Page 7

~ SAM ~

The following morning we were both awakened with a start by the sound of Bridget’s phone ringing.

I nudged her—she wanted to ignore our calls—and she groaned, but reached for it on the side table, cursing a second later. “It’s fucking Jeremy.”

A coil of deep, abiding loathing twisted in my guts. My hand tightened on her instinctively, and for a second I was tempted to tell her to ignore it. But I knew that was asking for trouble. If he realized she wasn’t home, he wouldn’t stop until he found her.

“Put it on speaker,” I muttered, shoving back the sheets to get out of bed and go to the bathroom while she answered the phone sleepily.

“What is it, Jeremy—and why are you calling so early?”

“Early, have you looked at the clock, Bridget?”

I glanced at my own phone as I got out of bed and winced. It wasn’t morning after all, but firmly afternoon.

I’d kept her up late last night, unable to stop punishing her for getting turned on by those dancers. I’d had her on the cushions in the private dining room of the restaurant, almost lost control and taken her in the stairwell on the way back to the room—barely getting her in the door before I had her against the wall. Then the shower. Then that countertop that she’d teased me about.

And even though it was amazing with her, a little voice in the back of my head kept niggling at me, insisting that this wasn’t normal, and wasn’t purely love . But I shut it up until almost dawn when we were both exhausted and the room had been christened on every feasible surface.

“Uh,” Bridget sighed as I stepped into the bathroom, leaving the door open so I could hear the conversation. “Okay, fair enough,” she said hoarsely. I hoped he’d think it was just because of sleep that she sounded like she was losing her voice, and not because I’d had her screaming—

“What’s going on?” Bridget asked him, pushing up to sit in bed and staring at me.

I stared right back and had to plead with my body not to harden again—I needed to take a piss!

“Oh, I don’t know,” Jeremy sighed. “Just a fucking shitshow of a court case in which you’re our star witness. Ring a bell?”

Bridget rolled her eyes, but kept her tone light. “I think I remember—”

“Look, cut the crap,” Jeremy snapped and I had to make myself stop and take a breath because I wanted to close my hand on his throat, and not in the good way. “We’ve got to start making some plans. Figuring out details. I need to walk you through what we’re doing, and Laurence says he’s got details to go over with you so they can check some stuff. Corroborating evidence, that kind of thing.”

“Whatever,” Bridget said, but her eyes were on me, pleading with me not to get mad as I strode back to the bed. “I’ll do whatever,” she mumbled. “Let’s just get this done as quickly as we can.”

“Trust me, no one wants to drag their feet on this one, but we’re nailing a fucking priest. The press is going to have a field day. So first off, you keep your mouth shut tight, you hear me, Bridge?”

“Yeah, I hear you.”

I had fantasies of sneaking into Jeremy’s house and waiting for him to start talking to her like this again, half parent-to-child, half Dom-to-sub, walking up behind him when he didn’t know I was there and—

“It’s his side that’s going to slow things down, try to let the attention die and make people forget he’s a priest.”

“He’s not a priest,” Bridget said flatly.

“Whatever, the point is, we’re working on it, but it’s not all in our control. We are in the process of scheduling depositions for next week, so I need your schedule. When you can come in—you have to be present for their questions, obviously. But when it’s his turn, it’s up to you. You have a right to be there. But you don’t have to…”

The asshole’s voice faded to background noise as Bridget’s head snapped towards me and she stared, eyes wide and mouth tight.

I gave her a questioning look. She mouthed the word, “Depositions?!” and I shrugged. They were part of the process in a criminal case. Hadn’t she done this before?

“Bridget? You there?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she said hurriedly, blinking and tucking her hair behind her ears. The bed vibrated as she jiggled her foot. “Next week? Yeah, um, the only thing I’ve got is Gerald on Thursdays. I’m happy to skip—”

“No, you’re not. We’re not giving them any reason to turn this into questions about your credibility. In your world, Gerald is like church for the Priest until this is done, Bridge. You hear me?”

Her expression went flat. “Whatever, I hear you.”

“Okay, so Thursdays at what time.”

“Usually one. Sometimes two if he’s got stuff.”

“Okay, so I’m blocking out Thursday afternoons, but other than that, you’re flexible, right?”

They went back and forth a few more times, Bridget growing more and more distant. Jeremy didn’t seem to notice, which pissed me off more.

Why couldn’t any of these people see how deeply this all affected her?

When they said goodbye, she tapped the END CALL button and neither of us spoke until the phone booped and the screen switched to the call log. No way was I risking Jeremy hearing me and asking questions .

I was sitting on the bed, just arm’s reach away, but she kept staring at the screen.

“Bridget?” I asked quietly, reaching for her shoulder.

“I forgot about the depositions, Sam.”

I frowned. “Haven’t you done them before? They’re awful, I know, but it’s a treasure hunt—”

“No, Sam, listen.” She turned to look at me and her eyes were full of fear. “I forgot about the depositions. How do I stop from testifying if I’m giving them everything in the depositions anyway? But if I tell them about you now, they’ll go out and do the dirty work to find someone else to make this happen and they’ll still put you away!”

I took her hand. “Hey, hey. Relax. This is a criminal case. My guys will be asking questions to try and help me, so you go ahead and answer. I’d be more concerned that they get upset when your answers don’t make me look like a serial killer.”

She sighed. “Jeremy says I always fuck everything up, so I’ll play dumb, or whatever. But what if my guys start asking—”

“Your crew is going to be way more interested in the statements we both gave when I got arrested. Depositions are just my guys poking around to see if they can find anything new to help—so you be the most compliant, helpful witness possible,” I said with a wink. “I’ll be there. I’ll make sure they always take me. And if something comes up that makes us nervous, you just… be the brat that you are,” I said with a grin.

She snorted and looked up at me. “Even brats have to answer if a judge says so,” she said quietly.

I shrugged, pretending nerves weren’t fizzing in my chest. “Then wait until a judge says so. We can’t give them any reason to be suspicious of your motives, Bridget. But seriously… do what they tell you to do. I’ll make sure my guys object to anything even remotely condemnatory. In the end, we’ll figure it out.”

Please, God, can we figure it out…

Bridget tipped sideways to rest her head on my arm, still clinging to my hand. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. ”

Sure that we can’t stop this train, so we have to play along until they’re stuck in a corner, prosecuting a case without their star witness… God willing.

“I hope you’re right.”

“I almost always am,” I said smugly, then flinched when she slapped my stomach.

But she was deflated, I could feel it. And I knew if I didn’t get her distracted, this would steal the rest of this day from us. So with a low rumble, I rolled her onto her back and covered her with my body, taking her face in my hands and kissing her.

She clung a little too tight at first. But in the end, that only made it better.