Victorious Vice (Bellamy Brothers #6)

5. Raven

5

RAVEN

I manage to get through the rest of the night without more nightmares—but only because I don’t sleep.

I finally trudge out of bed at eight a.m., grab a quick shower, and head to the kitchen to make a pot of coffee.

Jared appears five minutes later.

“You’re supposed to knock when you rise,” he says.

I start the coffeemaker. “I thought I’d let you sleep.”

“I’m not here to sleep.” He rubs at his forehead. “You know the drill, Raven.”

I sigh. “Yeah. I know. I’m going to try to set up a meeting with a new attorney today. I want to get right back to working on my nonprofit.”

“Are you sure? After what happened with your last attorney?”

Like he needs to remind me.

“Yes,” I say, pouring the steaming coffee into the mugs on the counter. “I can’t afford to be passive anymore. Not after all that’s happened.”

Jared looks at me, his usually stern expression softening. He reaches out and grabs a mug, sipping the liquid and wincing at its heat.

“You’re a fighter, Raven,” he says. “But remember, you’re also a survivor. You don’t always have to be on the offense.”

His words are sincere, but they irritate me. How can I not fight? Vinnie is gone, and I may never see him again. God knows what he’s doing in Colombia for his grandfather. My last attorney was murdered. My brothers have gotten in over their heads, and I’m getting texts warning that I’m in danger.

But damn it, I just beat cancer’s ass, and I’m going to get this nonprofit up and running. Beginning with the big gala in a couple weeks.

“I appreciate the sentiment, Jared.” I force a smile onto my face. “But I have to focus on something I believe in. If I don’t, I’ll be focusing on all the shit.”

Jared nods, his gaze intense. “Just remember you have people who care about you. People who want to help.”

I hear his words—I do—but they don’t sink in. It’s a familiar talk—the one where everyone subtly tries to convince me to step back, take a breather. But how can I? When there’s so much at stake?

Before I can answer, the ring of my cell gives me a welcome interruption. With a sigh, I walk over and pick it up.

“Hello?”

“Raven?”

“Yes, who is this please?”

“My name is Emily Bennett. I’m an attorney with Fox and Levinson in Austin. I got your name from your father. He says you’re looking for a nonprofit attorney.”

“Yes, hello. My previous attorney…”

“I know what happened,” she says. “I’m so sorry about his premature passing and all that you and your family have been through because of it.”

“We’re…dealing,” I say. “So my father called you?”

“Yes. I’ve worked closely with my colleagues on some of your father’s dealings when a charity is involved. He tells me you’re setting up a nonprofit for the benefit of blood cancer research?”

“Yes. All the initial paperwork has been filed, and I’ve got a gala scheduled next month to introduce the organization and help with funding.”

“But otherwise you have funding in place?”

“Yes. I’ll be handling the initial funding with my own assets and also with a donation from my sister, Robin.”

“And your father?”

“Why would he be involved?”

“I suppose he doesn’t have to be. I just assumed…”

I clear my throat. “You assumed because he’s the beneficiary of my grandmother’s estate, he’d be funding it.”

She pauses before responding sheepishly, “I suppose I did, yes.”

“I have a hefty trust fund that I’ve hardly touched. I don’t need any grand infusion from my father.”

“Good enough. The next step is to iron out the details of the organizational structure, finalize the board members, and draft all required policies and procedures. We also need to prepare for any potential legal issues that may arise in relation to your fundraising activities.”

“Okay, what’s our first step?”

“The first step is to review all the paperwork you’ve already filed. If you could email the copies to me by the end of the day, I can get on it immediately. Then we’ll set up a meeting early next week to go over everything. Will that be all right?”

“Can we meet today?” I ask, glancing at the clock on the kitchen wall.

“Well…sure. I suppose so.” Papers shuffle on the other end. “I have an opening at two this afternoon.”

“That works,” I say. “Should I come to your office?”

“Yes, that’d be best,” she says. “And bring any documents related to the nonprofit.”

“Sounds good. Thank you, Emily.”

“It’s my pleasure, Raven. I look forward to helping you with this noble cause.”

I end the call.

“So we’re traveling to Austin today?” Jared asks.

“How did you know?”

“I don’t know of any major nonprofit law firms around Summer Creek,” he says. “But are you sure you want to be out after that text you got?”

“Silly.” I shake my head. “That’s what you’re here for, Jared. What good is a bodyguard if all we do is stay home?”

Jared grins, showing off his white teeth. “You got me there, Raven.”

After I shower and dress, I gather all the paperwork Emily asked for while Jared makes some phone calls. Around noon, we hit the road in Jared’s black SUV. He keeps his eyes on the rearview mirror more than necessary, making sure we aren’t being followed.

“Should we be worried?” I ask, trying to sound casual.

“Better safe than sorry,” he replies.

Can’t argue with that.

We don’t talk much during the long drive, and though I normally don’t mind silence, today it reminds me of the nightmare I had last night.

I erase the blurred images from my mind and pull up a novel on my iPad.

As much as I try, though, I can’t get into it.

“Tell me about your life, Jared,” I say, breaking the silence to get my mind off negativity. “You said you were a Navy SEAL, but you didn’t work directly with Leif.”

“No, we were in different units. I served for eight years, did a couple of tours in Afghanistan—which is where I met Phoenix—and a few other places I’m not at liberty to discuss.”

I study him, wondering what stories those broad shoulders carry, what horrors those dark eyes have seen. He keeps his gaze on the road, but his jaw is clenched. Clearly, he doesn’t share his past easily.

“That’s impressive,” I say.

“Maybe, but it takes its toll,” he admits. “Lost a lot of good men out there.”

The pain in his voice makes my heart ache. I reach out and lightly touch his arm. “I’m sorry, Jared. I didn’t mean to pry.”

He shakes his head, giving me a brief smile. “It’s all right. It’s been a while since I’ve spoken about it.”

We fall into silence again as the distance dwindles between Summer Creek and Austin. Despite the heaviness of our conversation, I feel a strange sense of camaraderie with Jared. His guarded demeanor and repressed sorrow echo my own pain, my own struggles, and the losses of friends I made during chemotherapy. It’s a bond born out of hardship that I never thought I’d experience with anyone else, let alone my bodyguard.

Upon reaching Austin, we arrive at Fox and Levinson. It’s on the eighteenth floor of a giant skyscraper. We walk in together, I clutching my bag filled with important documents, Jared with his alert gaze sweeping over everything and everyone around us.

The receptionist greets us with a bright smile. “May I help you?”

I give her a small wave. “We’re here to see Emily Bennett. I’m Raven Bellamy, and this is Jared. He’s my…associate.”

Minutes later, we are ushered into a spacious office overlooking the city. Emily Bennett is waiting for us, looking every bit as professional as I expected.

She stands a few feet from the floor-to-ceiling window. Her light blond hair is pulled back in a sleek bun, and she wears a white satiny blouse and sleek black pants.

She extends a hand to me. “Raven, it’s great to meet you.”

“You too,” I reply.

“And this is?” Emily asks as she turns toward Jared.

“My bodyguard, Jared.”

She nods and offers him a polite smile as they shake hands. She doesn’t seem the least bit freaked out that I travel with muscle. Interesting.

“Please sit.” Emily gestures toward the plush leather chairs across her desk.

Jared and I take a seat.

“So,” Emily begins, “let’s talk about your nonprofit.”

I clear my throat. “As you know, it will be dedicated to the research and treatment of blood cancers, with the objective of clinical trials and helping individuals who can’t afford treatment.”

“Excellent.” She nods. “I recommend a rigorous vetting process for prospective board members to ensure they share the same vision and dedication to the cause that you do.”

“Absolutely,” I agree.

“We need to delineate clear roles and responsibilities for everyone to minimize internal conflicts down the line.” She pauses a moment. “We’ll also need to determine our fundraising strategy. You said you have a gala planned, yes?”

“Yes,” I say. “It’s just an introductory event, really. We’re hoping to get some initial pledges and establish connections with potential donors.”

“Good start.” She nods. “But one won’t be enough. We need to think about long-term funding opportunities—corporate sponsorships, grants, recurring donations.”

“Understood.” I jot all this down in my iPad.

“And what about your mission statement? That’s key to attracting both volunteers and donors.”

I nod again. I already crafted a mission statement, but Emily’s point made me reconsider. I had focused on the “what,” but maybe it was just as important to clearly state the “why” and “how.”

“Okay,” I say. “I’ll revise it.”

“Great.” Emily clears her throat. “And now, I have some excellent news for you.”

“Oh?” I lift the beginnings of my new eyebrows.

She smiles. “I received word a few minutes before you arrived that there’s a large cash donation waiting for you.” She pushes a piece of folded paper in front of me.

I wrinkle my forehead as I take the paper.

Then I gasp.