Chapter 5
Chapter Five
One week later, seated behind her sterile steel desk, Gin watched Sawyer walk into her office. She could swear he moved slower each week, as if every movement and thought was being dragged out of a hole.
With a grunt, he sank down into the facing seat and frowned. “What’s with the extra chair?”
“You noticed. That’s something, at least.”
A tap on the door caught her attention. Gin looked up and felt as if she’d run smack into a tree trunk. “You,” she breathed.
“Gin.” Atticus stood in the door, and her world shifted sideways as his steely blue eyes met hers.
What in the name of heaven was he doing here? In her office? Where she worked? Trying to hide her reaction, she clasped her hands on the desktop.
He still looked at her as if she’d killed his prize horse or something.
Her anger sparked to life like a misfiring Bic lighter.
“Excuse me, but I’m in the middle of a session.” She had to be pleased that her voice remained even.
“I’m aware,” he said politely. “But the e-mail you sent indicated this time and this room.”
E-mail. The secretary had arranged for Sawyer’s brother to attend the session today. “You’re… You’re not brothers.”
“Yep.” His voice sounded like an iced-over gravel road. “Atticus Ware.” Without waiting for her invitation, he hooked the empty chair with his boot, moving it so he could sit beside his…brother?
Seriously? But now she saw the similarities between the two men.
Atticus had collarbone length, dark brown hair; Sawyer’s was the same color, clipped short.
The dark blue eyes were the same, as were the strong jawlines and long noses.
Sawyer had more bulk in the shoulders, Atticus was slightly taller and leaner and far more tanned.
They were brothers. No wonder Atticus looked familiar.
After a second, she realized he hadn’t been surprised to see her today. Not in the least. She straightened. “You knew. You knew that morning that I’d been assigned to your brother.”
She had a mind to throw her chair at him, the good-for-nothing snake.
“Sawyer mentioned his therapist was from the south,” Atticus answered curtly.
Humiliation washed through her, heating her anger further. She’d trusted him to tie her up. He’d touched her intimately, given her an orgasm. They’d shared something. But because she worked in a prison, he thought she was scum.
Even worse, he hadn’t explained who he was. “You didn’t think I should know you were Sawyer’s brother?” Her voice came out as sharp as the shards of betrayal ripping through her.
“Nope.” His unrelenting gaze stayed on her as he settled himself with his long legs extended.
When Sawyer snorted, she glanced at him.
Hmm… Rather than his usual slumping posture, he’d tilted back in his chair, legs stretched out in front of him like Atticus’s.
He was watching the…show. Nothing before had caught his interest. She’d even gone back and reviewed security tapes to see if anything had ever roused the man.
But now…
“Well, then, let’s begin.” She gave Atticus a stony look and folded her hands on the desk. “I’ve worked with Sawyer for a few weeks and—”
Atticus straightened. “You mean months.”
“No. I mean weeks. I’ve only been in California for about two months now.”
Atticus’s eyes narrowed as if he thought she was lying. Slowly, the animosity disappeared from his face. “Hell,” he muttered, rubbing his hand over his beard.
She remembered the feel of his beard and how… She gave her head a shake. The past was over. And she didn’t give a flying hoot what the man thought.
He wasn’t important and neither was she. Her concern was Sawyer. Soldiering on, she said in a cool tone, “Mr. Ware, I believe Sawyer feels condemned by everyone for what he did. He thinks he’s hated by anyone who knew Ezra.”
She set her emotions aside and opened herself to anything that might point her in the right direction. “Am I right, Sawyer?”
The animation faded from Sawyer’s face, his shoulders slumped again, and he angled away from his brother.
It was like seeing someone die.
She turned to Atticus and saw shock and dismay on his face. Then his mouth compressed and raw anger lit his eyes.
He surged to his feet.
Oh hellfire, what had she done? “Atticus—”
His glance of warning seared the words from her throat. Seizing Sawyer’s prison shirt, he leaned in to force a face-to-face confrontation. “You stupid dick.”
Sawyer’s face drained of color. He stared at his brother like a rabbit waiting to be slaughtered.
“You. Fucked. Up.” Atticus shook him with each word.
Gin started to rise, then realized Atticus was in total control. All anger had disappeared, leaving only resolve behind.
Hurried footsteps came down the hall, and the door opened. Gin held up her hand to stop the guard. Someone must have heard the shouting.
“You were drunk. And stupid. And driving,” Atticus grated out. “But Ezra’s alcohol level was even higher. If he’d taken the wheel, he’d have been as messed up.”
Sawyer’s eyes were wide and alive with emotion. “I killed him,” he said hoarsely.
“You made a choice. If you hadn’t swerved off the road, a family would have died,” Atticus said. “Remember what Mom said when we screwed up? ‘Nobody escapes this life without making mistakes. Some of them will hurt others.’”
“Yeah.” The single word was guttural and yet held a dawning hope.
“Yeah. After a screw-up, you fix everything you can, grab hold, and do better next time. That’s the mission, bro.” Using the shirt he’d fisted, Atticus thumped his brother against the back of the chair. “Am I clear?”
“Fucking Dom,” Sawyer said under his breath.
“Am. I. Clear?”
Sawyer wrapped his fingers around his brother’s hand, which still held his shirt, preventing another shaking. “Oorah, jarhead.”
“So says the SEAL.” The corner of Atticus’s mouth tipped up. “For the record, asshole, I don’t hate you; I love you. Don’t forget it again.”
He released his brother and straightened. He glanced at his empty chair and shoved it out of his way with his boot. The look he shot Gin was unreadable. “Interesting sessions you have, Gin. I’ll be seeing you again.”
Before she could respond, the door closed behind him.
See him again? The slimy dog had known she was Sawyer’s counselor. Had thought she was incompetent. After pulling in a furious breath, Gin looked at Sawyer. And stilled.
He had tears in his eyes.
Okay. Okay. Even if she’d only managed to speak once and hadn’t directed the long session she’d planned, Atticus had—had done the job.
Her brows drew together. How would she react if she believed someone had messed up her sister—if she had a sister? Considering how little Sawyer talked, maybe his brother hadn’t known about the change in counselors.
Putting Atticus out of her mind, she sat back in her chair, eyes on Sawyer, and watched the intervention start to work.