Damaged Grump (Bad Chicago Bosses)

I gently brush his dark hair back from his brow with my fingers, lingering on how the evening shadows gather under his eyes.

Roland, what are you doing?

Is ending Haydn worth this? Worth destroying yourself?

I don’t expect an answer.

So when my phone trills in my purse, I almost hit the ceiling like a cartoon cat, barely suppressing the screech that would wake Roland in an instant.

That is, if my phone doesn’t do the job first.

Sighing, I roll away and wiggle out of the tangled covers, fumbling for the purse on the floor. Shoving my hand inside, I catch my phone and mute it, breathing hard as I rake my hair out of my face and stare at the screen.

Oh.

Oh, crap on a cracker.

Easterly Ribbon: Hey, Callie...are you up?

It’s almost midnight.

Why is she texting me at this time of night—or at all?

Something must have happened.

And knowing how awful Vance Haydn truly is in a way I never did before, I’m terrified for her.

Half awake, I send back, trying to be casual so I don’t spook her. I settle against the headboard and cast a wary eye at Roland, but there’s no shift in his breathing, let alone a twitch of an eyelash. What’s up?

Easterly Ribbon: Can we meet, Callie? I need to talk to you. Really bad.

Are you okay? Are you hurt?

I draw a sharp breath and hold it.

No, I’m not being subtle, but screw subtlety right now. Her safety is way more important.

Easterly Ribbon: Don’t worry, I’m not with him.

Easterly Ribbon: I’m not hurt, but omg I’ve been so blind. I can see it now. I’ve seen it all. And I’m scared what will happen if I tell people but I’m even more scared what happens if I don’t.

Okay.

Okay, breathe.

He hasn’t hurt her. She’s rattled, but not hurt. I need to be the adult here and stop panicking, stop the nervous tickle sweeping down my spine.

Keep calm for her sake.

If I overreact, she could run God knows where.

Then she’ll never talk to me again.

Then she’ll never get help.

Don’t be scared, I send back. We can go off record. We’ll talk and I won’t write anything down. Don’t tell me via text. After we talk, then we can discuss what you want to do and what’s best with the whole situation.

You tell me what goes on the record, Easterly. The choice is yours.

She goes so long without replying that I worry she’s quit on me; that I came on too strong. But then my phone buzzes in my hand.

Easterly Ribbon: Where and when?

I heave out a sigh of relief.

How about I give you the grand after-hours tour of Just Vibing? My office, after the staff have left. Eight p.m. tomorrow?

Easterly Ribbon: Not tomorrow. I’m in LA for studio time. I’ll be back in about a week.

A week is great, I send back, hoping that’s true because a lot can happen in a week. I’ll be here when you’re ready—and if you need somewhere safe, give me a shout.

Easterly Ribbon: Okay.

Just okay.

I accept it grudgingly.

If she needs to draw boundaries right now, I won’t push her.

One week.

One damn week, and then maybe she’ll let me do something.

Anything to get her safely away from that horrible man.

There’s also the glaring question of the man at my side, too.

I should wake him up. Tell him. But there’s something in me that says no, don’t do it. Not yet.

Because Roland will latch on and he’ll want to push, press, and squeeze Easterly for anything she can give us to help his vendetta, which isn’t always rational.

...I can’t do that to her.

After I hear her out, maybe we can talk about what she’s willing to share with Roland if I carefully explain he has the means to end Haydn’s abuse once and for all.

After I’m sure that the blowback won’t cause irreparable harm to this battered young woman.

It feels wrong, keeping things from my boss, my lover, and the man who’s dangerously close to my heart.

But it feels right to protect Easterly as much as I can.

Besides, I think with a bitterness I don’t like.

He’ll probably get a good sound bite for The Tea out of this mess anyway once it’s through.

Isn’t work all he cares about when he’s not plotting how to tear out Haydn’s jugular?

Isn’t work his whole life—the only one he knows—and the life he’ll go back to if I help deliver justice for Barry on a silver platter?

I wonder, sitting up for far too long in the darkness.

I wonder, and I tremble.

20

Down And Out (Roland)

I’m surprised Callie agreed to this trip with me.

Ever since I told her about what Vance Haydn did to Barrett, she’s been different.

I can’t quite explain it or pin it down.

On one hand, she’s more open, more sweet and gentle than ever, ever intent on showing me she cares with constant touches. Plus, small reminders to take care of myself, these little moments when she just looks at me and smiles with her eyes full of so much warm laughter.