Page 77 of Desert Loyalties

He turns to me. “Once this is over… let’s go on a honeymoon or something.”

I smile. “Somewhere cold. Maybe the mountains.”

He laughs, low. “Or the beach.”

“Just so you know,” I say, keeping my voice light, “I’m working on a few things in case this doesn’t work out.”

He side-eyes me. “Few things…”

“You’re not going to jail, babe,” I say, grinning. “Not on my watch.”

We pull into the driveway just a second before the other car. Christina’s already climbing out with her assistant, briefcase in one hand, phone in the other, mid-sentence. She doesn’t even glance back, she’s locked into lawyer mode now.

Before I open the door, I feel Drake’s hand close over mine.

I turn to him. He’s not just looking, he’s seeing me. Focused, steady. Holding the moment as if it matters more than the next ten.

“We already beat this halfway,” I say, squeezing his fingers. “It’s just in case.”

He doesn’t respond right away. Lifting my hand, he kisses the back of it.

“You need a ring,” he says.

I smile. “I already have a patch.”

He smiles back, sweet and possessive, all at once. “You could never look too much mine.”

“I’ll get us matching bands tomorrow.”

Drake chuckles as we head inside. Christina’s already claimed the dining table and turned it into a war room. It’s covered in files, legal pads, highlighters, and tabs. Organized chaos. The kind of mess that means she’s already five steps ahead.

She barely looks up when we walk in. “Take a seat,” she says, gesturing towards the side where I can still see the table, a little bit. “Jonah’s making coffee.”

I raise an eyebrow. “In our house? Wait, how’d you even get in?”

She doesn’t dignify that with an answer. Just starts sorting through a stack of documents.

We sit. Drake leans back, calmly watching her closely.

“Alright,” Christina says, finally focusing on us. “Here’s where we are.”

She speaks fast, but her words are clear. She’s not just talking to herself anymore. She’s translating it all for us, in a language we can actually understand.

“We’re moving to trial,” she says. “That means a few things change. First, we get a new judge, one who’ll actually be presiding over the case, not just handling pre-trial stuff.”

I nod slowly. Drake doesn’t move, just listens.

“The prosecution will likely offer a plea deal sometime soon. They usually do once we’re past the prelim. I mean they already offered one, but this’ll be more realistic. Whether we take it depends on what they offer, and what evidence theydon’thave.”

Drake snorts. “So, nothing.”

Christina gives him a look. “We’ll see. But if we don’t take a deal, it goes to trial. That’s when things get real.”

She sets the file down and looks at both of us.

“One thing we’ll need to decide sooner rather than later is whether we go with a jury trial or a bench trial.”

Drake lifts an eyebrow. “That a trick question?”