Mark is out the door before I can gloat, and I smile to myself, pleased at the outcome of the day. Outside the courthouse, the city is in its usual chaos—horns blaring, people yelling, the smell of street food mixing with exhaust. I should have my driver take me to the office to prepare for tomorrow. Instead, my body betrays me and angles towards the coffee shop across the street.
I’m not really a coffee girlie, but I’m a sucker for all things caffeinated and fruity. The barista whips me up a sparkling energy drink with a medley of sugar-free flavors, the bright colors melting together in my cup, and tops it with a generous heap of vanilla cold foam. I take one blissful sip and start unwinding, only to see Mark walking in the door.
Because of course.
“Stalking me now?” I ask coolly.
He smirks. “Don’tflatter yourself. This is my spot.”
I want to argue, but the barista greets him by name. Traitor.
Mark orders, then has the audacity to sit at the table next to mine instead of keeping his distance. For a moment, neither of us speaks, and there’s only the sound of keyboards clicking from the students nearby and the hiss of the espresso machine.
Then he leans back lazily, every line of his body screaming unbothered alpha. “I gotta hand it to you, Kendrick, I thought this was going to be a slam dunk. You certainly know how to keep it interesting. Even if you might let a murderer for the mafia walk free.”
I blink. The insult I was used to, but the partial compliment with it was new. “I’m sorry, I thought my client was on trial for armed robbery and resisting arrest. I don’t remember anything about murder.”
He snorts. “You know damn good and well what I’m talking about.”
“I know that if you had enough evidence to bring those charges, you would have.”
He chews his lip in thought, and I brace myself for a fight. He’ll probably question me about how I can sleep at night. The usual shit that all defense attorneys get.
“You’re a royal pain in my ass,” he sighs, “but we need people like you to keep us on our toes. Bad policing affects everyone,” he admits, surprising me. “I may not like it, but you’re just as important for our legal system as I am. The constitution says so. We just need to work harder to get the big charges to stick.”
For one dangerous second, I forget to hate him.
I mask it by sipping my drink. “Glad to know I provide a needed public service. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have actual work to do.”
He raises his cup in a mock toast. “Until tomorrow, counselor.”
I open my phone, typing a few quick texts to Shelby, but a familiar heat coils low in my belly, and I making me freeze. My pulse quickens, and I try to remember what time I took my suppressants this morning. I know I took them—I never miss them, since that would risk everyone figuring out I’m lying about being a beta. They shouldn’t be fading this early. It’s not enough for anyone to tell, my scent neutralizer will prevent that, but my omega senses are kicking into overdrive. I shift in my seat, crossing my legs tightly, and press my hands against the table for a moment while I take a deep breath.
The café feels too warm, and all the sounds are amplified. The smells—god, the smells—are all suddenly so strong that it feels overwhelming. Particularly the leather and whiskey scent rolling from Mark. My omega is drawn to it like a moth to a flame. She wants to roll in it, on him. Preferably with no clothing.
Warning bells sound in my mind. I need to get home, or to the office. Fast. If I don’t, the desire to touch Mark Taylor will grow into an ache, and before I know it, if the suppressants have worn off enough, slick could drip down my thighs. And there is zero chance that even the scent neutralizer will prevent an alpha likeMark, not to mention every other nearby alpha, from noticingthat.
I snatch my phone back up and text Tony, my driver, that I need to leave ASAP, dropping him a pin to my exact location.
I steal a glance at Mark, hoping he hasn’t noticed my sudden distress.
He hasn’t, but the glance doesn’t help the battle with my omega side. All she wants to zone in on is the way the sunlight is catching the hairs on his forearms, now revealed from his rolled-up sleeves. When he moves to lift his coffee cup to his full, sensual lips, the muscles tighten and flex, and I wonder what they would look like pinning me against a wall.
Shit. I appear to have exited the “need to leave soon zone” and ended up in the “danger zone.”
I quickly gather my things and eye the exits of the coffee shop. Ideally, I can make my way out without having to move too closely to Mark. I’d prefer not to get a bigger dose of his scent, lest my omega lose her damn mind.
Luck is on my side. His phone rings, and the signal is spotty here in the old stone building. He frowns and steps outside to answer it, and I take my chance to exit.
I duck out a side door and force myself not to glance back for a last look at him. Tony pulls up to the curb, and it takes more control than it should for me to not throw my things and myself into the car and demand he take off like Ijust robbed a bank.
My heart is certainly pounding like I did. That was a bit too close for comfort, and an excellent reminder of why I need to stay the hell away from Mark Taylor.
Chapter Two
Mark
Ava is there before me when I enter the courtroom, standing at her table and speaking with her client. Her hair is down today, tumbling in long red waves around her navy-blue suit jacket. She rarely wears it down, and I briefly wonder if her head is still bothering her. I noticed her rubbing her temple yesterday.
