At Her Will (Mistresses of the Board Room #5)

Chapter 15

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

“ A ll morning, you’ve been humming, singing or smiling like you don’t have good sense,” Beau noted. “It must have been a good weekend.”

“It must have been,” Rev answered.

“Well,” Beau said with exaggerated somberness, “I expect it has to do with the Lord seeing fit to let you wake up on the right side of the dirt.”

“That’s entirely it, Beau. You called it.”

His boss snorted. “I know the look of a man who spent his weekend in the arms of a fine woman.” He gestured to Rev’s forearms, revealed from the rolled-up sleeves of his coveralls. “Was that Miss Vera Morgan’s work?”

Rev grinned and kept cleaning the glass of the foyer trophy cases. He’d finished the sports ones and had moved on to the nerd boxes, as some of the kids called them, because they held the awards for the math, science, chess and debate teams.

The vinegar scent of the cleaner brought to mind painting Easter eggs with Teena Joy while she read the resurrection story to him.

“She and the women at her company help out a lot in the community. But people are more than one thing, and sometimes those other things aren’t as good.”

Rev stopped at the unexpected comment and looked over his shoulder. “What nonsense you talking, old man?”

Beau lifted a shoulder. His humor had been banked, his gaze careful but concerned. “I want all good things for you, Rev. But she’s different from you. Not better or worse, I’m not saying that. But awfully different. When you’re interested in a woman, your heart gets involved quick. Are you sure she’s not just… Well, women like the way you look. You know that.”

Vera’s face, her touch, her words, were in Rev’s head. But at times she’d made it sound like she didn’t expect this to last. He thought of the club, the BDSM world unfamiliar to him. How she’d emphasized that the “scenes” there mostly didn’t translate to relationships outside the walls. He thought of how easy it was for her to introduce him to men she’d had scenes with like she’d done with Rev.

With all that, and Beau voicing words uncomfortably close to Witford’s, two people he valued, the seeds of doubt could be planted. But only if he gave them the right kind of ground inside himself to do so.

She’d taken him to her home, something she’d made clear she didn’t regularly do. Plus they were talking about and doing plenty of things outside of the club things. So as important as that part of her life obviously was to her, and how much he yearned to do those things with her, it wasn’t all of what had brought them together.

“I’m not saying you’re not worthy of a woman like that, Rev.” Beau was gazing hard at his introspective face. “Not even close. You deserve a loving woman. Never mind me. I should have stuck one of my big feet into my mouth.”

“No.” Rev gestured with the cleaner. “You my friend. You say what’s on your mind. I appreciate it, Beau. I really do. It’s okay. I done here. I’m going to go fix that bent locker handle on Hall C.”

He paused, though, looking at the “nerd” awards. “You know, when people hear someone talk smart, they figure they worked hard to get smart. That someone who don’t talk smart wasn’t smart enough to do good in school, or was too lazy. They don’t dig into who a person is. She’s not like that, Beau.”

Beau met his gaze and nodded. “I’m glad to hear it. If she sees you the way we see you, then she’s pretty and smart. In the right ways. And I hope the best for both of you.”

“Me too. God gives us plenty of gifts, but most of them come with a time limit. It’s why we gotta value them. Can you take the cleaning stuff back to the storeroom? All I need is the toolbox.”

“Sure.” Watching him go, Beau really wished he hadn’t said a thing. Witford had stopped by on Rev’s day off and expressed some worries. He’d noted how much he wanted the best for his cousin and appreciated Beau looking after him, since Rev respected his counsel.

Normally Beau would have dismissed Witford’s concerns, because Rev was a grown man, and Beau had seen plenty of evidence of Rev’s common sense. But falling in love with a woman could mess with any man’s compass, and he was pretty sure that was what Rev was doing. It didn’t hurt for Beau to throw it out there.

Though it somehow felt it had.

Rev would have reassured him if he could, but he did have some chewing to do on it. Noting the time though, he quickened his step. He wanted to get the locker repaired before the next bell. It was a narrow hall, and he’d be an obstruction as the students flooded the space, headed for lunch in their usual exuberant fashion.

Watching the kids be kids always lifted his day. Even as he used the bell changes to take a closer look at those he knew had more trouble being happy. He liked to get a sense of how their day was going and give their next period teacher a heads up if they needed a boost in attention.

He tried to keep an eye on all of them, even the ones who seemed to do fine, because a bad day was a bad day, and every person had them. But some days he missed the warning signs.

This was going to be one of those days.

He’d turned up Hall C when he heard the first shot.

“So should we skip this bullshit, and I’ll clean out my desk?”

Vera looked up to see Watt Bellini filling her doorway with wide shoulders, a belligerent attitude and weary frustration. He wore pressed slacks and a plum-colored dress shirt that complimented his thick dark hair, keen brown eyes and a jaw that tended toward a five o’clock shadow, no matter how clean shaven he started his day. He had a strong but amiable personality and, according to Cyn, was a consistently excellent account manager.

“I see you have an idea of why I requested the meeting.” With a cool look, Vera gestured to her guest chair. “Close the door and sit down. And please keep the profanity where it belongs. Not here.”

Watt’s jaw tightened, but he complied. He sat in the guest chair with a straight back and braced legs. “Sorry. I’ll turn in my notice and work my two weeks from home to transition my replacement. I guess I can forget a referral, but that’ll give me time to get some ducks in a row.”

His fingers tightened on the arm, the ruby in his University of Georgia class ring catching the sunlight from her window. “I screwed myself on this one. I should have come to you up front, but I figured you wouldn’t believe me, and I let her get out ahead of it. So the bi—she wins.”

Vera sat back, crossing her legs. “Watt, no decisions have been made. You’re here so I can hear your side of the story.”

She’d effectively thrust a stick into the spokes of the bicycle he’d been pedaling so hard. “What?”

She tapped the arm of her chair. “There are many abominable instances of women being sexually harassed. But every situation has to be thoroughly investigated, without bias, because a man is just as vulnerable to being harassed, or falsely accused. Power can be political or emotional, not just in accordance with company hierarchy. Abuse of the power is the driving factor, not gender.”

She put that frost in her tone again. “Whoever is at fault, whether you or Henrietta, will be shown the door. Any employer seeking a reference from us will not get it, and they will be told that history. But first we will determine who deserves that treatment and who doesn’t.”

Vera nodded to Watt. “I’m listening. Take a few moments to lose the attitude and change gears. When you’re ready, don’t embellish, and be honest, even if it doesn’t reflect well on you. I’m seeking the truth, and I’m very good at recognizing lies.”

“Okay.” Watt pressed his lips together. Took a deep breath. “Henrietta and I had a reciprocal interest a few months ago. We went out for a couple of dates. Ended up in bed together. Three times.”

He cleared his throat, shifted. Vera said nothing.

“Then my mom got sick, and Henrietta felt neglected. She didn’t get how important my family was to me. I told her I needed to focus on that, to help my dad. She didn’t take it well at first, but then she started to approach me at work…”

He looked out the window at the live oaks framed there. “I hate this,” he said through gritted teeth. “It’s no one’s business and she made it into…this.”

“I know this is embarrassing and difficult, Watt,” Vera said quietly. “It’s why these details go no further than this room, unless it becomes necessary.”

“I guess I have to trust you on that one. You haven’t ever given me a reason not to.” He laced his hands between his spread knees. “She’d rub against me when I was getting coffee. Try to talk me into hooking up after work. Jesus…” He shook his head. “I don’t think I meant all that much to her. She just doesn’t like to be the one told no . That kind of attitude makes her an aggressive account manager, good at securing the deal.”

It was an accurate assessment, since that quality had gotten her hired. The company was full of strong women, including those who ran it. Ros didn’t like to lose. Neither did Cyn. But they both knew where the line was in a situation like what he was describing.

Watt sent Vera a tired look. “My mom is doing really harsh chemo. Dad doesn’t drive. I’ve been trying to keep all the balls in the air. When I come into work and pour that first cup of coffee… I know it sounds idiotic, but that’s become an important five minutes to me, Vera. It’s like my reset button. Up until the day that landed us here, I’d been brushing her off, handling her. But that morning, I didn’t react well. I told her I couldn’t be her little fuck-toy right now and piss off. I tried to apologize later.”

He shook his head. “I know that was bad behavior on my part. But for her to take that and claim I was sexually harassing her… I didn’t think I’d hurt her that badly. I didn’t mean to do that. Maybe I should have asked for a leave of absence, but work helps to keep me sane.”

Vera had told Watt she was good at detecting lies, and she was. The key was setting aside bias and listening. Then asking the right questions and assessing reactions.

When she’d interviewed Henrietta, the woman had spoken of Watt cornering her in the supply closet, stopping her at her car after work. He’d pushed against her in the open car door, grabbed her hand and put it on his crotch. He’d told her, “We’ve hooked up before. Fucking is no big deal. Let’s keep scratching one another’s itch.”

“I told him no, that I wasn’t interested,” Henrietta had told her. Her body language projected the expected combination of embarrassment and anger. “I told him I didn’t want to do the casual thing anymore. He won’t take no for an answer, and he waits for when I’m by myself to…ambush me. My nerves…it’s making it terrible to come to work.”

Her hands had been shaking as she wrung them in her lap. “Maybe I should just give my notice. I don’t want to cause any problems, and maybe this is my fault, because I went to bed with him to begin with…”

Which was where Vera’s flags had gone up, because Watt was correct. Henrietta was aggressive in her job. Forthright in meetings. She neither possessed nor showed any empathy for the insecurities that dragged many women into a victim mentality, or the guilt trap when it came to sexual harassment or abuse. She also had excellent skills with clients, and knew how to work a room. Not insincerely, not exactly, but she knew the right buttons to push, how to read someone. How to get the result she wanted.

Except in this case.

“Watt, what’s your mother’s chemo schedule?”

“Six more weeks, twice a week.”

Vera tapped the note into her computer. “All right. For those six weeks, we’ll put you on a flex schedule, so you can work remotely as much as you need. If you have a face-to-face client meeting which conflicts with your mother’s needs, let Cyn know. She’ll get it covered.”

“You’ll tell her?”

“She already knows.” Cyn missed nothing about her people, and had been digging into all this a day ahead of when Henrietta brought her complaint to Vera.

Watt was correct. Him not coming to Vera right away meant Henrietta had had time to cover her tracks. Watt had assumed in a female-led company where the staff was eighty percent women, and he was one of only three male account managers, he wouldn’t have an ally or sympathetic ear. Vera was about to fix that impression.

“But…I…you’re not letting me go?”

“No. Henrietta’s employment will be terminated this afternoon, which is why I want you to leave this office and go straight home. Focus on your mother. When you next come into this office, your five minutes with your coffee will be undisturbed.” Vera’s lips twitched. “Unless Cyn needs something from you right away, and pounces on you as soon as you hit the parking lot.”

“Yeah, she can be like that.” His lips twitched, but he ran a hand over his face, his eyes suddenly suspiciously wet. “Jesus. Sorry…just…sorry.”

Vera nudged her tissue box to the edge of her desk, letting him grab one to swipe at his eyes.

“Watt…she’s your mother. You’re under a lot of stress. You have a demanding job and now a difficult family situation. Henrietta exacerbated it to the breaking point, and we all have one. That’s why we watch out for one another.”

“Yeah.” He pulled himself together and gave her a wry look. “When I took this job, a buddy told me I’d never advance my career, ‘working in a hen house.’ His words, not mine. But TRA has made such a name for itself in marketing, I figured hell, even if I can only work there a few years and then have to go elsewhere to make a vertical move, it'll look good on my resume. But then Cyn promoted me to account team manager, and I’m doing work I love. The idea of leaving here because of something like this, it felt like the straw that broke the camel’s back. Henrietta…”

An unhappy look crossed his face. “I didn’t want to hurt her, Vera. I mean, we had some good times. I just didn’t expect her to turn on me like this. I know I was an idiot for hooking up with someone at work, but we head up different teams, and I thought we understood each other.”

“Your judgment might have taken a hit, but you tried to resolve it the right way. You explained your situation to her, and she kept pushing. You apologized for snapping at her, and she chose revenge instead of accepting the apology. You bear no blame for her behavior, which was reprehensible.”

“She’s not…” He sighed. “I want to make excuses for her now that I know I’m not going to be canned as an accused sexual harasser. I don’t like thinking I got her fired.”

“You didn’t. She did.” Vera locked gazes with him, so he understood how much she meant it. “Keep that in mind. As I’m sure you’re aware, this situation shouldn’t be shared with other staff members. You can communicate further concerns with me or Cyn.”

“Yes ma’am.” He rose, and gave her a grateful nod. “Thank you, Vera.”

“You’re welcome.”

After he left, Vera took a breath. Well, shit. This was going to derail today’s schedule. She’d need to meet with Cyn, and let Cyn vent her desire to kick Henrietta’s yoga-toned ass all the way out to the parking lot. Then they’d review the proper exit interview process, which would include how to handle Henrietta if she threatened to bring a lawsuit against TRA for her firing. Vera thought it very likely the woman would react that way.

Companies often headed off such a situation with severance pay and a written agreement that the reasons for her firing would never be disclosed to another employer, but Ros didn’t play that way. Which meant the CEO might need to attend that exit interview.

Ros didn’t respond well to blackmail. As unpleasant as it would be, Vera had no doubt about the meeting’s outcome. No matter how aggressive and tough Henrietta was, she was no match for Ros. She’d make it clear to Henrietta if she went that way, she’d be incurring a lot of legal fees…and TRA had deeper pockets.

Vera pushed back from her desk. Before she got started on all that, she’d give herself five minutes to dwell on something far better.

It had been an amazing weekend. She’d accompanied Rev to church on Sunday, ignoring and mostly shutting out the effect of Tisha and Witford’s baleful looks. Instead, she immersed herself in the joy of Rev’s singing. When they shared a pew together afterward, she basked in the warmth of his hand around hers, the press of his shoulder and thigh against hers.

She’d liked the hint of the forearm henna beneath the cuff of his dress shirt. The cross showed on his nape, and though it had drawn some curious looks, it wasn’t inappropriate to the environment. They wouldn’t expect he had the other designs, including one around his cock. But she knew, and the knowledge was like having sugar on her tongue.

This time, when the service concluded, Rev introduced her to some of his favorite congregation members. Including Mrs. Everett Meriweather. The flirty ninety-year-old widow had a ready smile for Vera and took her hand. She wore black heels and a trim sapphire-blue church suit with a magnolia bloom in the lapel next to her rope of pearls.

“Rev needs a good strong woman in his life.” She spoke bluntly, the privilege of a confident woman her age. “One who takes care of him the way he takes care of all of us. I like the look of you. Almost as smartly dressed as me.”

“Thank you. I’m doing my best. On the taking care of him.” Vera swept an appreciative gaze over her ensemble. “I obviously have work to do on the clothes.”

“Sincere flattery and a sense of humor.” Mrs. Meriweather captured Rev’s hand, creating a circle between the three of them. “Good for you, boy.”

Those kinds of welcome dissipated the tension Witford and Tisha’s attitude caused her. She did see a couple looks at the same disapproving level as theirs, most noticeably from two ushers who’d taken up the collection from the front half of the church. When Rev introduced her to Simon and Tyson, they were stiff in their responses, unwilling to be drawn in. They’d excused themselves to flank Witford and Tisha, a chilly backdrop to the wall of Rev’s family.

It brought back some incredibly unpleasant memories, no matter how much she tried to squash them.

Rev had drawn her closer, his arm around her waist. “Don’t worry none about them,” he said. “They’ll come around. Let me introduce you to the choir ladies and Beverly, who leads them.”

“Palma Webb on line two for you, Vera.”

When Bastion’s voice came through the phone intercom, his message yanked Vera back to reality like a bucket of cold water in the middle of an orgasm.

Fucking hell.

The Henrietta situation, the problems with Rev’s family, were minor issues compared to her reaction when Bastion said her sister’s name. The spike through her chest could have done an ice pick proud.

“Vera? You there?”

“Yes.”

“She says it’s personal and you’d take the call. Rather imperiously, and not in the good way,” he added. “More bratty and petulant. Can I teach her a lesson by taking a message? Threaten to spank her if she doesn’t learn better manners? Don’t lecture me. It’s only a workplace faux pas if I threaten a staff member with that.”

Bastion’s irreverent manner helped get her back on track. Even if her hold on that track was taking all ten of her tensely curled toes. “Stop getting your advice about professional office behavior from Cyn. I’ll take the call. Do you have any Rolaids in your desk?”

“Honey, you know I do. I buy them in bulk.”

“Good. I’ll come get a couple after I finish the call.”

Lord help me.

Hearing a gunshot at a place one should never be heard took a precious second to process. By the time Rev turned the corner of Hall C, three more had rung out, competing with the screaming that had erupted with the first.

Kids were bursting out of Mrs. Cuddy’s class, wild-eyed and frantic, rabbits trying to escape a wolf. Most went toward the exit door at the end of the hall, rather than coming his way. The ones that didn’t, he waved them past him as he moved forward, sticking close to the wall. Watching for the wolf.

Teachers who heard the shots would follow the drills they’d practiced. Lock their doors, tell the students to get down on the floor so a shooter couldn’t get a good target through the upper panel of glass, and report status to the main office through the intercom system.

With a stutter of his heart, he saw one child lying motionless in the hall. Another staggered out of Mrs. Cuddy’s room and collapsed, blood soaking the front of the nice striped shirt his momma had probably bought him. The wolf emerged right behind him.

It was Craig, a slight, pale boy with thick blond hair. He was one of the students who held himself apart, a hooded ghost in the hallways. He’d transferred in a couple months ago, his dad having won custody of him in a nasty divorce. Mrs. Cuddy had made the most progress with him. She handled the yearbook and had gotten him involved, helping to collect some pictures for it.

He wore baggy jeans and his usual dark hoodie. It had a skull-faced reaper printed on the back, one bony hand reaching out as the other clasped his scythe.

Rev had a chilling view of that empty eyed specter, because Craig was ignoring the kids he’d shot and was turned toward the children fleeing toward the exit door. He raised his gun, taking aim on Mary Wharton’s back.

“Craig, stop .”

Craig spun around. Since he had his finger on the trigger, it went off, hitting the lockers to Rev’s left with a loud clang. A sizzling burn across his arm suggested a ricochet had hit him, but Rev barely noticed. He was focused on Craig’s lifeless eyes, hopeless and tired and confused and far away from the reach of anything or anyone.

No . No one was beyond Love. God would give Rev what he needed to reach him. He gripped that calm certainty with all he had and stood still and tall, while Craig pointed the gun at him and gave him that empty stare. Rev couldn’t tell what was going on his mind, but it hadn’t yet told him to pull the trigger again.

Lord, save those two children, and whoever else is hurt. If this be the day the Lord calls me home, thank you for Veracity. Keep her and love her, the way I wish I could have stayed around and done. Amen.

“You abandoned us, Veracity.”

Vera had her heels planted as if she expected a gale wind to gust through her office. “I go by Vera. I’m not a child anymore.”

Hearing her full name on Rev’s lips made it special, and didn’t remind her of her childhood at all. So only he had her permission to use it. Or someone who used it out of love, which meant her sister didn’t qualify. “If you’ve called me for money, do you think guilt is the way to go?”

“Do you expect me to grovel? Would that make you feel more high and mighty than you already do?”

“I expect you to be courteous. Respectful, the way I’m trying to be to you.”

“You lost my respect a long time ago.”

Anger took over, and so many awful feelings Vera knew a full bottle of Rolaids wouldn’t handle it. “Mama told me not to come back. That’s not abandoning you.”

“She had no choice. You insisted on living wrong, and you wouldn’t agree to counseling—so yes, you turned your back on us. A path away from God was more important to you than your family.”

If she’d had any doubts over why she had such a negative reaction to Tisha and Witford, the passive aggressive undercurrents—plus the not-so-passive ones—made it as clear as one of Rev’s vinegar-cleaned windows.

Step back , she told herself. This is barren ground, the earth too worn out for anything to grow in it again. Holding Rev in her mind, thinking of his patience, his honest way with his feelings, helped balance the way-too-familiar ache spreading through her, like a garden overrun with weeds. A garden she’d thought she’d kept well-tended enough to keep out those weeds, but weeds could and would shoot back up overnight.

She would treat this like a meeting with a difficult employee. She would focus on what she could resolve instead of what she couldn’t. “Tell me what’s going on, Palma, and why you need the money.”

“Me telling you that your family needs it should be enough. You don’t need a reason.”

“Since it’s my money you’re asking for, yes, I do. I may also have other resources that can help.”

“Fine. Daddy had a heart attack about ten months ago. He hasn’t been able to work, and Mama is running out of ways to make ends meet. She got herself a job, but it doesn’t pay much. Me and the others have kicked in to help with the mortgage, but we got our own kids and bills, and we’re running short. Bethany said there’s no reason we should strap ourselves when you have money.”

“How will our parents feel about you coming to me?”

“We’ll make it seem like we came up with more. They’ve had a hard enough time letting us help. When I started paying their power bill, they threw a tantrum. Bethany pointed out all the years they took care of us, so it’s not charity to accept our help when it’s freely given. They’ve been better about us helping since then, but you know they won’t accept anything from outside the family. Best we not tell them. And?—”

You know they won’t accept anything from outside the family.

Did her sister know how that one sentence, so carelessly uttered, cut Vera to the quick? Would she care if she knew? “How much do you need?” she interrupted Palma.

Palma’s tone went flat. “Twenty thousand would get us through the year. We’re filing for disability programs and early Social Security, but it’s a quagmire, and they’re throwing up roadblocks.”

“Fine. Here’s my cell.” After giving Palma that info, Vera continued. “Text me your bank information. I’ll transfer the money. Send me what you and Bethany have done on the government programs so far. I have contacts that can remove some red tape.”

“So just like that? That’s how easy it is for you? While we’re scraping by, you have the kind of money to?—”

“Palma, if you don’t want my help, that’s up to you. If you ever want to have a conversation that isn’t about accusing me of not being part of a family that doesn’t want who I am, call me. Otherwise, use your text finger for future communication. Got it?”

The sharp tone was what she used on employees trying to bullshit her, or submissives needing a stronger hand. It worked for this, too. Sullen silence filled the phone.

“If you’d been here, he wouldn’t have had the heart attack,” Palma said abruptly. Then she hung up.

A minute later, the bank information arrived on her phone. Vera choked on a bitter laugh. Tossing it on her desk, she went to her windows, folding her arms against herself.

She didn’t have to recall her father’s granite expression as her mother told her to pack her things and get out. It was like a picture on her wall, waiting for her to turn in that direction to see it. He’d had her mother execute the sentence, but he was the head of the family. The decision came from the top down. After her mother had said it, he’d turned away from Vera. Except for the iron set of his shoulders, she would have felt like it meant no more to him than switching off a TV program he was done with.

When she’d gone to the room she shared with Bethany, Bethany pleaded with her to stay, to just work it out. Act like what they want you to be. Be whatever you want to be when they’re not around.

“I’m not a liar like you,” she’d told Bethany, speaking out of hurt, her throat flooded with tears. “They should be able to love who I am.”

Because they didn’t. They hadn’t said, “We love you, but you can’t stay under our roof if you don’t believe as we do.” It was just, “If you don’t believe as we do, then you can’t be part of this family.” Full stop.

She would have given so much to have them add in that “We love you.” It would have helped, to have something that suggested time would bring them back to one another. Like Rev had told her he’d pray it would.

But she knew now it was better that they hadn’t. No false hope. And she routinely reminded herself that, before those events, she hadn’t lacked for love or care. Cyn had understandable, horrific reasons for her cynicism toward religion. Vera had been raised in a loving family, with plenty of opportunities. She couldn’t deny that. Maybe that was why she’d never held a grudge against Christianity when that love had been withdrawn. She knew plenty of Christians who never would have turned their backs on their child for choosing a different path.

Wicca had its own adherents who were intolerant and disrespectful of paths not their own. That was a human trait, not a spiritual one.

The raw pain in her gut was bad enough, but it was the anxiety she really hated. Transferring the money, dealing with the bureaucracy surrounding disability care, were challenges she could handle. The anxiety wasn’t from that. It was the old feeling of the bottom falling out of her world, the safety net gone.

She wanted to reach out to Rev, but he was at work. She’d do what she’d done before she’d met him. Pull herself together and use the strategies she’d taught herself, to rebuild the walls Palma’s cutting cruelty had just damaged. One of which was thinking about the people who cared for her, who were the foundation of her world.

Which now included Rev. She believed that.

“Vera?”

Bastion was in her doorway. His expression darkened at what he saw in her face, but she shook her head. “Just don’t. Not right now.”

Some people needed to fall apart in the company of others. She wasn’t one of them, and he knew it, so he put the bottle of Rolaids on her desk. “I’m sorry. I assume that was a family member? Snotty voice aside, she sounded like you.”

“Yes.” Emotion made her voice throaty. “I have a one o’clock, to go over a contract with Earl Livingston.”

“Should I push it to another day, or give you an hour?”

“Two o’clock is fine if that works for him. If not, reschedule to his convenience. Thanks, Bastion.”

“All right.” He gave her a hard but understanding look. “Buzz if you need anything else.”

He closed her door without having to be asked. She sank into her guest chair, and put her face in her hands. Eventually, she would try steady, meditative breaths, good thoughts, prayer. Call Rev up in her mind, in full, wonderful detail. But right now, the tears pushed forward, and she wouldn’t deny them.

A cathartic cry, for what couldn’t be helped or fixed, would give her the strength to get back up. After that, she’d fix her face, and handle the bank transfer.

“Vera.” Cyn came in without waiting for a response to her urgent knock. Seeing Vera’s tear-streaked cheeks, she stopped short. “You’ve already heard?”

“Heard what?”

Bringing her phone over to Vera, she pressed the replay button on a news video.

“…shooting at Roberts Middle School happened at 9:40am. We’re getting reports that at least one teacher has been killed. Several students and a custodial worker have also been shot. Police are holding the names of the victims until the families can be notified. The shooter was a 14-year-old male?—”

Vera bolted from her chair, grabbing her cell phone off her desk. She tried the burner she’d given Rev, but it wasn’t on. Mavis’s went straight to voicemail, no surprise. She didn’t have Beau’s number, something she’d correct later, but there was no use trying the school number. A million parents would be trying to get through.

Skye showed up at the door, using her recording software with flying fingers. “He’s at UMC.”

Later Vera would realize she’d never thought “custodial worker” meant anyone but Rev. Not that Beau was any less brave, but as she’d already learned, Rev had a way of being at the right place at the right time to prevent a tragedy from becoming worse than it already was. If he was close enough to try and protect the students, he would have stepped between the shooter and his targets, no matter that he was unarmed.

Bastion was back, the keys to Cyn’s truck in his hand. “Ros and Abby are still at their meeting in Baton Rouge, but I’ll let them know.”

“Wait until we know his status,” Cyn said. “There’s nothing they can do until we know more. Skye will handle things here.”

Vera had presided over her share of memorial services. When it was someone’s time, it was time. But right now her spiritual acceptance of death as a part of life had zero room inside her. Rage and fear had sharpened into a weapon she fired at the Universe. Don’t you dare take him from me.

Cyn had pulled Vera’s purse from her drawer and handed it to her. When Vera reached the door, Bastion and Skye stepped aside to let her pass, though Skye gave her a brief embrace and a steady look. Bastion used the cover to snag Cyn’s elbow. “She got spun up from a call from her family a few minutes before you came in,” he said, low. “As insane as this sounds, she might need your help keeping it together.”

“I’ve been known to keep my temper,” Cyn said, her brown eyes like stone. “Except when someone needs their ass kicked. I’ll have her back, either way.”

“I know it.”

Cyn wasn’t much on PDAs, but Bastion squeezed her arm, his worried gaze following Vera. “Keep me posted. Anything she needs.”

“Yeah. And you already know?—”

“If Ros and Abby need to be called, they will be. Go, Cyn. She could run track in those heels right now.”

“Karman Leone,” Vera said at the ER desk. “He goes by Rev.”

The admin typed in the name and reviewed the screen while Vera did her best not to yank it around and read it herself. “He’s out of surgery and in recovery,” she told them. “You can go up to the waiting room.”

As soon as the woman told her where it was located, Vera was headed for the elevator. Cyn’s long legs helped her keep pace. “They don’t have him in the ICU,” her friend pointed out. “That’s a good sign.”

Yes, it was. He’s alive. But it didn’t reassure her enough. She needed to see him.

Cyn stood close enough to her in the elevator that their shoulders brushed. Their relationship could be contentious, because even as close as they were, Cyn saw Vera as an authority figure, and her dysfunctional subconscious was predisposed to needle her, even without provocation. But right now, Cyn projected nothing but unconditional support, which included the willingness to go full-on pit bull. Whatever Vera needed was what she’d provide.

Vera expected nothing less from her, but she stomped the surge of emotion it caused, trying to break through her wall of control. She didn’t know what was ahead of them, but she would figure out what Rev needed before she’d indulge her own reactions. That was what Cyn and the others were used to from her, because that was the way Vera was. It wasn’t an act.

She thought of him in her home, stretched out under her touch, his eyes upon her as she painted his skin. They’d have seen the henna when they worked upon him. Did they know it had been put upon him by someone who wanted him marked as her possession, with her protection?

With her love. New though it was, she couldn’t deny its existence when it was pounding in time with her heart.

When they reached the waiting room, she saw Witford and Tisha sitting in two of the chairs. His cousin’s lips tightened, and Tisha’s expression went stony. Witford rose and turned to the hospital volunteer sitting at the desk.

“This woman isn’t welcome,” Witford said. “She can’t see my cousin.”

“That’s not your call.” Cyn’s posture was a sword halfway out of a scabbard.

“We’re his family,” Tisha said. “She’s not.”

A dangerous reaction gripped Vera, but before she could unleash it, she saw Mavis coming down the hallway. Which meant Rev was okay enough to receive visitors, though probably only one or two at a time, explaining why Tisha and Witford were out here.

“Thank goodness.” Mavis clasped Vera in a light embrace and whispered in her ear. “He’s all right. Take a breath.”

As Vera did, gripping Mavis’s forearms, the woman drew back and looked toward Witford. “I’m so glad you called her like he asked you to do.” She glanced back at Vera. “The nurse said he’s been asking for you since he woke from surgery.”

The volunteer at the desk, a retiree in a pink smock, looked like she routinely handled families in crisis. Or in this case, conflict. She’d been following the conversation, as her words now proved. “Sir,” she said briskly to Witford, “your cousin is awake and stable. He can choose who he wants to see. That said,” she looked toward Vera, “I should verify with the nurse he’s asked to see you. Name?”

“Veracity Morgan,” Vera said stiffly.

Witford curled a lip. Tisha’s gaze held hate and revulsion. Neither was bothering with a facade for their true feelings.

As Mavis drew Vera a few steps away for a private conversation, Cyn slid into the line of sight between her and Rev’s family. Whatever Witford saw in her expression had him returning to his chair beside Tisha, though with plenty of attitude. If there’d been a target painted on her, Vera couldn’t have felt the thrown knife of his gaze more keenly.

It told her how rattled they were, but it didn’t throttle back her urge to react in kind. She had enough anger to pull it out and use it on the bastard herself.

The nurse said he’s been asking for you since he woke from surgery.

“What happened?” Vera asked Mavis.

“A troubled boy, Craig, brought a gun into the school. He shot four students and Janice Cuddy.” Mavis suddenly looked so overcome that it was Vera’s turn to put a steadying hand on her shoulder. Mavis gripped it tight.

“They’re all mine, Vera. Rev is, too. They’re my responsibility.”

“And you take care of them,” Vera said. “You can’t be in every child’s mind, anticipating every problem they’re facing or how they’ll react to it.”

“I know. I know. God, Vera.” Her face crumpled. “Janice is dead. Two of the students are in critical condition.”

Oh, Goddess. “I’m so sorry, Mavis.”

Vera leaned in and pressed her forehead to her friend’s. “You breathe with me. We’ll handle all of it, but let’s take a moment.”

Mavis’s head moved in a slight nod. When she lifted it, they were both in a better place. Vera had better control of the urgent need to bolt down the hall and find Rev, refusing to let anyone stand in her way.

“I talked to one of the two students who was less injured,” Mavis said. “She was shot in the leg but will be fine, thank God. She was lying just inside the classroom door, and saw what happened after he shot Janice.”

Mavis’s lips twisted. “She admitted she recorded it on her phone, which she’d had hiding in her bag, the little miscreant. I gave it to the police.”

“Tell me you transferred that file to your phone before you handed it over.”

“I did. But you don’t need to see that, Vera. Watching it once was more than I ever wanted to see.”

She wasn’t eager to see it either, but she needed to do so.

Recognizing it, Mavis cued up the file and transferred her earpiece to Vera’s ear so she could hear the audio without anyone else doing so. Then the principal stepped away, proving she’d meant it. She never wanted to watch it again.

Vera turned toward the window to conceal her own reactions as she watched the nightmare unfold.

When the girl had started recording, Craig was still in the classroom, so Vera saw a few seconds of static images, a portion of her leg and the door jamb. Then Craig stepped over her. Though the phone shook with the girl’s trembling, he ignored her. Vera saw his sneakers, the frayed cuffs of his jeans. The erratically moving camera lens shifted up, capturing his back, the tilt of his head and movement of the gun in his hand. He was wearing a hoodie with a stark white grim reaper on the back.

Jagged steel jammed into her chest when Vera saw Rev. He shepherded children past him, sounds of pounding footsteps and screaming bouncing off the hall lockers, drowning out everything else. Until Craig turned toward the exit and raised the gun. Rev called out Craig’s name, in that resonant, seize everyone’s attention way.

When Craig spun toward him and the gun went off, Vera’s heart leaped into her throat, almost choking her.

Though blood appeared on his upper arm, Rev didn’t flinch. He started to move forward. Calmly, as if none of this was happening.

“Craig, you all done now. You need to just lay it all down, boy.”

“Go away. Just leave me alone. I want everyone to leave me alone.”

He fired and Vera jerked as if the bullet had hit her. A gasp caught in her throat, a tiny protesting moan, as Rev stumbled a little. Blood welled up on his neck.

“Oh Goddess…” She was in a chair, which was good, because her knees had given out. Mavis was next to her, Cyn on her other side, a firm hand on her shoulder. Her friend was keeping a watchful eye on Witford and Tisha, while also watching the video over Vera’s shoulder. She’d probably made sure Vera ended up in the chair instead of on her ass on cold hospital tile.

Rev straightened and walked up to Craig as if the boy had shot a water gun at him. He murmured something that was lost, but his body language said it was a reassurance. When he took the gun from Craig’s hand, it went off again. Rev jerked once more, but he wrapped his other arm around Craig and brought him to his chest. “You okay. You did a bad thing, but we gonna help you find your soul again.”

Mavis stared out the window into the parking lot, but she had her arms wrapped across her. Her fingers were a metronome, ticking off moments against her rib cage.

Craig fought him some, but when he gave up, he collapsed against Rev. During that time, Rev had put the gun on the ground and kicked it away. Beau arrived then, picking it up. The screen wobbled and fell against the girl’s leg, offering a view of the classroom. Vera saw the teacher, her head down on her desk as if she’d decided to take a nap. She was grateful that was all she could see. Vera expected the girl had passed out, another small mercy.

She handed the phone back to Mavis. The pressure of Cyn’s hand on her shoulder increased. Vera was sure her friend could feel the volcanic eruption building within her. If that volunteer didn’t get a favorable response from the nurse, she wasn’t waiting. She’d break Witford’s legs to get to Rev.

“What happened after that?” Her lips felt numb.

“When the police arrived,” Mavis said, “Rev was coming out of the school, holding Craig against him. He told them Craig was the shooter. He was so calm they thought the blood wasn’t his. But the boy had blood on his face. That was the first indication they had that Rev had been hit. The second was when he collapsed while telling the police where the other kids were, and about Janice.”

“Where was he shot?” Vera’s voice sounded hollow in her head. Palma’s call had caused an ache in her gut. This was drilling a hole to her spine.

“Upper abdomen, but close to the outside. Missed anything important. The other bullet grazed his neck. Craig was drunk. He’d gotten into his father’s liquor cabinet. He walked up to Janice’s desk and shot her. She tried the most to help him. It never makes sense.”

Mavis’s voice shook again. Vera and she sat holding hands, until she could continue. “Then he turned around and started firing. If he’d been sober, he might have had better aim. Though if he’d been sober, he might not have done this at all. When he came into the hallway, he’d just loaded the gun with a new magazine. He could have used ten more bullets if Rev hadn’t stopped him.”

“Yes? I’m calling about Karman Leone. There’s a woman here he’s asking for, and I’m just confirming.”

Vera’s head snapped around as the volunteer finally connected with the nurse. By the time she’d thanked her and hung up, Vera was standing over her.

“You can go on back,” she told her.

“You need company?” Cyn asked Vera.

“Only one at a time,” the volunteer said, though the last word hitched when Cyn gave her a baleful stare. Vera put a hand on her friend’s arm.

“I’m all right. Promise. Um…” She rubbed her forehead. “We need to fire Henrietta before the end of the day and get an exit interview if we can. Watt’s working from home for the next few weeks because of his mom’s chemo.”

“Story was what I thought, right? She got her panties in a bunch over the rejection and decided to be a conniving bitch. It backfired on her,” Cyn said shortly.

“Yes.”

“I’ll take care of it with Skye. She has access to all your forms and HR procedures. Focus on this.” Cyn met her gaze. “Go let him know his Mistress is here for him.”

Vera nodded and hugged Mavis once more. “I’m here if you need me,” she told the principal. “We all are.”

“Same goes,” Mavis said, despite her own hollow-eyed state. “He’s tough, Vera. He’ll be all right.”

She ignored Witford and Tisha and headed down the hallway. When she reached recovery, she was directed toward a curtained area.

Vera stopped, feeling lightheaded. If she passed out and they had to tend to her before she could see Rev…well, that was unacceptable.

Steadying herself, she looked through a crack in the curtain and saw him. His eyes were open, and he was looking for her. As soon as he found her, his hand was out, reaching. He sat up, his feet swinging to the floor. The crazy man was getting up.

She needed to stop him from doing that, but she also wanted to be in his arms before another breath was drawn, but she couldn’t seem to increase her pace. She was swimming through quicksand, like one of those dreams where she couldn’t get to someone in trouble, no matter how hard she tried, or how much she called out.

She wasn’t that kind of person. She kept it together in the worst circumstances. Especially when someone needed her.

He’d pulled off the things they’d stuck to him and was moving toward her, his gait stiff but steady, his back straight. The machines monitoring him were beeping angrily, but he was indifferent to them. Then he had his arms around her.

She pressed her face against his throat, that wonderful pulse beating against her. He was holding her up, she’d realize later, holding her with those strong hands as she held onto him. The fabric of the hospital gown was an annoying barrier, but she could feel his body, vibrant and alive .

The roaring in her head faded as she put her hand on his chest and found his heartbeat, the energy coursing through that chakra an unstoppable current. He stroked her back.

“I’m all right, Veracity. God and I, we get along good, but if he has plans for me, I done told him I need some time with you, that you need me, too. We need that time.”

When she finally eased back, her hand ended up resting on the bandaged part of him beneath the gown. Just above his waist, close to the outside, as Mavis said. They’d put a bandage on his neck, too. She noticed a cut on his arm that they’d dressed with a topical ointment.

“Let’s get you back to your bed before the nurses throw me out.”

“They not going to do that.”

But a moment later, a nurse pulled back the curtain. The blond fortyish woman had a hawk’s hooked nose, broad hips and an insistent look on her face. “I’m going to lie down now,” Rev told her, heading off her protest, “but this woman, she gonna stay with me.”

“Is she family?”

“Yes,” he said.

Veracity saw he wasn’t making up something to keep her there. It was how he felt. What that made her feel weakened her knees again. “You moving me into a room anyway. She can go with me there.”

“But our policy?—”

“The choice is she stay with me, or I sign one of them forms and leave,” he said steadily. “I not trying to be hard to get along with, Nurse Amy. But this is the way it’s gonna be. She won’t get in the way. She’s efficient and smart, like you.”

Nurse Amy fisted her hands on her hips. “You think a handsome man giving me compliments will make me overlook proper care for one of my patients?”

“No ma’am, not at all. I’m telling you she’s the best thing for me right now.”

Nurse Amy fastened a pale blue gaze on Vera. “If you being here means I don’t have to tie him to that bed, you can stay.”

When another nurse called to Amy, asking for help, Vera muttered, “I can take care of that part myself, I promise.”

Rev’s chest hitched with a half-chuckle. But she noticed he flinched at whatever that chuckle made his body do, and when they moved toward the bed, he did have to lean on her some. She was fully on board with Nurse Amy on getting his ass back into the bed.

The nurse returned seconds later to replace the monitoring lines. “They’ll move you to a room in about a half hour,” she said. “Try not to cause me any more trouble. I’ve got plenty of patients worse off than you.”

“Yes’m. I got everything I need now.”

Once he was assured Vera was going to stay, a weariness had grabbed hold of Rev that made him seem to sink even further into the bed. His eyes closed, though his hand remained wrapped around hers. Filled with worry, reminding herself that he was fine, Vera held onto it.

She sent a text to Cyn and Mavis, giving them their status, then she held that large hand with both of hers, occasionally brushing her lips over his chapped knuckles as he dozed. When his chest hitched, either from pain or something else, she moved her palm to his heart.

His eyes opened, confirming pain. Terrible, overwhelming, and not physical. It reminded her of his expression in the garden, before he knew she was there. His plaintive cry to the heavens. “I know,” she whispered.

“Mrs. Cuddy was a good woman. She had two kids, one in college, one about to graduate high school. Her husband and her been planning what to do with retirement, though she say she worried about kids not having enough teachers with good sense to teach them. I saw her. Folded over her desk like she was taking a nap, only in her own blood.”

The phone screen went through Vera’s head. She put her hand on his face, knowing her own reflected his anguish.

“And those two kids in bad shape… One got shot in the stomach. They say he’ll be having a lot of problems, and infection… God might take him anyway.”

He shook his head. “All that, but the worst of them all is Craig, because his soul is so sick. If he ever heal enough to know what he done, he’ll wish he was dead. I could feel him thinking about it, some part of him knowing. Thinking it would be better if he just go ahead and turn that gun on himself. God help me, I’m not sure if he not right, the hard road ahead of him.”

He lifted pain-filled eyes to her. “But then I think of what you said about reincarnation. He’d have to face the same things all over again that he didn’t figure out in this life. Wouldn’t he?”

“Yes. Suicide just puts it off.”

“That’s a hard thing.”

“Yes.” Their hands were in a knot on his chest, and she wanted to give him something for the pain he was feeling. He already knew so many of the things that could bring comfort in times like these, but the reinforcement from somewhere other than his own suffering heart might help.

“What would you tell Craig, if he realizes what he did?”

Rev’s eyes shadowed. “God’s love don’t falter,” he said slowly. “Even when we do the worst things possible. He’ll require justice, redemption and penance, but He never stops loving.”

“The ultimate tough love parent.”

“Yeah. Don’t give no quarter, but don’t leave you, neither.” Rev didn’t quite manage the smile. “You was having a bad day. I sorry. I made it worse.”

Surprise shot through her. “How in the name of all that’s holy can you know that?”

He treated her to his appealing lopsided smile. “I can just tell, Mistress. What happened? I don’t want to think of the other for a while. I’ll be praying on it a lot, but right now, it hurting my chest and making them bullet wounds burn.”

She told him about Henrietta and Wade’s issue, no names. He watched her as she ran through it. When she was done, he waited a beat. Then spoke. “What else?”

At her look, he added, “That’s your job. You know how to handle it. It give you weight on your shoulders, but you strong. You can handle weight. What I feeling from you on that…it like this bullet. Just something that happened on your way to fix a problem. But the other thing you haven’t told me about, that’s like the way I feel about Craig, Mrs. Cuddy and the kids. Something you don’t know no way to fix or make better, that just hurts.”

“I don’t feel like talking about it right now.”

“Okay. I just lie here and think about how bad I feel. No distractions.”

She narrowed her gaze. “How about I pinch you really hard somewhere that will be distracting? There’s a term called topping from the bottom, where a sub tries to get his Mistress to do what he wants.”

He sobered. “I not trying to do nothing like that. I teasing you, Mistress.”

“I know. My sense of humor has taken a battering today.” She sighed. “Fine. My sister called me. My father had a heart attack.”

Rev pushed up on his elbows. “You don’t need to be here, looking after me. Where they got him at?”

“It was ten months ago. He’s okay, but he can’t work. Palma called to guilt me into giving them money.”

He sat back, gazed at her. Then he opened his arms.

She lay down against him. She did it gingerly and stayed in the chair, only her upper body in his hold, but when he guided her head to his chest, and tightened his embrace, she could feel his desire to hold her close. Take her weight.

She laid her hand on that bandaged spot on his side. She thought about what would have happened if that bullet or the other had been closer to places that would have taken him from her.

He’d wait for her to tell him more, and wouldn’t push further. By holding her, he was letting her know she wasn’t alone with it.

“I’m giving it to them, of course,” she said. “They need it. But it dredges it all back up again. My family, my ex-husband, Donovan, they all wanted me to be someone I’m not. For my family, it was being their kind of Christian. For my husband, it was some of that, but we were just the wrong fit, and he wanted to give my soul a lobotomy to fix it.

“Bethany, my other sister, asked me why I couldn’t just pretend. Act one way around my parents and then just live my life the way I wanted when I got out on my own. When I met you, saw you in the church that first time, for one terrible minute, I thought about walking out, because I was sure I was setting myself up for it again.”

His arms tightened around her. “Glad you didn’t.”

“Me too. It felt like there were more things connecting us than separating us. That the things we’re different about don’t have to become a virus that infects the rest. That maybe it can all be part of the whole.”

“The whole what?”

She paused. “The whole way we love one another.”

“Did you just say you in love with me?”

He said it with humor, but when she looked up, his expression was far more intense. “Yes, I did,” she said. “And if you don’t feel the same way, I will smother you with a pillow. Even Nurse Amy won’t be able to save you.”

He stroked her cheek. “It was so easy to fall in love with you, I afraid it was too easy. That it wasn’t real. Or I was being like one of the boys at school, all caught up in a pretty face and a nice backside. Or front side.”

“Really?”

He swept her with a meaningful look. “Difficult to overlook those things on you, Mistress. You’s been blessed by the Lord in many ways. But I know what lust feels like, and I a grown man, knowing the difference. Nothing ever felt so real to me. And falling in love is easy, but loving, staying in love, usually isn’t. With you…I feel like every day it will be the easiest thing I do, loving you. So, I don’t want you to worry about that.”

“I don’t plan on being so easy to get along with all the time.”

“I didn’t say you was easy to get along with. I said you was easy to love.” He caught her hand as she threw a mock punch at his shoulder—though a very light and careful one—and held onto it. “Teena Joy used to say I got a stubborn streak when I think things need to go a certain way. So maybe we balance one another.”

“Maybe we do.”

His certainty filled her with something she had stopped believing in, though she hadn’t stopped looking for it. Acknowledging the dichotomy in that, she let him hold her hand in his bigger one, reassure her with that strength and his own certainty.

Which was when she realized why she was still feeling so anxious.

She was going to believe in his love, let herself fall as deep into it, explore every room of it, as she wanted. She was going to be all in.

She didn’t doubt his love. Or even her own feelings. No, she thought of him walking up to a boy holding a gun, to an angry bull. Chasing a criminal into the woods.

It wouldn’t be his love that was taken from her. It would be him.

But when she found the man she wanted to keep, she’d always promised herself, no matter what baggage she had, she’d give her heart, all of herself, to him. And she’d cherish whatever the Fates had given her, no matter for how long.

Ros and Lawrence, Skye and Tiger, Cyn and Mick; when they’d met, all three men had held dangerous jobs. Neil still did. Active SEALs had a harrowing mortality and debilitating injury rate. A truth that wasn’t easy on Abby, especially with her own challenges as a paranoid schizophrenic.

But they’d decided it was worth it. Probably because they felt the way she did now. No matter what Fate had planned, she wanted to lie here and just be with Rev. Hold his hand, talk to him, tease one another.

Tomorrow would take care of itself, and they’d handle it when it got here. For now, he needed her, as much as she needed him. They’d take care of each other.