Chapter 1 #2
Bam, the judge bangs her gavel. The defendant and the attorney before me leave the courtroom, while the Assistant District Attorney remains seated.
The judge meets my attorney’s gaze.
My name should be called any second now.
“Judge Tucker.” A bailiff storms in from one of the side doors, rushing toward her. “I have a message for you.”
Her lips pinch, the corners of her forehead creasing with how hard she’s frowning.
My attorney, on the other hand, straightens his spine. The smirk on his face is a reflection of his cockiness.
Despite the judge’s confusion, Larry’s demeanor could only mean one thing—he trusts that my parents managed to close this case while we’ve been waiting here.
Disappointment tastes bitter in my mouth. A soft groan escapes me, and my gaze drops to my lap. To my clenched fists.
“Who gave you this order?” the judge asks. We sit close enough that I hear her hushed voice. “This is the first I’m hearing of this.”
“It was…” the plaintiff murmurs a name I don’t catch.
While they continue their conversation, a strange sensation arises in me.
Someone’s watching me.
This isn’t the first time I’ve felt this way.
The first time happened when I was on my last shoplifting mission a month ago. Minutes before I got arrested.
Something wasn’t right that day, same as it is now.
My senses whisper that something worse is in the works. I’m being stalked and someone’s conspiring against me.
That would explain the bailiff’s abrupt entry and the man in black in the retail store who stole glances at me the entire time I was there. I swear he ratted me out.
Back then, I had no proof.
I have no proof of any wrongdoing now either.
But I feel it.
“Okay, then.” The judge’s chair scratches. Her heels clink on the wooden floor as she walks out.
A door opens and slams.
I keep staring at my lap. Keep praying that my gut is wrong about this.
The air shifts the moment someone enters, and it’s like a current crawling across my skin.
The door to the courtroom closes behind the person with a quiet, final click. Their footsteps echo. They’re slow, deliberate.
“Oh, this is good.” I hear my attorney. “This is better than good.”
His pleased tone piques my curiosity. Ignoring the warning bells in my head, I lift my gaze and freeze.
What?
What?
No way.
Everett Alder.
Judge Everett Alder.
One of his former lawyers isn’t here, but he is.
What’s he doing here anyway? And how, just by existing, does he take my breath away?
While I stare, I forget about everything else and get lost in him.
He’s gorgeous, lean, and radiates power.
That scruff around his full lips is mouthwatering. His short brown hair only makes it worse, neat in a way that makes me want to mess it up with my fingers.
The fact that he’s got nineteen years on me and is unattainable makes me want him even more.
But when his piercing gray eyes catch mine, my fluttering heart twists. It feels like it almost crumbles.
Because he isn’t looking at me. He’s glowering.
He’s angrier than I’ve ever seen him. With me?
No, he can’t be.
He doesn’t know me. I haven’t done anything to get this kind of reaction out of him.
Mom and Dad must’ve done something to get under his skin more than usual.
Probably called him on their way to the hospital, talked his ear off, begged him to pull strings on my behalf.
That’s got to be it.
“Miss Clarke.” His bass voice rumbles through the room, snuffing out every whisper. “When you’re ready.”
Larry clears his throat, about to say something. Probably a comment about how we’re here and yes, we’re ready.
“As in, this second.” Everett’s eyebrows lower, his jaw clenching as he dismisses my lawyer before he can get a word in.
His order is as sharp and painful as a whip. My attorney and I are quick to stand and take our places behind the defendant’s table.
As we lower ourselves into our seats, something about Everett’s posture gives off a don’t get too comfortable vibe.
I don’t know what to make of it. What to make of him.
What I do know is that I’m attracted to him.
Despite myself, his scorn does the opposite of scaring me.
My thighs squeeze together. Heat rushes through my body. The strange fluttering in my belly is totally inappropriate for this situation.
Except I can’t tear my eyes off the black robe and the way it drapes over his broad shoulders.
I never thought that would happen. My hatred of authority has been festering for as long as I can remember. I’ve spent my entire life being bossed around by my adoptive parents. I’ve resented every second of it.
Everett, though… I want him to boss me around, just so I could fight him. Just so he could win and bend me to his will.
Bend me over, period.
I’ve never done that for anyone else. For him, I would.
He clears his throat, sharp and deliberate, dragging my attention to him like a hook under my skin.
His expression shifts too. Less furious, more primal and personal. There’s disgust in it, yes, but beneath it…something deeper.
Something that makes me shiver.
And he’s quiet.
Deadly quiet.
“Judge Alder.” Larry is all smiles. His leather briefcase is right there on the table, untouched. He’s confident it’s an open-and-shut case, and well, so am I. “If it pleases the court, my client would like to—”
“That won’t be necessary.”
Everett’s tone shreds me from the inside out.
I don’t think he’s on my side.
Quite the opposite.
I was wrong before. This isn’t about my parents.
He’s mad at me.
This isn’t a sexy kind of anger anymore either. He won’t be bending me over anything.
If looks could kill, there’d be nothing left of me but dust.
Why, though?
I gulp around the lump in my throat. The pads of my fingers press to the edge of the table, white-knuckled. Sweat beads at the back of my neck.
God, I’m so terribly exposed to him.
“I’m sorry, Your Honor.” Larry’s brow furrows, his confidence diminishing. I sneak a glance at the ADA. She’s looking between the judge and us, just as lost by the turn of events. “What do you mean, exactly?”
“Mr. Nelson.” Everett leans forward.
A murmur ripples through the room as tension stretches taut. He’s no longer just a judge behind a bench. He’s a loaded weapon.
To my shame, I want more of it.
“Since you and I know each other from way back…” Everett’s sardonic tone is awful. “I won’t be wasting your time.”
“I appreciate the gesture, but—”
Everett raises his hand. Larry clamps his mouth shut.
“Your client’s apology is redundant. Her impressive track record is proof of her blatant lack of remorse for shoplifting.”
My stomach sinks, embarrassment and fury crashing into each other. Why is he hellbent on humiliating me like this?
“I don’t see how a fake, teary-eyed apology is going to change any of that or her.”
He’s right, I won’t change. But every trial, I still repeat the same apology, or it’s another week in the basement for me.
“Please, if you will, my client has a few things she’d like to start by apologizing.”
“I see no use in wasting either the taxpayers’ money or the court’s time on your client.” There’s fire in Everett’s eyes.
A full-body tremble seizes me. My chest tightens, my stomach knots. A sharp chill skates down my spine like ice water in my veins. It’s like every muscle is trying to hold me together while my insides fall apart.
“Miss Clarke.”
I still myself, knowing nothing good is going to come out of this. Nothing at all.
“Starting today, you’ll be spending the rest of your life in prison, serving the sentence you so clearly deserve.”