Breaking Away (15 page)

If she could keep her from becoming a pawn in all this.
Joy’s protection would be Sam’s main focus when she spoke with her lawyer.

Joy tugged the Velcro straps that secured her shoes and scrambled to her feet. “All done!”

“Good job, Tumble Bug,” Ellen said and offered her a hand.

The three of them left the motel and strolled across the parking lot to the car. After getting Joy secured and settled, Sam eased into the front seat next to her grandmother. The trip from the room to the car had already depleted Sam’s reserves, and she dropped her head back against the headrest. Ellen pulled the car out onto Rainbow Boulevard and turned north to hit West Tropicana to the strip. Sam pretended to concentrate on the passing scenery while the thousand questions she needed to ask the attorney raced through her mind.

The twenty-minute trip passed all too quickly. Her pulse spiked as the car came to a stop in front of the building. She was afraid to dwell on it too long for fear she’d freeze and not be able to get out of the car. “I’ll call you as soon as my meeting is over, Gran,” Sam managed around the knot in her throat as she got out. She clung to the car door for a few seconds to make sure her balance was steady.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay with you?” Ellen asked.

“I’m sure. Little miss might get restless. It will be easier if she’s distracted.”

Ellen nodded.

“Bring me back some pizza.”

“We will.”

Sam leaned into the car. “Stay with Grandma El, Joy. Have a good time. I’ll see you in an hour.”

“Bye-bye, Mommy.”

“Bye, baby.” Sam slammed the door and watched them pull away and turn at the end of the block. Just being separated from her grandmother and Joy made her anxiety spike.

When she turned to face the building, her heart raced as if she’d run a marathon, and for a moment she couldn’t catch her breath, so she tried distracting herself with insignificant details.

The structure was seven stories high. All glass and concrete, the façade stretched heavenward, smooth and shiny. Her fingers gripped her shoulder bag strap like a lifeline. Her legs felt weak and rubbery as she shuffled to the main entrance and tugged it open. In the open entrance foyer, modern cream-colored couches and chrome, glass topped tables mirroring the exterior of the building were arranged in groupings.

Sam pulled her long hair forward around her cheek to hide the bruises from the people sitting there, and walked to a check-in desk. The woman who sat behind it eyed her injuries but said nothing. She offered Sam a pen to sign in, told her the office number, and directed her down a wide hallway to the elevators.

The elevator door opened and Sam ducked her head as two people got out. She stepped in before the doors could close and pushed the button for the second floor. The elevator rose, opened, and a wide hall stretched before her with a plaque on the wall designating office numbers. She pulled the scrap of paper from her bag to double-check even though the woman downstairs had told her the number.

Finding it just a few doors down the hall, she leaned against the wall for just a moment. She knew she had to take this step, but it was so hard to know whom she could trust.

The firm’s receptionist’s desk sat to the right of a suite of offices decorated in dark blue and khaki. The woman there acknowledged her appointment and instructed her to take a seat.

Sand-colored drapes covered a large bank of windows that ran the length of the room, allowing warm light to come into the space without the glare. Dark blue couches and two overstuffed khaki chairs sat at angles before a large solid wood coffee table.

Sam chose one of the chairs, hoping it would be easier and less painful to get out of than the couch, which was lower.

The longer she studied the expensive décor, the more anxious she became. She’d never be able to afford this lawyer’s fees. This was a mistake. It was time to get out of here.

“Mrs. Cross?”

Sam glanced up to see an older man approaching her.

“I’m Benjamin Keith, Samantha. You can call me Ben.”

He extended his hand and she took it briefly, though she glanced away, embarrassed by the injuries she knew he was seeing.

“Come into my office and we’ll talk.”

Sam eased forward on the cushion and gripped the arm of the chair to lever herself out of the seat. Benjamin Keith stepped in to gently take her arm and help her rise. When he tucked her hand into the crook of his arm and guided her into his office, the urge to cry rose up and nearly choked her. He urged her into a striped chair of blue, green and beige in front of his desk.

“I won’t be able to pay you right away,” she managed, her voice hoarse.

“We’re not going to worry about that right now.” He moved around the large oak desk and sat down.

“I’m concerned about my daughter. My husband and his family will try to take her from me.”

“We’re going to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

The deliberate calm in his voice soothed her fear, and she drew as deep a breath as she could in an attempt to calm herself. She ran the strap of her purse through her fingers.

“Tammi Mai contacted me about you. She told me to expect your call.”

Sam jerked her head up, then flinched as the sudden move wreaked havoc with her neck. “She gave me your number,” she said in acknowledgment.

“Your husband is still in jail at the moment, but he’ll probably be released on bail tomorrow morning.”

Sam bit her lip. “The police said I’d have to file an order of protection with a judge.”

“That will be the first thing we’re going to take care of today,” the lawyer replied calmly.

“Thank you.”

“I’m going to give you a contract to sign. It says that you are giving me the authority to act on your behalf as your attorney.” He withdrew a single piece of paper from a file on his desk and handed it to her. “You can read that while I get us something to drink. Water? A soft drink? Tea? What would you like? You look as though you could use some sugar in your system. How ‘bout a soft drink?”

A little overwhelmed by him, by everything, Sam simply nodded. She turned to the document and read it. She had expected something with a great deal of legalese, but the contract was straightforward and easily understood. She read over the financial part of the document, a single paragraph, twice. It said she could pay what she could afford, when she could afford it, up to a hundred dollars. Her throat felt tight and her breathing labored. When something was too good to be true, it usually was.

Ben dropped a coaster on the edge of the desk and placed a glass brimming with fizz on it. “Any questions?”

He sat down in the chair next to her. His dark eyes studied every inch of her features with a sweep, and Sam had to fight to keep her gaze steady. “Why are you making this so easy?” Her voice was barely a whisper.

“Because up until this time nothing has been easy for you. Has it?”

Sam shook her head.

“And because twelve years ago my son-in-law, in a fit of rage, beat my daughter to death. And there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.”

It took several moments before she could speak. “I’m so sorry.”

“He was arrested, put on trial, and is serving a ten-year sentence. He’s due to be paroled in a few weeks.” Ben looked away toward a strip of blue sky barely visible between the edges of the curtains. His pain was hidden, but Sam recognized it in the lines of grief that cut around his mouth and the look in his dark eyes. She fished in her bag for a pen, signed the contract and handed it to him.

“Do you have a dollar bill?” he asked.

Sam riffled through her bag and opened her billfold. Inside were two tens and five one-dollar bills. All the money she had in the world. She pulled one of the bills free.

He plucked it from her fingers and put it with the contract. “I’m your attorney now.”

She nodded. “I need a restraining order, I want a divorce, I want custody of my daughter, and I want Will Cross and his family permanently out of my life. Can you help me get those things?”

“We’ll work on the first three and then see what we can do about the fourth thing on your list.”

She nodded. “Good.”

“Are you out on your own or are you staying at a shelter?” he asked.

“We’re going to my grandmother’s house after this meeting. I didn’t want to go to a shelter. I thought they might say I couldn’t provide a roof over Joy’s head if we stayed there.”

Ben frowned. “You might be safer at a shelter. The reality is that the protective order is issued to keep the abuser from getting close. But the police can’t really do anything until he’s broken it.”

“I know how much I can depend on the police to protect me.” It was impossible to keep the bitterness out of her tone. “I can protect myself at my grandmother’s house.”

“How do you plan to do that, Samantha?” he asked.

She remained silent for a moment. “I’ll do whatever I have to do to, Mr. Keith. Will Cross has had his final chance to raise his hand to me. And he’s threatened my daughter and my grandmother for the last time.”

“If something happens, be sure to call me right away.”

Samantha nodded.

“This won’t be easy. We have a lot of work to do.”

“After the last four years, the only thing that could be harder would be if I lost my daughter. Chaney Cross has a lot of money and a lot of political pull here in Vegas.”

“I’m not going to sugarcoat it, Samantha. This will probably be even harder than you expect. You have to prepare yourself for that.”

Her stomach clenched as fear threatened to overwhelm her. She attempted to draw a breath and her hand automatically went to her ribs, pain burning up her side. “Tell me what I have to do.”

CHAPTER 12

Baja, California

F
lash breathed in the aroma of sizzling butter, fried onions and peppers as he poured himself an orange juice. Juanita stood at the stove folding an omelet filled with cheese, peppers, onions and tomatoes. He paused next to her to brush a kiss against her soft cheek.

She stood a little over five feet, the top of her head was on a level with him mid-chest. From this angle, he noticed the gray threading through her hair. He didn’t know why it bothered him that she and Travis were both getting older. He was too.

She reached up and patted his jaw. “Your breakfast will be ready
en
un momento.
”

“No rush.” He gave her shoulder a squeeze.

“This beard you are growing makes you look
muy macho.”

“I’m thinking of dying it red. What do you think?”

Juanita laughed.

Josh Gallagher sauntered into the kitchen, dressed again in his dark Baja Police t-shirt and pants. “You’re not trying to sweet-talk her into giving you my omelet, are you?” He took a seat at the kitchen table.

Flash grinned and glanced over his shoulder. “I wouldn’t do something like that, would I?”

Josh’s hair and eyes were as dark as his mother’s, but he bore a striking resemblance to his father. Seeing him stride toward the truck the first day he’d arrived had caused Flash a major pucker moment. Then Josh had whipped off the mirrored glasses and baseball hat. He’d had to wrestle with himself hard to resist the urge to pound on Travis in reaction.

Later, when he could both breathe and speak, Flash had flipped the design on Josh’s t-shirt. “You wear this pretty well.”

Josh had grinned. “You serve in your way, bro, and I’ll serve in mine.”

Flash could understand that.

Having dual citizenship, and being fluent in both English and Spanish, his foster brothers could work effectively in either country. They seemed to fit in anywhere they went. Which was more than he’d done while growing up.

Juanita slid the omelet on a plate and Flash scooped it up, grabbed two slices of toast as the popped up, sauntered over to the table and took a seat next to Josh. At the last moment he shoved the plate in front of his brother. Juanita shot him a grin and pointed the spatula at him. “Yours will be ready next,
querido.
”

“
Gracias, Mamacita
.”