Of course there are other thoughts—the ones about how I make it out of here. My cell phone is tucked in my bag and off. But the bailiff is still here. We’re not alone.
“We had some fun with a girl at that party,” he continues, chuckling to himself. “She ended up getting alcohol poisoning and died while I was inside her. I made him help me cover it up and discard her in the bayou. But then I knew he had shit on me. My life was in his hands. I fucking hated that.”
I’m going to be sick. I need to get to Ryker. He’s probably right outside. Maybe I should scream.
Oblivious to my internal spiral, Bryce rolls with his story. “I kept an eye on him, certain he’d fuck up. Not so much as friends, but acquaintances who ran into each other. I even gave him a number to a burner phone and told him he could call me if he ever needed the favor returned. He stayed out of trouble for a while. But then he got involved with Hailey Holden. Theywere volatile. That bitch was as crazy as him. I’m sure when you researched her, you found the same thing.”
That’s a dig of the worst kind because I had determined that Hailey was a little nuts, which overwhelmed me with guilt once the truth came out.
“I stayed vigilant. When things were particularly rocky between them, I put a bug in his ear about her cheating on him. And he lost it.” He snickers to himself. “So jealous. He beat the shit out of her and showed up at the bar—the same bar from this restraining order case, which is poetic. Anyway, Dalton losing it on Hailey was the perfect opportunity for me to even the score. So, I snuck out, broke her neck, and returned. He went home later and thought he’d done it. Flipped out, had his father cover it up—poorly, I might add. They drove out of state to hide the body.”
He huffs, genuinely exasperated. “Could have fed her to an alligator. Regardless, I told him I knew. You’d think that would be enough. But I didn’t like being fucking even. I wanted to win.”
My gaze coasts to the bailiff, who is immersed in something on his phone. Maybe I should get his attention. Or maybe all Bryce wants is to spill this, get the recognition he believes he deserves without the consequences because we’re under attorney-client privilege. That would track with what Ty and Wells said about grandstanders.
I steady my breathing and jostle my bag, hoping to be able to nonchalantly grab my phone.
“No need for that.” Bryce shakes his head. “Just listen. You might see where this is headed. A couple of years passed, and I was irritated that the Noires wouldn’t give me the time of day. And then, like a fucking gift, I found out that you—the daughter of the one and only Dr. Phillips, who had falsely testified in my foster uncle’s murder case, killed my foster father with thatbomb to our home, and destroyed my chance at having a family—were Ryker’s best friend. Kismet.”
He lazily drums his fingers on the table with his trip down memory lane. “That’s something Dalton and I had in common—a hatred for the Noires. We didn’t fit their mold. They think they’re the ones calling all the shots in this town, and they’re picky about their sins, as I’m sure you know.”
My mind races with that information, but I can’t seem to adequately process it. I feel like I’m back on that bloody floor, taking blow after blow. I refuse to go back there.
When I first got erased, I was terrified. Ty had me memorize a list of survival strategies and self-defense techniques to use should I find myself in a compromising situation.
“Exude confidence, don’t panic, and take any opportunity that presents itself to escape and avoid being a target.”
“Excuse me,” I call to the bailiff, and I loathe the fear that laces my voice.
He scans the courtroom, presumably for disorder, and holds up a finger to me, pointing to his earbud. He’s listening to something.
“He’ll be with us in a minute.” Bryce says that as though we were waiting on a cocktail server, not security while he divulges his list of crimes. “I’m getting to the part that will be really interesting to you. How I orchestrated things with all three of you at once. Dalton was so easily influenced. I put a little bug in his ear again—this time it was about how he could never get you to say yes to a date. And even if he managed that, he could never keep you because you were Ryker Noire’s property.”
“Keep a safe distance, but appear nonconfrontational.”
“This is incredibly enlightening, but we might need to finish this another time. Hadyn is expecting me to meet him for our next appointment.” I scooch my chair back, trying to put a little more space between us, and oddly, he doesn’t seem to mind.
“This will only take another two minutes. Hadyn will wait.”
He’s so at ease, detailing his murders, that the sight has bile shooting up my esophagus.
“Once Dalton got you to go out with him, I told him you were in love with Ryker and it would never go any further. I gotta hand it to him—the pregnancy was a nice touch. He knew you’d do therightthing since I had filled him in on your ethics. He was riveted by your backstory. Your father’s stint in The Order played into his own daddy issues about being left out of that organization. I knew he’d put you through hell, which was more fun than offing you. I figured Ryker would kill Dalton for me. I’ll admit, I thought that would’ve happened a hell of a lot sooner. But you and your moral code. You kept Ryker at arm’s length and even seemed to keep Dalton calm. Impressive. At one point, I was actually rooting for you.”
“Set strong verbal boundaries.”
“I’m more comfortable with some space between us.” I move my chair back some more, the legs screeching against the floor, so I’m at the far end of the table.
“Of course. I’ll stay where I’m at.” His blasé responses are setting off a slew of red flags in my mind. He’s got something planned. “Anyway, once Dalton lost it on you, I knew he’d either end up dead, imprisoned, or always on the run. I posed as one of the cleaners and stole the picture, just in case I needed something to taunt him. My only loose end was you. I didn’t anticipate you being gone for so long. I kept trying to become a member at La Lune Noire so I could keep an eye on Ryker, assuming he’d be bringing you back. And Emma came in handy.”
He stands, but stays at his end of the table. “The bummer was that Trafton caught on. I had mentioned something about being fostered by the Salvadori family a while back, and some connection in The Order had him piecing things together afterEmma mentioned how excited she was that you were back in town. It was a shame because I liked him, but his death turned out to be a fun twist. I’d planned to use him, but this was seamless. It brought you and Ryker to me, offering to help me out in court—a place neither of you would be armed—to defend me in a crime I purposefully committed. And on top of the email, it caused quite a frenzy with Ryker. Finding out he’d stabbed Monroe Montgomery was a delight. Never liked that schmuck either.”
I mask the surprise that blankets my features a second too late.
“Ahh, Ryker didn’t tell you about that.” He smirks, leaning forward like he’s sharing a secret. “You really can’t trust that guy.”
“Stick to simple defense moves, and remember, anything can be a weapon.”
I rise, gripping on to the opposite end of the table, ready to flip it if necessary. He can’t be armed in here either, but I know from experience that fists are lethal weapons.
