Chapter 13 - Faith
FAITH
“I can’t believe he set bail.” The words tumbled out as I pressed my face against the cool passenger window of Ryker’s BMW.
Blue sky stretched endlessly above us. Real sky. Not the concrete ceiling I’d been staring at, wondering if I’d ever see anything else again.
“If some loyalty coalition exists in the inner circles of the legal world, that judge clearly didn’t get the memo,” Ryker said, his fingers drumming against the steering wheel.
“Thank you for bringing a change of clothes.” I plucked at the gray sweatpants, still marveling at the soft cotton against my skin. The white T-shirt. The simple black puffer jacket he’d draped over my shoulders in the lobby. Nothing fancy. Nothing that crinkled or announced my sins to strangers.
“Glad they fit.” A pause. “I had to guess on the sizes.”
He’d guessed well. I didn’t know what to do with that.
“How does this thing work?” I tugged the sweatpants up to study the ankle monitor. Small enough to hide under pants, so at least there was that. But unsettling as hell. Like a shock collar for humans. “Do I have to stay in my house?”
“No. The judge didn’t order home confinement. Just GPS monitoring.”
“So, they’re tracking me.”
“Your location. Twenty-four/seven.”
I swallowed. “Why track my location if I’m not confined to my home?”
He hesitated, then met my eyes. “Because the court wants to know where you are at all times. If you leave Cook County, they’ll know. If you disappear, they’ll know. If you try to take it off, they’ll know. You’re free,” Ryker added. “Just … conditionally.”
Conditionally. The word sat heavy in my chest. A leash I couldn’t always see beneath my pants but would always feel.
I let the sweatpants fall back over the monitor and turned to study his profile instead.
Sharp jawline, focused eyes that missed nothing.
The kind of face that probably got him out of speeding tickets and into VIP sections.
Gone was the casual black T-shirt and jeans he’d worn the night of my arrest. Now, his crisp white dress shirt had its sleeves rolled to his elbows.
With the jacket and tie abandoned somewhere in the back seat, the shirt fit him like it had been tailored to his exact measurements, following the lines of his shoulders and torso with precision.
His forearms, olive-toned and surprisingly lean, rested with an ease that suggested he wore suits as comfortably as most people wore sweatpants.
It was kind of jarring, seeing him like this. Professional. Polished. Reminding me that the man behind all those intimate moments was actually a seasoned, remarkably effective lawyer.
“You were incredible in there. That argument could’ve gotten a serial killer acquitted.”
His lips twitched. “Let’s hope I don’t have to test that theory.”
The familiar ache of gratitude and guilt twisted in my chest. “I don’t know how I’ll ever repay Blake.
” My brother had wanted to drive me home himself, but an emergency at the hospital had pulled him away.
Mass casualty event. Lives hanging in the balance while mine hung by the thread of a ten-million-dollar bond.
As a bartender, I’d have to work approximately a million years to earn that back. A million years of slinging drinks and dodging handsy customers.
And bosses. Don’t forget the bosses.
Which reminded me—I needed to call my boss and explain my emergency absence. I’d never called in sick before, so missing last night’s shift shouldn’t be a huge problem. And as luck would have it, I was off for the next few days anyway.
But what about after that? Would I still have a job once my boss discovered I’d been arrested for murder? The thought made me feel sick. I couldn’t afford to lose this position. The aged-out foster kids I helped depended on the money I earned. Without it, they’d have nowhere to turn.
“You don’t have to repay the ten million,” Ryker said. “He gets every penny back as long as you show up for trial and don’t book a flight to somewhere without an extradition treaty.”
“Noted. Cross flee to Belize off my bucket list.”
His mouth curved into something that might have been a real smile this time. God, when he actually smiled, it was devastating.
I rubbed my shoulder, exhaustion seeping into my bones.
“How are you feeling?”
Like I’ve been hit by a truck, then backed over for good measure. I took a shaky breath, watching the world blur past. Normal people, living normal lives.
“It’s like I’ve experienced every possible emotion in the span of hours. Shock when the judge announced bail was even an option. Pure elation at the thought of sleeping in a real bed tonight instead of …” I shuddered. “Instead of that place.”
Ryker’s knuckles whitened on the steering wheel. Interesting. Mr. Cool and Collected had feelings about my jail experience.
“But then I heard the number. Ten million.” The words tasted bitter. “Might as well have been ten billion. I thought I was heading right back to that cell.”
“High-profile murder charge gets a high-profile bail amount.”
“I got lucky.” Guilt crashed over me in waves.
“What are the odds that my brother happens to be wealthy enough to post that kind of money? Winning the genetic lottery while simultaneously hitting rock bottom. It doesn’t feel fair.
How many people are sitting in jail right now because they don’t have someone like Blake? ”
Ryker glanced at me, eyebrow raised. “Are you seriously having a crisis of conscience about other murder suspects?”
Despite everything, I almost laughed. “Maybe I am.”
“Faith Morrison, bleeding heart for alleged killers everywhere.” His voice carried something warmer now. Affection.
“I’m just reflecting. On a lot of things.”
“Such as?”
The city rushed past us. People walking dogs. Couples holding hands. Life continuing while mine had screeched to a halt.
“As grateful as I am to be breathing free air right now, I feel like I’ve woken up into a nightmare.” My voice cracked. “I might not be in a cell today, but realistically, I’ll probably spend the rest of my life behind bars.”
He smirked. “Your confidence in my defense skills is approaching an offensive level.”
“Ryker, I was covered in blood, holding the murder weapon. Unless a serial killer owl has been secretly slaughtering men, I’m facing serious prison time.”
I caught his sharp look.
“Sorry,” I said. “Dark humor is apparently my default setting now. Along with existential dread and an unhealthy obsession with freedom.”
“Don’t apologize,” he said. “I’d be concerned if you weren’t cracking jokes right now.”
Somehow, that made me feel a little bit better.
“It’s like my whole life has been one cruel setup,” I continued.
“I’ve spent years fighting against every unfair thing thrown at me, refusing to let it drag me under.
And I was proud of that. Stupidly, arrogantly proud.
But maybe it was just chasing me this whole time, waiting for the perfect moment to finally destroy me. ”
God, I sounded like a pity party. I hated feeling sorry for myself. It was self-centered and unproductive. Which was why I never allowed myself to do it.
At a red light, Ryker shifted in his seat and studied my face with those intense lawyer eyes. He didn’t rush to reassure me or dismiss my fears. He just listened.
When was the last time someone had really listened?
“And I’m scared,” I whispered. “There are people who depend on me.”
A crease formed between his dark brows, but he didn’t pry.
Didn’t ask who I meant. Points for restraint.
Because how could I explain the kids who aged out of foster care with nowhere to go?
The broken souls I’d been trying to save, one at a time.
They weren’t just people. They were family. My responsibility. My purpose.
How had I failed them so completely?
“But underneath all of that, I feel ashamed.” The admission burned my throat. “The evidence is clear. I took another human life.”
“Faith …”
“While I don’t remember much about my parents, I do remember church.
Little dresses and patent leather shoes.
Mom and Dad teaching us right from wrong, wanting us to be good people.
To leave the world better than we found it.
” Tears threatened my vision, but I bit them back.
Crying in front of my attorney, the man my heart was reaching for?
Not helping. But seriously. “I let them down.”
“Your parents would be here for you, right now, no question,” Ryker said, and something in his voice made me want to believe him.
“Then right behind the shame comes this crushing guilt for even having these feelings when, somewhere, a family is planning a funeral because of me.”
“You don’t know what happened. And neither do they, despite what the DA wants everyone to believe. Hopefully, Blake’s right, and your memories might return, but regardless, that guy must have attacked you. You must have defended yourself.”
Must. First of all, I needed to believe that. I wasn’t proud of the person I used to be, but becoming a killer? It couldn’t be true. I didn’t reinvent myself just to become a hundred times worse than what I was before.
And that word must made my lungs constrict. The way he said it … it was like he had to believe the woman he’d been falling for couldn’t possibly be an intentional killer.
I wasn’t, right?
In any case … “He’s still dead.” The words came out flat. Final. “At least I’m breathing.”
Ryker’s cheek twitched. There it was again. That flash of something protective. Something that made warmth bloom beneath my ribs.
The car fell into silence, but not the uncomfortable kind. The kind where two people are thinking the same thing but neither wants to be the first to say it.
At the next red light, Ryker’s right hand moved from the steering wheel. For a moment, it hovered in the space between us, like he was fighting himself. Then his fingers found mine, threading through them with a certainty that made my breath catch.