Chasing Vivi(30)

     



 

"You should sleep," I hear him say. I nod, relieved to be closing my eyes.

On Friday morning, I'm released from the hospital. I have to cancel my  interview, explaining how I was assaulted and beaten. Not a great story  to tell a potential employer.

Prescott picks me up, and as he's bringing me home, he suggests  something. "I told my grandparents about you yesterday. They were  worried about you staying by yourself, especially since Eric's gone  until Sunday. So Grand, that's what I call my grandmother, thought you  should stay at my place. I happen to agree with her, and she's always  right, so I'm offering."

My first thought was how did he know Eric was gone, but it's immediately  replaced by the idea of not wanting to stay alone. I've never been  frightened like this and before I can think, I'm agreeing to his  suggestion.





Chapter 18





Prescott





The bit about what Grand said wasn't one hundred percent true. She did  say it probably wasn't wise for Vivi to be alone. I sort of added the  other part. The combination of the way Vivi moves, slowly and with  obvious pain, and her battered appearance has me convinced she  absolutely shouldn't be alone.

When I got to The Meeting Place and saw her, so many emotions plowed  into me at once-rage at the one who did this to her; fear for her  well-being; worry, anxiety, helplessness-too damn many to name. A tidal  wave swept me away, and I had no way of stopping it.

Yet it was the moment outside the ambulance that almost shattered me,  and I fucking swear, that's when Vivi Renard truly cracked through my  impenetrable exterior and tapped into my heart and soul. I don't know  how she fucking did it, but every time I look at her, I hear her ask if  I'll hold her hand. How can the smallest gesture bridge the widest gap?  Break through the toughest shell?

"I'm ready." Her weak voice interrupts my musings.

"Let me do that for you. You shouldn't be carrying anything."

"Thanks."

As we cross over the threshold of my apartment, she asks, "Are those ice packs from the hospital in the bag?"

"Yeah, and we can get more if you want."

"No, those are enough. I didn't remember bringing them." Her eyes pinch at the corners.

"Hey, the doctor said memory loss for a few days is normal. You've been  through a very traumatic event. Forgetting about ice packs isn't a big  deal."

She's suddenly crying as she stands there. Fuck.

Dropping the small bag, I rush to her and wrap her in a gentle hug,  careful not to hold her too tight. "Go ahead and cry, Vivi. It's okay."

She grabs me with her good arm and hangs on. Sobs wrench her body and  I'm powerless to help my wounded Little Wolf. Other than the situation  with my dad, this is foreign as fuck to me. I awkwardly pat her hair as I  would a puppy. Consoling Vivi throws me out of my comfort zone. I have  no problems tying a woman to my bed and fucking her until she screams  out several orgasms, but not this. When her sobs ease a bit, I move her  to the couch and go in search of some tissues. Handing her some, she  thanks me.

"I'm so sorry I-"

"Don't apologize." I take a seat next to her and cover her hand with  mine. "You've been so strong, Vivi. After everything you've been  through, all the trauma, you need a good cry. Maybe even more than one."

"I hate to cry. I didn't even cry at my mom's funeral."

This conversation is getting too deep for comfort, so I change the subject. "I have an idea. How does a hot bath sound?"

"It sounds nice."

As I reenter the living room from starting the bath, I gather her things  and say, "You should stay in my room. And before you object, here's  why. There are no stairs to navigate, the big tub is in there, and I can  stay in one of the rooms upstairs. There's plenty of room here, so it  won't be a problem for me. I have all the bathrooms stocked with my  favorite things, so there's nothing to move. I can get dressed in the  closet, which is large, so it won't be a bother at all. If you don't  believe me, go in and check it out yourself."

Her fucking eyes are so swollen I can't read them. Eventually she nods  and I walk her into my room. It's large by any standards. There's a king  bed that faces a great view of the city and she'll be able to relax in  here if she wants.

"The closet is through here." I show her the way. It's basically another  room, outfitted with drawers, shoe racks, and a dressing table for his  and hers. "And then through there is the bath." I lead her to it. When  we enter, I see the bath is coming along, but not quite there yet.         

     



 

"When it gets high enough, just push this and it'll turn all the jets  on. There's a robe in here if you want and I'll bring your bag and leave  it in the room."

"Thank you."

"Just call out if you need me. I'll leave the bedroom door open so I can hear."

"That would be great. With this arm, I might need you."

My Little Wolf looks utterly dejected when I leave. Feeling helpless is  miserable. There's one thing I can do, though, while she's bathing.

In a few seconds, I'm tapping in a number on my phone.

"Mr. Beckham. What can I do for you, sir?" a crisp voice answers.

Unclenching my jaw, I say, "Neil, do you remember that incident I had your firm handle a while back regarding a Joe Delvecchio?"

"Yes, I do."

"It seems Mr. Delvecchio was released from jail and on Wednesday night,  he brutally assaulted Vivienne Renard." I explain in finite detail  everything that happened. "I want this handled properly this time. Put  your entire fucking team on it. I don't care how much it costs, how many  hours it takes, or how many people you need, but I want the D.A. to  have every resource available to help with this case. The bastard  could've killed her. Am I clear?" My hand holding the phone trembles.

"Yes, sir. I'll send somebody down to get on it immediately."

"No fuck-ups this time. Oh, and, Neil, if at all possible, I don't want  Vivi to have to go to court. If we can do this through affidavits or  recorded statements, do it."

"Sir, I'm not sure that will be possible, but I'll do my best. I'll get  someone down to talk to the prosecutor and the police right away."

A vein throbs at my temple. Inhaling, I say, "This never should've  fucking happened. No bail this time, or if you can't manage that, make  it sky high."

"Yes, sir. I'll follow up on that. Have the police interviewed her yet?"

"They were at the hospital, but I don't have all the details on that and I don't want to ask her."

"Where is she now?"

"Here with me. If they interrogate her, I want a member of your team  present. Vivi is  …  distraught and fragile right now to say the least."

"Yes, sir. Mr. Beckham, may I recommend something? In cases such as  hers, especially since this is her second attack, it might be a good  idea if she sees someone, such as a psychologist."

"I'll mention that to her."

"Victims suffer from PTSD and the sooner she talks about it the better."

"Good idea. You wouldn't happen to know anyone, would you?"

"As you know, my area of expertise is corporate law. My associate who  handles criminal law will know. I'll get with her and have her email  some recommendations to you."

"Thanks, Neil." Still unsatisfied, my body rumbles with anger. What it  needs is two hours in the gym, but I don't want to leave until Vivi is  out of the tub. I hover near the door, in case she calls out. My phone  rings, and it's Lynn.

"Where are you?"

Fuck. "I'm sorry. I forgot to tell you I wasn't coming in."

"Are you sick?"

"In a manner of speaking."

"Let me call you back." She hangs up and I know she's going into my  office where she can speak freely. About a minute later my phone rings  again and it's her.

"Hey."

"So?" she asks.

"I'm helping out a friend today."

"Excuse me?"

"Yeah. Something pretty bad happened."

"And you just didn't do your usual of sending someone over?"

"No."

"Are you okay? You sound off. Your dad didn't-"

"No, nothing like that. It's a friend. A female friend."

"Ah, the clouds are parting now."

"Lynn, it's not like that either. The truth is she was assaulted on  Wednesday night-literally had the shit beaten out of her-so I'm helping  her out."

"Good Lord, Prescott. I'm sorry."

"Yeah, me too."

"Is there anything I can do?"

"Fuck yes. Why didn't I think of you before? How fast can you get to my place?"

"Ten minutes?"

"Transfer your calls to your cell and come on."

"I'll be there as soon as I can."

I'm hovering by the door when the buzzer goes off. I let Lynn in and she says, "You look like shit."

"Yeah, and it's not the alcohol."

She takes off her coat as she says, "That didn't even cross my mind. You look like you haven't slept in a week."