Chapter 7
Donna glances nervously at her phone, the minutes ticking closer to the time she has to leave and start making her way back to the theatre. She'd left to do some promotional work, handing out tickets for Hamilton. The freebies had landed across her desk early this morning, arriving in exchange for her help networking some contacts, and now she's repurposing them, gifting the seats to some of Rockabye Hamlet's sponsors.
Mainly sponsors—with one exception.
She takes a sip of coffee, drumming her fingers over the crinkled white envelope. Technically, she isn't going against Harvey's wishes. He told her not to contact the Mayor's office for information, and she didn't. She called Maryanne to offer the tickets, that's all. But Stampler's assistant had jumped at a chance to get out of the building and suggested they meet. It would have seemed more suspicious to decline. Or at least that's what she's been telling herself to try and settle the unease gnawing at her stomach as she checks her phone again. Maryanne should have shown up twenty minutes ago, but there's been no sign of the woman, and if she stays much longer, she won't make it back to the theatre in time to meet Harvey. He's been adamant about dropping her off and picking her up after rehearsals, and going home together every afternoon is something she looks forward to each day, but if he arrives at her work first, he'll be furious she went out and didn't tell him. Even though she fully intends to fill him in, she'd rather do it when they're both alone and they can talk about it properly—not cause a scene outside her work.
She blows air into her cheek, draining the last of her coffee, and hoping Maryanne just got held up. She sounded stressed over the phone, probably why she'd been so eager to get out, but it's not implausible that the Mayor's assistant had become waylaid by a crisis. It happens. She knows that better than anyone, and there's no reason to suspect anything sinister is at play, but she does have to leave. If she hits any traffic on the way, then she's going to be cutting it close, and she reaches for her bag, stilling when a shadow suddenly looms over her table.
"Excuse me, Mrs. Paulsen?"
She turns in her seat, met by a twenty-something kid, shirt untucked and his suit not quite fitting properly. The guy kind of reminds her of Mike when he'd first started at the firm, only with a bigger build, and she glances around, confused by how he knows her name.
"Ryan Drake," he introduces himself in a fluster. "I'm so sorry I'm late. Maryanne got tied up, but she sent me down to collect the tickets for Hamlet."
An air of relief fills her, the explanation putting her worries at ease as she pushes a polite smile onto her lips. "It's not a problem."
"You mind if I join you?" He points to the coffee sitting in front of her. "It's been a crazy day, and I could really use one before I get these to Erica. She's been in a bit of a mood, if you know what I mean."
Donna can imagine. She's only met the Mayor's wife once, but the woman had seemed rather high maintenance, and while she's wary of the time, the scruffy kid could be the contact she and Harvey have been looking for.
"Sure… I can spare a few minutes."
...
...
Harvey leans pensively against the door to the cab, phone clutched in his hand as the thought of getting a driver—or better yet, his own car—flashes fleetingly through his mind. The task has been on his to do list before the case with ASYNCS blew up, but it's not the taximeter ticking over that has him on edge. Donna hasn't texted him, after promising she would message when the actors were close to finishing up rehearsals. It's become their new routine, and he's probably overreacting—she's just running a few minutes late, but it isn't like her to forget to check in.
He glances at his cell, about to call again, when the door to the theatre bursts open and a flurry of people bustle out descending the stairs. He searches for her in the sea of colours, his chest tightening when he spots Ethan without her. As much as he dislikes the two of them being joined at the hip, he's grateful she had someone hanging around her this week. But the actor's casual approach doesn't do anything to simmer his rising anxiety. "Where's Donna?"
Ethan stops, motioning to the group of friends he's with that they should go ahead without him, and that he'll catch the group up. When he's left alone with Harvey, he turns to the man with a confused look. "She went to do some promotional stuff, hand out some tickets, I don't think she's back yet."
"Dammit." Harvey grumbles, shifting his attention down the street to broaden his search. She hadn't said anything to him about leaving the theatre, irritation winding under his skin as he grows more worried.
"Harvey, what's going on?" He'd asked Donna the same thing multiple times, only to be brushed off with the excuse she's just been suffering pre-show nerves. He's not an idiot, and the reason she gave him doesn't fit. She's brilliant at her job, everybody loves her, including the producers, and she knows that... which means something else has been throwing her off. He thought her jitters might have been to do with her husband, that Harvey was going overboard with the whole jealousy thing, but the man standing in front of him seems more concerned than pissed off. "If there's something going on—"
"It's nothing," Harvey snaps, ignoring the Ken Doll look-a-like, and trying to reach Donna on her phone, again. He doesn't understand what the hell she was thinking, why she hadn't at least thought to text, but all he cares about is making sure she's safe, and he clamps his eyes shut when he reaches her voicemail for what feels like the fiftieth time.
Ethan watches the color drain from Harvey's face, and he isn't usually a confrontational person, but the reaction sparks his own worry and frustration, urging him to dig his heels in. He's not the same unknown name fighting for a job anymore. In the past few weeks, Donna's led him to find the confidence he needed to be himself, question people no matter what, and if she's in trouble, he's going to do everything he can to help. "Hey, you don't have to like me." He steals the lawyer's attention back with a firm glare. "I'm not crazy about you either, but this is about Donna."
Harvey squares his shoulders at the kid's bravado, but he doesn't know if his wife is in trouble or not. There are several reasons she could be late, and he isn't inclined to start a city wide search if she's just caught up in traffic. She'd promised him she would keep herself safe, but he also knows how stubborn she can be—more than him at times—and he bites the inside of his cheek, wishing Mike was here to bounce ideas with, and not some goddamn GQ model. "Did she say where she was going?"
Ethan shakes his head, no clue where she'd been headed. He hadn't thought to ask, assuming she'd be back before they wrapped up, but now he regrets not pressing her for more details "She was delivering some tickets around town, to some of our sponsors." He scrubs his face, trying to think, when the device in Harvey's hand suddenly gives him an idea. "If she's paired on your phone, you can track her GPS."
Harvey has no clue what the hell Ethan's talking about, but he unlocks the screen, prepared to let his ego take a back-seat as he hands the cell over, watching the man's thumbs fly over the keyboard. "Well?" he asks, impatience getting the better of him.
Ethan resists the urge to roll his eyes, relieved to find that at least Donna is more tech-savvy than her husband seems to be. "According to this, her phone's here." He turns the object around so Harvey can read the address, watching the man's face switch from panicked to slightly less aggressive.
"That's our apartment." He snatches the device back, staring at the little red dot, not sure what to make of the location when a message from Donna suddenly pops up on the screen.
Didn't mean to worry you. I have news. Meet me at home.
His body visibly sags, heat rushing his neck as he grumbles at the actor opposite him. "She's fine, thanks."
Ethan scrutinises him, still uneasy with the situation. He can respect the fact Donna won't tell him what's going on, and is even willing to be kept in the dark—he isn't looking to play hero—but he cares about her, and reaches for Harvey's arm, stopping the man from escaping into the waiting cab. "If you need me to keep an eye on her, I will."
Harvey firms his jaw as he shrugs himself free. The truth is, he could use the peace of mind. Donna would kill him if she found out Ethan was keeping tabs, but her safety is his first priority, and he answers with a sharp nod—the instruction to do whatever the man deems necessary, clear. He might not like the hot-shot actor, but he'll go to any lengths to keep Donna out of harm's way, even if that means protecting her from her own damn stubbornness.
...
….
The drive back to their apartment feels like a lifetime, and Harvey pushes through the door, mentally exhausted as he shrugs off his coat. Between his day trying to work out a plan with Mike and Rachel, then Donna's sudden disappearing act, all he wants to do is collapse on the couch with a whiskey to mellow his frustration.
He's sure she has her reasons, she told him as much in her message, but whatever news she has falls second to needing to get his eyes on her—prove to himself she's okay, and he kicks off his shoes, moving in search of her.
"Donna?" he calls out her name as he rounds the corner, his heart slamming his ribcage at the presence of a third person at their dining room table. He's never seen the man sitting opposite his wife, but he can sense something is wrong, and his gaze rushes over Donna, checking to see if she's hurt. From what he can see, she's fine, but the assessment doesn't alleviate his worry. Her tightly wound shoulders tell him she's scared, and he is too, but he does his best to reassure her with a casual approach to the situation. "I didn't realise we had company." He firms his jaw, refusing to be intimidated by the stranger. "You should've called, I would have picked up a bottle of wine."
Ryan shifts his attention from Donna to the smartly dressed lawyer. "Cute, Specter." Admittedly, he's surprised by the man's restrained demeanour—as much as he'd been thrown off by the redhead's insistence he'd made a mistake. It had taken the woman less than five minutes to piece together he wasn't a bumbling assistant fumbling his way through a carefully planned cover story. She had him pegged moments into the conversation but had played the part of a confused wife perfectly, until her phone had lit up with calls and texts from her husband—the man clearly worried about where she was.
An almost imperceptible flinch had urged him not to take any precautions, and he'd flashed the gun inside his jacket, well aware that even if she didn't know anything, he still had a job to do. She kept up the facade during their drive, remaining tight lipped and refusing to lure her husband home, but when they'd arrived at their destination, the GPS on her phone had pinged, the notification giving him access to the device.
He bated the trap, and now, here they all are.
Without any further stalling, he raises the concealed weapon from below the table, planting it with a loose grip on the polished wood.
Harvey stiffens at the threat, but he doesn't dare falter, used to reading a power move when he sees one. He's not in control, but the intruder wouldn't be here unless there was a reason, and he keeps his expression impassive, trying to skip the part where they pussyfoot around. "What do you want?"
"Well, I thought we made that clear." Ryan pushes himself up, gripping the metal handle as he moves behind where Donna is sitting. The couple may be playing hardball, but it's his job to make people crack, and he settles his hand against the back of Donna's chair with a smirk. "But obviously the two of you need some more incentive to get the message."
The intruder leans the gun over Donna's shoulder, and a blind rage tears through Harvey as he clenches his fists, keeping them low by his side. He doesn't meet Donna's gaze because he can't. One look would rip apart his resolve, and he needs to stay level-headed—not fly across the space separating them to God knows what end. "Who's we?" he asks hoarsely, flexing his fingers to try and channel his anger.
"Didn't Blaine tell you?" Ryan hikes up an eyebrow, fishing to confirm the problem he's been paid a substantial amount of money to deal with."I heard the two of you had a lovely little chat."
A fleeting sense of worry for Blaine rushes to the surface, but Harvey quickly pushes it back down. His only concern right now is Donna, and he'll try to protect the lawyer where he can, but not at the cost of his wife's safety. "Blaine told me to drop the case."
The answer is vague, neither confirming nor denying how much the man knows, and Ryan jams the gun into Donna's shoulder, showing them he's not here to screw around. "Well, it seems your wife didn't get that message."
Donna flinches, sick to her stomach and wracked with guilt over the true accusation. Harvey had warned her to steer clear of the Mayor's office and she hadn't listened, but she hasn't once let her involvement slip either. As far as Ryan knows she was simply dropping off tickets, a poorly timed coincidence, and she ignores the weapon, trying to warn Harvey the man is bluffing. "I don't know what he's talking—"
She yelps as he yanks her hair, forcing her gaze to the ceiling, and tears sting behind her eyes, pricking from the painful grip. But all she can think about is Harvey—how livid he'll be—and she clamps her mouth shut, afraid of making the situation worse.
"Let's try this again?" Ryan taunts, smirking at the lawyer. "What else did Blaine tell you?"
Harvey sees red, his vision clouding with rage as he shoots a vicious glare at the asshole daring to touch his wife. Donna had obviously been trying to tell him that she hadn't revealed any details, and he forces air into his lungs, trying to use the information to his advantage. "She doesn't know anything." He steels his voice, working his own bluff. "I'll tell you everything Blaine said, but not in front of her. She leaves first, that's the deal."
The offer is as good as a confession, and Ryan lets go of her hair but keeps the barrel where it is. "She's not going anywhere." Whether the redhead's involvement is circumstantial or not, she now plays the most pivotal role in his boss' plan, and neither are leaving until the Mayor's demands are made clear. "Your firm is going to walk away from this, and that includes calling off your bull-dog, in Chicago, Pearson. Understand?"
Harvey bristles at Jessica's name, realizing their cover's been blown, and not through anything Donna did. But he doesn't blame his former mentor either. They're out of their league, and if dropping the case is what it takes to get them out of danger—fuck being the goddamn good guy. "I'll call a judge right now," he deadpans, prepared to coerce whoever he has to, so long as it gets the job done. "There'll be a motion to dismiss signed within the hour."
Ryan doesn't doubt the man could pull off the task, but that isn't his assignment. The Mayor needs a guarantee the problem is going to be buried, and the politician was very literal with his instructions. "Thing is, Mr. Specter, we have a little issue with trust, don't we?" He drags Donna up from the chair, digging his fingers into her arm. "And you, your firm, and anyone else involved, needs to understand there are consequences to meddling where you shouldn't."
"Hurt her and I will bring down every single person connected to this." Harvey grinds his jaw, the ultimatum not a threat but a promise firing through him. The Mayor has made his goddamn fucking point, but if anything happens to Donna, he'll spend all his waking moments raining down hell on all those responsible.
"You want a chance to play hero, Specter?" He shoves the woman roughly forward, smirking as the man finally breaks composure to catch his wife. As anticipated, the lawyer's arrogance is preventing him from seeing the bigger picture. "I think you're forgetting how many other people you've dragged into this little mess…"
Harvey clutches Donna's waist, steadying her trembling form—wishing he could check her over, but his first priority is to shield her from the gun being waved at them, and he grabs her wrist, hauling her behind him.
Ryan rolls his eyes at the predictable act, but quite frankly, it doesn't really matter who he makes an example of. So long as the person left standing gets the message that no one is outside the Mayor's reach. "Your brother, those two adorable kids, that picture of your god-daughter taking pride of place in your office… You want to take a bullet on their behalf as well, by all means."
He cocks the gun and Donna's breath catches in her throat, fear hurtling through every part of her body. All it takes is a split second to realize Harvey won't flinch, won't even try to fight—not if acting will risk her or his family. He's ready to sacrifice everything for the people he loves, but she isn't going to let him, she can't, and lunges from his side to widen the paying field.
"Donna!" he snaps at her to get back, his heart hammering at how goddamn stubborn she is, and terrified when the gun trains on her instead. He doesn't stop to think, just reacts—thoughts of her flashing through his mind as he flings himself in front of her.
The first time they met.
Strawberries and whipped cream.
Confessing how he felt.
Marrying her.
A thousand memories all play out, shattering when the inevitable shot goes off.
AN: Thank you to Southsidesister (darvey_love) for fast-tracking this chapter along! And to Beth (NAhavenbb) who has helped me plan out the next seven chapters, even though I keep forgetting I still need to write the ones beforehand :P And a special birthday shout out to Miss Coorie! xx