Page 59 of Free to Judge

It’s after ten before I come up for air.

She is probably already asleep by now. Lights off. Bare shoulders against clean sheets, dreaming the dreams of the unburdened. Meanwhile, I have blood on my hands and vengeance in my heart, but, God, I want to see her, touch her, be with her anyway.

Even if I didn’t deserve it.

Still, I check my phone.

Kalie:

Come over if it’s before midnight. I’ll stay up for you.

I walk out of the garage without another word, the cloying scent of evil clinging to my skin. The cool night air hits like a reset, but it doesn’t clear my head.

The drive to Kalie’s is almost muscle memory—twenty minutes of silent streets being guided by a beacon of hope. I don’t turn on the radio as I want to hear nothing but her voice in my head on my way there. I don’t want anything but her to fill the spaces I’m already carving out for her.

I park down the street, turn off the engine, and just sit there.

In another life, I’d have pulled directly into her driveway. Knocked on her door. Hoped she answered it in a little bit of nothing. Pushed her inside, kissing her as I did. I would’ve urged her onto her bed, and ensured I had the right to press my mouth to her lips, the curve of her shoulder, and beyond.

Instead, the fact is, I can’t. I’m tied to the very people who want to hurt her—fuck, I’m their goddamn lawyer. At least for now—the best way for me to protect her is to resist what my heart already knows.

She’s mine.

Still, I scrub a hand down my face and whisper to the night air, “You make me want out. For this to be over and done with so I can move on.”

I don’t know if this makes Kalie a liability, a further danger, or a chance for hope.

Then my phone rings, and after I listen to what Keene has to say, my fury at the woman waiting for me inside ignites.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

He appearsinside my home without warning. I’m curled up on the couch working on a brief I need to file in Connecticut Superior Court to protect Amaryllis Events against a bride who is trying to sue us over the fact she walked in on her fiancé cheating on her with her maid of honor.

Really, it takes all kinds.

When I look up, Declan’s there with his hands fisted at his side. I press my hand against my heart. “Jesus. You scared the crap out of me!”

“You should be scared.” His voice is low and tight like he’s holding back from shouting. “You told your father you were planning on telling your mother if he didn’t? What the hell, Kalie? Are you trying to get your family hurt?”

I fling my laptop aside and surge to my feet. “You don’t get it, do you? You may be buried up to your eyeballs in this op. You may be able to snap your fingers and have people’s sentences set aside in a second. You may be able to dictate law and order between chop houses, strip clubs, bodegas or whatever the hell else the Byrnes and Tiberis have you drafting up legal documentation for this week, but you don’t get to control me. Nor do you get a say when it pertains to my family.”

He sends an infuriated glare in my direction before wearing a path back and forth in my carpet. “You don’t appreciate who your father’s dealing with.”

“He explained it to me.”

Ignoring my response, he plows on, “The minute your mother starts asking questions, the moment anyone in your family does?—”

“They’re smarter than that. I’m smarter than that. You think keeping all of this a secret is the best way to handle this?”

“It isn’t your choice!”

“It’s my life! And that’s what I told my father to talk to my mother about.”

“You can’t do that without…”

“I can.”

He walks over to my couch and grabs a pillow. Holding it to his face, he screams into it, releasing days, months, years of fury. When he finally pulls it away, his face is awash with tears. I approach him, but he steps back. “No.”