Page 84 of Hard Heart

“Okay,” Levi said, closing his eyes for the briefest second. Daring to imagine what freedom might feel like. “Okay, do it. Otherwise I’ll die in prison, no matter what.”

Raelene pulled a sheaf of papers from her bag. “Sign here and here.”

Between the cuffs and the meds, his signature was barely legible, but it was the intention that counted.

“What’s the next step?”

“Next, we file a petition to obtain the police files. I want to see what they’re hiding.”

Jim ambled in with a cup of coffee, and Raelene shoved the papers back into her bag. Levi couldn’t touch Serafina, couldn’t squeeze her hand to let her know how worried he was, but fuck, he wanted to.

“Eyes on my client at all times,” Raelene warned Jim. “Someone already tried to kill him once. If they try again, it’s on your head.”

Jim swallowed hard. “Yes, ma’am.”

CHAPTER 25

SERAFINA

For the third time, a rush of relief ran through me as I hurried out of the exam room. It was done. Finished.

Hopefully.

Heidi had taken over Levi’s role, asking me questions as she sat with ice on her ankle. Although she danced every night, the joint was still sore, and I could tell she was getting worried that it wasn’t healing. At least my job was safe for now. I could chip in a little more towards rent if I needed to. With zero social life, I wasn’t spending much on frivolities, and my fuel consumption had dropped since I wasn’t driving to Wise every weekend.

Although I planned to visit Levi with Raelene next Monday. He was back in prison, and Raelene wanted to spend some time listening to his story firsthand.

She was his lawyer, not me.

I recalled the moment we’d left the hospital the day after the stabbing. Raelene had climbed into her car, taken a deep breath, and leaned her head against the steering wheel. The bikers loitering alongside regarded her curiously.

“Well, one thing’s for sure—you won’t be representing Sykes in any courtroom,” she muttered.

“Because even if I pass the bar exam, I’m too inexperienced?”

“Because I saw the way he looked at you when you walked into that hospital room. And you bicker like an old married couple.”

“Oh, no, there’s nothing… I mean, he’s in prison.”

“So you’re telling me that if a miracle happens and we somehow manage to get him out, you won’t be ripping off that orange jumpsuit?”

“Raelene! He wasn’t even wearing a jumpsuit.”

He’d been in one of those paper hospital gowns, the kind that left your arse hanging out if you made one wrong move. Thanks to unruly tonsils, thirteen-year-old me had learned that from experience. Not one of my fondest memories.

“I was speaking metaphorically, and I notice you avoided the question.”

“I never expected to like him,” I mumbled.

“Ha! I knew it.”

“Please, just shoot me now.”

“Wouldn’t that be counterproductive?”

“Hell, why didn’t I join Tinder like a normal person?”

“I guess the universe felt we needed a challenge.”