“True,” the doctor says. “But people would be disgusted that his thugs nearly killed a young woman to keep his staff from making ends meet, especially since he lives so ostentatiously. Do you think the teamsters who truck in his supplies will keep doing it if this story blows up? The contractors who maintain his equipment are probably union too. Do you think people will feel comfortable spending money in his casino with the picture of your abuse plastered all over the walls?”
“No one cared before,” I say quietly. “When it first happened. It wasn’t even a blip.”
“Carney’s people suppressed the story, most likely. You need someone who isn’t on his team. Try Alannah Brecht at the Globe. She’s a friend of mine and she’s done a lot of work with the Spotlight division. The same group who did the expose on the pedophile priests. That was a powerful group too, Sasha. Carney is powerful, but he’s not bulletproof.”
He straps an air cast around my leg and hands me a pair of aluminum crutches.
“The Cadillac of crutches,” he says. “They’re lightweight and have extra padding at the top so it won’t hurt your underarm.”
“I wish I’d had these for my broken leg,” I say, smiling. “Thank you, Dr. Smith.”
He pats my shoulder. “Don’t worry—James Carney will get the bill.”
I hop up and move to the door.
“Sasha,” he says.
I turn to face him.
“This won’t be easy. Please call me if you need me.” He presses his card into my hand.
I feel a lump rise in my throat and my eyes well up again.
“I have a feeling people haven’t been very kind to you. It’s making you doubt your abilities. It’s putting you in dangerous positions. You deserve to be safe. You also deserve to be happy, and it’s not a failure if the trauma you’ve endured makes it impossible to keep doing this work. If Trinity Casino manages to unionize, it’ll be quite the accomplishment, but even if Carney crushes the election, you have a lot to be proud of. Give yourself a break.”
I wish I could afford that right now, but hopefully soon. The reporter idea is brilliant. I wish I’d thought of it, but I’m grateful to have it regardless.
“Thank you.”
He pats my shoulder again. “I’m not trying to make excuses for Finn, but he was brought up in violence too. He’s a brilliant young man and I really hoped he’d break out from his father’s shadow. It’s a shame really. Still, I’m glad he brought you here.”
I am too, though Finn will probably end up regretting it. Dr. Smith holds the door open for me as I maneuver into the waiting room. These crutches are so much better than the ones I’d used before. It’s incredible. Everyone should be able to have nice crutches when they need them.
“Remember what I said. Keep off of it when you can. Ice and ibuprofen.”
I thank him again, as does Finn.
“Thanks for seeing her on a Sunday,” he says. “I appreciate it.”
“She’s a special young lady. I hope you can make sure nothing else happens to her.” There’s a parental edge to his voice that makes Finn shrink in a way I’ve never seen before. He shakes it off in seconds, smiling graciously at the doctor as he walks me out.
“I need to make a quick stop before I drop you off.”
What’s one more delay? I don’t want to stay with Finn, but I don’t want to go back to my house either. I don’t want him to know that, though. Still, I nod in assent.
He throws the car into gear and starts down Beacon Street.
10
Finn
We drive mostly in silence. The doctor no doubt asked Sasha if I’d been the one to hurt her. She wouldn’t have to lie, because I hadn’t, at least not directly. Besides, while I’ve been in my share of fights, I’ve never laid my hands on a woman.
Still, the look on Dr. Smith’s face when he’d brought her back out made me feel something I didn’t want to own up to.
Something that would make me beat the bloody hell out of P.J. now if he made threats against Sasha in front of me. Damnit, I need to get back in control.
This is not going the way I hoped it would. Sasha’s loyalty to the casino staff was clearly going to be hard to overcome, but I genuinely thought her loyalty to her brother would supplant that. What can I do in the face of ethics like that?
I planned on taking her home anyway—I’d kept her at my place with the intention of forcing closeness so I could find her weaknesses and get her to trust me enough to go with my plans. I’d found her weaknesses and I even think she trusts me. Something I don’t feel great about, to be honest—I don’t deserve that trust—but she won’t even give up one name.
And I hate how I admire that. How jealous I am of the people she’d die to protect.
But I’d meant what I said to Sasha. It’s not her protection I want, and I certainly don’t want her pity. I’ll find a different way to get what I want, by making the staff believe we’re working together. Or that we’re fucking. Whichever suits their narrative better.
If they think someone with morals as strong as Sasha can be corrupted, they’ll be less inclined to keep fighting.
I don’t want her to lose her reputation of integrity, but I don’t want her to die, either. Unethical decisions are sometimes necessary if the outcome is worth it.
I glance at Sasha as I pull in front of the Athenaeum. I don’t want to hurt her. That forced closeness impacted me more than I’d intended. Liking Sasha or admiring her wasn’t part of the plan.
And I didn’t expect to be so fucking attracted to her. When did she become more than just a means to an end for me?
But my personal feelings are irrelevant. There’s more at stake here than that. And Sasha will be able to move on once this is over. She’s resilient. She’s had to be. I’ll find a way to make it up to her once the union is struck down, even if it has to be behind the scenes.
There’s an open house at the Athenaeum. There’ll be all kinds of people there. People who will see us together.
“I have to return this book,” I say, pulling a small volume out of my pocket. “Have you ever been inside?”
She shakes her head.
“Come on,” I say. “It’s one of my favorite places.”
“I’m not dressed for a place like that,” she says quietly.
“It’s just a library.”
“No it isn’t.”
Okay, she’s right.
“Please?” I ask. “I’d like to show it to you.”
She doesn’t want to and I understand why. But that doesn’t matter. I walk to her door and open it up.
“It’ll be a quick trip,” I say.
She presses her full lips together.
“Sasha,” I say, “if you stand out, it won’t be for the reasons you think. You’re genuine, and sure you’re not wearing the latest fashion from New York but it’s more about how you carry yourself than what you’re wearing.”
“Finn, I’m on crutches. I’m wearing the same clothes I had on when your dad’s goon grabbed me on Friday. And you look like, well, that.” She gestures at me broadly. “How am I supposed to carry myself? Especially next to you?”