Seducing the Defendant Page 7

  “Happy birthday, Scarlett,” he says, handing them to me.

  I take them, my eyes widening. I was going to ignore my birthday. I have no one to celebrate with, and nothing to celebrate about, so I was just going to pretend it was any other day.

  “How did you know?” I ask softly, smelling the beautiful flowers. Peonies are mixed into the bunch, and those are my favorite flowers in the world.

  “Came up on my file,” he says, shrugging. “I was going to get them delivered to you, but I wanted to see your face.”

  “Thank you, Jaxon,” I say, leaning over the table and kissing his cheek, the light stubble on his face prickling my lips. “Today was just another day until now.”

  “You’re welcome, Scarlett,” he says, gray eyes as gentle as I’ve ever seen them.

  “I’m going to go home and put them in a vase,” I say, knowing he has work to do. And I have somewhere to be: today is my first day of volunteering at the animal shelter. I’ve been wanting to do something productive while I’m waiting for this trial to be over and since I have a soft spot for animals, and I couldn’t think of anything better to do than give back to animals in need. They told me that they needed help walking and transporting dogs to foster and prospective adoption homes.

  “I’ll be in touch,” he calls out after me.

  I turn and flash him a happy smile, then head back home to drop the flowers off before driving to the shelter.

  chapter 11

  Jaxon

  THE LOOK ON HER face.

  Fuck.

  It was like no one has ever given her flowers before, or even remembered her birthday.

  Twenty-seven years old today, but has seen and experienced more than people twice her age. I’m glad to have put a smile on her face, and to have seen her on her birthday, even if it was just for a little bit. If I was being honest, I’d love to take her out for dinner or something, but that’s not a good idea. I need to concentrate on the case, and I need to forget about how I felt when I saw her face light up.

  When it was lit up because of me, because I made her happy.

  Consider that shit forgotten.

  I was going to tell her more information I dug up but decided against it. If something goes wrong, the less information she knows the better. Working with my private investigator, I’ve managed to get the Wind Dragons MC lines tapped. I know it can backfire if they find out, but it had to be done. It’s not legal, and probably won’t hold up in court, but I need to know if they’re involved in this or if they’re a dead end. Valentina was never going to talk to me. Her boyfriend, or whatever they call male biker partners these days, is as protective over her as I’d be over my woman.

  I’m going to win this case. Regardless of who I have to turn against.

  HUNTER WALKS INTO MY office and hands me some paperwork. I haven’t known Hunter nearly as long as I have Tristan, but the man has definitely grown on me over the last few years. He brings with him a light-hearted energy that the firm needs, because if you get too caught up in everything here, it can start to suck the life out of you.

  “Some guy named Peterson is trying to get a hold of you,” he lets me know.

  I take the papers and thank him. “You playing receptionist now?”

  He grins and runs his hand down his long dark beard. “Kat and Yvonne are on their lunch break, so I’m holding down the fort. Who says men can’t multitask?”

  “Women,” I reply with a smirk, then nod at his forearm. “New tattoo?”

  “Yeah,” he says, glancing down at it. “It’s still healing.”

  I’m about to reply when Kat sticks her head in. “I’m back. You can go have lunch now, Hunter.”

  “I’ll be back,” he announces, then disappears.

  When Kat lingers, I know she has something to say.

  “Is my office the new lunchroom hangout?” I tease, beckoning for her to come in. “What’s up, Kat?”

  She sits opposite me, an odd look on her face. “Where are my flowers?”

  “What?” I ask. “What flowers? You pregnant or something?”

  “No,” she says, smirking. “Scarlett Reyes got flowers. I saw them. So where are mine?”

  I lean back in my chair, my expression now blank. “Is it your birthday today?”

  “No,” she says, dragging the word out.

  “Then you don’t get flowers,” I say, wondering why she’s giving me shit about this.

  “Was it her birthday?” she probes, which is when I’ve had enough. Kat and I have a good friendship, and we’ve had a few deep chats in our time, but this is crossing a line. I don’t have to explain my actions to anyone. “You like her!”

  “Tristan!” I call out, knowing he can hear me from his office next door. He comes in a rush, probably thinking that something is wrong.

  “What is it?” he asks, eyes scanning Kat, making sure she’s okay.

  “Kat’s crossing lines,” I say, narrowing my eyes on the little she-devil. “Don’t you have any work to do, associate?”

  “I’m on top of everything, actually,” she says, lifting her chin and staring me down.

  “What are you harassing him about?” Tristan asks, sounding curious instead of angry or annoyed on my behalf.

  “I’ve never seen Jaxon buy anyone flowers before,” she says, glancing back at her man. “And he bought some for Scarlett Reyes.”

  “It was her birthday,” I say, jaw going tight. “I don’t have to explain myself.”

  “Yet you just did,” she muses, making me want to strangle her.

  I glance up at Tristan, who has the nerve to chuckle before grabbing Kat and escorting her out of the room. Just as he shuts my office door the bastard says, “For the record, I think you like her, too.”

  Fucking hell.

  “Is no one going to point out that it’s a fucking ethical violation instead of giving me shit over it?” I ask.

  So much for this place being a professional environment.

  The door opens again and Tristan’s head pokes in. “You’re a grown man, Jaxon. You’ll figure it out.”

  I CALL PETERSON BACK, hoping he has some good news for me. He’s my PI, and the one I have keeping an eye on the MC phone lines.

  “Hey, it’s Jaxon,” I say into the line. “What have you got for me?”

  “More than you could have hoped for,” he says, excitement hitting me. I stand up and grab my keys. “Where are you?”

  “At my office.”

  “I’m on my way,” I tell him, hanging up, practically sprinting through the office.

  Please let this be what I’ve been waiting for.

  “THE LAWYER IS TRYING to contact Valentina over Darren’s death,” an accented male voice says. It sounds Irish, or maybe Scottish. It’s the voice I heard when I tried to call Valentina myself.

  “They probably want her to testify,” a woman replies. “Scarlett Reyes has been charged with Darren’s death; it’s been all over the news.”

  “What proof do they have for that?” the man asks. “We all know she didn’t do it.”

  “The gun was planted at her house, and she was his wife. She left the country pretty quickly, and the cops need to pin it on someone. Some of them were there that night, remember? They won’t want anyone to know that. If they tried to drag us down, we’d bring them with us.”

  “So the cops planted the gun?” the man asks, sounding surprised. “Fuck, Faye. I feel like shit knowing this woman is going to go to prison for a crime I committed. As if being that dickhead’s wife wouldn’t have been bad enough.”

  “I know,” the woman, Faye Black, says. “But what else can we do? You doing time is not an option, and we don’t have anything to do with her being a suspect. That’s on the cops.”

  They chat some more, but I already have all I need.

  V
alentina’s boyfriend is the one who killed Darren.

  And the cops knew about it.

  And to save everyone’s asses, they pinned it on the sweetest, most gentle woman I’ve ever met.

  There was one variable they weren’t counting on though, and that was me.

  And I’m going to bring them all down.

  I ASK TO MEET with the man named Irish, who arrives with his attorney. It’s nice to finally meet Faye Black, but it’s a shame it’s under these circumstances. The only way I got her to agree to this meeting was by saying that I have some damaging evidence she’s going to want to hear before I take it public.

  More bluffing.

  I’m not dumb enough to release this recording and have every Wind Dragon member, including Demon, breathing down my neck. But she doesn’t have to know that.

  “Have a seat, Mrs. Black,” I tell her, then look to the large, dark-haired man next to her. “You too, Mr. Irish.”

  Faye smirks at that, but doesn’t give anything else away. She’s an attractive woman, with long auburn hair and sharp hazel eyes. She doesn’t look like an old lady. In fact she’s dressed in business attire I’d expect from any female lawyer—black pants with a black blazer, a white shirt underneath. Irish looks like I’d expect a murderer to, covered in what looks like a knife scar along his neck, the darkest of eyes narrowed on me.

  “I’m not going to beat around the bush here,” I tell the two of them. “My client Scarlett Reyes is innocent, and we all know it. However it’s my job to prove it.”

  I hit PLAY and let them listen to the recorded conversation.

  “How did you get that?” Faye growls, her nice demeanor gone.

  “I don’t believe that’s the biggest issue here,” I say, staying calm and focused. “Now I might not be able to use that in court, but now I know the truth of it. We all know the type of man Darren was, and that it’s no loss he’s gone. However, a woman who was victimized by him should not be doing time for something she didn’t do. I understand, Irish, that you were probably protecting Valentina, but tell me, what other outcome is there than you doing the time for a crime you did commit, whether it was justified or not? How can you go to sleep at night knowing an innocent woman who was abused by Darren is going to be sitting in a prison cell, wondering what the fuck she did to deserve the sentence she’ll get?”

  “Fucking hell,” Irish snarls, looking to Faye. The next move is obviously her call—she’s the lawyer. I slide her some papers. “There’s lots more information about Darren that has come out, from his meth lab to his cop buddies covering up all his illegal activities and abuse. We can try to get your client a reduced sentence if he pleads guilty to involuntary manslaughter. It’s the only way.”

  “Don’t try to do my job for me, Mr. Bentley. I’m very aware of the situation we have before us,” she says, lifting her chin and looking me in the eye.

  “How much time will I be looking at?” Irish asks Faye, a muscle working in his jaw.

  “I have to take it to the prosecutor to exonerate my client,” I tell the man. “It’s nothing personal, but Scarlett deserves to go free, and you know it. You said so in the audio.”

  “Best outcome would be two to three years,” Faye guesses, which would’ve been my guess too. “Worse case, maybe up to seven.”

  “Fuck, I need to see Valentina,” he mutters, gripping the table, knuckles white.

  Faye says one thing, and with that word, I know she knows I’m right, and that there’s no other way around it. “Fuck.”

  chapter 12

  Scarlett

  “YOUR HONOR, I REQUEST that all charges against my client be dropped,” Jaxon says as he looks at the judge. “The prosecution has no case, and my client’s arrest was premature. All the so-called evidence against her is circumstantial. The gun found at her house had no prints and there is nothing definitive to confirm that gun was the gun that actually killed Detective Melvin,” he summarizes.

  I hear a chair scrape against the floor and the prosecutor, an older man with salt-and-pepper hair and an ill-fitting suit, stands up. “Objection, Your Honor. Mr. Bentley is out of line. Not only did we find the gun, but Ms. Reyes emptied her bank account and fled the country—”

  “My client left the country to help her sick aunt, not because she was fleeing. She has been there for the last two years caring for her aunt and returned the moment she was asked to, instead of remaining in France or going into hiding. Her aunt sent me her medical records showing that Ms. Reyes was indeed with her during her two years abroad.”

  “This is ridiculous, Your Honor—”

  “That’s enough, both of you,” the judge says sharply. She’s younger than I expected, but she oozes authority. “Mr. Nguyen, does the prosecution have any evidence against Ms. Reyes other than the gun?”

  It’s been a long day, and it’s been hard to listen to everything everyone is saying I must have done when I know the truth. But I’ve sat here, my chin up, hoping that Jaxon’s words will be enough to keep me from being wrongly convicted. As I’ve watched him in his element, I’ve noticed how much power and confidence he exudes, and that’s not something that’s taught, that’s just him. He was born to do this job.

  “Since this is only a preliminary hearing, the police are still working—”

  Jaxon interrupts the prosecutor again. “Your Honor, while it’s not my job to do what the police are supposed to do, I have proof that my client did not kill Detective Melvin.”

  I stare at Jaxon with my mouth open. He didn’t tell me this. As there is a murmuring all throughout the courtroom, the judge bangs her gavel.

  “Order in the court. Mr. Bentley, what are you talking about?”

  At that, the back door opens and a woman enters with a man and another woman. The first woman is in a suit, with her long auburn hair piled on top of her head, wearing a stern expression. The man looks a bit rough around the edges and has a scar across his neck. He’d look dangerous, except he has his arm protectively around the second woman. I notice her thick red hair immediately. The woman in the suit eyes Jaxon, but walks toward us.

  “Your Honor, my name is Faye Black. Can the four of us”—she indicates the prosecutor and Jaxon—“go into judge’s chambers for a brief discussion?”

  “This is completely out of line, Mrs. Black, but I’m curious to see what this is about. My chambers. Now.”

  I watch the four of them go into a secluded office while the couple takes a seat in the back.

  WRINGING MY HANDS NERVOUSLY, I shift my feet. The woman Darren was with for all those years, Valentina, is absolutely beautiful. Her red curls bounce as she leaves the courtroom after me. Considering the outcome, that her boyfriend, Irish, admitted he killed Darren while defending her and will do two years in prison, I’d think she would hate me, and I brace myself for such. But as she approaches me, there’s no hate in her eyes. No animosity whatsoever.

  She puts her hand out, and I give her mine. “I’m sorry for everything you’ve been through.”

  “You too,” I say softly. “I’m sorry about Irish.”

  She takes a deep breath, and I can tell that it pains her that he’ll now be doing time. “I just wanted to tell you that I had no idea he had a wife all those years. If I had known, things would’ve been different.”

  “I didn’t know about you either,” I whisper, squeezing her hand. “I’m so sorry things have to be this way, Valentina.”

  She smiles sadly and lets go of my hand. “You didn’t kill Darren, Scarlett. Don’t be sorry.” She pauses, debating on what to say next. “I want you to know that when your lawyer came to see me, I didn’t know what Irish had done. He kept it from me for two years and I don’t think he ever intended to tell me. So what I said to your lawyer about not knowing anything, I was telling the truth. I’m sorry you got brought into this. Go and enjoy your life now, like I have been ever
since I met Irish.”

  A few men come to stand behind her.

  Great, I put one of their biker friends behind bars, and now they must all hate me.

  “I’m sorry,” I blurt out, feeling tears hit my eyes.

  “You okay?” Jaxon asks, coming to stand next to me and placing his hand on the small of my back. I don’t react to his touch like I normally would. It’s like my body has accepted it now. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

  He leads me outside to his car and opens the passenger door. I’m thankful he drove me here because I don’t think I should be behind the wheel right now. So many emotions are hitting me at full force—relief, thankfulness, but now also guilt. I hate that Irish has to do time, and that Valentina has to lose him for a couple of years. This is all Darren’s fault. How many people can he keep hurting, even from the grave?

  “Are you okay?” he asks me again. “They didn’t say anything to you, did they? Because if they did . . .”

  “No, they were nice. She was . . . really nice to me, and showed no malice whatsoever,” I say, taking a deep breath. “I guess I feel a little bad if I’m being honest. I know I am innocent, but . . .”

  “He did the crime, Scarlett; don’t feel guilty. His actions caused him to be in the place he is now, not yours,” he says to me. “You should be celebrating. All of this hell is over for you now. You can go on with your life; you can be happy.”

  “I know,” I breathe, nodding to myself. “I’m finally free of him.”

  Darren was an evil man, and now that this is all over, he can no longer cause me any pain.

  It just sucks it’s at the expense of Valentina’s newfound happiness.

  “What would you like to do to celebrate?” he asks, glancing at me before looking back at the road. “Anything at all.”

  I don’t really feel like doing anything except going home to my bed and not leaving it for the next few days, but he’s trying to cheer me up, and I’d never take that effort for granted.