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NETTIE’S HEART RACED in her chest as the stranger who had called himself Casper appeared and lunged toward her unexpectedly. Before she could process what was happening, he grabbed her by the waist and pulled her down to the ground, pinning her with an urgency that sent a shiver down her spine. The world around them blurred, and Nettie could only focus on the stranger’s grip, bewildered and frightened, wondering what danger was lurking beyond her view, as the sudden sound cut through the tension.

Could it have been gunshots she had just heard? The echo of the sound reverberated in her mind, sending a jolt of anxiety coursing through her. Memories flooded back, vivid and unsettling, of the tense atmosphere that had permeated the air before the arraignment hearings. The room had been thick with unspoken words, heavy with anticipation and fear, as she observed the anxious faces of the others, all anticipating what may come next. The sharp crack of the shots sliced through her recollections, blending the past and present into a singular moment of dread.

The stranger, brow furrowed in agony, let out a low grunt that echoed the pain etched across his features. Had he been shot while valiantly protecting her? The thought made her heart heavy with guilt and concern. Desperate to understand the scene unfolding around her, she squirmed slightly, straining to glimpse what was happening beyond their immediate surroundings.

“Stay still,” he growled, his breath warm against her ear, a mix of urgency and protectiveness that sent a shiver down her spine.

While her instincts screamed for her to move, she sensed the gravity of his command, the strength in it urging her to remain immobile amidst the chaos.

Next, she heard Paul—the courtroom bailiff—shouting urgently for someone to “Put your weapon down!” The tension in the air was palpable as her protector lifted his head, cautiously assessing the scene unfolding around them. He turned his gaze to her, his expression firm but reassuring, instructing her to “Remain down until told otherwise.” In a swift motion, he got to his knees. Then he was gone.

Nettie’s curiosity surged forward. She lifted her head slightly, desperate to glimpse the turmoil that had erupted. Though she promised to stay down, she rationalized that a small peek couldn’t hurt. It was a flimsy excuse, but risking her safety for clarity felt justifiable.

The sight of Casper stealthily maneuvering behind the shooter, who was locked in a hair-raising standoff with Paul, caught her attention. Frozen in place, her heart raced as she witnessed the unfolding drama. The stakes were high, and every moment counted as the tension escalated before her eyes.

It wasn’t long before Casper lunged toward the man, swiftly grabbing the assault rifle from the startled assailant’s hands. Meanwhile, Paul quickly approached, expertly cuffing the man to prevent further resistance. With a sense of relief, Paul called out an authoritative “All clear,” signaling the success of their operation. He then shook Casper’s hand firmly, a gesture of camaraderie and mutual respect.

Nettie grumbled while slowly pushing herself to her feet, her frustration simmering just beneath the surface. As she shifted her weight, there was the unmistakable tug of fabric giving way. Her heart sank as she noticed the rip tearing through the elegant fabric of her expensive skirt—a spur-of-the-moment purchase to commemorate her twenty-fifth birthday in a moment of indulgence and self-celebration. Now, as she inspected the tear, doubt crept in. Could this beautiful piece indeed be repaired?

Considering that she hadn’t been shot, the skirt issue should have seemed trivial at first glance. Yet, it loomed large in her mind, for it was the only aspect of her situation she felt she had any control over. This feeling intensified as she noticed Casper walking back toward her, his footsteps steady and purposeful.

“Are you all right?” he asked, a hint of concern in his bright eyes.

Nettie squinted at him, her expression sharply disapproving. “Was it absolutely necessary to tackle me? You could’ve hurt me. Couldn’t you have just told me to ‘get down?’” Her words hung in the air, tinged with frustration. The encounter had rattled her to the core, unable to shake the remnants of shock as she faced him, grappling with his actions’ physical and emotional implications.

Casper— what a ridiculous name, she thought—raised his eyebrows, a mixture of curiosity and challenge etched across his face. “So, that means you are okay with that sharp tongue intact. Pity the shooter missed it.”

Her body reacted with a jolt of shock at his audacious words. “What did you just say?” she inquired, fully aware of the precise nature of his comment but wanting to verify his intentions.

Casper took a step closer, his gaze piercing as he narrowed his eyes, making it clear he was undeterred. “You heard me loud and clear. You have quite a sharp tongue. A simple thank you is usually the customary response when someone goes out of their way to save another’s life.”

Paul rushed up to them, his brow furrowed with genuine concern. “Miss Broussard, are you okay?” he asked, as he assessed her condition.

She observed Casper flinch at the question, an unexpected reaction that piqued her curiosity. Why did he seem so shaken? She brushed off her skirt with a delicate hand, relieved that the tear caused by her earlier mishap wasn’t conspicuous. “I’m fine, Paul. Thank you for checking on me,” she replied, attempting to sound more composed than she felt.

“Miss Broussard?” Casper interjected with a hint of disbelief in his tone. “As in ADA Broussard?”

Nettie nodded slowly. “Yes,” she confirmed, her heart racing slightly.

“Son of a bitch,” Casper exclaimed, before abruptly turning on his heel and striding away, leaving Nettie and Paul momentarily stunned in silence. The intensity of his reaction left a lingering tension between them, and a question formed in Nettie’s mind about why her identity affected him so profoundly.

As she stood there, her gaze shifted toward the approaching figure of Bryce Jacobs, the attorney representing the defendant in her first arraignment. It struck her suddenly—no wonder Casper seemed upset that he had inadvertently rescued the opposing party from a complicated legal tangle. His relationship with the defendant was shrouded in shadows, leaving her to wonder just how intertwined their fates were and what personal stakes he might have had in this new legal battle.

Paul caught her attention with a serious expression on his face. “Court is suspended for this morning. The deputies will be conducting interviews with everyone present to ascertain what exactly happened.”

“What did happen, Paul? I heard shots fired, but do we have any information about who the shooter might be and what prompted the incident?” Nettie’s voice trembled slightly, betraying her concern.

The bailiff shook his head solemnly, his brow furrowed. “It’s still too early to determine all the details. The shooter didn’t look familiar to me.”

Paul started to walk away but paused and turned back, his tone shifting to something more personal. “Are you still receiving those anonymous threats that were troubling you?”

Nettie rolled her eyes in exasperation. It wasn’t that she was entirely without fear; instead, she found the threats childish and unoriginal. “Not lately,” she replied, steadier now. But in her mind, “lately” meant this week, which had only begun today, adding further tension to her already fraught feelings.

“Inform the deputies about the potential threats, Nettie,” Paul urged. The weight of his words finally sank in, and she instinctively placed a hand on her throat, feeling a fresh wave of fear wash over her.

“You don’t think—” she began, her voice trembling, unsure of what conclusion her mind was racing toward.

Paul shook his head firmly. “I don’t know for certain, but it’s always better to be cautious than to take unnecessary risks.” With that, he turned and made his way to the closest deputy.

Sheriff Beau Necaise approached Nettie with a concerned expression. “Are you all right, Nettie?” His words carried an undercurrent of sincerity and care, a rare quality given their tumultuous love-hate relationship with the sheriff’s department.

“I’m fine,” she replied, trying to convey strength while putting on her brave front. In truth, her emotions were a jumble, and she felt a creeping uncertainty. The unsettling thought that the shooter might have been targeting her lingered ominously in her mind, casting a shadow over her composure.

“Good. I’ll take your statement when you’re ready. The deputies will get the rest of the courtroom,” Beau assured her, his calm demeanor contrasting with the chaos surrounding them.

Nettie realized with a hint of irony that her position as an employee of the county afforded her some unusual privileges. Being the highest-ranking official present, especially in the judge’s absence, meant she avoided the usual procedural crowd. “I’m ready,” she stated earnestly, wanting to move past the incident surfacing. She was anxious to resume her responsibilities, as postponing her cases would only pile onto her overwhelming workload.

“Let’s go down to my office,” he suggested, gesturing toward the sheriff’s department on the main floor of the government building. The atmosphere was tense, but Nettie felt a flicker of resolve as they prepared to confront the aftermath of the day’s events together.

Unable to resist the powerful urge to look back, Nettie found herself ensnared by the intensity of Casper’s gaze. He and Bryce leaned in close, their heads bent together as they engaged in murmured conversation, likely attempting to hear each other over the raucous clamor of the crowded room. Yet, despite the surrounding noise, the weight of Casper’s stare penetrated her as if it was burning through her very soul with an unsettling sense of guilt. It struck her that she had not thanked him; perhaps that was the source of this discomfort.

Drawing in a steadying breath, Nettie steeled herself. “Hold on a second, Beau,” she announced, firmly yet anxiously, before pivoting sharply on her heel and striding purposefully toward Casper and Bryce.

“Mr. Casper,” she began, her heart racing as embarrassment washed over her for addressing him as such. “Thank you for protecting me during the shooting.” The words tumbled out into the chaotic atmosphere of the room, and as they lingered in the air, she felt a strange mix of courage and vulnerability. She had expressed her gratitude, yet strangely, the anticipated relief remained elusive, leaving her wondering why her heart still felt heavy.

Bryce extended his hand with a warm smile. “Hello, Miss Broussard. It’s always good to see you,” he said, his voice full of genuine affection.

Nettie shook her head slightly, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “I bet, counselor,” she teased, arching a brow.

Bryce chuckled, the sound rich and hearty. “Well, it’s certainly a relief that you weren’t injured in the chaos.”

Her mind drifting, Nettie recalled the harrowing moment when Casper had valiantly thrown himself over her, an anguished look etched on his face as he shielded her from harm. “Mr. Casper, are you injured?” she asked, concern lacing her tone.

“That’s none of your concern,” he replied sharply and tinged with an acrid bitterness that hung between them, a stark contrast to the warmth of the previous exchange.

Put in her place, Nettie stiffened. “Okay. It was good seeing you, Bryce.” Knowing nothing else needed to be said, she walked away but heard Bryce say, “Why didn’t you tell her you’d been shot?”