“Thank you.” The woman took it.
“If you’ll excuse me for a moment,” Tina said, pushing her chair back. “I need to use the restroom.” She grabbed her purse off the back of her seat, then walked toward the back of the restaurant.
The bathrooms were located near the bar. She passed behind the customers seated on stools at the long, polished wood counter. The restaurant motif reflected an Old West saloon, with crystal chandeliers and beveled mirrors lining the walls. A musician manned an old upright piano in the corner, playing jazz tunes. She smiled as she entered the women’s room, desperate to escape work-related stuff.
She chose the stall at the end of the row, stepped inside, and locked the door. Vincent hadn’t called or texted all day. She checked email and missed calls. Nothing still. It didn’t alarm her too much, but a seed of concern had taken root inside her stomach. She responded to a text from Lily and liked a couple of posts on Facebook.
How could a doctor ethically deny responsibility for such a serious mistake? Medical science wasn’t a perfect art, but hell—Tina knew when to admit she’d screwed up. It boggled her mind and left her feeling more than grateful that she chose family law as a specialty. But the problem with working at such a large firm was dealing with an overabundance of litigation. Often the lines were convoluted because of a shortage of qualified personnel, and attorneys hired for one field of concentration were often assigned to other cases they had no interest in.
And she didn’t want to be forced to provide any kind of support on this case. Very rarely did she reject a client. Yet if she had a say in this one, she’d send the good doctor packing. She stashed her iPhone back in her purse.
Before leaving the restroom, she stopped in front of the mirror at the vanity to check her makeup. As she pulled her compact from her purse, she heard the door open but didn’t pay attention to who came in. She powdered her nose and applied a fresh layer of lipstick before deciding it was time to join her guests again. Couldn’t she blame a migraine for leaving early?
Just as she reached the door, a shadow moved in her periphery, then someone slammed her against the wall.
“Don’t scream,” Kline growled in her face. “Best to hear me out before you react.”
Fear and rage spiraled through her. The son of a bitch had crossed the line this time by touching her. Her hands trembled, but she sucked in a breath and looked him directly in the eyes. “Don’t touch me again.”
“If you’d paid attention to me before, I wouldn’t need to go to such extremes. Are you listening now?”
She swallowed and stared unblinking at the dangerous psycho in front of her, her back still pressed against the brickwork wall. Who knew what he’d do if she yelled for help? There were no windows in the bathroom and there was only one way out. Maybe if she gave him a chance to say his piece, he’d leave without further incident.
“What do you want?”
“At this moment?” He fingered a strand of her hair, conjuring a wave of nausea that made her want to throw up. “Say my name.”
“Mr. Barnes.”
“My. First. Name.”
And give him the satisfaction? She might be smaller than him, but she had guts and a whole lot of pride. “Fuck off.”
His face contorted and turned bright red. “You have no breeding, Ms. Bethel, bad manners, and obviously no respect for your betters.”
“My better?” She laughed. “Get out of my way.” She shoved him with all her strength, but he didn’t budge.
Instead, he gripped her left wrist, squeezing until she yelped. “There are two ways to do this,” he said calmly. “Cooperate or make me hurt you.”
Tina nearly cried when the door opened and two women entered the room.
“Hey,” the blonde in front said. “Are you okay?” She stared at Tina, then Kline, who refused to turn around.
“Don’t say a word,” Kline threatened under his breath. “You’ll regret it.”
“F-fine,” Tina lied. “He was just leaving.”
Kline shot her a last glazed look of desperation, then tucked his chin low, before he shoved his way out of the restroom. Somehow Tina managed to wobble to the loveseat across from the vanity. She dropped her purse on the cushion next to her, then covered her face with both hands. Tears streamed down her face, but she refused to make any noise. She could sense the presence of the other women, and a few seconds later, one of them gently tapped her arm.
She looked up through the blur of tears and saw a glass of water in the blonde’s hand.
“Drink this, sweetie,” she said. “Boyfriend trouble?”