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~ brIDGET ~

I sat in a conference room in the very tall office building of Sam’s fancy-ass lawyers. I was seated directly across a table from a camera, two attorneys, a secretary taking notes, and my husband…

Sam and I had met eyes more than once, but we’d talked on the video call about this the night before. We couldn’t let anyone pick up our connection. I needed to avoid his eyes. They needed to think I was wary of him.

So, instead, the skin on my neck prickled with goosebumps every time his gaze dropped to my boobs.

“What agreement had you and Mr. Priestley reached regarding your death?”

I almost grinned. This lawyer was loving me, because I kept answering every question as if Sam was a different man from Cain. “Sam was extremely worried about me after I told him what I planned. He tried to talk me out of it—and warned me that he knew what these kinds of men were like. He wanted me to ghost them all.”

Next to me, Jeremy glared. Turned out my lawyers weren’t allowed to interrupt or ask clarifying questions during a deposition. The only thing they could do was note an objection. And mostly there was nothing to which they could object. These were valid questions, and I answered honestly. About Sam .

The heat from Jeremy’s gaze—clearly wishing to throttle me—didn’t cause me goosebumps at all. Just waves of nausea.

“Miss Reynolds, was there ever a time in which you felt you were in danger from Mr. Priestley?”

I snorted. “A priest—I mean, minister? No. I wanted to jump his bones. He was hot. And we had a lot of shared experiences.” Alarm jangled through me—I didn’t want to draw attention to Sam’s criminal history. “I liked him. He wasn’t pushy. We even went on a date.”

“Oh? How did that go?”

I grimaced. “I left early—but not because he scared me. The opposite. I was worried I was scaring him.”

I couldn’t resist a single, swift glance at Sam. Tried to make it look like my eyes passed over him while I was looking at the other lawyer. But adrenalin bolted through me when I found him hiding a smile behind his hand and his eyes warm and amused.

“I want you to think very clearly, Miss Reynolds—if you need time to consider this, it’s fine: Was there ever a time when you were present with Mr. Priestley that he intimidated you, or his actions felt inappropriate, or frightening? Was he ever aggressive or threatening? Anything like that?”

Sam grabbing my wrist and pinning me up against the wall—

“No,” I said quickly. Easily. Casually. “He was a complete gentleman. Probably the nicest guy I’ve ever sort-of dated.”

The attorney nodded and tried not to smile, but I couldn’t miss that Sam’s legal team grew more and more relaxed in direct relation to how tense and bristling our guys became.

I felt relieved when it was done. I hadn’t said anything to hurt Sam—mainly because his lawyers did their best to avoid any questions that painted Sam as Cain. So I had to be very careful to keep my face straight and serious when I was told that I could leave. I leaned forward to push the chair back from the table and caught Sam’s gaze dart to the small v of cleavage in the very modest button-down and suit-jacket I was wearing.

That thrum of heat behind my navel became a flood. Aware that the camera was still rolling, I worked to keep my face straight. But I bit my lip when I had my back turned—until I looked up to find Jeremy standing, holding the door open for me, his face a tense mask of fury .

He launched into me the moment we stepped into the empty hallway.

“What the fuck was that?!” he snapped as we followed the legal team towards the exit. “Seriously, Bridget. Are you playing games? Do you think it’s funny to make our jobs harder?”

“I was under oath, Jeremy,” I sighed, staring at Derek’s back. He and his assistant walked ahead of us and were clearly listening, but trying to pretend they weren’t.

“That doesn’t mean you offer things that will help them!”

“I didn’t offer anything good.” Lies. “I’m just being compliant, like you said. They asked about Sam, I told them.”

Jeremy stopped walking and turned on me, his hands on his hips, pushing his suit jacket back. I caught a glimpse of the concealed holster strapped to his ribs—did he do that on purpose, or did he just not care?

“I know you, Bridget,” he hissed, leaning in close, his eyes flashing with anger. “You were getting a kick out of that.” He pointed back towards the room. “Grow up.”

My own anger flared when he talked down to me like I was a child. So I leaned right back into his face and put a finger to his chest. “This legal system is fucked up. It gets manipulated constantly. I’ve watched my father play the system countless times. Don’t act like there’s something sacred going on here just because the system doesn’t suit you right now. If you people really cared, monsters like him wouldn’t get to live out the rest of their lives with three square meals a day.”

It wasn’t entirely fair to align Jeremy with the plea deal my father had been given. He’d been too low ranking at the time to be involved in the legal proceedings, and only brought in years later when there was a perceived threat against me. He was boots on the ground at the time. He’d had nothing to do with the team who convicted my father. But we’d talked about this before. He knew how I felt about it.

Jeremy’s eyes narrowed a little, but his expression softened. “Bridge, Sam isn’t your Dad.”

I snorted. “You don’t need to tell me that.”

“No, I mean…” he sighed, dropping his head for a moment, then looked back towards the room before facing off with me again. “Here’s the thing: I know this is all… triggering. Gerald warned me this might be uncomfortable for you. I hadn’t thought about that—with the other cases, I mean. I’m trying, okay? But I need you to work with me.”

“I am!”

“No, I mean… you’re going to have a huge effect on how this plays out. You need to understand how your phrasing, or sarcasm might read if they use this shit with a jury. You make a snappy come-back, or gush about how hot he is, and they read that back as a transcript in Court… it doesn’t land, you understand me?”

I nodded because I didn’t want him to figure out I was very aware of that. But Jeremy’s face got tight.

“Bridget, to anyone from the outside it looked like you sang the praises of the man who may have killed women in the past. Do you understand that?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t think you do, because you made him sound like someone you trusted.”

“I do trust Sam. He is trustworthy.”

“Cain isn’t!”

“They weren’t asking about Cain.”

“For fuck’s sake, they’re the same man!”

“They weren’t in my mind when all this was going on.” I said honestly. “And all their questions were about Sam.”

Jeremy dropped his face into his hands, rubbing his temples. “Okay, so I know you don’t want to, but we’re nipping this in the bud. We’re getting together with the legal team and coaching you on testimony. If you get called in for another deposition, or any interview—anything. You tell me beforehand. You hear me?”

I shrugged. “Sure.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“That flippant thing.”

“I’m not being flippant. I said I’d do what you asked!”

His jaw went tight then, and that vein on his temple stood out. He leaned into my ear, pointing back towards the conference room.

“You fuck this up for us and you’re only fucking yourself,” he whispered. “I’ve worked my ass off for a decade to keep you safe. If you’re going to throw it out the window for a fucking felon, that’s on you. I can save you from a lot, Bridge. But I can’t save you from yourself. You think about that.”

He stood back for one moment, staring down at me, then strode away, leaving me there annoyed and nervous, and pissed off that I was nervous.

Also, even more determined to see Sam acquitted.

You there, God? You real? I have my doubts. But here’s your chance. It’s on you to make Sam safe. If anyone deserves it, he does. Even in the middle of this shitshow, he’s still trying to say you’re a good guy. So… prove it. Then maybe we’ll talk.

Then I followed Jeremy and the others out to the parking lot, ignored their farewells, and left.