Misty gazed back at Camden — this man whom she normally would never have a conversation with, someone she’d pass on the street and not feel worthy enough to nod to, and it gave her a measure of pride that he needed her. Yes, what he needed her for was her testimony, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered right now was that she was needed.
Her entire attitude changed. Not only could she do this, but she wanted to do this.
“When will it begin?” she asked. She couldn’t get out of this anyway, so she might as well accept it. The sooner it was over, the better.
“Soon. Probably a week or two. But for right now I’d like for you to tell me your story.” He leaned back.
“Just start talking?”
“Yes. No pressure, no one recording anything. Remember, this is informal today. We’re getting to know each other. You tell me your story, and then I’ll advise you of what comes next.”
“Okay,” Misty said, and she began. She would tell this stranger everything she knew about Jesse, everything she’d been an unwilling witness to during the year she’d been with him. A relatively short period of her life had shaped her more than she cared to admit, and telling this man about it was oddly freeing.
Chapter Seven
His doorbell rang at close to two in the morning, and Bryson didn’t even blink. He’d been waiting for this visit.
“You could have at least phoned me and let me know what in the hell was going on!” he snapped as he threw open the door, standing there in his sweats, a pronounced scowl on his face.
“It’s good to see you, too, Bryson,” Camden said cheerily as he stepped over the threshold of Bryson’s temporary home.
“I’m really not in the mood for small talk, Cam. What happened?”
“I think it’s better if you wait until the deposition, but what’s important is that she is feeling much better about testifying. I’d prefer not to put her on the stand. I think she’s strong, but this woman has been put through hell, and I mean the deepest, darkest depths of hell. I really don’t want to drag her back there, but I’m pretty sure she can handle it if it comes to that.” Camden walked over to Bryson’s liquor cabinet and helped himself.
“I don’t want to do that to her, either, Cam. I want to protect her. But to hear it coming from you, a lawyer who will do anything to win — well, I’m surprised.” Bryson joined his friend and poured himself a strong drink.
Camden ignored Bryson’s lawyer barb. “Hmm. I’ve never heard you say you didn’t want a witness to testify. Are you breaking your own rules and getting involved?” His eyes were twinkling.
“Butt out, Cam,” Bryson growled.
Camden laughed outright. “Whoa, this girl has you tied in knots.”
“That’s impossible. I hardly know her,” Bryson snarled, but his temper immediately dissipated, and he slumped into the nearest chair, suddenly exhausted.
“You may hardly know her, but I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this twisted up. Damn! Glad I came here to see this for myself instead of making an impersonal phone call.” Camden sat down across from him, looking far too smug for Bryson’s liking.
“I just…she’s different.” Why couldn’t he put his finger on what he was feeling?
“She most certainly is. If you aren’t interested…” Camden trailed off, but his message was perfectly clear.
“If you touch her, I will break both your legs.”
“You could try,” Camden replied, fully unperturbed, while Bryson felt as if he were walking a high wire and about to fall off — with no safety net anywhere.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you, Cam? I thought you were on my side.” Bryson jumped out of his seat and went over for a refill. This night was growing worse by the minute.
Camden and Misty had been at the meeting for far too long. Bryson had been pacing the house for hours, imagining all sorts of scenarios. For one, Camden was known as a lady-killer. Bryson trusted Camden to be professional, and it would ruin the case if his friend slept with a possible witness, but then again, Bryson also had no business sleeping with a woman he was charged with helping to protect. He could lose everything over it. For another, Camden didn’t know how Bryson felt. Well, obviously the guy did now!
“Wow. I could lie and say I’m not enjoying it at all,” Cam said, “but lawyers have a bad enough reputation for not being able to tell the truth, so I’ll be honest and say that your pain is my absolute delight. I can’t ever recall you so messed up over a woman. I do remember, in college, a Sandy something, and you wanting in her pants pretty desperately, but even that doesn’t compare to the mess you are in right now.”
“Yeah, if I remember right, you scored with Sandy first,” Bryson said. He didn’t care at all about that old college flame, but he felt he had to point out his friend’s horning in on what Bryson had dibbed his.
“Hey, you were the one who made the bet to see which of us could get her out on a date first.” Though Cam was defending himself, he was not proud of what an ass he had been back in college.
“She was the one known for chasing only the rich boys,” Bryson said, but he was also feeling guilty about the way they’d treated girls back then.
Women had been nothing more than a night of pleasure to them, and once the night was over, the guys had walked away shame-free. As he sat there, he realized that not much had changed in ten years. Pretty pathetic.
“Seriously, Cam, this topic is depressing the hell out of me. Why don’t you just tell me what you can, and then we’ll get some sleep and forget all about anything else that’s been said.”
Cam thought for a moment before nodding his agreement. “She was scared when I first approached her, very jumpy. By the end of the night, it was almost like watching a butterfly spread its wings. Something came over her, and confidence shone from her eyes. I was impressed, and you know that doesn’t happen too often with me.”
“No. You’re a very hard man to impress,” Bryson said with a chuckle, feeling oddly pleased, and proud of Misty’s transformation from the shrinking violet he’d first met. Of course, he had no right to feel those emotions toward his witness. She wasn’t his — didn’t want to be his — couldn’t be his.
It didn’t matter how many times he told himself this, he still wanted her, wanted her to the point that she was almost an obsession. It was irrational, and it was the reason he hadn’t allowed himself any physical contact with her in two months, until just a few days ago. He’d practically jumped to take the other case. And then he’d done nothing but think about her, and he’d eagerly agreed to go right back to watching over Misty.