I screamed as Pierce lunged for the guard.
CHAPTER 13
HAILEY
“Wait!”
I ducked under one man’s outstretched arm and ran, slamming into the back of another.
The stranger grabbed me by my upper arms. “Hey sexy, where are you going so fast?”
I looked past him and panicked. Madison’s crappy attorney was getting away. “Let me go!”
I wrenched free and shoved at the closing courtroom doors.
They swung open into chaos.
Reporters crowded around the entrance typing furiously into their phones or sitting on the marble tiles with their laptops balanced on their crossed legs. For such a small freaking town they sure had a lot of damn reporters.
Fucking Worthingtons.
I rose on my toes and searched the crowd over the tops of all the heads.
It took a second to spot his wrinkled cheap brown suit where he stood, stuffing the rest of his files into his briefcase and snapping it closed.
I sprinted after him. Lunging forward, I snatched at his sleeve as I called out, “Fink, stop!”
He turned and pulled his arm free. Smoothing the rumpled suit fabric as if it would make any difference, he huffed. “It’s Finkle.”
“Right, Mr. Finkle, whatever. What are you doing?”
His brow furrowed. “I’m leaving.”
“You can’t leave. Madison still needs your help.”
He wagged his finger at me. “No, I’m finished. I did my job. I can’t help her now.”
“You can’t do this. You’re still her attorney. Didn’t you take some kind of oath or vow or something?”
“I provided her a defense. There is a verdict. Just because she jumped up in court and embarrassed everyone by crying out, doesn’t change the fact the trial is over. Now let me pass.”
Uncaring about the consequences, I held up my palms, blocking his cowardly retreat. “This isn’t over. She’s innocent and you fucking know it. Stop being such a momma’s boy idiot and do something about it—or have the Worthingtons paid you off like everyone else?”
Her numbnuts attorney had either been paid to look the other way or was too spineless to fight. Either way, he wasn’t walking away from this.
Finkle breathed heavily through his nose several times as his eyes bulged. He then scrunched up his face and thinned his lips. He swung the arm holding his bulging briefcase back, then forward, hitting me square in the stomach.
My arms wrapped around my middle as I doubled over.
Finkle’s overstuffed briefcase burst open on impact, sending a shower of papers, files, and various pens onto the courthouse lobby floor.
I smirked; it served him right for hitting me.
Finkle cried out as the crowd trampled his papers beneath their shoes.
Straightening, I clenched my fists and stepped forward, ready to confront him again.
Instead, I crashed into a wall of a man who planted himself in my path, completely blocking my view.
