Lust on the Rocks (8 page)

Sam’s hand stopped mid-motion.  “What?  But it’s your last semester.  Why not finish the year and be done with it?”

“I’m not up for it.”

“Up for it?”  Sam dropped her hand.  She was so close, damn it.  “We’re talking months, Jess.  A few lousy months and you get your degree.  Then, if you want, you can float for a while.  Nothing wrong with taking a break.  Hell, it was one of the best decisions I ever made.  I’m all for it.  Take some time off and figure out what you want to do,
after
you finish college.”

But Jess said nothing, only plunked her chin to her knees and stared out through patio doors.

A few patchy clouds drifted through sky cast in deep apricot as day blended with night.  In the quiet of her living room Sam could feel the turmoil tumbling through her sister, but she couldn’t get it to spill.  Clearly she had boy trouble, but to up and quit college?  It didn’t make sense.

“Let’s not skirt the issue, okay?  Obviously there’s a problem, but if you don’t want to tell me, that’s a different story.”

And though Luke was a great guy, if the relationship had run its course, Jess should move on.  Sam admired persistence, but sometimes it was better to let a relationship die a natural death than try and breathe life into it.  Just because we desire a relationship, doesn’t mean it’s the right one for us.  But as with most advice, it was easier said than done.

Sam absently stroked the silky strands of long brown hair as she pondered Jess’ dilemma.  True love or not, no man was worth losing touch with one’s happiness.  While she understood emotional traumas were turning points for personal growth, Sam was human.  And that meant fallible.  On a spiritual level, hardship was good.

On a physical level, it hurt.

Especially when it hit those she loved the most.

Jessica turned to her, tears brimming.  “I need a little more time to work through my feelings, okay?  Please?”

More than her words, it was the tremor in her voice which convinced Sam to let it go.  “All right.  When you’re ready, you come to me.  Deal?”

Jessica nodded, relief swamping her eyes.  “Deal.”

Chapter Six

Vic strode through the elegant corridor of Baker, Schofield, anger foraging through doubt.  It couldn’t be true.  Sam wouldn’t consider a settlement on Perry this early in the game.

Would she?  Barely acknowledging passing staff as he closed the distance to her office, Vic ran through his strategy once again. 
This case is a slam-dunk, Sam.  You have precedent on your side.  If two deaths in California aren’t enough, link prior verdicts to Perry and show this one was foreseeable.

Vic ground his jaw. And should qualify as criminal.

With a sweep around the corner, he descended upon Maria’s desk.  “I need to speak with Sam.”

Maria looked up from her papers, large hoop earrings poking out from waves of dark brown hair.  She ceased her rapid scribble.  “Hi, Mr. Marin.”

“Is she busy?” he asked, and craned his neck for a look through her open door.

“She’s not here.”

“Not here?”  Nine-thirty in the morning, where the hell could she be?  Sam defined early bird.  “Is she sick?”

Maria shook her head and screwed her expression as though he were being ridiculous.  “No.  She’s out—all day.”

Vic raked a hand over his head and down the back of his neck, his collar uncomfortably tight.  “She in court?”  He would go to the courthouse.  He would speak with her there and convince her a settlement was a big mistake.

“No.  She’s at her annual Big Sister pow-wow.”

The news caught him on the chin and he gaped at Maria.  She couldn’t be serious. 
Have they met the woman
?  “Big Sister—you mean like
charity
group?”

She nodded.  “Every year the kids have a big summer kickoff party with their Big Brothers and Sisters.”

“Sam works with kids?  As in, one-on-one?”

“Yes.  She’s very active in the organization.  Has a very cute little sister, too.”  Maria’s grin broadened as she winked.  “A little
chiquitita
from Cuba.”

His shock was complete.

“If she calls in, you want me to give her a message?”

“No.”  Vic absorbed the setback.  Shark meets minnows.  He peered at Maria.  Who’d a thought?  “No message.”

Leaving Maria to her work Vic turned to go, amazed Sam had it in her.  Now what?

Diego.

Minutes later he was waved in without fanfare and met by a bright smile.  “Hey buddy!  What’s up?”

Diego rose from his chair and walked around his desk to greet him.  Slacks and white button down, the guy rarely changed.  Save for his tie selection.  Nice, dull blue today.

The two joined in a vigorous, but brief handshake.  “Not much,” Vic said and settled his hands on his hips.  “How’s Selena?  I haven’t seen much of you in the last few days.  Is she okay?”

“Like nothing ever happened.  I saw her at my parents for dinner last night and she told me to tell you hello.  And thanks,” he added with a sheepish grin.

“No problem.  I’m glad to hear she’s doing well,” he said, but his heart felt the bite.  She came close, but she made it. 

Not everyone does.  Some die.  Vic felt the sharp pang to his heart.  “Tell her to stay out of the rip currents, will you?”

“She’s been told.”

“So listen,” Vic said, shifting gears, wrestling his mind back to the present.  “Is it true what I hear about you and Sam entertaining a settlement on Perry?”

Diego’s brow furrowed.  “Who told you that?”

“I overheard one of the secretaries.”

“No.”  He turned and headed back to his desk.

“Good.”  Vic relaxed his arms and strolled closer.  This case was going to trial.  Scaliano wasn’t going to skate the charges this time.  He gripped the back of a wingchair, the stiff cushion pushing back beneath the weight of his hands.  He was going to pay—in spades.  “How’s discovery coming?”

Diego hitched his hip up and onto the corner of his desk.  “Stacking up the evidence.”

“Using the cases from California?”

“Those, and deaths in health clubs across the country.”

“Tying them together, are you?”

“Whatever it takes.”

Vic was pleased to hear it. “Have you looked into the AED angle?”

“Automatic external defibrillator?  Why would I?”

“The fact Perry didn’t have one.”

“They’re not legally required to do so.”

“Precedent’s changing.  Should be easy to find a pile of court cases to support the argument for housing them in every facility.”

Diego turned on like a light.  “Sounds interesting.  How about you join us for a session, man?  I think Sam might want to hear what you have to say.”

Anticipation unfurled in his chest.  “Plan on it.”

# # #

“Vic, with all due respect,” Sam said, elbows perched upon her armrests, her pearlized Montblanc pen suspended between the fingers of one hand.  “I think you’re reaching.”

“I don’t think so.”

Sitting in the chair next to Vic, Sam noted Diego’s silence.  Nice, how her teammate remained mute, when he should be diving in with some common sense rationale.  But that was Diego.  Quiet and subtle, the man kept a low profile.  She slowly swung her scope back to Vic.  Quite the opposite from him, she mused.

In both looks and personality.  Seated side by side, the contrast was marked.  While both men were muscular, Vic was tall and angular, where Diego was short and thick.  One was light-skinned and sharp-featured, the other dark brown with soft lines and curves.  Diego wore blue pants and blue ties while Vic tossed in yellow and red, or green-striped like he sported today.  But the one trait they did share?  Both were quick with a smile.

A trait she especially liked.

But where did he come up with this stuff?  Sam checked his history.  Vic had no prior experience with health clubs.  No big wins, no magic wands for success.  Once again, Raul’s insistence they team up crept into the back of her mind.  Why?

She rocked back in her chair and dulled the blade of her dispute. “Listen, I admire your creativity, really I do.  But we need facts to back up our claim for wrongful death, not wishful thinking.”

“And these are the facts,” Vic said, undaunted.  “A man died on Perry’s premises.  A man who most likely would have survived, had there been AEDs available for use.  Also among the facts are the five priors you cite.  Put them together and I think we have a blockbuster win.”

“Except for one small detail.  Perry is not legally required to make these units available, and therefore has no legal responsibility for the absence thereof.”

“Negligence.”  He whipped a glance between the two.  “In facilities nationwide, Perry advertises state-of-the-art exercise equipment combined with state-of-the-art experience.  My contention is, they should provide state-of-the-art safety equipment right along with their state-of-the-art everything else.”

“Every client signs a release, Vic.”  Sam tapped the pen against her fingertips.  “A liability waiver holding
themselves
responsible for their actions.  Every individual assumes the risk of working out at a facility, including one that does not provide AEDs.”

“Sure they do, but Perry still posts signs that advise clients of the risks associated with using said equipment.  I assert they do so,” Vic said, assuming a more forward posture, “because it’s their duty and obligation to provide reasonable and expected first aid care, in the event of emergency.  Forewarned, because release signature or not, they know it’s their duty to provide a safe environment for the public’s welfare.”

“He has a point,” Diego said.

She’d known Vic was a smart hire from the get-go.  She didn’t know he was going to blossom into a full-fledged pit bull.  And so damned attractive when he was fired up, she thought, eyes blazed with conviction, skin colored with passion.

She gave a silent grunt of appreciation.  The man was fine.

“Well?”

Diego glanced aside to Vic and held the same question in his eyes.

“Let me get this straight,” she began, noting how Vic sat straighter, his stance almost combat-ready.  He was like a soldier in the heat of battle prepared to defend his position.  “You want to claim wrongful death on the basis Perry should have foreseen the danger to their clientele, forked over thousands of dollars to install AEDs in every facility, despite the fact the law doesn’t require them to do so.  They should have trained their staff on the proper procedure for operating said devices and ignore the public at large, who would most probably take it upon themselves to use the defibrillators—incorrectly, mind you—causing injury to themselves and loved ones, for which they would then turn around and
sue
the fitness center for installing the dangerous devices in the first place.”

Diego laughed. “God, Sam.  You’re such a pessi-mist!”

She held Vic’s gaze.  “I’m a realist who intends to win this case.”  She raised her brow and said, “You prove to me this is the best way to accomplish that goal and I’ll show you happy and giddy.”

“I’m showing you,” he said, the point clenched tightly in his jaw.  “The standard of care is changing.  We won a similar case against a casino, where a woman died of a heart attack while playing the slot machines.”

“A casino?” Diego asked.

“Yeah, a casino.”  Vic thrust a glance toward Diego, but continued to speak to her, “Their clientele consists largely of middle-aged and older people who get extremely worked up over winning and losing.  In our case, the jury found it was a foreseeable event that one of their customers might keel over and die of a heart attack.”  He leaned back a notch and slowed his delivery, “Considering the fortunes they earned every day, the devices were deemed a cost-proportionate method of caring for the safety of their patrons.”

“How much did you get?” Diego asked.

Vic turned to him.  “Five point two million.”

“Damn,” he replied, impressed.

“Was the verdict overturned on appeal?” Sam asked.

“Yes,” he admitted without backing down an inch.  “But the casino reached an agreement with the plaintiff to pay two point two mil—before the verdict came in.”

“That’s my idea of negotiation,” Diego said, more to Sam than Vic. “Pull in a win from the embers of defeat!”

“The point is,” Vic cut in, “twelve men and women agreed it was a foreseeable circumstance.  I think our chances are even better with a health club.  The fact it’s Perry’s third offense should be cause for criminal charges.”

With an ankle comfortably resting on opposite knee, Diego linked fingers together and settled them on his stomach as he slouched back into his chair.  “This is where I part ways, bud.”

Taut, riveted, Vic waited for her response.

She had to confess the AED angle had merit, but criminal?  She was with Diego on that one.  “Why are you so hot on jail time, Vic?”

“Because Scaliano deserves it.”

“People die.  Accidents happen,” she said, watching Vic’s expression ice over.  “It’s what keeps us in business.  What makes this guy any different?”

“He’s got a record.  He’s proven he’s out for himself—at the expense of his customers’ lives.  That’s not okay with me.”  He swapped glances with Diego but focused on Sam.  “And it shouldn’t be with you, either.”

She eased forward and deposited her pen onto the legal pad in front of her.  Planting both elbows on the edge of her desk, she folded her arms together and glared at him.  “Let me tell you something.”  Warmth flushed her skin as her thermometer bumped up a few degrees.  “Greed is never okay with me.  Negligence is never okay with me.  I’ve seen what it does to people—from the inside—which is why we’re here.”  She cocked her head to the side.  “Mrs. Albright has a valid claim for the death of her husband and I intend to see justice served.  Whether or not Scaliano had a personal hand in this remains to be seen.  Perry is a big organization.  They have layer upon layer of management.  As far as I know, he may be an unfortunate captain on a sinking ship.”

“He’s not.”

A chill entered the room.

“Enlighten me.  What don’t I know, Vic?”

His last breath trapped in his chest, Vic’s breathing slowed.  “The guy’s dirty.”