Page 55 of License to Kill

“You were the last person I expected to see in that courtroom today.” He dropped onto the chair beside my hospital bed. My roommate, a little old lady also under observation, drooled all over my ex-partner.

Had his attention been turned elsewhere, I might have indulged, too. Unlike me, Jake remained in his prime, and if I hadn’t known everything had fallen apart, I would’ve believed everything was good in his life.

Then again, maybe it was. I had no idea. Before I’d ditched out on the FBI’s requirements for a pension, I’d scanned my emails as required while pretending I could make it through the rest of my life without having to talk to him ever again.

Maybe the little old lady could take him off my hands.

“If you want him, I’ll sell him to you for ten dollars,” I offered. “He’s decent in bed, but he is annoying the rest of the time.”

She laughed and waved her boney hand. “I’d tire the poor dear out, but thank you for the offer. Try giving him a little attention right in the morning. That tends to keep them docile until the evening. You can use a baseball bat in the evenings if he doesn’t mind his manners.”

I giggled at her prescribed solution, which wouldn’t do me any good, but I rather enjoyed what I might be able to do with a baseball bat after I had a long nap and something to eat.

“That was not nice,” Jake complained. If my offer had bothered him, I saw no sign of it in his expression. I expected that from Jake.

He hid things better than I did most days.

I drew in a breath, wishing it could blow away all of the pain and uncertainty and leave me with nothing but clean, fresh air in its wake. Even breathing reminded me I wasn’t human anymore but could never be a wolf. “You can’t take the credit for making me faint. The meeting happened during my lunch break.”

“Credit? No, when I aim to take credit, I arrange the situation so I can catch you when you fall. My position at the other end of the table made that rather difficult. No concussion?”

If only that was the truth. I had needed to be caught long ago, and I’d broken when I’d hit the ground. Therapy might help, but I doubted I’d make it far. A shattered glass couldn’t be pieced back together and still function as a glass.

It could be melted down and turned into something new, but I wasn’t ready to try being someone new yet.

I lived, and that was good enough—and I remembered my ma hadn’t wanted that, so I’d keep living out of spite. Living badly counted as living, so I’d be all right one day.

I couldn’t afford to hope for anything else, not yet. One day, maybe—but not yet.

“Did I hit my head? I can’t remember. I have a headache, though. If I have one, they didn’t tell me.”

“You smacked your head right on the edge of the table when you decided to try out for a role as Sleeping Beauty. You reached across the table, I’m assuming for your glass of water, turned ghost white, and dropped like you’d been tapped between the eyes. I had no idea you could become paler than you already are, but you can, by the way. It was less of a fall and more of a slide, but the chair rolled out from under you.”

Great. Nothing made a mess of pretrial briefings like somebody fainting at the table. “Mr. Desjardins is going to kill me.”

“Not really. I wheedled information out of your doctor and notified your boss that you were under observation for dehydration and malnutrition. He then remembered you had missed your lunch and hadn’t been feeling well yesterday, so he’s in the throes of blaming himself. I told him you had a very bad track record for taking care of yourself when left unattended. For a lawyer, he seems like a pretty nice guy.” Jake’s amusement annoyed me, but I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of bristling.

I needed Jake getting along with my boss like I needed a new hole in the head. “Found yourself an ally, have you?”

“I’ll take what I can get.”

Great. Just what I needed. One way or another, I needed to get rid of him and then think about resigning and finding some new place to hole up in so he wouldn’t remind me of everything I’d lost. It took a few deep breaths and drawing on my old martial arts training to control my temper and keep my voice calm. “Shouldn’t you be working on the Hemshaw case instead of warming that chair?”

“That’s part of why I’m warming this chair. I’m to find out why you were on that side of the room.”

“You didn’t like that I was sitting with the prosecution. You’re probably going to try to poorly hint that you have potential evidence acquitting a certain party, who has one fifty plus favorable custody to lose.” I shook my head. “Please go away.”

“I see you haven’t lost your edge.”

So much for making him go away with just asking. As he ignored my request, I replied, “Even the one advising lawyer noticed. You could cut that one with a rusty spoon, Jake. All the defense would have to do is suggest that to get a favorable plea bargain out of it without the hassle and expense of a full trial. It would take a damned good lawyer and a lot of evidence to stick anything on him over her.”

“Therein the issue lies.”

“You’re not going to leave now that you’ve imparted the wisdom I had figured out within five minutes of seeing the paperwork, are you?”

“Not a chance in hell. I’m sure they’ll kick me out eventually, but until then, you’re stuck with me.”

At least I wouldn’t have to actually put up with him. Dehydration and malnutrition made convenient excuses on why I would clock out and take a nap, but I knew the truth. No matter how bad things were between us, he’d stand guard over me while I slept.