Hellfire (Sisters In Law Book 2) Read online

  "Judge, all I know is that the information is classified, so I can't speak to your question. Truth be told, I don't even have access to the information and I'm their lawyer. Classified is classified and I am not in that inner circle."

  "So you don't even know what it is your client is refusing to say? Is that it?"

  "Correct, Judge."

  Christine spoke again, rising to her feet to be heard. "Your Honor, I subpoenaed the deponent-pilot, Randall C. Cunningwood, to attend today. I saw him outside in the hallway when I came in. I would request at this time that I be allowed to put him on the witness stand and ask him my deposition questions--out of the range of the press. The court could clear the courtroom and include in the evidentiary portion of today's hearing only the lawyers for the DOJ and myself. Everyone else scoots outside. Then Your Honor could hear the testimony and decide if it should remain classified or not."

  Mattingly then took to her feet. "Judge, under the Classified Information Procedures Act, the government may ask the court to protect against the disclosure of classified information disclosed by the United States to any defendant in any criminal case."

  Christine responded right back. "Emphasis on criminal case, Your Honor, which is quite different. In criminal cases, where the government claims national security is at risk, the court can level the playing field by saying, 'okay this remains classified, but along with that I'm going to dismiss the indictment against the defendant.' That's not our case here, unless the court says, 'Okay, it's going to remain classified, but we are going to find, as a matter of law, that the facts alleged in the complaint are taken as true.' That would include that the defendant did wrongfully and negligently attack my client and her family. We get an automatic win on the issue and the government gets to stay silent. It's a win-win."

  Mattingly erupted as though poked by a fork. "Wouldn't she love that?! She wins on the issue of liability just because the nation's national security has been put at risk by her lawsuit? Absurd!"

  Judge LaJordia shook his head. "No, I think the nation's national security has been put at risk by the Air Force striking and killing forty-some civilians in Syria. I don't think you can blame the plaintiff's attorney for that, Ms. Mattingly."

  "Well Judge, I was only speaking metaphorically."

  "No, you were speaking quite literally. I disagree. At this point the court is inclined to preserve the question of national security and allow the Air Force to keep quiet on its classified information. Still, the plaintiff shouldn't find herself penalized for this. Miss al-Assad lost her entire family due to the Air Force's actions. The court finds, as a matter of law, that the Air Force was liable in the deaths of all forty-some named decedents. The only issue remaining then is the issue of monetary compensation to Miss al-Assad. Trial will proceed on that issue only. So ordered. We're adjourned."

  He rapped his gavel and left the bench.

  Christine sat at counsel table, stunned. Beside her sat Sevi, who wore a puzzled look that had replaced her normally calm countenance. "Chris, what happened?"

  Christine dropped her Illinois Civil Practice manual into her shoulder briefcase.

  "You won. We won."

  "We won? How much did we get?"

  "We have to have a trial on the issue of damages. That's in October."

  By now the reporters in the courtroom were clamoring for a statement from Christine or Sevi or both.

  Christine turned and pushed open the gate separating the spectators from the litigants and counsel.

  "Let me just say," Christine began, raising her hands to speak, "we are gratified with Judge LaJordia's ruling here today. His ruling has put the United States military on notice as to further drone attacks: You may or may not be attacking combatants legally, that's for another day. But if you murder innocent civilians in the attack, you will be found liable and you will be forced to pay damages. After all, this is America, whether it's acting inside the borders of the fifty states or clear around the world in Syria. American law doesn't change, the military doesn't get open season on innocents. Needless to say, we're elated. Now we have to wait until October to find out how much Sevi al-Assad is to be awarded."

  "What about others like her?" said the reporter from the Tribune. "Won't this open the floodgates to other litigation against the military and government?"

  Christine smiled. "I certainly hope so. The United States wasn't created to go roaming around the world killing civilians at will without consequences. So, yes, I hope others do follow us into court and bring their cases."

  "Miss al-Assad," said the reporter from the Daily Sun. "What about the money? How much are you asking for?"

  Sevi took the question head-on. "Enough to give each of my relatives an honorable burial and a respectable headstone."

  "That's all?"

  "I'll leave that up to the jury," said Sevi.

  "Are you after anything else?"

  Sevi shook her head and turned away.

  "No. Nothing else."

  32

  He came to her house that Friday night after work. Jamie was at the movies with his girlfriend and Janny was at a classmate's sleepover in Palatine. So the house belonged to Christine.

  She answered the front door on the first chime of the doorbell. To say she was excited to see him didn't adequately express the excitement she felt.

  He came inside and extended his hand. He was carrying a single rose, a small tube of water on its distal end, the bloom full and fragrant.

  "Let this express how I feel. Better than words, no?"

  She accepted the gift.

  "It speaks volumes. Here, come into the kitchen with me. I'm cooking pasta."

  He then quickly came to her and encircled her with his arms before she could turn away. He reached with his hand and tilted her face to him. He brushed his lips against her forehead.

  "I am so happy to see you," he said. "It makes my whole week."

  She laid her face against his shirt. A discernible male fragrance mixed with a dot of aftershave found her senses and she closed her eyes. He kissed her hair and tightened his arms around her.

  "Let's eat first," she whispered. "We have hours ahead of us."

  "No," he replied. "Let's not miss this opportunity to be together. Take me to your bedroom."

  She turned off the stove as she felt herself yielding to his desire. She turned her face up once again and pushed her mouth against his. His lips parted and he tasted her mouth. His hips pressed forward and she could feel him move against her, wanting, desiring, even demanding.

  "It will be our first time," he whispered. "I want it to be unhurried, a time for us to hold on and become better acquainted."

  She pushed away and took him by the hand. She led him to the stairs and went ahead of him, her hand behind and pulling him after her. But he didn't need her assistance. He was only too anxious to stay close and be with her. She knew it was time.

  Christine's bedroom was at the far end of the hall. Double doors guarded her private sanctuary when she needed to be alone, away from the kids and their friends, away from clients, calls, and demands upon her. Inside the doors, Ed found himself looking at an L-shaped configuration. Her room was divided two-thirds along the vertical of the L and one-third along the horizontal. Except he didn't have time to take it all in. The smaller room contained a chaise lounge--evidently for reading or plain old staring out the floor to ceiling windows--small table, and a floor lamp turned to low. The larger room contained a massive bed, two nightstands, huge flat screen, and a full wall of closet doors. A darkened bathroom lay to Ed's left; the smaller room lay straight ahead and to the right.

  She immediately turned to him and pulled his arms around her. She moved up against him and urgently pressed her pelvis against his. She was wearing a white silk shirt, a slipover, and she raised her arms, indicating he should remove it, which he did. Now he reached behind and unhooked the black bra. Her breasts spilled forward and found his eager hands. He touched her and dropped his head t
o her. His lips moved against her and she arched her back with a small gasp. She had felt none of these feelings since Sonny's death. Even the one night with Hussein in Ankara had meant absolutely nothing about feelings. That had been about business. But now, here, tonight, she was all in. Ed suddenly came upright and lifted her from her feet.

  He moved her to the bed and placed her on her back. She lifted her legs while he slipped away the khaki slacks she'd been wearing. Then he dropped to his knees and approached her with his mouth. He pulled the filmy panties aside and--

  "Wait," she said. "Come up here to me."

  He climbed up onto the bed.

  "Now, kick off your shoes and pants."

  He obeyed.

  "Now the underwear."

  He was wearing Jockey mini-briefs and he removed these with a single sliding move of one hand. He tossed them to the floor.

  Now she reached across and took him in her hand. She caressed him and encircled the head with her good hand. She massaged him until he was ready. He used protection.

  "Now," she spoke, and spread herself open to him.

  He entered her and she shuddered. His lips found her ear and he said softly, "I have wanted you since that first day. You are the definition of desire and female-ness. I have dreamed of this moment."

  She closed her eyes and felt him begin moving against her. He was slow and giving like the Ed she had imagined he would be. Which relaxed her even more. He was the man he had presented to her. He was tender and gentle and considerate. And he was experienced.

  He paused and reached beneath her hips, lifting her to him, and in the same moment he rose up to his knees and gazed down at her.

  "You know I love you," he said.

  "I know," she said. "And I--"

  He plunged deep inside.

  "I--I--"

  Even inside her, he was experienced enough to find her clitoris with a gentle probing finger. He knew enough not to touch it directly, moving along its tiny shaft, bringing her along with him, and then releasing and plunging himself even deeper inside her body.

  * * *

  When it was over, they lay languorously side-by-side. She absently toyed with him and traced his hairline with her fingertips. He pressed his lower half against her and absorbed her heat. Then he came up on an elbow and touched his lips to hers.

  "You were saying?" he asked. "Your feelings?"

  "You are my love, my happiness tonight. Isn't that enough?"

  "It is. You are."

  She refocused her gaze, looking beyond him to the ceiling over her bed.

  "There's a part of me that still wants to cling to Sonny. But that part is growing smaller as this new part becomes larger. Please, just be patient with me. It's all good."

  "There's no hurry. I can express myself freely with you. This is a safe place to be and that's all that matters."

  She again moved her focus to his face as he lingered above her.

  "Come to me again," she said. "I'm not done with you."

  "Then we are thinking alike."

  "And that is good," she said with a sudden gasp as he moved against her.

  Good, she thought, and she floated back to that place where she saw only his eyes and thought--even for an instant--she saw his soul.

  And it was good.

  And it was safe.

  33

  Hussein was driving, Sevi was pressed up against the passenger door, staring at the Chicago streets as they whizzed by. They were headed to a mosque where they had an appointment to speak with the Imam.

  "You told me I would lose," said Sevi. "But I didn't lose. I won."

  "But it's not over. You still haven't been paid for the deaths of your loved ones."

  "But they are going to pay me. Christine said so."

  Hussein slapped the steering wheel of his newest acquisition, a blue Volvo titled in the name of one of his many identities.

  "Going to pay you! Do you believe that, stupid woman?"

  "I am not stupid. I'm quite intelligent."

  "Maybe you have the books, it might be so. But in the ways of the world you are dumb, dumb, dumb!"

  "I'm learning America isn't what I first thought," said Sevi. "The judge was fair to me."

  "One time someone is fair and that turns your head? Are you kidding me here?"

  "He decided the Air Force was at fault. That's all I'm saying. In Syria a woman could never win her case against the military or the government. It's different here."

  "So--what? Are you saying you want to call off the bomb attack?"

  She swung her head around and stared at the side of his head.

  "Did I say that? Where do you get that from?"

  "Good; there are people who wouldn't like it if you called it off."

  "You're threatening me now? I'm the one who lost her entire family and you're threatening me?"

  "Hey," he said in a strident voice, "don't forget, I lost my wife to these animals too."

  "Maybe you should talk to Christine. My lawyer might sue them for you, too."

  "That would violate everything I believe in."

  "What do you believe in, Hussein? Murdering children?"

  Again he struck the steering wheel, this time hurting his fist. "No, no, no! I believe in avenging my wife's death and the deaths of your family. That is all I believe in."

  "Well...I'm not sure. My mind is changing. There, I said it."

  He swung around to stare at her full on. "You have been warned, Sevi al-Assad. There are people who won't let you just walk away from our plan."

  "And why is that?"

  "Because. For one thing, you know too much."

  "I plan to tell no one. I plan to just live my life and be left alone."

  He rubbed his hand back over his black hair. "That's not going to happen. The people I work with will not leave you alone. The plan is set. Now leave it be."

  She turned her face away from him. "It's not what I want. I want no more of killing. It's done."

  "I'll say when it's done! Since when do women tell men what is and what isn't?"

  "Since we came to America! That's since when. You don't own me over here like you do over there. I am free here!"

  "We will say when you're free. If you continue with this, I shall have to report you, Sevi. You have been warned now a second time. Don't make me tell."

  "Tell, tell, tell! You can all just go to hell!"

  "All right. I'm stopping this car. You will not go to the mosque with me."

  She picked up her backpack and slung it over her shoulder. "Fine. Pull over right here. I'll catch a cab back to work."

  He pulled over and slowed at the curb. "Jump!"

  She threw open her door and leapt from the still-moving car. She rolled onto her right side and twisted over onto her abdomen. The pain of the old injuries shot up and down her spine. Momentarily she was numb from the knees down.

  She pulled up onto her knees, but the frozen knee wouldn't bend, forcing her to stand fully upright before she was ready.

  At that exact moment, a black woman pushing a grocery cart stopped beside her.

  "Here, darling, take my hand," said the woman. "I seen it all. He pushed you out!"

  "No, he didn't push me. I jumped. Good riddance, I say."

  "That's good. Now hold onto my cart and catch your breath. Atta girl."

  Sevi stood at the cart, both hands along the horizontal push bar, breathing deeply and wondering how she was going to walk away without her cane.

  "I can't walk without my cane," she told the woman. "It's in his car."

  "Let me get you a cab," the woman said, and she stepped down off the curb into the parking lane. She began hailing cabs. The fifth one approached in the middle lane but then swung to the slow lane when the driver saw the hail. He pulled up and stopped. He was wearing a Sikh turban and smiled across the seat at Sevi.

  "Do you need help, Miss?" the cabbie called.

  "Yes."

  He punched on his hazard lights and opened th
e driver's door and got out. In a second he crossed to Sevi and took her forearm. "Let me help you. Easy now."

  With the black woman on the backpack arm and the cabbie on the other, the threesome made it up to the passenger door, which was opened, and Sevi sat down with a thump. Taking both hands she pulled the frozen leg inside and guided it beneath the dashboard. The cabbie slammed the door. The black woman waited beside the car.

  "You be careful, girl," said the woman. "Stay away from that bastard threw you out."

  "He didn't throw me. I jumped."

  "I seen it. Pushed you right out. You want, I can go to court and tell what I seen."

  "No, no need. I'm fine now. I just need to go--home."

  "What's the address, ma'am?" said the cabbie.

  Without thinking, Sevi gave him Christine's--and her--address.

  She was going home.

  Actually, she was home. And for the first time in months, she felt at home.

  At home with people who were actually good. Tears came into her eyes and she began sobbing as the cabbie pulled away from the curb. He plucked two tissues from a box on the console.

  "I know," said the man in the turban, "America rocks."

  "It rocks," she said. "I like it here."

  "You and me both, little sister. You and me both."

  34

  Sevi borrowed the cabbie's phone on the ride home. She was immediately connected to Christine and, through her tears, asked Christine to meet her at home. Christine said she would be right there.

  Christine found Sevi in the family room, sprawled across the couch with her feet up and a handful of ice cubes wrapped in a towel and secured around her frozen knee. Her right forearm was abraded and oozing where she had come out of the Volvo and landed on her right side, breaking her fall with the forearm. Tears washed through her eyes as she cried softly and moaned. Her abdomen hurt, she said, and she had vomited twice since arriving home.

  "What happened?" Christine asked. Her voice was steady with a hint of anger at whoever had caused Sevi's injuries. "Who did this?"