Chapter 7
Ididn’t wait around the courthouse for Ezra or Malik.
I left the very first chance I could find.
I’m so deep in their world, and once you’re in this far, it’s difficult to leave.
No amount of money could buy your way out of this life, especially if you are the daughter of the most revered judge in the country.
But I can keep my distance from them. I can manage the way they have contact with me, and that is exactly what I am going to do.
My job.
Nothing more and nothing less.
I think about all the criminals I’ve represented, and I wonder why I gravitate towards them and their stories.
Why do I find intrigue in people who live in the darkness and who’ve taken a life?
Is there something so inherently disturbed within me that I feel like I need to defend these people when they’re more than likely guilty?
Peeling off the layers of the bandage around my hand, I wince when my muscles flex and the skin separates, causing a sting right in the middle of the wound.
I lean back on my kitchen counter, the house now silent, exactly the way I like it.
Staring at the letters on the bench across from me, I wonder if they’re all the bills that Adrian wouldn’t pay.
Shaking the pain away from my hand, I reach for one and tear it open.
Meet at the Boatyard on Eel Pie Island at midnight tomorrow, or I’ll expose your dirty little secret.
The sour taste of vomit coats the back of my throat, and the letter falls to the floor as a soft click sounds through the quiet space.
I reach for my bag, the throbbing in my hand faint compared to the pounding beneath my ribs.
It could be Adrian again, wanting to finish what he started the other evening.
I’ve learnt from my past mistakes to never leave myself unprotected, so I had Ezra loan me a black-market handgun small enough to fit in my bag.
The lights remain off, covering the large living space in shadows, and I curse myself for not turning them on as soon as I came in.
“Adrian?” My hand slips into my bag and curls around the gun. “Is that you?”
There’s no response.
I’m tired of looking behind my shoulder every time I’m alone since that godforsaken night.
“Adrian?”
The figure steps out into the dim light of the moon shining through my floor-to-ceiling windows, activating every nerve ending, every single emergency response within me.
“Whatever you’re about to pull out of that bag, don’t,” he says, with a voice so full of calm and confidence, it’s unsettling.
I recognise the deepness and the sharpness in the tone, but it’s not until he steps forward, the light cascading perfectly over his face, that I realise what a huge mistake I’ve made.
“Malik?” I don’t release the gun, holding it there in case these are my last seconds. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“Why did you leave in such a rush?” he asks, now in proximity to the kitchen bench.
“I’m a busy woman.”
“I’m sure you are, but I asked you a question,” he says, his eyes darkening as he rounds the kitchen bench, towering over me. “Take your hand off that gun. I’m not here to hurt you.”
Hesitantly, I remove my hand from my bag and stare up at him. I can’t tell what he’s thinking, and that scares me more than anything else.
“You broke into my home because I didn’t answer your question?”
His eyes drop to my hand, and I hide it behind me.
“You are my client, and you have no right to invade my privacy like this.”
His jaw ticks as he grabs my wrist from behind me and inspects the wound on my palm. When his gaze clashes back to mine, I yank my hand back.
“Leave. Now.”
“No.”
“Leave.”
“Answer my question.”
“Do I have to call the police?”
The corner of his mouth twitches, but he holds back his smile. “Do you want to lose the case?”
God, he’s insufferable.
“If I tell you, will you leave?”
He doesn’t answer me, so I wait a little longer.
“Well?”
“It’s infuriating when someone doesn’t answer you, isn’t it, Isla?”
I turn away and sigh, glaring up at the ceiling, wondering how I’m going to make this man leave. “I broke a glass, and a shard lodged into my hand when I was cleaning it up, okay? Now will you leave?”
“You know, for a defence lawyer, your ability to lie is not where I’d expect it to be.”
I turn to face him, taking a step forward with only a hair’s breadth between us.
“If you want me to keep representing you, get out of my fucking house.”
He notices the paper on the floor and bends to pick it up. He looks at me with the same fury I saw in his eyes that was locked away when we first met.
“Has someone been threatening you?” he asks, holding out the paper to me.
I take it, crumple it up in my non-wounded hand, and throw it in the sink. “That,” I point to the scrunched-up note, “is my business, not yours.”
“I’m your client—”
“Yes, thank you for remembering that tonight.”
He looks visibly annoyed at my remark.
“Pack a bag. Now,” he demands, making his way to the staircase that leads to the upstairs bedrooms.
“No.”
He stops dead in his tracks and strides back to me. Blackening terror unfurls from my chest, covering my entire skin in its prickly claws as he wraps his hand around my neck.
“I won’t ask you again.”
“Then don’t,” I choke out, trying to pry his fingers off me.
Parting my legs with his knee, he pushes me further into the island bench, his hard body pressed firmly against mine.
It’s been so long since I’ve felt a strong, masculine body that a part of me is restless for a small touch or light caress of skin-on-skin contact.
The other, more rational part, tells me I need to get his hands off me before I become his dinner.
But the danger of it all, the fact that these hands have likely taken multiple lives before, makes me want it even more.
“You like playing with fire, don’t you?” he whispers, lowering his lips just inches from mine, the beautifully tart smell of nicotine emanating from his mouth. “That’s why you didn’t turn me away.”
He loosens his grip on me, and I don’t move, our breaths mingling between us as I mentally trace the small scar on the side of his chin with my eyes.
“I have nothing in common with you.”
His velvety chuckle adds fuel to the fire inside me that’s been newly lit by his presence, and I want to reach out to touch the stubble on his jaw, scrape it with the edges of my nails just to keep some of the danger he possesses beneath them.
“You may not have taken lives before, Isla, but you’re a sinner all the same.” He hums, the pads of his fingers gliding down my neck, exposing the skin on my chest. “We all are.”
I struggle to pull my gaze from his as his hand continues on its warpath, the back of his fingers caressing over the button on my blouse.
“I saw the way you pressed your thighs together at the station. What were you thinking about?” he asks, a knowing smile ready to appear on his face.
“I wasn’t—”
“You don’t have to lie to me. I bet I know exactly what you were thinking.”
“Why, because you expect every woman to drop to her knees at the sight of you, her panties soaked with just the thought of having you in her bed?”
He huffs a laugh, and I hate how attractive the sound is.
“You said it, Isla, not me.” Gently, he takes hold of the wrist of my injured hand and brings it between us. “Men who hurt women do not deserve to know the touch of a woman, let alone breathe the same air as them.”
“I told you—”
“I know what you said.” He blows on the wound, the act so intimate and raw. “And I also know that if you don’t pack your things and come with me, I’ll be forced to do something I don’t want to do.”
My breathing accelerates at his threatening words. “Don’t think for one second I won’t reach back into my bag and shoot you.”
His white teeth come out of hiding, his smile both menacing and irresistible. “Wouldn’t be the first time, but I’d rather keep that kink isolated to the bedroom. A more controlled environment.”
I grit my teeth and tip my chin up, refusing to go along with whatever madness he has in mind.
“I guarantee that you will not like it, so don’t force me.”
Pushing him off me, I turn to reach for the handgun in my bag, my fingertips brushing the material ever so lightly before I’m yanked back into his hard body. I take a deep breath before my screams are muffled by his hand clasping over my mouth.
“I’m not going to hurt you.” His easy voice is the last thing I hear before there’s a sharp intrusion in my neck, the cool fluid rushing through my veins.
Losing consciousness, my body feels weightless.
I grip the edge of the kitchen bench to keep myself up, but eventually succumb to his strong arms around me.