Janine was about to get to her feet, when something in my tone stopped her. She sat down once more. “What do you mean? Did something happen?”
I shook my head. “It’s nothing. It doesn’t matter, I’m fine now.”
“Why were you not fine before? What happened, Jesse?” Her firm tone indicated she wouldn’t let this go until she got a straight answer.
I didn’t have the energy to fight, so I just told her. “The guy I work for... Um, he kind of... hit on me. I left before things could escalate.”
Janine became very still. “What exactly did he do? Be specific.”
“He tried to kiss me, I shoved him away, and then he claimed I was asking for it because I was working without wearing a bra.”
She narrowed her eyes. “That’s sexual harassment.”
“That’s what I told him, but he said it wasn’t, and that he would ruin me if I tried to make this public.” I gave her a lopsided smile. “If he has a defense attorney as good as you are, I don’t stand a chance of proving sexual harassment. I did work without a bra because I didn’t think he would be there.”
Sparks of rage glinted in her eyes. “And that’s an invitation to unwelcome advances?”
“You tell me, Counselor.”
She pressed her lips together at my lame joke, staring dryly at me.
I waved a hand weakly. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t think I’ll ever get paid for the work I’ve done, but I would like him to return my tools. I left everything behind when I ran out.”
“You ran? I can’t picture a woman like you running, unless you felt you were in real danger.”
I relived those tense moments. I could still see the fury in Ben’s eyes.
“I did feel I was in danger, but he was the one who got hurt when I pushed him.”
Janine raised her index finger. “This won’t end here, I promise you. What’s the bastard’s name?”
I hesitated. “Ben McFarlane the Third. But listen, Janine, I don’t want a trial or any of that stuff—”
“Don’t you want justice?”
I watched her curiously. “I thought your job was to defend people like him.”
She rolled her eyes. “Everybody has that misconception. There are all kinds of defense attorneys, Jesse. And yes, sometimes we have to defend scumbags and make sure they get a fair trial. But I worked hard to have the luxury of choosing my clients. And I have a pretty decent sense of differentiating the ones who are innocent from the sleazeballs like this McFarlane guy.” A sarcastic smile curved her lips. “I took my soul back from the devil, and now I only defend clients who I truly believe are innocent. You’d be surprised to hear how many people are wrongly accused.”
The nurse opened the door and approached the bed. She had a bottle of fruit juice and a chocolate bar in one hand. She set the snacks on the bed next to me.
“Ms. Nielsen, how are you feeling?”
“I’m fine,” I lied. “Do you have any news about Sebastian?”
“I do.” She beamed. “The doc says Mr. Wright is stable. I also have permission from him to collect up to 500 milliliters ofblood from you, if you’re feeling okay. If we weren’t so short, we wouldn’t risk having you donate so much, but I’ll sit here and monitor you.”
Janine was about to say something, so I rushed to nod. “Yes, Nurse, I’m feeling fine. You can take as much blood as you need, honestly.”
“What does this mean about my brother, Nurse?” Janine asked. “Can you tell us what else you know, please?”
“The trauma team has successfully stopped the bleeding,” the nurse said, “and he’s getting fluids intravenously. There doesn’t appear to be any internal bleeding, which is excellent. The X-rays show he has fractured three ribs and his left shoulder is dislocated. Most importantly, there’s no sign of head injury, other than a mild concussion—which I can tell you is nothing short of a miracle. Mr. Wright is conscious, and he asked about the two of you. He says you’re not to worry. And to you, Ms. Nielsen, he added that you can sell whatever is left of the motorcycle, and he swears never to set his butt on another one again.” She winked at me, straightening her back. “We’ve also received some blood from another hospital, so they’re taking him into surgery right now to repair the femoral artery. The rest of his injuries are not life-threatening, and they will deal with his shoulder while he’s under anesthesia. The ribs have to heal on their own. As soon as you’re done donating, I’ll rush this to the OR.”
Janine placed a hand on her arm. “Thank you so much, Nurse. How long will the surgery take?”
The nurse creased her forehead. “It depends, but I would say at least two hours, possibly more.”
“And then we can see him?” I asked hopefully.
