Vindicate

I follow her down the walk to her car and put her files in the trunk. I stand just in time to see the car keys flying at my face and catch them before they smack into my nose.

“You have to practice sometime,” she says. “Drive us to work.”

I haven’t driven in six years. My license expired while I was in prison. My parents sold my car. “Are you sure?”

She opens the passenger door and climbs in with a wink. I let out a frosty breath in the cool morning air. This is one more thing I have to relearn in my life outside. I slide into the driver’s seat and adjust it for my bigger body and longer legs.

“The mirrors too,” Cora reminds me.

It’s like I’m taking driver’s ed all over again with my little sister as my teacher. I hope driving isn’t as hard as riding a bike. That shit took me too many tries to get right. I’m wobbly like a kid riding without training wheels for the first time. Bike riding is a fucked up metaphor for my life now. Everything is an uphill struggle and scary as fuck. I suck so bad at it I wonder sometimes if I shouldn’t just commit a crime for real this time so I can go back to the predictability and reliability of prison life. I won’t, but the thought is scarily tempting sometimes.

You wouldn’t think being free would be so hard.

I do as Cora instructs and start the car. She coaches me the whole way. I’m relieved when we arrive safely. Driving is a hell of a lot easier than riding a bike. We get out of the car and head into the offices of Nash Security and Investigation. I owe Cora and everyone in this place everything. If Mr. Nash and his son, Leo, hadn’t agreed to help Cora find the bastard who killed Cassandra and worked to set me free, I’d still be sitting in a cell. How do you repay someone who rescued you from hell and gave you your life back?

I juggle Cora’s files that I retrieved from the trunk, open the door for her, and follow her inside. The receptionist, Sava

I grin at Sava

I set Cora’s files down where she directs me. Her office is small with two desks in the middle facing each other. It’s an odd arrangement, but Cora likes it this way I guess.

She gestures to the desk opposite hers. “Have a seat.” She sifts through her pile of files until she finds what she’s looking for, then pulls it out and comes around to where I’m sitting. “I thought maybe I’d start you off with some simple searches.” She twitches the mouse, bringing the computer screen to life. “These are the search sites we use.”

Clicking on the top three bookmarked sites, she brings them up, explaining how they use them and what information they can provide. She has me do some easy searches, then leaves me on my own. I don’t suck at it. I’m actually quite good. And I like the work. I’m halfway through the searches Cora wanted me to do when Sava

“Your ten o’clock is here,” she tells Cora, her gaze darts to me then back to Cora.

“Thanks, Sava

“Sure.” I stand and stretch.

Sava

Cora’s mouth bends into a frown. “I don’t know what’s wrong with her lately.”

“Don’t you?”

“I’ll talk to her.”

“Leave it.”

I follow Cora into the reception area. Sava

All lace and silk, she’s sweet looking in her soft colors like she just walked out of a Sunday church service. But the look in her eyes is wary…guarded…jaded, reminding me of angry, hard prison stares. This chick’s seen some shit. More than that, she’s experienced some shit, has maybe even done some shit. She’s a survivor. This I understand. I recognize her in the same way I recognize the new man that stares back at me in the mirror.

Her costume is nearly perfect. I bet if I sniffed her she’d smell like baby powder and lemons. I edge closer to her. She catches me with a sudden flick of a glance, freezing me where I stand. Everything about her shouts back the fuck off. It only makes me want to draw closer. Who is she? Who or what made her this way? And why does she look at me like she knows who I am? Not the TV news segment me, but the real me, the Beau deep, down inside.

For the first time since I got out of prison I don’t feel alone. There really are others out there like me. One of them is standing mere feet in front of me, regarding me with the same guarded, expectant look I’m wearing. And she’s beautiful.

Love stories you’ll never forget

By authors you’ll always remember

eOriginal Romance from Random House

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