Jared ran his thumb across my palm, I suddenly realized he still held my hand. I tried to tug free but couldn’t. He kept up the comforting gesture.
“Don’t you mean why did I give up on us?”
I shrugged.
“You changed, Carling. You were no longer the same woman. Moody, unhappy, reckless. It was as if you were daring the gods to take your life. Nothing that you used to care about mattered, including me. But when you began losing your principles about cases, wouldn’t listen to my warnings, I couldn’t bear it anymore.”
I blinked back the tears burning in my eyes and held my head up high. “It’s one of the fundamental principles of our criminal system that a person is innocent until proven guilty.”
Jared released my hand and cupped my face. “Yes, but you used to represent those who you really believed were innocent. I bet you couldn’t swear on a bible that’s the case anymore.”
I thought of Larry, the accused rapist. I thought of the Rocket drivers with their various criminal records. My throat went dry on me and I couldn’t speak.
Jared must have seen the truth in my eyes because he let his hand drop. “Just as I thought.”
He walked away, every inch of space driving a stake through my soul. He turned and looked at me. “I didn’t give up on you, Carling. You gave up on yourself.”
Chapter Five
I spent the next day in waiting rooms. In the morning, I underwent a battery of diagnostic tests at the neurologist’s office, only to get a clean bill of health. Other than an adjustment in my headache meds, I was good to go and released to only periodic visits. However, as I left the doctor joked that I needed to wear a football helmet 24/7.
That afternoon as I sat in the Rocket reception room, I flipped through a local magazine featuring the new horse track that had opened in the southwest corner of Palm Beach County. I hadn’t visited it yet, but understood it was making rapid inroads on the business held by the Miami and Fort Lauderdale tracks. Whatever gamblers saved on gas was spent in the restaurants and at the betting windows.
The door to the inner offices opened and a drop-dead gorgeous man in a tan linen suit strolled out. He gave me a slow, appraising glance and an appreciative smile before he exited the reception room.
I blinked and checked out the glossy photograph in the magazine I held. Yep, I had just seen Vladimir Petrov, the owner of the new Palm Beach County racetrack. Was he making a deal with Rocket for horse manure?
“Mr. Navka can see you now, Ms. Dent.” Dressed in a form-fitting silk suit that was a bit incongruous given our surroundings, the secretary flashed me a smile.
Relieved to get out of the reception area where the unholy smells of chemicals and other unmentionables wafted from the fertilizer plant below, I grabbed my briefcase, rose and followed her into a hallway lined with offices. From my one previous visit I knew sales, marketing and accounting personnel were housed on the second floor.
In fact, the first postage-sized office to my left used to be Borys’s when he worked on the company’s accounts. While Borys had handled most of his clients’ work from his office or home, for Rocket and a few others, he had performed on-site services. Given what I knew now, for good reason. I slowed and glanced inside out of curiosity, expecting the room to be stripped of his personal effects.
I almost stumbled to a stop. Sitting at the desk in front of a large flat-screen computer monitor was the man I recognized as Borys’s former lover. I knew the two men had run an accounting firm, but I hadn’t known Drew Powell took over the Rocket Fertilizer account.
Glancing up in a distracted manner, Drew looked as startled to see me as I was to see him. He placed a finger across his mouth. Clearly, he didn’t want anyone else to realize I recognized him. What was he up to? My questions would have to wait for a more opportune moment.
“Carling?” Rocket CEO Greg
“Don’t you mean why did I give up on us?”
I shrugged.
“You changed, Carling. You were no longer the same woman. Moody, unhappy, reckless. It was as if you were daring the gods to take your life. Nothing that you used to care about mattered, including me. But when you began losing your principles about cases, wouldn’t listen to my warnings, I couldn’t bear it anymore.”
I blinked back the tears burning in my eyes and held my head up high. “It’s one of the fundamental principles of our criminal system that a person is innocent until proven guilty.”
Jared released my hand and cupped my face. “Yes, but you used to represent those who you really believed were innocent. I bet you couldn’t swear on a bible that’s the case anymore.”
I thought of Larry, the accused rapist. I thought of the Rocket drivers with their various criminal records. My throat went dry on me and I couldn’t speak.
Jared must have seen the truth in my eyes because he let his hand drop. “Just as I thought.”
He walked away, every inch of space driving a stake through my soul. He turned and looked at me. “I didn’t give up on you, Carling. You gave up on yourself.”
Chapter Five
I spent the next day in waiting rooms. In the morning, I underwent a battery of diagnostic tests at the neurologist’s office, only to get a clean bill of health. Other than an adjustment in my headache meds, I was good to go and released to only periodic visits. However, as I left the doctor joked that I needed to wear a football helmet 24/7.
That afternoon as I sat in the Rocket reception room, I flipped through a local magazine featuring the new horse track that had opened in the southwest corner of Palm Beach County. I hadn’t visited it yet, but understood it was making rapid inroads on the business held by the Miami and Fort Lauderdale tracks. Whatever gamblers saved on gas was spent in the restaurants and at the betting windows.
The door to the inner offices opened and a drop-dead gorgeous man in a tan linen suit strolled out. He gave me a slow, appraising glance and an appreciative smile before he exited the reception room.
I blinked and checked out the glossy photograph in the magazine I held. Yep, I had just seen Vladimir Petrov, the owner of the new Palm Beach County racetrack. Was he making a deal with Rocket for horse manure?
“Mr. Navka can see you now, Ms. Dent.” Dressed in a form-fitting silk suit that was a bit incongruous given our surroundings, the secretary flashed me a smile.
Relieved to get out of the reception area where the unholy smells of chemicals and other unmentionables wafted from the fertilizer plant below, I grabbed my briefcase, rose and followed her into a hallway lined with offices. From my one previous visit I knew sales, marketing and accounting personnel were housed on the second floor.
In fact, the first postage-sized office to my left used to be Borys’s when he worked on the company’s accounts. While Borys had handled most of his clients’ work from his office or home, for Rocket and a few others, he had performed on-site services. Given what I knew now, for good reason. I slowed and glanced inside out of curiosity, expecting the room to be stripped of his personal effects.
I almost stumbled to a stop. Sitting at the desk in front of a large flat-screen computer monitor was the man I recognized as Borys’s former lover. I knew the two men had run an accounting firm, but I hadn’t known Drew Powell took over the Rocket Fertilizer account.
Glancing up in a distracted manner, Drew looked as startled to see me as I was to see him. He placed a finger across his mouth. Clearly, he didn’t want anyone else to realize I recognized him. What was he up to? My questions would have to wait for a more opportune moment.
“Carling?” Rocket CEO Greg
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