Page 56 of Call It Love (Sterling Mill #5)

Holt

I felt the woman at my side stiffen before slowly turning toward the voice that called from our side.

Irritated by yet another delay in returning to my office, I glanced over my shoulder to see a well-dressed woman, probably in her thirties, with two young girls standing slightly behind her.

If I had to guess, they were probably sisters around eight or nine years old, the same age as my sister’s twins.

“You filthy whore!” the woman shrieked. “You killed my husband and the father of these girls. You should be rotting behind bars, you evil bitch!” Her face contorted with hatred as she moved closer. Her girls remained behind, wide eyes set in pale faces and hands clasped together.

I froze. That’s why this bit of female beside me had been serving time? I’d known that she had been imprisoned on a charge of murder two. I’d assumed it had been some drunken car accident or cheating boyfriend, not that she’d killed a family man. Unless, of course, he was the cheating boyfriend.

I took a step forward and held my arm in front of Ms. Stone, half as a shield from the hostile woman in front of us, half to hold the feisty, newly released prisoner back.

At any moment, I expected the mother of all girl-fights to erupt.

To my surprise, Madelyn didn’t say a word.

She simply stood there with a solemn expression.

“Trying to steal my husband wasn’t enough for you.

Oh, no. You murdered him in cold blood when he rejected you.

” The widow took a step forward. “I lost everything, thanks to you. You dragged our good name through the mud. We lost our house, our club memberships…everything.” Her voice rose in pitch with each sentence until it was almost an ear-piercing shriek.

“You murdering bitch. I’ll see to it you still pay for what you did! ”

I crossed my arms and raised my eyebrows as I stepped forward. “Are you threatening Ms. Stone?”

The woman in front of me faltered as if she only just noticed me.

I watched as she took in my size and stern expression.

Her shoulders bent, and she made a show of wiping her eyes.

“She lied to get her charges reduced. She shouldn’t ever walk the streets again.

She should have been sentenced to life in prison,” she sniffled. “My poor girls.”

“The justice system disagreed with you, Mrs.—”

“Regis. Mrs. Paul Regis, or at least”—tears that appeared forced leaked from her eyes—“his widow.” The way she batted her eyelashes and pursed her lips seemed worthier of a stage performance than a truly grieving widow.

I suspected she might have missed the club memberships his money purchased more than her beloved spouse.

“I’m sorry for your loss, Mrs. Regis, but if you continue to stand here and threaten Ms. Stone, I’ll have no choice but to press harassment charges against you.”

“Harassment? She killed my husband, and you’re threatening me ?”

“Look—”

I stopped as fingers wrapped around my arm and gently pulled me back. I stared down at the petite woman who stepped up beside me. Her eyes gazed wearily back at me, and I caught the look of defeat and sadness in them before they dropped to the ground.

“It’s okay,” Madelyn said quietly. “She has every right to be angry.” She took a breath and straightened her shoulders before looking into the eyes of her accuser. “Please, for the sake of your girls, I’m begging you not to do this here.”

“I’ll see you in hell first,” she threatened, her lips curling into a snarl as she leaned toward us. Her voice was so full of scorn that it nearly dripped from her lips. I felt a tremor run through Madelyn, who was still holding my arm, but to her credit, she remained calm.

“Enough,” I demanded. “I recommend you leave now, Mrs. Regis, or I’ll call the police and have them arrest you for making threats.” I pulled my phone from my pocket. “I’m sure it would only take seconds to respond to my call as near as we are to the station.”

The hand on my arm tugged me once again. “Please, let’s just go.” She raised her eyes and silently begged me.

I was momentarily struck dumb by her unusual eyes, a mixture of browns and greens. She stared at me with such sadness and regret that I had to stop myself from stroking her face as a gesture of comfort.

Retreat wasn’t a concept I endorsed. I wasn’t afraid of conflict. Some even accused me of thriving on it, and they weren’t wrong. I fed on that side of my personality to become the success that I was in the courtroom. But with one look from the pint-sized woman beside me, I acquiesced.

When was the last time I’d allowed a woman to dictate my choices—and with just a mere touch? Irritated by my reaction to her, I cleared my throat and mentally shook my head, allowing her to back us slowly away from the hostile situation.

Without thinking about it, I placed my hand on her back and guided her back in the direction we’d started earlier. I couldn’t help but notice how she flinched at my touch. What the hell was that about?

“We’re not done, Madelyn Stone,” Mrs. Regis hollered, but she halted her advance at the dark look I threw over my shoulder.

I felt Madelyn suck in a deep breath and shuddered as she quickened her pace. I wasn’t sure what she was trying to get away from the most, Mrs. Regis or my touch. The thought that it might be me furthered my irritation.

I didn’t have a lot of sympathy for people who broke the law, especially for someone who took someone’s life. Sure, there were exceptions, but if Ms. Stone had been found guilty, I assumed this hadn’t been one of those situations. Not that our system was perfect, but I believed in it.

Regardless, she’d done the time our justice system deemed appropriate, and on her first day out of prison, she’d been attacked.

I’d seen her face lose its wide-eyed wonder and happiness when she saw Mrs. Regis.

I’d been so angry about the time I’d lost to this errand that I hadn’t considered what meaning the day held for Ms. Stone.

I was somewhat ashamed of my earlier behavior toward her.

While I sat in that horrible waiting room for what felt like hours, I’d been prepared to meet some bad-ass, rough-looking ruffian full of insolence and aggression.

Instead, I found a humble young woman who looked simultaneously nervous and excited.

Despite the lack of refinement of her accommodations, her skin still looked almost like porcelain, colored only by a light sprinkling of freckles across her high cheekbones.

It served as the perfect canvas for her large eyes, a color I couldn’t distinguish from across the room, hidden as they were beneath long eyelashes, but appeared intelligent and assessing…

and absolutely the kind a man could get lost in.

Her hair was pulled back into a single braid, but I suspected that if it were loosened, the strands would be like a paint sampling of various shades of reddish-browns that reached the middle of her back.

She was the kind of woman who didn’t need makeup to be attractive; her natural coloring and features were pretty enough without enhancement.

It was hard to tell about the rest of her, dressed as she was in an oversized sweatshirt and a pair of loose jeans.

But given that she didn’t fill any of it out, I suspected she had managed to keep herself in shape over the past several years.

Despite the drabness of her appearance, she was very pretty—in a poor waif kind of way—that made me think she’d be drop-dead gorgeous with very little effort.

Maybe that’s what had gotten her into trouble in the first place.

I’d known about Ms. Stone since I took part in the board meeting that discussed starting this new work-release program, but I hadn’t given her much thought until a couple of hours ago when I received a phone call from John McCloskey.

He notified me he would be in court all day and asked if I would meet Madelyn and escort her to a pre-arranged apartment.

Few people knew her background, and maintaining her privacy was important to him.

That was his prerogative, but it limited his choices of who he could ask.

As a rising star whose name was already being bandied about for future partnership, I wasn’t in a good position to say “no.” I wasn’t an ass-kisser, but I also knew when a request was more of a directive.

Never mind all the work I needed to finish today.

Somehow, this woman had my boss wrapped around her finger.

I understood second chances and fresh beginnings, but was a legal firm a good place for a felon to land a job, much less receive housing and a small cash stipend to help her get started?

I’d expressed such a concern during the meeting, but all three partners were completely on board with the idea, especially about this specific candidate that McCloskey was promoting.

I guessed they thought it made them look like they cared more about people than the almighty bottom line in the accounting department.

Now, however, I was anxious to finish my unexpected chore and get away from the woman who wasn’t anything I expected.

A few yards down the street, I gestured toward my black Ford F-350 truck and double-clicked on the key fob to unlock the doors.

Most of my colleagues drove foreign luxury cars, but I didn’t spend time defending my country as a Marine to buy some fancy-ass excuse for manhood by a foreign manufacturer.

It pissed me off most of the parts were made overseas, but at least it was an American company.

I assisted Madelyn into the passenger seat, watching as she ran her fingers over the soft leather of the seat.

I might like the durability of my truck, but that didn’t mean I didn’t like perks on the inside.

By the time I’d climbed into my side, she was staring out her window with her hands folded demurely in her lap.