Breaking Conviction by Greer Rivers
Chapter Fifteen
The next two days were a whirlwind, and some of the busiest and most rewarding in Naomi’s life. She’d had no idea what more the BlackStone Crew would ask of her to help with the Ashland Elite Scholarship Party. Going over the guest lists from the past few years was easy enough and she wanted to help as much as possible, but she had Thea to worry about. Not to mention her father.
She thumbed over the empty skin where her engagement ring had been. She’d taken it off months ago, after one of their big blowups, and if Dean had noticed, he was keeping it to himself. But there was no telling how much longer that reprieve would be. She’d learned a while back, though, not to question his good moods. It made them seem that much shorter.
Naomi told her boss, Gail, that Dean needed her to stay home and watch Thea. Gail hadn’t cared one bit that Naomi wasn’t going to the party, even lamenting that she didn’t have an excuse to get out of it, too.
What Gail didn’t know was Naomi had been just outside the hotel as the BlackStone Crew successfully saved eight trafficking victims. Wes had asked Naomi to pick up Nora in order to meet the women at the hospital and Naomi had jumped at the chance.
She’d helped Nora talk to each one of the women as a victim advocate, or survivor advocate, as Nora had reminded her. They held hands with eight different women during the process of giving their statement. She supported the few who chose to get rape kits done and assisted Nora in finding the few who had families. None of the women were from Ashland, so they’d ended up having to search all over the southeast. Finally, Naomi and Nora helped set the kidnapped victims on the very beginning paths of rejoining the world as free survivors.
Unfortunately, that all meant that Naomi had lied more than she ever had in her life. She wasn’t sure how convincing she’d managed to be when she told Dean an abridged version of her part in the raid at the hotel and why she’d come home late. He’d seemed oddly preoccupied himself, barely looking up from his phone at the time. She hadn’t been relieved, though.
It was only a matter of time before shit hit the fan. It always did and since he still hadn’t seen a therapist, there was no hope he’d suddenly changed his ways. But she didn’t want to think about any of that anymore.
But it was the morning after the party and she didn’t want to think about the nonsense in her life anymore. Wes had invited her to help fill in the gaps with anything the victims could provide, which unfortunately—or fortunately, depending on how you looked at it—wasn’t much. An “after-action report” was what Wes called it.
At first she was worried that she wouldn’t be able to go because of Thea, but her day care thankfully had room for her at the last minute. Since Dean was working first shift, she’d been able to tell him she was volunteering.
She enjoyed the camaraderie that came with being part of a team. That knowledge of having someone at her back, no matter what? It was a feeling she couldn’t remember having since her daddy passed. She’d just sat through the meeting with all these people—virtual strangers—who knew and loved each other and felt the warmth radiating from them. She’d been lost in all their conversation, the mood in the room was relaxed and positive thanks to their successful mission, and she soaked up the sense of accomplishment and feeling like she wasn’t alone in this shitty world anymore.
But even with the effervescent feeling of saving lives, Naomi was embarrassed to admit—even though it was just to herself—that all she could think about was how damn attractive Wes was in his natural environment.
Watching him help lead the meeting with passion for the victims and his teammates was incredible and nothing short of panty drenching. It was early the morning after the party and everyone was thankfully safe.
As the BlackStone Crew, Nora, Assistant District Attorney Marco Aguilar, Officer Henry Brown, Ellie, and Jules filed out of the room—or waddled out in Jules’s about-to-pop pregnant state—Naomi waited beside Wes near his computers.
He was working on something, she didn’t know what, but let him type away undisturbed until he paused.
“So, what’d you think?” he asked, lifting his hands to cradle the back of his head as he leaned back in his rolling chair.
Naomi shrugged and shook her head slightly. “It’s wild what y’all do. I’m impressed and a little stunned, I guess? I can’t believe you do this every day.”
Wes grinned and she felt the heat of his smile down to her core. “Thankfully, we don’t have to do this every day. There is downtime. I’ll admit though… it is extremely rewarding when we get it right... especially since some days aren’t as great as others. It’s easier on everyone when it works out.”
A shadow crossed over his face and Naomi wondered if it had something to do with the tension she’d felt between Wes and Phoenix, another teammate. Of course, she knew absolutely nothing about their relationship, but considering hers with Dean, Naomi was an expert in unresolved tension and sure as hell could identify it when she saw it.
Her gaze locked on Wes again, and she remained stock-still as he watched her with piercing blue eyes that—despite her best efforts—had captured her soul. She may have been an expert in one kind of tension, but she was a complete beginner in knowing how to navigate the type she had with Wes.
She cleared her throat. “Well, it was amazing. Was what Phoenix said true? Did Devil really shoot Mitchell Strickland?”
Wes crossed his arms, his spell broken by her serious question, and nodded. “Yep. He’ll likely be spending the rest of his days in jail with a colostomy bag, but he won’t be abusing women any longer. I don’t care how rich Strickland is. There’s no way Marco’s going to allow him to go free. Aguilar takes his position as an assistant district attorney really fucking serious.”
“That’s insane that someone with such a big name in our little town would be behind something so evil.” She shivered. “It’s nice that Ellie wanted him to stay alive to get justice for her friend, but men like that can rot in hell for all I care. My daddy died protecting and serving this town and he’d be rollin’ over in his grave if he knew one of its members was traffickin’ women.”
Wes sucked in a breath. “I didn’t know that about your dad. He was an officer?”
Naomi nodded before sobering. “Captain George Ward. He was shot in the line of duty when I was fourteen.”
A look of an emotion she couldn’t place made his brow furrow before concern further marred his features. “Fuck, I’m sorry, Naomi. Losing a parent like that is hard.”
She braced herself for the inevitable cringe that always came with that word, but relaxed back into the conversation when it never came. “Thanks... I tell myself he went out the way he would’ve wanted to, a hero.” She picked at a thread in the hem of her cream sweater dress, trying not to think at the dull ache that always accompanied thoughts of her father. “That helps sometimes. But not all the time.”
Wes’s ice-blue eyes softened before his lips quirked at the corner and he spoke in his calm baritone. “You’re damn right he was a hero.” He removed his glasses and massaged his eyes. “But hopefully he doesn’t roll over in his grave too many times over all this shit.”
“What’s that mean?” she asked, feeling her eyebrows furl at the odd comment.
“I think there’s more than Strickland who’s involved in this. I actually think he was just a pawn and I’m afraid to find out who’s behind the curtain, and who all paved the road to get him there.”
“Seriously? Who else would be involved?”
“I don’t know. But Ellie heard that Russian guy Vlad talk about how the investigator had done good work for Alea Iacta Est. All I know is that it’s a Latin phrase that means ‘The die has been cast.’”
“I remember you saying that in the meeting... and then Phoenix was rude as hell. What was that all about?”
He sucked his teeth. “Yep. That’s me and Phoenix for you. I don’t know what his deal is. Anyway, I need to look into it more, but I’m afraid Strickland might be a part of it, and if there’s a whole group of Stricklands out there, that’s fucking terrifying.”
“What? Really?” she asked, feeling like a broken record. “Shit, this place has gone to hell in a handbasket. It makes me wanna pack up all my things, pick Thea up from day care at one of the town churches, and just drive away forever, never looking back on this godforsaken town.”
His face had fallen into a grim smile as they spoke. “We’re trying to make it safer. It’ll be hell figuring out who’s behind all this, but ADA Aguilar told me that the feds are willing to work with us—or at least me—to figure out who’s behind everything. I think Strickland is the first domino. We’ve gotta figure him out. A year ago, a firm partner’s son told us that he had a brother, but I’ve never been able to find evidence of that.”
“Shoot, if you and your techno-wizardry can’t figure out who his brother is, it’s either not true or some pretty damn powerful people are burying it.”
Wes smirked. “Naomi Ward, did you just compliment me?”
Her cheeks blushed at his appraising look, but she couldn’t hide her smile back. “Maybe… but don’t get used to it.”
Wes laughed. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Anyway, maybe now that Strickland will have some alone time in a jail cell, he’ll consider working with us.”
Naomi cringed. “Sounds a little far-fetched.”
He lifted a shoulder before winking at her. “The best goals are.”
She rolled her eyes. “Well, what happens after Strickland?”
“I think we go after the rest of the partners in his firm: Dmitri Rusnak and Andrew Wilton Ascot.”
Naomi nodded, her mind trying to wrap around all the moving parts. But in the silence, Wes seemed to have no problem with watching her. Before long, she felt Wes’s piercing blue eyes along her skin and she started to squirm for relief. Naomi looked around, suddenly realizing they were the only ones in the room, with the door closed. It was just the two of them alone with the words he said two days ago echoing in her head.
“I fucking love that fiery side… that Naomi is intoxicating and I don’t think I’d ever get enough of her.”
Had Dean ever said he loved her fiery side? The one that was so freeing to finally use again? Naomi couldn’t even remember the last time she’d told Dean she loved him. It had to have been months... hell, maybe over a year for all she could remember. She’d long wondered if Dean even believed it himself when he said the words. They’d been staying afloat in their sinking ship of a relationship, hoping she could hang on until Thea turned eighteen. But the day Thea was out of the house, Naomi would be packing her bags with her.
Can I really wait that long?
She watched Wes as he typed on the computer. His over six-foot frame had to be at least an inch higher than Dean’s, and Wes definitely towered over her five foot two, even sitting down. His glasses accentuated the faint laugh lines on the edges of his eyes, and although his jawline was sharp, his lips were always ready for a smile. So different than Dean’s perpetually stone-faced demeanor.
“What’re you thinking about over there?”
The low rumble of his voice caught her off guard and she realized he was eyeing her from his periphery. Her cheeks heated, but before she turned away or blurted out something snarky to save face, she asked him what she’d been dying to know for two months.
“What did you mean about the oxygen thing?”
His eyes were back on the hieroglyphics on his screen, but his brow furrowed at her question. “Not sure what you mean, Naomi. You might have to fill me in.”
“You said, ‘trust your instincts and make sure to put your oxygen mask on first.’”
Wes hit the ENTER on his keyboard before turning to her. He crossed his arms while leaning back like he owned the place. Hell, he could, for all she knew. The less she knew about him, the better. Keeping that buffer with Wes prevented the temptation to get to know him in other ways.
“Well.” His eyes were soothing as they locked onto hers, like a trap in a cage she didn’t want to break free from. “The first one I think is obvious.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I got the ‘trust your instincts’ part. I’ve been tryin’ to listen to my intuition more lately.”
Wes’s small smile widened. “I remember you saying that last time we were here actually, when you pointed out we needed to look into those other women with hardly any details on their future.”
He took off his glasses again before massaging his eyes, and she wondered if looking at the screens made them tired, or if always facing the world head-on did it. Probably both.
“As for the oxygen mask thing... I don’t know who my aunt learned it from, but it’s something she used to tell my mom. ‘Put your oxygen mask on first, Janet.’ I heard that so much it kind of became ingrained in me I guess.”
“But… what does it mean?”
“Have you ever been on a plane?”
Naomi nodded at the change in subject. “Yeah, once when I was younger and we visited some family up north.”
“Well, you know how on flights they instruct you to put your oxygen mask on when shit hits the fan?” Naomi nodded. “One of the things they say is if you have a child next to you, put your oxygen mask on first before you help the child.”
Naomi wrinkled her nose. “Yeah, I’ve never really liked that idea. Whoever made it up sure ain’t a mother. I can’t imagine makin’ that kind of choice. If it ever came down to me or Thea, it’s T all the way, hands down.”
Wes dipped his forehead toward her. “Fair, but consider this. If something happens out of your control and you don’t take care of yourself first, you might not be able to take care of Thea, either. If you want to be there for Thea, you’ve got to make yourself a priority and everything else will fall into place.”
She frowned, not really sure what to make of that, unable to deny the logic, but not wanting to admit it. Her go-to defense mechanism reared its ugly, obstinate head, although she tried her best to tamp down her attitude.
“Why’d you tell me that? We hadn’t even been in the same room for half an hour, but you’d already figured I’d need to hear it? How come?”
With a heavy look on his face, his eyes bored into her with compassion and… regret?
“Because I think you might be like my mom was, always putting us first, a lot of times at her expense. She thought putting herself above her children was selfish.” Wes released a long exhale before bringing his rolling chair closer to her. His tattooed hands grabbed hers before resting his elbows on his dark-jeaned knees. For once, the immediate shock of fear that Dean would find out didn’t slice through her, and she let herself be drawn into his eyes. Those icy blues that saw everything so clearly. “But more than once, Naomi, I’ve wished she’d realized that thinking about yourself isn’t selfish and that self-preservation is self-love.” He tugged her hands. “I-I guess that even though I didn’t know you at the time, I needed you to know at least that.”
His eyes met hers with a sincerity that literally drew her in, and she suddenly realized how close they were. Their chairs were nearly touching and her hands were cradled in his strong grip while her knees were locked between his. She’d watched every emotion written all over his face as he’d spoken to her: worry, hurt, frustration… desire. Each one drew her in like a moth to a flame and for once in her life, she wanted to take a risk.
Only… this man didn’t feel like a risk. With every word, he felt more and more like a reward for all the screwed-up shit that had rained down on her life since she was fourteen. She deserved to do this one thing for her, just once.
“It’s not selfish to think about yourself.”
He closed his eyes before swallowing and tried to pull back. “I’m sorry, Naomi, I—”
Naomi tugged his hands to her chest, pulling him in, and crashed her lips onto his.
