“Good girl. As I said, I will do what I can to help Jack. God knows I will. And you will help him, too, through acts to improve his chances.”
He walks to the front door and twists the knob, revealing Blake, who steps in cautiously. A small, weak smile pulls at his lips.
I bat my lashes.
Dad stands beside Blake, then cups the back of his neck in a firm, dominant gesture, causing Blake to grimace and look at the floor.
In this light, my father is more mob boss than pastor, using fear and intimidation to control his underlings.
He grins cruelly.
“You will marry Blake.”
“What?” I balk.
My shock is echoed as Ingrid steps out of the hall, her mouth open.
He doesn’t flinch.
“Was Jack a jealous lover who attacked Gabe, or the vigilante you claimed him to be? Because the question will linger in the judge’s mind if you are single. This weakens the motive the prosecutor must argue.”
He has a point, but his solution is outrageous.
“Blake,” I huff. “You don’t agree with this, do you?”
He keeps his eyes down and manages a flat response.
“It is sensible.”
I scoff loudly. “We don’t love each other!” I look around the room, feeling like this is a bad dream. “Blake, I love someone else. How could you possibly want to marry me?”
Dad thumps his back, shoving him toward me.
Blake brushes his hair back and collects himself, standing much like he does on stage.
“I loved a girl in New York, but it didn’t work out, and now, I’m grateful it didn’t. With time, we will learn to love each other. God has brought us together in unexpected ways, but we must believe in him. This union makes sense.”
I stand, speechless.
Perhaps seeing my shock, he takes my hand and lowers his voice.
“An article came out this morning. The Center for Special Hearts may lose its nonprofit status and certifications if Jack is convicted of a felony. His brothers could be taken away for good. He’ll have nothing.”
I nearly pass out, but Blake hooks his arm around my waist. He lightly pats my face, keeping me conscious.
Holding my chin, he says, “I didn’t want to marry you under these conditions, but I am truly trying to help. I am not Gabe. I’ll never make you do anything. It has to be your choice, Morgan.”
Chapter 33
Jack
The fluorescent light flickers overhead and voices echo against the white-painted walls. Bleach clings to every surface, yet nothing feels clean. Not the air. Not my hands. Not my head.
Jail is filthy, including the visiting area.
“How’s Julie’s place?”
“Good,” Noel answers. “Tommy is happy but misses you.”
