Page 48 of Saving Jennifer

With a final glance around the room, they walked out into the dawn, the sky lightening. Jennifer knew the next few days would be crucial, hectic, and filled with uncertainty, but one thing was certain—as long as she was with Noah, everything would be okay.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Jennifer stared ather reflection in the hotel bathroom mirror, her hands trembling slightly as she fastened a pearl earring. Four days on the road—sleeping in shifts, changing vehicles twice, and taking back roads—had left dark circles under her eyes that concealer couldn’t quite hide. Yet there was a steely resolve in her gaze that hadn’t been there before. She looked different, even to her own jaundiced eye.

“You ready?” Noah’s voice came from the doorway, deep and steady.

She met his gaze in the mirror. “As I’ll ever be.”

Noah leaned against the doorframe, his broad shoulders filling the space. Former Special Forces, now private security/bodyguard, he looked immaculate in his charcoal suit despite their chaotic journey, but Jennifer couldn’t help noticing the tension in his jaw, the vigilant assessment in his eyes as they swept over her.

“You look beautiful,” he said softly. “And brave.”

“I don’t feel brave,” she admitted, turning to face him. “I keep thinking about what Sayifa said to me that night…that no one escapes the Amirs. She blames me for Tarik’s death—even though I wasn’t even there. I think Sayifa believes I’m a curse on the entire Amir family. It wasn’t my fault her husband had an affair with my mother. He’s the one who strayed, who broke their wedding vows. I had nothing to do with it, yet she still blames me. The hate I feel when she looks at me…”

Noah crossed the room, his hands cradling her face with surprising gentleness for a man who could disarm an opponent in seconds.

“Listen to me. You’ve already proven her wrong. We’ve stayed ahead of Skinner this whole time. In a few hours, your testimony puts them away, and this nightmare ends.”

“Does it?”

Jennifer leaned against him for a moment, drawing strength from his certainty. Over the past eleven days, Noah had become her protector, her confidant, and something much more complex that neither dared name.

“Uncle Gator just checked in,” he said, dropping his hands reluctantly. “The courthouse perimeter is secure. Caleb’s downstairs. It’s time.”

The morning air hung heavy, the humidity thick enough to cut with a knife as they approached the courthouse steps. Jennifer, flanked by Noah and his brother Caleb, kept her eyes forward, ignoring the camera flashes and shouted questions from reporters cordoned behind barricades. Noah had wanted them to go in through a different entrance, to avoid the press and the crowds outside the courthouse, but Jennifer refused. She was tired of hiding. She had done nothing wrong, had spent far too long hidden away, and it stopped today.

“Eyes scanning everything, brother,” Caleb murmured, his Tennessee drawl more pronounced under stress. Though younger than Noah, Caleb matched him in height and vigilance, his hand resting near the concealed weapon under his jacket.

Noah’s hand pressed firmly against Jennifer’s lower back as they climbed the stairs. “Almost there,” he reassured her.

The courthouse loomed before them, its classical columns gleaming in the morning sunlight. Jennifer fought the urge to look over her shoulder, the sensation of being watched prickling her skin.

Inside, they navigated through the security checkpoints. Jennifer removed her blazer for inspection, revealing the sleeveless silk blouse beneath. As she stepped through the metal detector, she felt exposed, vulnerable. The crowded atrium with its high ceilings and multiple entrances made Noah visibly uneasy.

“Keep moving,” he instructed, his voice low, his hand resting lightly in the small of her back after they cleared security. “Don’t look around.” He hated that both he and Caleb had to turn in their guns with security before they could enter the building. It meant being extra vigilant, but he’d do whatever it took to keep Jennifer safe.

A guard directed them to the third floor, courtroom three seventeen, where the Amir trial would take place. They were met by Assistant District Attorney Martin Delacroix, a thin man with wire-rimmed glasses and a perpetually worried expression.

“Ms. Baptiste, Mr. Temple” he greeted them, glancing at Caleb before leading them down a marble corridor. “We’ve set up in a conference room down this hall.”

Noah’s grip on Jennifer’s elbow tightened imperceptibly. “Has anyone else been briefed on that location?”

“Only those who need to know,” Delacroix assured him, but Noah exchanged a skeptical glance with Caleb. Inside the conference room, Delacroix spread documents across the table while Jennifer took a seat, smoothing her pencil skirt nervously.

“I reviewed your notes from our call last night,” Delacroix began. “Your testimony is crucial, Ms. Baptiste. Without your eyewitness account of the conversation between Sayifa and Rashid concerning the abduction of—”

“They weren’t just going to abduct Chloe and take her back to Dubai. How many times must I tell you, they were also planning to murder Chloe’s mother, Salem Hudson?” Jennifer interrupted. Why did everybody seem to skip over that point, like it wasn’t important? Sayifa despised Salem, blamed her for leading her precious son astray, as she always insisted. As far as she was concerned, Salem was an infidel and needed to be destroyed.

“Yes,” Delacroix nodded. “Though Judge Marchand has excluded some of that evidence on technical grounds.”

Noah, who had been studying the courthouse floor plan on his phone, looked up sharply. “What wasn’t excluded?”

Delacroix’s hesitation was brief but noticeable. “Enough to make our case, with Ms. Baptiste’s testimony.”

Noah’s eyes narrowed. “There’s something you’re not telling us.”

The attorney cleared his throat. “The defense filed a motion this morning claiming diplomatic immunity for both defendants.”