” Rinaldo growled as his patience waned.
“I’m just trying to understand his state of mind at the time of the incident.”
“He was fucked up—temporary insanity brought on by the stress of one of his co-workers and friends being found dead, right, Arden?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Please, Mister Moretti, let me do my job.” Michael reclined in the plastic chair and looked into Rinaldo’s eyes.
He was a brave man; I’d give him that.
Rinaldo glared for a moment but finally waved his hand dismissively.
“Whatever. Continue.”
He asked me a bunch of other questions, which I answered the best I could. After the final question, he took his finger and traced it down the edge of the page as he reviewed his notes, nodded once, and stood up from the chair.
“That’s all I need for now,” he announced. “If I have further questions, we’ll set up another meeting. I’ve given your unit leader my contact information if you think of anything you believe is pertinent. I don’t think we’ll have any trouble having you released on bail as long as the Marine psychologist doesn’t have any major objections.”
“I’ll meet you outside,” Rinaldo said.
Michael closed his notes into his briefcase and left the small room. I glanced at my boss and tried not to feel too emasculated as he stared down at me with disappointment in his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” I repeated.
“I know you are.” He let out a big sigh as he leaned forward and placed his elbows on the table. “One way or another, this will all work itself out.”
I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to be more concerned with the one way or the other, but I was positive I wasn’t completely cleared in his eyes. His next words did have a calming effect though.
“I’m going to get you out of here, Arden,” Rinaldo said with conviction. “You’ve been far too valuable to let you rot. You have also left me in the awkward position of not just missing you, but also missing your backup.”
“Sorry, sir,” I said again. I couldn’t argue with what he said—I’d removed myself to jail right after killing his number two hit man, Terry Kramer.
“You aren’t sorry for that,” he muttered as he stood up.
I couldn’t even pretend he was wrong. I’d hated Terry Kramer from the moment I set eyes on him. When I found out he had lured my hooker-slash-girlfriend into giving him information I had inadvertently told her, I’d lost it completely, killed them both, and then landed myself where I was.
“We’ll be back,” Rinaldo promised. “Hang tight, son.
Nothing could have satisfied me more than hearing that word from his lips.
Chapter 3—Needed Sleep
Only a few moments after Rinaldo walked out the door along with Michael, the adolescent attorney, one of the guards came in to take me back to my cell. As he started to unlock the cuffs from the chair, one of the unit leaders stuck his head in and said I had another visitor.
I tried not to tense up so much as he tightened the restraints to the chair again and went to the door to let in whoever was coming to see me. My head was throbbing and felt like it was covered with a thick fog. As the door swung open again, I looked up to see her.
Lia.
She was dressed in tight-fitting blue jeans, tennis shoes, and a long sleeved T-shirt. I could see the chain around her neck which held a quarter made into a pendant—the same quarter I’d left for her in the cabin with a lame-ass note apologizing for running out on her. She’d used that quarter to prove my ass was as tight as military-style bed sheets, which had made me laugh harder than I had in years.
Was that the point when I fell for her?
There was a warm coat tossed over her arm, and I wondered how cold it had gotten outside. The sun had been shining into my cell window, but I didn’t know the temperature outside. Chicago should have been in the full swing of spring, but apparently nature had another plan.
Her chest rose and fell as she took a long breath and then a short step toward me. I couldn’t seem to move my lips to actually say anything to her at first, but when she hesitated, I found my tongue.
“Is Odin okay?” They were probably the wrong first words, but nothing else came to mind. The fog rolled in over my head again, and my stomach lurched. For a second, there was nothing but dizziness in my head and static in front of my eyes.
“He’s doing all right,” she said. “They let me get into your apartment to find his food dish and bed. He chewed up his rubber bone the first day I had him at my place, but I found him a new one. I think he misses you.”
Lia took the last couple of steps to the chair opposite mine and sat with her hands folded in front of her. The movement caught my attention, and I stared at her fingers. I recalled the way they felt wrapped around my shaft, and even as I sat there, incarcerated, with cuffs around my wrists and a head full of vile dreams, I was starting to get a little hard.
My heart throbbed along with my head, and I turned my gaze away as I closed my eyes. It was entirely possible I was going to get out of here and might even have the opportunity to feel her touch again, but I was about as fucked up as they came, and she didn’t need to be subjected to that.