“Good. And being back in Heartache brought us together. I’m not about to regret that.” He needed to remind himself as well as her. As much as he wanted to get back to his life in Memphis, this trip had been good for him. And it made him wonder if Gabriella would be open to…more.
Because in spite of his concerns that he was only going to screw up a relationship with a woman as amazing as Gabriella, Clay had to acknowledge that being with her made him a better man. He’d seen his father. Stood by the old man’s bedside after he’d been taken to the hospital. Clay had every intention of doing the best thing for Mia, even if Gabby couldn’t recognize that yet. He would make sure his sister went someplace where she would be safe and happy.
Gabriella smiled the slow, teasing grin that he remembered from last night. The same one he’d recalled from their past, before her life had taken a turn for the much worse.
“You’re right. I don’t regret that, either.” She lifted soft fingers to his face and drew him closer, brushing the softest kiss along his lips before she nipped the lower one gently. “Not for a minute. I’m going to remember that while I’m in that courtroom today.”
Clay breathed in her words, his blood pumping harder from just that slight contact. He wanted to keep her right here, safe with him, and ignore the trial and the whole rest of the world. He’d never felt that fierce protectiveness for any other woman.
And even as that surge of desire heated his blood, he knew he was in over his head with Gabriella Chance.
Chapter Thirteen
“Objection,” Jeremy Covington’slawyer called out, making Gabriella sit up straighter in her seat a mere four rows back in the large—and packed—courtroom.
She’d purposely chosen a bench closer to the proceedings today, working up to the time when she might actually have to face her attacker from the witness stand in the courtroom and give testimony. The court was more modern inside than its historic brick facade would suggest. A huge flat-screen television hung on a wall opposite a white-screen smart board for a high-tech-looking projector system between the counselors’ tables. The oak panels around the judge’s bench gave way to painted walls hung with scenes from Tennessee history.
The lawyers sat in comfortable-looking chairs at their respective tables while everyone behind them used hard wooden benches. Gabriella clenched the edge of the seat until her fingers went numb as she took in every word, every nuance, anything to give her hope this nightmare would end with justice once and for all. The counsel for the defensewas a distinguished-looking older man—late fifties, perhaps—with salt-and-pepper hair that never moved from its sleekly groomed style. Tanned even in late November, he tapped his pen on a yellow legal pad.
“Your Honor, I see no foundation for this evidence,” he continued. “I move for dismissal.”
Gabriella bit her lip to hold back a cry of denial. All of Heartache had been waiting to see if the digital evidence against Jeremy Covington would be admissible in court since it had been given to the prosecution by Covington’s wife when she finally realized he’d been cheating on her. Often.
Right now the district attorney was attempting to admit transcripts of online chats for evidence. The ginger-haired lawyer was younger—Gabriella guessed early forties—but lacked some of the professional polish of the defense, referring to notes frequently.
“This evidence demonstrates a pattern of behavior for the defendant,” the DA insisted, stabbing his finger repeatedly at the papers in front of him. “It also shows knowledge of the victims and preparation for his crimes.”
The defense attorney cleared his throat. “My client has informed me he does not recognize the computer as the one he used in his family home, where it was allegedly obtained.”
The hum of response in the courtroom assured Gabriella she wasn’t the only one surprised at this approach. Kate Covington had already taken the stand to testify that the computer sat in their family room for years. Even when faster computers became available, she’d testified her husband simply moved to working on a laptop. They’d both had photos and old videos on the outdated desktop, so they’d let it be, thinking one daythey’d have the files professionally moved to digital storage.
The back and forth whispers at the prosecution’s table suggested they hadn’t expected this tact, either.
“Order in the court.” The judge, a slight, balding man with banker’s glasses and a waxy pale skin, slammed his gavel twice, sending a jolt right through Gabriella. God, her nerves were a tattered mess. Beside her, Clayton slipped his arm around her back, his palm resting lightly between her shoulder blades.
She appreciated the comfort at a moment when so much evidence hung in the balance. Including her long-ago online chats with Covington when she thought he was Clay.
“Counselor?” The judge looked to the DA.
“Your Honor,” the district attorney said, his complexion ruddy, perhaps from frustration or having his work questioned, “the police seized this computer from the accused’s home and the accused’s wife has testified the computer was used by the defendant.”
The judge leaned forward on his desk, his black robes pooling around his arms as he stared pointedly at the DA. “A wife who instituted divorce proceedings against the accused just last week. This court is not unfamiliar with marital acrimony, which casts a less favorable light on that testimony.”
The DA looked ready to burst from holding back a response. “But Your Honor?—”
Straightening, the judge banged the gavel and turned to the defense. “The objection is sustained. This court will take a lunch recess and reconvene at one p.m.”
The uniformed bailiff stood. “Allrise.”
Gabriella’s stomach fell even as she rose to her feet with the rest of those in the courtroom. Clay’s arm slipped off her shoulder and to his side, an absence she noted instantly. Her pulse pounded in her ears, and the world around her seemed to slip into slow motion as she processed the setback. She saw Sam shove his way out of the gallery doors first, his phone already at his ear.
Clayton leaned close to Gabby, nodding toward a bench in the back. “I see your brother and Heather. Should I flag them down?”
“Yes.” She slid her hand into the crook of Clay’s arm, ready to follow him.
He was briefly waylaid by someone in the row behind him, however, leaving her standing behind him at the end of the row.
Gabriella didn’t realize when she’d taken this seat that it was close to a door marked Authorized Personnel Only. Not until the bailiff walked toward the door, followed by Jeremy Covington. Every nerve ending in her burned, her muscles tensed.
