This woman is mine.
We clean each other up, dry each other off, and then we eat the lunch she ordered for us. As I stare at her while she eats, a soft flush of pleasure still making her skin glow, I realize that my entire life has changed. A few days ago, I had resigned myself to wasting more years in prison, but now, I’ll do whatever the fuck it takes to stay out.
For her.
Only her.
Chapter Seven
Maeve
When I step back into the living room after storing the takeout leftovers in the fridge, Trigger is grabbing his jacket. “You’re leaving?”
He whips his head around, and I’m once again struck by how freaking good-looking the man is. I’m struck with the ugly thought that this—sleeping with women on a random Thursday—is normal for him. It’s not like I thought he’d stay forever, but I didn’t expect him to be ready to leave before his hair had even dried from our bath.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I just got a call from Saint. There’s trouble at Haven House and they need all the help they can get.” He walks over to me and despite the insecurities, I find my heart hammering out of control. He’s smiling as he frames my face in his hands and kisses my mouth. It’s slow and tender and it sends my stomach fluttering and toes curling in pleasure. “I’ll be back. I promise not to get into trouble and worry my pretty attorney.”
“Okay,” I murmur, licking my lips.
Oh, this is bad, I think as he brushes hair from my face and tucks it behind my ear.This is really bad.
I’ve gone and foolishly fallen in love with this man. Falling for his body was bad enough, but at least that was something I knew I could take care of.
But Christ, an emotional attachment with a client? Am I out of my mind?
“I’m sorry, I wish I didn’t have to go.”
“No, it’s fine,” I say, shuffling my feet nervously, unsettled by the thoughts that have slipped into my mind. “Take care and please don’t get in trouble. I don’t want your bail to be revoked.”
He smirks and with a last touch, a simple graze of his thumb over my cheek, he walks away and out, leaving me staring after him like a fool. A fool who has fallen for a man she was never supposed to fall for.
A rebel, a client, an ex-convict.
I glance down at my wristwatch and realize that it’s only two. I’m questioning whether I should head to the office when the decision is taken out of my hands in the form of a courier delivering the case files I requested for Trigger’s case.
“Well, it seems like you’re working from home today, Maeve,” I say, carrying the folders to the couch and dropping them on the coffee table. I head to the kitchen and consider grabbing some wine, but opt for coffee instead. After making myself a cup, I return to the living room and sit on the floor, eager to dive into the last ten years of Cole Maddox.
The man I just let inside of me a couple of hours ago. More than once, I let the man take me. I practically begged him to take me after he made my body sing in tunes I never thought it could.
I’m still sore and my heart is a mess, but Christ, I want him again.
With a sigh, I shove out the sentimental woman and call in the lawyer for this part. I tie my hair behind my head in a quick bun before opening the first file. I start with the original police reports, reading through them and looking for inconsistencies, missing details, or signs of bias. The reports are vague on how they got the tip. Heck, it’s surprising that they were able to find a judge to sign the search warrant without probable cause.
“An anonymous tip, my butt,” I scoff, reaching for my coffee as I search through the files for anything that will help my case.
My heart nearly stops when I find the name.
William L. Halloway. Supervisor to the prosecuting attorney.
There it is, in bold, along with a signature I’ve grown up staring at.
What are the chances that my father would be involved in the case that sent the man I have feelings for to jail? My fingers are trembling as I push the coffee cup away, grappling for the other documents to double-check. He wasn’t directly involved, but he worked closely with the prosecutor who was.
I swipe a hand over my forehead when I feel a thin sweat break out. “This is a fucking mess,” I mutter to myself as I read through the forensic report. I could have torn all this apart in court had I not been fourteen years old at the time. Heck, I would probably have done a better job at defending Trigger in court than his pompous lawyer did, even at that age.
There are holes. Everywhere.
In the court transcripts, prosecutor’s notes and discovery records, a secondary suspect was dismissed early on without further details provided… And the worst part is the psychological evaluation report and risk assessment.
