Saints Of Denver: Charged Part 4

"Thanks. Dad picked it out and I spent forever trying to hide the pink hair. This is the best I could do." I turned my head slightly to the side so he could see the bun, and if I hadn't been standing right in front of him, I would've missed the barely there breath of what seemed like relief that whispered out of him.

"The work paid off."

I nodded my head a little and met his chilly gaze with one of my own. "Whatever happens today is happening to me. I'm going to face the music, own up to the fact I messed up, picked the wrong person. Again. And I'm going to do that as me. Me, who has pink hair and won't be caught dead in a power suit." I let my eyes roll over his long and elegant frame draped in material that cost more than my dad's monthly mortgage payment. "No offense."

Like he would take any. No man on Earth had ever looked as good in a suit as this one did. I mean, I was pretty sure that was an actual fact.

His eyebrows lifted a hint as the edge of his mouth dipped because he wasn't going to let himself smile at me. "None taken and you don't need a power suit. What you're working with is fine and more importantly you seem comfortable. That comes across as earnest and honest. We don't need you in anything that would make you fidgety and uneasy. That behavior comes across as anxious and guilty."

He turned away from me and moved to the table where his computer and a bunch of paperwork was laid out. "Remember the State gets to play their hand first. They're going to bring up every single thing on your record. They're going to bring up the fact you dropped out of school. They're going to hammer the point that you worked at the bar, that you were fired, that you were upset your dad sold it."

My dad stiffened behind me but I didn't turn around. I nodded at Quaid. "I'm ready for it."

"They are going to try and convince the judge you were there to help Jared, that you are a legitimate threat to society, and that you would be better off behind bars, then they are going to try and sway the judge with generosity by offering up the plea bargain." He gave me a pointed look. "I don't get to do my part until all of that is over, so you have to sit there and keep it together while they drag you through the mud. Both of you need to keep it together. Am I making myself clear?"

I peeked over my shoulder and saw that my dad was scowling again and that he seemed almost as anxious as I was feeling on the inside.

"I hear you, son." My dad's voice rumbled low and hard through the tiny room.

Quaid nodded. "Good. I'm here for one reason and one reason only, to win this judgment for you. The State has a decent enough case, but mediocre isn't good enough when I'm the opposing counsel. We're in this together, got it?"

He's been telling me that for weeks, saying this was his battle as much as it was mine, but since I was the only one with something to lose, namely my freedom, I'd had a hard time believing him. Here in this tiny room, with my dad practically vibrating with tension at my back and him seeping confidence and talent in front of me, I actually started to believe him.

"Okay. We're in this together."

His eyes thawed just a hint and warm shots of pewter blazed from the depths. That look made my heart beat faster and some of the anxiety that was riding me warmed into something that was heavy and more languid. Even though it was the least likely thing in the world to happen, I realized I would totally f.u.c.k my attorney. Exactly like those girls had been talking about at the arraignment. He was hot in a way that was totally foreign to anything I had ever considered s.e.xy before, beautiful even, but it was his steadiness, his indomitable att.i.tude, that pulled at me.

Quaid wasn't reckless or rash. He was a man with a plan, with the kind of fort.i.tude to put that plan into action, and follow it through to the end. He most definitely had his s.h.i.+t together. While that never appealed to me before, it was suddenly the most desirable trait I had ever seen in a man. He was flawless, and to someone that was deeply and tragically flawed, it was impossible not to be fascinated by that kind of perfection.

I pulled a whoosh of air into my lungs and held it as I followed him out of the room and into the courtroom. Since this was the preliminary hearing, the only people in the room were the court recorder, the prosecutor plus his a.s.sistant, and our little entourage. It should be less nerve-racking to have all my mistakes laid out in front of a smaller audience, but since this audience mattered more, and my father was a part of it, my stomach churned and burned as we took a seat on our side of the room.

The prosecutor was the same one from the arraignment. He walked over and shook Quaid's hand before he sat down and let his gaze skim over my attorney's slick attire.

"Nice suit, Jackson."

Quaid gave the other man a smile, but it wasn't a nice one. It was a smile that had too much teeth in it and it didn't make me feel all warm and fuzzy like I usually felt when he grinned.

"Thanks, Townsend. I dressed up for you."

The other man grunted in response and s.h.i.+fted his gaze to me. I wanted to squirm in my seat but repeated over and over again that I was pretending to have my act together today so I needed to sit still.

"You sure your client doesn't want to take the plea deal? I thought the bosses were being generous when it came across my desk."

I opened my mouth to snap that I hadn't done anything, but then shut it just as quickly. Quaid was getting paid a minifortune to defend me, and I knew I would make a mess if I tried to defend myself, so I kept quiet and forced myself not to react to the other lawyer.

"It is a good deal ... if she was guilty of committing a crime. Having bad taste in men and getting caught up with a junkie loser is not a punishable offense." Quaid's tone was icy and there was no missing that he wasn't in the mood to banter with the other man.

"When that junkie loser robs a bar with an unregistered weapon and threatens the life of a cop, it is a punishable offense. She didn't call the cops, Jackson, she didn't do anything."

I cringed and tore my gaze away from their intense standoff. She didn't do anything ... I never did and it forever haunted me. It lingered around me like a black cloud. Nothing was just as bad as partic.i.p.ating in a crime; at least, that was the way it felt. Nothing could linger heavy and thick until you couldn't breathe through it, and I'd been gasping for air for a very long time.

"Again, Townsend, doing nothing is not a crime." It might not be a crime, but the punishment that came with doing nothing might be worse than the punishment that came along with actually committing a crime.

"We'll see if the judge agrees with you or not." The other man skulked his way back to the other side of the room. Shortly after the exchange, the court bailiff told us all to rise and an older man, in billowing robes, entered the room and took his place at the bench. The court recorder read my case number and the charges that I was facing, then we all had to say our names clearly for the record.

The judge said a curt h.e.l.lo to both Quaid and the other attorney, and without any preamble, the other man launched into why the State thought I should be behind bars. Just like Quaid warned, all my dirty laundry was dragged out and laid flat for everyone to see. The DUI charge I'd recently bargained down, the bar fight that had resulted in a trip to the police station all because I was drunk and thought the other girl was trying to hit on Jared. The trespa.s.sing from when I jumped the fence at a resort to go skinny-dipping with some boy in a band that I met at a bar. All of it in its twisted, torn, and ragged glory. Every bad choice and mistake I had ever made there to be judged and weighed. Every instance I had taken the opportunity to do the wrong thing because I didn't deserve to do the right thing. It was rough, but I sat silently, unflinchingly, and refused to look away from the judge, who had his eyes locked firmly on me.

"We also have a witness that will happily testify that Ms. Walker was fired, from the very bar she is accused of helping rob, for stealing. The same witness will testify that Ms. Walker was angry her father sold the bar, the bar she felt belonged to her and should stay in the family, so she concocted the plan for the robbery out of revenge."

Quaid stood up and put his hands on the table in front of him. "Seriously, Townsend? Are you going to disclose to the court that your witness is a known drug user? Do you plan to clue the court in to the fact that you are in the midst of pressing charges against said witness for armed robbery and endangering the welfare of a police officer? What kind of deal did you offer this witness to testify against my client, Counselor?" I finally pulled my gaze away from the impossible-to-read judge and looked at my attorney.

There was a hard line of tension in his arms and along the line of his back. He was angry on my behalf. The little crush I was working on building towards him bloomed into full-blown infatuation. My dad had been the only man in my life to fight for me, so to have this man, this polished, seemingly perfect man, take my back, regardless of the fact he was doing it for a paycheck, still warmed me to my toes.

"Mr. Jackson, you will get your turn to argue against the State's case soon. Please refrain from those kinds of outbursts in my courtroom. You know better."

Chastised and clearly annoyed by it, Quaid sat back down next to me and shot me a look. It was full of heat and turmoil, so it was my turn to tilt my head in rea.s.surance, and even though I'm sure he thought it was an accident, I let my elbow brush against his like he had done at the arraignment. We were in this together, after all.

After the prosecutor was done talking, the judge took his time looking at the paperwork scattered in front of him and then turned back to the other attorney.

"I'm a.s.suming there's a deal on the table since I've seen the tape from the parking lot, and it makes it very clear Ms. Walker was not at the establishment of her own free will."

The prosecutor visibly stiffened and cleared his throat. "The district attorney did offer a deal, Your Honor. Ms. Walker turned it down. We feel like we have a solid enough case to take this to trial."

The judge didn't say anything and looked at Quaid, who climbed to his feet. "Your client is aware of what happens if she turns down the deal and takes her chances with a jury, Mr. Jackson?"

"She is, Your Honor. The fact of the matter is she didn't know Jared Dalton was going to rob the bar that night. She didn't know he had a gun, and when he told her his plan, she tried to exit the car, and we all know what happened." He looked at me. "Ms. Walker was in the wrong place, at the wrong time, and is paying a remarkably high price for hooking her wagon to the wrong guy. You put me in front of a jury with her and you know as well as I do that they're going to see a pretty, young woman who's made some mistakes but none as bad as sticking around in an abusive relations.h.i.+p with an addict. That video is d.a.m.ning, but so is the witness testimony I'll bring forth. It will attest to the fact she showed up to work with black eyes, and will also state that everyone that witnessed the two of them together knew Jared was bad news. Not to mention the fact, the State's witness is being investigated on trafficking charges, on top of the armed robbery charges. When he was shot during the commission of the crime, it seems he got real chatty while he was in the hospital recovering. Offered the cops a lot of info in search of a deal. Avett Walker is a victim, not a perpetrator."

I wasn't a victim; I was a glutton for punishment and I had my reasons to be that way, but the judge didn't know that. He s.h.i.+fted his attention to me and I swallowed hard.

"Ms. Walker." I got shakily to my feet as Quaid put a hand on my arm and pulled me upwards.

"Yes, Your Honor?"

"What exactly happened that night?"

I felt my knees start to quiver and my heart thudded heavily in my ears. "I, uh ..." I started to stutter and had to clear my throat. I curled my hands into my fists and told myself to be honest. All the ugly was already out, so it couldn't make it any prettier or any messier with the truth. "Jared had left town for a while. He owed his supplier a bunch of money, which was why I was stealing from the bar. It was stupid. It was desperate, but I did it because I thought I was helping someone that cared about me." My voice cracked a little and I realized Quaid hadn't let go of my arm because he gave it a gentle squeeze.

"While he was gone, some guys showed up looking for him. They, uh ..." My voice drifted off again and I had to close my eyes and brace myself to get through the rest. "They broke into the place we were staying and roughed me up." It had almost been so much worse, but thank goodness Jared's landlady was a nosy old bat that had heard the ruckus and showed up in the nick of time. "When Jared came back to town and found me all messed up, he told me he was going to make it right, that he had a safe place we could go. He hustled me into the car, told me he had to make one quick stop, and the next thing I knew we were at the bar."

I felt a sharp pressure in my chest and lifted my hand to hold on to the spot where my heart was kicking against the inside of me like a horse. "I should have known better. He was high-he was always high-and he was angry." I moved my fingers from my chest to the spot on my forehead where the knot had lived for weeks. "I told him to stop it. I told him I was going to call the police. That was when he grabbed the back of my head and shoved me into the dashboard. I was already messed up from the thugs that were looking for him and he nailed me right between the eyes. I think I blacked out a little bit."

I gulped. "I wanted to call the police." I laughed a dry broken sound. "I really wanted to call my dad." I looked over my shoulder at the man that was my own personal rock to lean on and wanted to wither away at the expression on his hard face. I was breaking his heart again, and again. "I didn't do anything though. I sat there with my ears ringing, wondering how in the h.e.l.l I had ended up in such a terrible spot. I didn't know he had a gun. I never saw it and didn't know until we got to the bar what his plans were. I should have done something, anything, but I didn't, including help him plan the robbery."

It was eerily silent after I said my piece; the only sound I could hear was the rhythmic in and out of Quaid's breathing. He gave no indication if I had been convincing or not. I hoped so, since it was the ugly, unvarnished truth of exactly how broken and imperfect I was.

The judge sighed, an audible sound that echoed throughout the nearly empty courtroom.

"I think we both know, Mr. Townsend, that if the defense puts Ms. Walker on the stand after he coaches her against a junkie that is a proven drug user and with the evidence of the physical abuse, your case is in the toilet."

"Your Honor ..." The other attorney huffed out an irritated objection but the judge held up his hand.

"Stop, Counselor. I'm not in the habit of wasting the court's time and I'm not in the habit of putting weak cases in front of a jury. I agree with Mr. Jackson that the video evidence is d.a.m.ning and so is the history of your primary witness. Ms. Walker has a history of infractions but none of them prove her to be a menace, just a young lady that needs to grow up and make better choices." His gaze drilled into me. "Do you consider yourself lucky, young lady?"

I blinked rapidly and shook my head in the negative. "No, Your Honor, not typically."

"Well, adjust your att.i.tude and take this as your wake-up call. You are extremely lucky that Mr. Dalton didn't hurt anyone, yourself included, and if he dragged you into his drug activities, which it sounds like he did, you are very fortunate to be here in this courtroom at all." I nodded woodenly. "I'm dismissing the State's case against you, but I'm doing so with the warning that you are expected to make yourself available to both the police and the district's attorney office as they move forward with the case against Mr. Dalton. If I get any kind of hint that you are not being accommodating and cooperative, I will gladly rule on any obstruction of justice charges that are brought up against you. Am I making myself clear?"

I nodded again. "Yes, Your Honor."

"If I were you, I would take a long hard look at the choices that resulted in you ending up in the car with Mr. Dalton and a loaded gun that night, Ms. Walker. Next time, luck may not be on your side."

I blew out a long, shallow breath and told myself I couldn't pa.s.s out.

"The charges against Avett Walker are dismissed. Court adjourned." The gavel hit the block on the desk and we all got to our feet as the judge swept out of the room, his robes billowing behind him.

"Dismissed." I whispered the word like it was a prayer and melted into the hard embrace that wrapped around me. My face didn't hit soft cotton and a barrel chest like the last time I won a court battle. No, this time my cheek hit a silk tie and a chest that was rock hard and felt like it was carved of stone. I instinctively wrapped my arm around Quaid's lean waist and inhaled his tangy, expensive scent. I would never tell my dad, but it was a better hug, mostly because it made me tingle all over. It made me feel safe and protected in an entirely different way, a way that was heavy and intoxicating to my already stripped and exposed senses.

"And that's how it's done." He muttered the words into the top of my head and let me go like I was on fire, which I was, on the inside.

My dad cleared his throat and I walked over to hug it out with him as well. His embrace was familiar, warm, and I would give it all up in the blink of an eye to run towards the tingle I got from Quaid's arms around me again. It looked like my addiction to chasing after my ruin wasn't going anywhere anytime soon.

CHAPTER 6.

Quaid

I almost kissed her. It was a close call when her face hit my chest and her arms wrapped around me. I wanted to kiss her but I refrained, which was a struggle, so I hugged her back instead.

I never hugged my clients after a win. Usually, it was a businesslike handshake, followed by a tired joke about my bill being in the mail. Not this client. This client I wanted to wrap up in my arms and tell her to start making better choices so she was never in this position again. With this client I wanted to touch my mouth to hers and see if she tasted as wild and rebellious as she seemed. I wanted to find that innocence I knew she had somewhere inside her, hidden under all the debris she piled on top of it. And I knew it would feel as sweet and as soft as I guessed it did. And because I wanted all of that, I pulled back from Avett Walker like her skin was wrapped in thorns, and met her father's knowing look with a guarded one of my own.

Brite didn't miss much. I couldn't tell if the blatant relief in his dark gaze was from the dismissed charges or because I immediately took my hands off of his daughter. Honestly, I wasn't sure which one he should be more relieved about.

I shook hands with the big man and nodded when he offered up a gruff, "Thank you."

"All I did was what I get paid to do." I made sure my voice was flat and devoid of emotion. Maybe if I repeated that it had just been a job, and that she was like any other client, I would eventually make myself believe it. I needed to believe it before I got myself into trouble.

I saw Avett's eyes widen and her mouth pull into that familiar pout that I wanted to nibble on. I bit back a groan and inclined my head towards where Townsend was lingering on the other side of the courtroom. "I've got to touch base with the prosecutor before I head out. If you need anything else, follow up with the firm." I couldn't stop myself from meeting those swirling, colorful eyes as she glared at me. "Good luck with the rest of the case."

She opened her mouth, then snapped it back closed with a shake of her head. Her eyes narrowed to slits as she practically growled out, "Thanks."

Brite took her arm, muttered something to her that I couldn't hear, and then guided her out of the courtroom. I wanted to breathe a sigh of relief that the tiny force of nature was no longer my problem, no longer a temptation I didn't want or understand, but my guts felt hollow and my head started to pound like I'd had too much to drink.

Townsend made his way over to me and set his worn briefcase on the desk next to my much nicer one. He lifted an eyebrow at me and asked snidely, "So, do you think if I dropped a couple grand on a new suit Willis would rule in my favor more often?"

Normally, I would smirk and throw out some offhand quip about clothes making the man, but my sense of humor and typical pride at winning a case was nowhere to be found. I rolled my eyes and didn't bother to mask my annoyance at the other man's petty dig. "Your case was c.r.a.p and Willis saw it. Even if he didn't, you were never going to get a conviction with the video evidence and the previous criminal history of your only witness. Not even Tom Ford or Ralph Lauren could pull your case out of the c.r.a.pper. Don't be a d.i.c.k, Townsend."

I never spoke that bluntly or let my real feelings about a case or opposing counsel show. Spending time around Avett, with her total lack of artifice or pretense, was bad for business. I was supposed to be unaffected, unmoved, by everything that happened in court. That was how I defended the kind of monsters and miscreants that made up my client list. I didn't need the prosecution to see any kind of c.h.i.n.k in my flawless armor.

Townsend picked up his briefcase and gave me a smirk. "The hug after the announcement was a nice touch, Jackson. You gonna offer that to all the murderers and rapists you defend, too?"

It was a killer parting shot. All lawyers knew how to give one, which made me even more grateful that this case was won and done. I wouldn't have to go through another arraignment, another hearing, and possibly weeks of trial ignoring my unexpected and inappropriate reaction to Avett. She wasn't on my agenda, and she wasn't someone that I could pretend with. She would see through all the smoke and mirrors that made up my life, and if the charade cracked, if the veil was pulled away, I didn't know who or what would be standing behind it. I was afraid to find out.

I grabbed my bag and made my way out of the building. I was checking my schedule on my phone when I noticed that Orsen had sent another reminder about the staff holiday party. I groaned. The thing was still months away and he wouldn't get off my case about it. The more he bugged me, the less I wanted to go, and I hadn't put any effort into finding a toss-away piece of arm candy to go with me. I'd been distracted by work, particularly work surrounding a tiny, pink-haired troublemaker that I couldn't drag my mind away from. The same tiny, pink-haired troublemaker that was leaning on the low cement wall outside of the entrance to the courthouse with her arms across her chest and her eyes pinned to the doors, clearly waiting for me. The toe of her pointed boot was even tapping an agitated rhythm against the sidewalk.

I hit the screen to turn my phone off, slipping it into my pocket as she pushed off the wall as I made my way towards her. Her multicolored eyes were riotous with emotion and the heels on her boots clicked against the sidewalk as she kept walking until the tips of our shoes were touching. My hand curled painfully tight around the handle of my bag as she tilted her chin back so that we were looking directly at each other. She barely reached my shoulders but she seemed so much bigger, so much more powerful, than her small frame indicated. The force of her personality and her obvious anger pulsed around us. We stood toe-to-toe, locked in a silent battle that seemed more intense and possibly more important than the one we waged in the courtroom.

"Were you waiting for me for a specific reason, Ms. Walker?" I saw the gold in her hazel eyes blaze when I referred to her formally. I needed the distance mentally because I couldn't make my body move to put the s.p.a.ce physically between us. In fact, I wanted to move closer.

She uncrossed her arms from her chest and put her hands on her hips. I tried really hard to ignore the way the new pose pushed her full b.r.e.a.s.t.s against the lacy material of her dress. I failed miserably.

"That's it?" Her tone was taunting and sharp.

I narrowed my eyes at her, s.h.i.+fted my weight from foot to foot as her proximity and the charge of her pus.h.i.+ng and me pulling thickened both my blood and my c.o.c.k. I was an attorney for a reason. I never met an argument I didn't like or that I didn't feel compelled to win. The way Avett always seemed to challenge me was as much of a turn-on as her curvy little body was.

"Where is your father?" I lifted my eyes from her penetrating gaze in search of the big biker. I didn't need to try and explain a black eye or a broken arm to Orsen on top of why I suddenly had no interest in searching out a pretty piece of a.s.s to spend time with.

"He's waiting at the truck. I told him I had some questions I needed to ask you about what happens next."

"Do you?"

"Do I what?" She was getting increasingly annoyed and I wanted to groan at the way it made her cheeks flush and her breathing hitch. I bet she looked the same way when she was about to come.

s.h.i.+t. That was not the direction I needed my thoughts to go, but now that they were there I didn't have a chance in h.e.l.l of wrangling them back into the safe zone.

"Do you have questions about what happens next?" My voice didn't sound like my own and I knew there was no hiding the wayward direction of my thoughts as they played out in my gaze as I watched her carefully.

Slowly, her head shook back and forth, dislodging the bun at the back of her head. Pink strands of hair floated around her face, curling over her shoulders, and my fingertips itched to reach out and push it off her face.

"I know what happens next, Quaid ... do you?" Her tone had dropped to a husky whisper that hit me right in the d.i.c.k. My entire body tensed up and I almost, very nearly, leaned down and met her as she lifted up on her tiptoes towards me. I wanted to kiss her. I wanted her to kiss me. But over the top of her head, as she moved towards me, I caught sight of a familiar face. The heady little bubble of seduction and intoxicating risk that Avett had created around me popped, dropping me hard, back into reality.

I turned my head as her lips grazed my cheek, and even though it was as innocent as any kiss had ever been, it felt more erotic, more forbidden, and more illicit than any of the actual s.e.x I had ever had. This little slip of a woman could demolish me, waste me, annihilate me, and if I allowed her to do it, I knew it would feel better than anything had in a very long time.

"I know that you think you know what happens next, Avett, but you don't. What happens now is you stop wasting your time on men that are no good for you, men that have nothing to offer you and will end up hurting you in the long run. You need to start making smarter choices for yourself and start living up to your potential."

She fell back on her heels, rearing away like I had smacked her across her face. Her pretty flush turned to a furious red, and she finally took a step away from me, only to lean forward and drive her finger into the center of my tie. That familiar face was moving closer and closer. I knew whatever was said next was going to be overheard, so I needed to keep myself in check and put the armor back on piece by piece. I hadn't even noticed that Avett managed to strip it off of me. This was why nothing was happening next. I was walking away from her before I was bared and exposed to more than her perceptive gaze.

"You're an a.s.shole, Quaid, you know that. A real d.i.c.k and a super douche lord." Her eyes flashed at me as her voice continued to rise. "This is me making a smarter choice, at least I thought it was, but I had no idea you were a coward."