Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Mara
I set down a heavy case of files on my assistant Missy’s desk, every muscle in my legs hurting.
“Do you have any ibuprofen?” I ask her.
“Of course. I’m the office dealer, remember?” She opens her desk drawer and takes out a large pill organizer. “I’ll help you carry those to the courtroom.”
“No, it’s okay.” I take the two pills she offers. “Thanks.”
“Are you sure you’re okay? You look like you’re not feeling well.”
It’s probably the dark circles beneath my eyes making her think that. I got maybe two hours of sleep last night at Leo’s. But other than the exhaustion, I’m amazing.
We tried to get some sleep after eating our omelets in bed, but our hands and lips were roaming, and a second, slower session of sex was inevitable. That’s why everything from my waist down hurts. Leo bent me and moved me into positions that used muscles I’m not sure my body even knew it had.
It’s always been hard for me to come a second time in one night, but he was patient, reading my body like a song he knows by heart. He took his time getting me there, and I saw stars. Sex with any other man is ruined for me.
“Just tired,” I tell Missy.
She arches a brow. “Good tired?”
Missy and I share personal stuff when we’re alone. She’s recently divorced and has also been in a long-term sex drought.
“Amazing tired.” I smile, knowing I have heart eyes.
“Yeah, girl. Good for you.”
I take the pills, swallowing them without water because I need to get to court. Jayden is off today, so I’m flying solo.
It’s been nearly impossible to keep my mind on work today. What happened with me and Leo last night came out of nowhere. I knew we were slowly becoming friends, but I had no idea he’d ever thought about more than that with me.
There’s never been a time, since the first time I saw you, when I didn’t want you.
I keep replaying his words in my head, and I never stop feeling giddy when I do. I thought being a strong, independent woman meant I didn’t care about a man feeling smitten with me. Especially Leo Abbott.
Everything changed when he opened up to me about his anxiety and depression, and his knee injury. He trusted me with his most closely guarded secrets, and I want to show him he was right to trust me.
For more than a year now, I’ve seized every opportunity to make fun of him. I’m not proud of how I’ve acted. I could see all over his face last night that he wasn’t sure if he’d get a sharp comment about his mental health medication.
Even a tall, strong man like him, who seems to have it all, has vulnerabilities. When we tried to sleep, neither of us could. I whispered to him several times, asking if he was awake and he said he was because he couldn’t believe I was really there with him.
It was the same for me. When he was spooned around my back, his arm tucking me close to him, I’d close my eyes to sleep and I couldn’t stop smiling. Because he wanted me to stay. Because we’d just had the most incredible sex ever. Because he was so warm and solid against me.
I did finally drift off around three thirty a.m., but we had to be up at five thirty so he could get me home and make his flight on time. We both stole looks at each other the whole drive, and he walked me to my door and kissed me goodbye.
I’ve felt like I was floating since I walked into my apartment. I’m not a woman who falls head over feet for any man, but I’m feeling like I could right now.
It’s probably good that he just left for a six-day road trip. Maybe the time away from each other will help me return to my usual, more cynical self.
The space outside the courtroom I’m walking to is filled with traffic defendants. People of all ages are waiting for their hearings, and I’m the prosecuting attorney for all of them.
“Hey, you work here?” a man asks me. “I can’t find my attorney.”
“I’m sorry, I can’t help. Try the bailiff.”
Once I get into the courtroom, I tie my long hair back, already sweating, and regret my decision not to slam an energy drink earlier. My eyelids are heavy. I could easily curl up on the table I’m sitting at and sleep for the next eight hours.
But duty calls. And last night was so worth today’s exhaustion.
It’s somewhere between three and four p.m. when I walk back into the office after making a run to the coffee shop a block away from the courthouse.
I powered through my hearings and all the work I needed to finish today.
My late lunch consisted of a chocolate chip cookie and a cold brew coffee, and between the caffeine and the sugar, I know I’ll make it through the workday without falling asleep face down on my desk.
“Look what just arrived,” Missy says, gesturing at a vase bursting with red-stemmed roses. There must be at least two dozen, and they smell heavenly.
“Those are gorgeous. Who sent them?”
She lowers her brows. “I guess you’ll find out when you open the card.”
I pull my drink away from my mouth. “They’re for me ?”
She grins. “The card says Queen of Mean Mara Torres.”
I laugh, imagining Leo placing an order and asking for the card to be signed that way. How did he pull this off? He’s in Tampa right now.
I snatch the card, my stomach somersaulting with excitement. Red roses sent to my office. That’s a first for me.
When I pull the card out of the envelope, the words on it make me giddy.
Thanks for an amazing night. I can’t wait to see you again.
Leo
The message on the card means more to me than the roses. I carefully tuck it back into the envelope. This is the first time since last night that I’ve felt scared.
I’m already in over my head with Leo. We were both there for each other in moments of vulnerability, and it brought us closer.
But this isn’t a real relationship. When whatever it is runs its course, it’s going to hurt.
I don’t know how I’ll be able to be around him at fondue nights or all the other times I see him—because of Carter—and not be visibly upset.
“You don’t look happy,” Missy says.
I sigh softly. “I am. Just running through all the ways this could go bad.”
“Girl.” She gives me a stern look. “Don’t do that.”
She’s about to give me a full-blown lecture when she’s interrupted by Gayle walking into our little section of the office.
“Mara, can we talk in your office?” she asks.
“Sure.”
I’m immediately tense because I can tell my boss is unhappy about something. Was it one of the cases from this afternoon? Did I do something I shouldn’t have?
As soon as we’re alone inside the office Jayden and I share, I close the door.
“This office is terrible.” Gayle shakes her head as she looks around.
She’s right. It’s dark and depressing and even though it’s been years since it was repurposed from a janitorial supply room into an office, it still smells like Pine-Sol.
“We’re not here all that much,” I say.
“Have a seat.”
My stomach churns nervously as I sit down behind my desk, Gayle taking Jayden’s chair.
We have the fronts of our desks pushed together so we can share the space for our many files and pass them back and forth easily.
When we need to meet with people, we use a conference room. No one but us usually sees this office.
“Our IT people reached out to me about an email that came in for you this afternoon,” Gayle says. “You know there are certain words that get flagged by the system.”
My eyes widen and I swear my heart stops. Surely none of my friends would send a profane message to me here, even as a joke. If all my hard work to make a respectable name for myself here has been compromised by someone’s hairy balls meme, I’m going to lose it.
“I’m so sorry,” I say, feeling sick. “I don’t?—”
She cuts me off. “It’s nothing for you to apologize for. I just need to make you aware. The message gets removed from your inbox when it’s flagged.”
I stop short, confused. “I guess I’ll need you to elaborate.”
The corners of her mouth turn down slightly in a frown. “The message said, ‘You’re dead, bitch.’ We do unfortunately get messages like that in this line of work.”
I pinch my brows together, shocked. “And you’re sure it was intended for me?”
She nods. “The sender thought he was being clever and masking his IP address, but the sheriff’s department has already traced it to a one-block radius of Drake Harn’s address.”
My jaw drops. “Drake Harn? Libby’s husband?”
“Yes, Bruce filled me in on the conversation you had with her, and you did nothing wrong. Domestics are the hardest cases we work on. Just be vigilant, because the sheriff’s department has been unable to locate Drake.
Don’t walk to your car alone, keep your doors locked, and report anything suspicious.
The sheriff’s department will be patrolling your apartment building. ”
I sit back in my chair, still in disbelief. “Patrolling my building? You mean driving past it once every hour?”
“Pretty much. It’s all they’re willing to do at this point.”
I rub the bridge of my nose, knowing there’s no way I’ll be able to sleep at my apartment tonight, even though I’m exhausted.
“You’re welcome to my guest room if you want it,” Gayle says.
The thought of my boss seeing me in my pajamas—or me seeing her in hers—is so awkward I almost cringe.
“Thanks. I’ll stay with a friend for now.”
She stands. “I know it’s alarming, but we all get these messages. Drake won’t be able to hide for long, and he’ll be arrested as soon as he pops up.”
I guess that’s something. “Maybe he’ll get jail time and Libby can have her baby without him around.”
Gayle sighs heavily. “She’s pregnant?”
“Yeah. Bruce was right; there was no way I was going to be able to convince her to testify when he couldn’t. But I had to try.”
“You were right to try. I don’t want anyone in my office who thinks of victims as case numbers. These are people. Abuse is a hard cycle to break.”
I rest my elbow on my desk and my chin on my hand. “I’ve been thinking about Libby. She works at a gas station. She has no family around here to help her.”
“We give victims contacts for local organizations that can help. There’s always a way out.”
“Yeah, you’re right.”
“Joe Burris is the deputy working on this case. Call him if anything comes up, okay?”
“I will.”
“I’ll tell the bailiffs you need an escort to your car until this is resolved.”
“Okay.”
She leaves my office and I just sit there in silence for a few minutes, my concern growing. My light, happy mood is gone now.
I wish Leo was home. I’d call him and ask him to pick me up and bring me to his house.
Even though I know this happens to assistant state attorneys regularly, it’s different when it’s happening to me.
I saw the photos of the injuries Drake gave Libby.
He’s already in trouble, so he has nothing to lose.
But Leo isn’t an option, and I don’t want to risk putting Suki and the girls in danger, so I call Dex.