Chapter 24
The following Friday, the final court date for Debra Mills arrives. Kara almost dies of relief when Ray Wellis grabs her in the hallway as she makes her way to join Derrick and the team in a short powwow before court convenes. “Kara,” Ray grips her gently by the elbow, his dark eyes looking more tired than usual. “I’ve been meaning to call you back, but we’ve been completely swamped at the precinct.”
Kara can always see the wear and tear on him. He must be involved in one of the other court cases today as an expert in his field. “Did you find The Room? Anything that links Paxton Brooker and Max Dotaire to it? Tell me something good. We…are closing up the Debra Mills case today.”
Remorsefully, Ray shakes his head, unkept hair falling over his brow. “We’ve been checking Brooker’s properties, but most are either legit businesses or rental properties.”
“That’s impossible! There’s no way he’s clean.”
Shushing her raised tone, Ray says quickly, “I didn’t say we were done looking. There are a few more places that remain for us to check. Either way, I don’t believe you can tie this to Max Dotaire. You are going to have to hope that Debra Mills convinced the jury that she was legitimately raped, despite her relations with Dotaire.”
Stressed, Kara presses her fingers to her eyes. “Shit.”
Lip turning into a soft frown, Ray comments, “You look worn down.” Does she? “Maybe you need to take a break after this case. Relax a bit.”
Sighing, Kara replies, “Unfortunately, I don’t really have the luxury to do that. My pay comes from billable hours and winning cases.”
Her eyes pop open wide as she’s warmly embraced, smelling cigarettes and cheap pine cologne. Ray steps away and nods toward the end of the hall. “Regardless. You need to do something for you. I’m doing all I can to help with the Brooker case. Put your mind to that, forget this one that’s already lost.”
“But-” She protests.
“Do you skate?” He asks suddenly, a hint of amusement in his chocolate eyes. “I’ll take you sometime. Best way to release stress. It’s healthy exercise.”
“As in the roller rink?” Kara smiles, laughing. “Zooming around in circles to nineties top hits? You surprise me.”
With a kind smile, he acknowledges someone over her shoulder before telling her, “You know it’s true. Nothing fixes all your problems better than lights, songs, and a pair of skates. Relax, we’ll get to the bottom of things.”
Watching him walk away to join another man by the front doors, Kara sighs, feeling remorse that her moment of lightheartedness is fading already. Time to get this case over with and rip the band-aid off.
In the main hall, Kara catches sight of Nick stepping out from Judge Canry’s office. The judge for her case, the one he isn’t supposed to be on anymore. Stepping over to him, just behind his back as he makes to walk away, looking polished and powerful in his navy suit and shiny shoes, Kara asks, “What are you doing here?”
He pivots to look at her, a strange expression floating across his gaze. Kara wonders what that’s about. “Don’t you look sharp,” he says in his typical cool tone, eyes traveling the lines of her body, noting the outfit she’s wearing. Likely eyeing the shape of her body in her pencil skirt.
Possibly mentally undressing her.
“Why are you talking to Judge Canry right before our closing arguments for the Debra Mills case?” Kara won’t be fooled by pleasantries. “Paxton Brooker’s court dates are still postponed as far as I know.”
Nick smirks. “I’m sure you’re aware I have a few cases other than ones you are familiar with. Not everything is about you.”
There it is; the sharp, verbal push to distance her.
“I know you like to consider me a half-wit,” Kara replies suspiciously, not trusting that smirk in the slightest. He smirks like that when he watches movies, too. Usually when something unpleasant is about to happen to someone. “But, why today? The Mills case closes today. Seems coincidental .”
“Does it?” The smirk intensifies as his eyes dismiss her, already looking at something over her head. “Good luck,” he says to her absently. “Remember, I said you’d lose this case.”
“Arrogant jerk,” Kara mutters to herself, watching him walk away. She does not glance at his ass. Definitely not.
Something doesn’t feel right.
With a sinking feeling twisting about inside of her, Kara goes to join up with Derrick and Bob, seeing Debbie looking pale and anxious beside them. Derrick frowns at her, noting the shadows under her eyes. He doesn’t think she’s taking care of herself. “Kara, we’re short on time. Let’s finish huddling in the conference room before going in.”
“Got it. Sorry, I just saw-” she starts to tell him about Nick seeing the judge privately, but Derrick is on edge already about final arguments and he cuts her off.
“We don’t have time. Follow me,” he says, leading them to one of the conference rooms, only fifteen minutes remaining until court reconvenes.
It’s almost funny, how terrible it goes.
“We find Max Dotaire, on the count of rape in the first degree, not guilty.”
Debra Mills groans from somewhere to Kara’s left, a noise that sounds like Debra’s just seen her cat die. There’s a growing racket as people start talking, a buzz of angry bees, drowning out the next sentence. Judge Canry calls for order in the court furiously, pounding his gavel. The jury spokesperson continues reading out their decision, saying they do find Max Dotaire guilty of Gross Negligence of a person paying for his services.
Debra is hiding her face in her hands, crying. Kara turns to her, feeling like garbage, feeling like a failure. “Hey,” she tries patting her on the shoulder tentatively. “At least we got him on something, right? He didn’t totally get away with it all.”
How could this happen?
Looking at her with red eyes and a puffy face, Debra hisses, “He got away with the one thing that mattered. You don’t know how I feel. You can’t even understand.”
The sinking feeling Kara’s belly increases with dismay, because Debra is right. The loss is a painful sting in her chest. So, what if they got him on Gross Negligence? That doesn’t excuse the violation of Debra’s person, or how Debra likely won’t be able to trust another person with her body. She’ll never get closure for what happened to her.
Kara tastes bile on her tongue.
Then, something even worse happens. Judge Canry demands order once more. With a grim expression on his aging face, he says, “Due to the lack of evidence to support otherwise, I am closing the secondary case on Paxton Brooker, owner of the Dark Mirage . The entire accusation against him has been based upon the idea that he is routinely hiring people who rape and harm inside of his club, hinging upon this case on his employee, Max Dotaire. No pattern of abuse has been found. I consider the matter closed, unless better evidence is brought forth or a new charge is presented.”
The air collapses in Kara’s lungs as she stares at the judge in disbelief. Bob is cursing under his breath. Derrick keeps his emotions hidden, the consummate professional. He won’t add to the negative energy floating around their table. He rubs the bridge of his nose, the only outward sign of frustration and dismay that he presents.
Kara feels her teeth grind together precariously as she carefully connects the dots, thinking of what she saw earlier. Seeing her face going dangerously tense, Derrick says, “Kara, I know this is disappointing-”
“It’s not that,” she grits out, eyes sweeping the dispersing crowd. “I was trying to tell you earlier. Havenwood-Calais was here. Talking to Judge Canry. Just before we went into session.”
Bob utters a new set of extremely colorful curses, turning red.
Derrick goes still, face serious, eyes finally getting an angry glint in them that Kara has never seen before. Flatly, Derrick says, “He got Canry to drop Brooker’s case. That utter...bastard. How did I not see that coming?”
“I’ve always said to not trust that snake in a suit,” Bob huffs furiously, feeling robbed. “This is what happens when you don’t expect the worst from him!”
Kara glances downward at her phone and her stomach twists with nausea, anger pounding through her temples. Stars dance across her vision as her emotions grow darker. Nick’s texted her. Meet me at the hotel across the street. Mention my name and the front desk will give you a key.
No inflection. No hint of understanding how he’s backstabbed her. Perhaps it’s not personal to him, just business.
Too bad. It’s personal to Kara and her fingers clench dangerously around her phone.
So, he wants to have a victory fuck? He wants to gloat? Oh, Kara doesn’t play those games. Trying to keep her face clear of complete and absolute wrath, she excuses herself tightly, making her way to go across the street and strangle Nicholas Havenwood-Calais.
Stepping into the hotel room with the key she’s been given, Kara struggles to keep herself from biting through her tongue. She’s going to tear his lying, scheming head right off his shoulders.
It’s a nice, large suite. Of course. Not a closet of a hotel room that Kara would have normally been in by herself. Nice and expensive. She knows he’s here; she can smell the ghost of his cologne hanging in the air. If anything, it makes her even more angry.
She wants to scream. She wants to throw the lamps and tear down the curtains. How dare he do this to her? Losing the Mills case is one thing, but having the Brooker’s case dismissed in the same breath? Unbelievable.
Nick steps out of what must be the bathroom, his tie completely undone around his neck. There’s a trickle of water in his dark hair, indicating that he likely splashed water on his face before she walked in.
He looks as good as cold water in the desert. The picture of elegance with his cheekbones and sharp nose, glittering blue eyes. He certainly doesn’t look like he feels guilty about anything . Rage flashes through Kara, making her vision black and red, like she’s stepping off a grindhouse movie set.
She storms up to him, slapping him across the face with her full strength, snarling, “You paid that fucking judge off, didn’t you? You goddamn slime!”
Nick’s cheekbone is turning red with her hand print. His jaw tightens precariously. “You have no proof.”
Grinding her teeth together, she comes at him again, shoving him back against the dresser. “I don’t need proof. This has you written all over it. How guilty is your client, huh, Nicky ? Guilty enough that you’re willing to pay the judge off to get his case overlooked? Can’t win the honest way, can you? Pathetic .”
An ugly emotion grows in his eyes, her words snapping something inside of him. “I wasn’t about to let a lying whore smear his name when she’s willing been enjoying his club. I have no regrets.” He grabs her wrist hard, hard enough to bruise, and flings her towards the giant California king bed. “Now, get out of my face and get your ass on that bed.”
“You’re fucked if you think I’m going to touch you,” Kara hisses as she crashes against the foot of the bed.
He mimics her mockingly. “You’re fucked if you think I care.”
Seeing his intent, Kara gets to her feet and tries to make a dash for the door. Nick catches her before she even gets three steps away from the mattress. She yells in outrage and futility, even as he tosses her onto her back, pulling down her pencil skirt roughly.
Genuinely furious, Kara hollers, “You’re disgusting! Stop it.”
Tearing away her underwear, he mocks her, “ Stop it . Stop it, Nick . Your pussy is waiting to be fucked, don’t pretend any differently. Look at how you dressed; you’re practically begging for it.”
The rabid pound of blood in her temple is excruciating; she’s livid.
She wet, always seem wet when she’s with him, even if she wants to be or not. It’s like her body knows how it wants to respond around him. When he exposes his erect cock, thick and veiny, he’s able to shove the head in with only a few attempts. Her slick helps ease the way for him as he eases more of his girth into her, grunting.
Her insides flutter around him with sick excitement and Kara briefly hates herself for enjoying it. She’s furious with him, angry at his back-stabbing. Yet, here she is, enjoying his cock filling her up, the way he grinds down onto her clit.
It’s violent, filthy, loud. He pulls her hair. She uses her nails to cut up his arms, leaving bleeding cuts.
The headboard is slamming into the wall and he fucks Kara into the sheets, pushing into her tight channel.
Kara’s riding on her own anger, like liquid flame just coiling under her ribcage. Her fingernails dig deep, painful grooves into his skin, her teeth sinking into the flesh above his disgusting, rotted heart, having ripped open his button-down shirt.
The buttons lie forgotten on the floor.
The monster is delighted by her vicious response to him, charmed. “God,” he groans lowly. “I love being under your teeth.”
She bites down harder, wanting to pierce his skin, scar him forever. With a snarl, he flips her onto her belly, slamming back into her from behind. Kara tightens around him, the new angle sharp and deep.
Oh, she hates him for this. She despises him.
He grunts as he humps into her faster, ever faster, the sound of their flesh colliding loud in the open room. His balls slap against her swollen pussy and Kara digs her fingers into the sheets, moaning, little noises in time to the rhythm of his hips.
It’s almost too hard, too fast, but Kara’s angry emotions hide what may actually be pain mixed with pleasure. When he shifts her hips upwards, he slams into her bundle of nerves, sending her spasming around his cock. Kara shrieks in surprised ecstasy, the orgasm catching her completely unawares.
“That’s right, cum on my cock,” he growls thickly, hands on her tits as he humps into her, riding her spasming channel. “Show me how much you love me wrecking you.”
She gushes obscenely, her wetness leaking out around his thrusting girth. She’s not even surprised anymore; she’s used to that with him. She’s ashamed and aroused, a filthy mix.
“That’s so hot, you slut,” he rasps, rough like a cat’s tongue. “You squirt like a pornstar for me.”
Moments later, he slams in deep, his cock pulsing inside of her, filling her with cum. He grinds into her from behind, getting as deep as he can, as if he wants to shove his cock up into her womb. He groans filthily, then collapses on her back, sated.
They lie there, panting. Kara can feel the beat of his heart on her spine, racing. His weight presses her down possessively, his cock slowly softening inside her. Eyes shut tight, Kara pretends she’s elsewhere, that she’s not here with him, hopes that if she plays dead he’ll go away.
She feels betrayed.
After a few moments, he pulls away, slipping out of her as he does so. He lies on his back beside her, his legs hanging off the bed. His hand works its way into her hair gently, caressing her wavy strands. “Kara?”
She doesn’t reply, feels her teeth grind. Her eyes are burning.
He sighs, like she’s being childish. “Don’t be like this.”
Kara allows him to flip her onto her back, yet shuts her eyes tight. She senses him leaning over her, looking down at her face expectantly. He leans down to kiss her, but Kara averts her face. Nick makes a noise of annoyance, trying again.
Kara averts her face in the other direction.
He grips her chin and holds her steady, pressing his mouth to hers in a rough, consuming kiss, his tongue tasting hers. With a snarl, Kara pushes him and moves away from him, wiping her mouth with a glare.
“I didn’t do what I did to hurt you,” he says coolly. “You can drop the attitude now. It isn’t cute.”
Ha! He thinks she’s playing around. Not this time. She puts her back to him. Oh, look; there’s her work tote, on the floor…her skirt too…
“ What do you want !?” He snaps finally.
“I don’t want anything from you!” Kara replies furiously, an edge of hurt creeping into her voice. “I want you to leave me alone.”
Nick pulls her back to the bed when she tries to leave, attempting to wrap his body around her, like he’s trying to keep her in place. He’s not much for cuddling, Kara knows, so it’s likely about control. The idea of her leaving him has always brought this reaction out of Nick.
He tries to sweeten her up, conniving, whispering in her hair as he keeps her on the sheets. “I won’t go out with the guys this weekend. I’ll stay in like a good boy should and you can play with me instead. How does that sound?”
Struggle is futile with him wrapped around her like a boa constrictor. Pissed off, Kara says, “Is that supposed to be your form of an apology?”
“If you want it to be.”
“You’re a bastard. I really don’t care at this point,” she replies blankly, staring up at the ceiling.
She feels like she’s drank gallons of rotten milk that’s now festering in her stomach.
Nick kisses her forehead. “Sure, you do. You’ll come over Friday. I’ll order in. You’ll feel better about all this by then.” He’s so sure of himself and Kara hates that. “We’ll be fine.”
He rolls away from her, leaving her hurt, exhausted, shaking form on the sheets.
Already, he’s starting to dress, pulling on his tie. Becoming pristine once more, as if Kara is nothing more than the scenery that he’s grown tired of.
Frankly, she’s getting a little sick of this routine. She numbly grabs her skirt, squeezing into it as she gathers her tote to her.
“Why are you like this? You just…distance yourself like nothing we do ever really happens.” Kara feels lost, hating herself for needing to say this. “You make me feel like I’m nothing. Half the time you just disappear into yourself like a ghost. Why do we even bother doing this? Going round and round like a sick carnival ride? Is there something wrong with me?”
He goes quiet, sitting still, suddenly looking very tired. The lines around his eyes deepen and he looks away. “There’s nothing wrong with you.” Quiet, so very soft and quiet.
“Don’t lie to me.” Kara’s had it up to here with him. “We screw and usually you go about your own way. You don’t believe in any sort of commitment. Sometimes, you let me hang around, sometimes you chitchat, but it’s all an act, isn’t it? You stabbed me in the back today and it means nothing to you. You don’t care about how upset I am. Then, you use my emotional state of unrest to get off.”
Disgust flashes across his features. “Have you ever stopped to think that maybe I don’t like being this way?”
Shocked, Kara can only stutter a few syllables out, because now she’s really lost.
Seeing her reaction, Nick scoffs with a hefty sum of self-loathing. “Do you think it makes me feel proud of myself, every time I feel aroused when you’re afraid of me? When I get turned on by controlling you? Being aggressive and overbearing? I’m aware that isn’t normal, but I can’t make it go away.”
Kara asks the obvious. “Well, why are you this way? Have you ever thought about getting help? What happened to you?”
His face contorts with anger. “We aren’t talking about this. You don’t need to know anything about the why or the how. Maybe I just am .”
“Oh, right. Just throw up your stupid emotional walls, Nick. Swell !” Kara shouts at him in disbelief. “You really are a piece of work. I’d help you if your asshole wasn’t so fucking clenched!”
“There’s no fixing me. It’s not that simple. You enable me to enjoy it,” he hisses. “I’ve never had that. Not given freely. Why do you think I’ve entertained myself with prostitutes before? Because they are willing to suck it up for money. Normal women looking for love run far away from me. Then, there’s you .”
Kara isn’t sure she likes where this is going.
“You come crawling to me, with all your spirit and filthy backtalk, and you aren’t afraid to hurt. You’ve taken what I can give you and you haven’t run away.” He grits his teeth, bright blue eyes flashing like a lightning storm. “I try to give you some normalcy, but it doesn’t come naturally to me. It drives me up the wall, knowing I can’t give you any sort of exclusivity when the thought of you with someone else makes me sick.”
“You can’t have everything, Nick!” Kara yells, incredulous. Is she actually hearing this? “You can’t sit here and tell me you want me all to yourself when you won’t even share anything about you with me! I honestly can’t decide if I like you or hate you, most of the time .”
“I already told you to come stay with me this weekend,” he snaps. “Want to make more demands of me?”
Her phone rings and with a snarl she answers it, pulling it from her tote, strangely wanting to run away from this conversation. “ What? ” Kara practically growls into the phone, praying it isn’t Derrick calling to discuss what went wrong with the case.
“Kara,” her father says very casually. “Is that any way to answer the phone?”
The blood melts from Kara’s face.