Chapter 29
Sloane
Six Months Later
My back aches as I waddle up to the courthouse.
I have three weeks to go before my due date, and my bump has well and truly popped now.
Rook’s hand is steady on my lower back, his other hand supporting me as we walk up the steps.
Boone and Cruz follow close behind. While my relationship with the men is no secret, we felt it best to keep it private during the trial.
The last thing we wanted was for Briggs to get off by preaching morality or dragging my reputation through the mud.
My relationship with Iron Vale MC and the men has no bearing on my ability as a lawyer.
After the opening arguments, Briggs filed a motion to disqualify me, arguing I was biased and would impede his right to a fair trial.
While we thought he wouldn’t succeed, he’d muddied the waters enough, and I made the difficult decision to step back.
I’ve still been involved behind the scenes, but I haven’t been on the prosecuting team.
It’s been hard watching from the sidelines, but I know it’s the right choice.
If Briggs got off, or was later able to appeal because of me, I’d never forgive myself.
It also gives us the chance to hopefully later go to trial for his part in the school bombing and kidnapping of Jessy.
I’m still working on getting the evidence we need to punish him for everything Briggs has done to my family, but for now, putting him behind bars is enough. Even if I’m not the prosecutor to do it.
My pregnancy was also a deciding factor in my stepping back. I won’t be intimidated—Briggs and Escar learned that the hard way. But I also don’t want to put my baby at risk unnecessarily.
Today, after months of hard work, the jury has finally reached its verdict, and Briggs will learn his fate. I’m confident that David and the team’s hard work will pay off. They did an amazing job, I couldn’t have done better myself, but I still can’t help the butterflies of anxiety in my stomach.
Boone holds the main doors open for us. People part to make way for me, a perk of pregnancy.
I feel hot and uncomfortable, even in the loose maternity dress I’m wearing.
I pause for a moment, hand on my considerable stomach, to take a breather, assuring my anxious men that I’m fine.
“Just our little fighter is kicking something fierce today,” I say breathlessly.
“Sloane?” A once familiar, yet now alien voice.
“Connor,” I say, looking up at my ex-husband. I’ve not seen him in a few months, not since I was there helping to prep him for taking the witness stand. He didn’t see me watching in the gallery when the time came.
“How are you? You’re—” he pauses as he notices my bump, too protruding now to hide like before. “Wow. You’re pregnant.” There’s a pause for a moment as he processes this. “Congratulations.”
“Thanks,” I reply with a smile. “How are you? You did well on the stand, the jury liked you.”
He seems grateful for the change in topic, as if he didn’t know how to tackle the minefield of discussing my pregnancy and unusual relationship. It’s not exactly something I want to share with him either.
“Ah, I don’t know about that,” he says with a bashful smile that used to melt my heart, running his hand through his hair.
He shrugs. “I’m doing okay. Got a new job, just a couple of hours away…
” He trails off, and I still know Connor well enough to know when he’s angling for something and trying to find the best way to ask.
“Good, I’m glad.” I smile at him, genuinely meaning it. I’ve moved on. I’m happy with my men; I want Connor to be happy, too. I have no ill feelings toward him anymore.
He beams back, tension seeping out of him. He glances at the guys, who surround me, close enough to be supportive but far enough away to show they know I can handle myself, to give me a little breathing room. “You seem happy,” he points out.
“I am.”
“And Jessy?” The hope is plain on his face. Now we get to the crux of what he wants.
“She’s doing well. Very excited to be a big sister.”
“Good, good, I’m glad. Listen, Sloane, I’m sorry about everything. I should never have—”
I hold up a hand to silence him. “I know. It’s okay, it’s in the past now.”
He nods slowly, seeming disappointed yet relieved.
“Okay. Well, what I wanted to ask was… Seeing as I’m living closer now…
I was hoping—I was hoping that I could see Jessy?
” Seeing the frown on Boone’s face, he hastens to add.
“I’m not expecting to have custody or even full visitation, I know I gave that up.
But I would love to be a part of her life, however small, if you’ll let me. ”
Part of me wants to tell him she has three amazing dads who have been far better to her than he ever was, that she doesn’t need him. But I don’t. It wouldn’t be fair to Jessy. She deserves to make that call for herself when she’s older.
“Alright. We’ll arrange a supervised visit and go from there. Ultimately, it’s up to Jessy and what she wants.”
“Of course,” he agrees, nodding his head vigorously.
I hold up a finger. “And if you hurt her, or walk out on her again, or even so much as make her think you’re not going to show up for her by being five minutes late, there won’t be another chance.”
He nods solemnly. “Understood. Thank you, Sloane.”
“Don’t thank me yet, you’ve got some big shoes to fill,” I reply.
Connor’s eyebrows shoot up. Cruz chuckles delightedly. Rook smirks and squeezes my hip. Boone looks like the cat that got the cream.
“We should go, the jury is about to give the verdict.” Rook places his hand on my elbow, guiding me toward the main room.
“Wait, I don’t have your number,” Connor says, trotting alongside us.
I don’t look at him as I reply. “I have yours, I’ll call you.”
“You’d better hope your testimony was enough,” Cruz says. I can hear the laughter in his voice.
I brace myself, preparing for the outcome. I know that, no matter what, I have my men by my side and we’ll get through this. We won’t give up, even if we have to go through this circus all over again. The baby stirs, kicking me sharply, as if ready to fight alongside us, my little warrior.
As we walk into the courtroom and I see Briggs’ smug face, still confident he will walk, I bend over double in pain, clutching my stomach.
“You okay?” Rook asks, steadying me.
“Yep, just nerves,” I insist through gritted teeth.
He frowns, but he doesn’t push it; he knows that nothing would stop me from being here.
We sit down, the wooden benches hard and unforgiving, only adding to my discomfort.
I smile a little at the curious glances my men attract, though my heavily pregnant state draws more attention.
Briggs’ wife scowls at me. I ignore her.
It’s not my fault she married a bastard.
The jury shuffles in, their shoes squeaking and clipping on the floor, clothes rustling as they take their place in the jury box. The judge enters, and we all rise. David catches my eye, smiling at me, and I give him a thumbs up.
I zone out, focusing on my breathing, as the judge makes his usual opening remarks, words I’ve heard hundreds of times and know by heart. When he asks, “Has the jury reached a unanimous decision?” my gaze returns to them.
“We have, your honor.” The man’s Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he nervously glances over at Briggs—a good sign.
The judge reads through each count against Briggs. His smug smile slowly slips, replaced by incredulous, outraged disbelief as to each of the counts, the foreman replies, “We, the jury, find the defendant guilty.”
Guilty.
I almost can’t quite believe it. Neither can Briggs.
But then the charges keep racking up, and he finally loses his cool.
His calm, respectable veneer drops. “This is a fucking outrage!” he yells, jumping from his seat.
He ignores the judge’s calls for order. “You fucking useless, waste of money—” he descends into a tirade against his lawyers that strays into racism, earning a gasp from the crowd and making the judge bang his gavel repeatedly.
The bailiff moves to apprehend him as he rushes toward the crowd, unbelievably trying to make a run for it.
Briggs’ eyes meet mine in the crowd, and his face twists into a feral snarl.
“You fucking bitch, this is your fault! I wish you and that brat of yours had died in that bomb. I should have killed her when I had the chance!”
The bailiff isn’t quick enough, and Briggs is getting closer, moving with almost inhuman speed in his rage. The reporters are unable to believe their luck.
My stomach cramps again, pain flaring, as if my body is rebelling against the danger.
But I’m not afraid. I don’t even move. I know I don’t need to.
Cruz steps in with ease, expertly stopping Briggs in his tracks, wrenching his arms behind his back, and maneuvering him to the floor, ready for the bailiff to cuff him.
A bead of sweat runs down the man’s forehead as he cuffs Briggs, kneeling on his back. “Thanks,” he tells Cruz breathlessly.
“Don’t mention it,” Cruz replies, stepping aside and letting the security do their jobs. One of them tells him he’s got a job if he’s interested, totally serious behind the jovial tone. Cruz just smiles and nods.
Briggs is still screaming as they lead him away.
“Are you okay?” Boone says to me, concern knotting his brows, followed by confusion when he notices the huge grin on my face.
“I’m more than okay; that idiot just confessed on camera in front of a room full of people. We’ll definitely be able to start a case for the bombing and kidnapping now!”
Boone laughs, kissing my head. Rook pulls me close, kissing me. “You did it.”
“He’s going to go away for a long time, especially after that,” I agree.
The prosecution team is all smiling and congratulating each other. David meets my eye and grins, giving me two thumbs up before waving for me to join. I shake my head, motioning for them to go on without me. There will be time to celebrate later.
“Ready to go home?” Rook asks me.
“Actually,” I say, looking between him, Boone, and Cruz, holding my stomach. “I think we’d better go to the hospital. The baby is on the way.”