Page 52 of Saving Jennifer

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The fire alarmcontinued its piercing wail as Noah held Jennifer’s hand tightly. She held her jacket tightly in one hand, ready to place it over her nose and mouth once the gas was deployed. He’d removed his own jacket, ready to do the same. Caleb did too, positioning himself by the door, ready to move. Stomach tied up in knots, he realized they’d only have one shot at this. Everything was on the line. If Skinner figured out what they were about to do, they were screwed.

“Fourteen…and fifteen,” Noah counted under his breath. “Now.”

A faint hissing sound emanated from the vents overhead. From beyond the door came confused shouts, followed by thuds and the clatter of weapons hitting the floor.

Noah gave it another ten seconds before nodding to Caleb, who threw open the door, keeping the lower half of his face covered by his shirt. The scene that greeted them was surreal—a courtroom frozen in chaos. Several mercenaries were already unconscious on the floor, while others staggered drunkenly, fighting to stay upright as the colorless gas did its work. Jurors and spectators had instinctively covered their faces at the fire alarm, many crouched low, giving them some protection.

Jakob Skinner was still standing, a handkerchief pressed to his face, but his movements were sluggish. His eyes widened with rage when he spotted Noah.

“Temple,” he slurred, raising his weapon with a trembling hand. Noah moved fast, crossing the distance between them in three long strides. One precise strike to Skinner’s wrist sent the gun clattering to the floor. A second blow to his solar plexus doubled him over. The mercenary leader fought back, landing a glancing blow to Noah’s jaw, but the gas was working against him. Noah caught his next wild swing and used Skinner’s momentum to drive him face-first into the defense table.

“Stay down,” Noah growled, coughing as the gas began choking him. Securing Skinner’s hands behind his back with zip ties from his pocket, he lifted his jacket, blocking the smoke as best he could, his eyes scanning the courtroom for Jennifer.

Across the room, Caleb was methodically neutralizing the remaining mercenaries, while Jennifer moved swiftly to where Judge Harriman was slumped in her chair, checking her pulse.

“She’s okay,” Jennifer called, her voice muffled by her jacket. “Just unconscious.”

Noah scanned the room for his targets. Sayifa and Rashid sat side by side at the defense table, both conscious but clearly affected by the gas. Sayifa’s cold, hate-filled eyes tracked Jennifer’s movements with undisguised hatred.

“Uncle Gator, we’re clear,” Noah spoke into his phone. “Ventilate the room.”

Within moments, powerful fans hummed to life, drawing the knockout gas from the courtroom. The doors burst open as tactical teams flooded in, securing the room with practiced efficiency. Noah spotted his uncle among them, his weathered face split in a grin despite the gas mask covering most of his features.

“Nice work, nephew,” Gator said, clapping Noah on the shoulder. “You always did have a flair for the dramatic.”

“Where were you?” Noah demanded. “I was worried.”

“Skinner’s men took out my security detail at the entrance,” Gator explained. “I managed to slip away in the ensuing craziness, then worked my way to the HVAC control room. Figured you’d need an ace in the hole. You know I like to stay one step ahead.”

Noah chuckled at Gator’s words. His uncle was always more than one step ahead, more like six. “Good call,” Noah admitted, watching as paramedics began attending to the civilians.

Across the room, Jennifer stood straight-backed and dignified, despite the chaos around her. Noah felt that familiar tug in his chest seeing her there, brave and unwavering. When her eyes met his, something passed between them, an acknowledgment of what had happened in that witness room moments before. They needed to talk. He was tired of hiding from his feelings. No matter what happened, what she decided, he would tell her how he felt—that he loved her.

Three hours later, the courtroom had been cleared, the civilians evaluated and released, the unconscious mercenaries removed to nice cozy jail cells. He’d let Gator and the authorities deal with them. Only a skeleton crew remained: two U.S. Marshals, the judge, the prosecutors, Noah, Caleb, Jennifer, the defense attorney, and the Amirs.

Judge Harriman, recovered from the effects of the gas but still visibly shaken, gaveled the impromptu session to order.

“In light of today’s events,” she said, her voice steely with controlled anger, “I am denying the defense motion for continuance and dismissing outright the claim of diplomatic immunity. The evidence of attempted kidnapping and armed assault in my courtroom renders such claims moot.”

Sayifa’s attorney began to protest, but the judge silenced him with a withering glare.

“Furthermore,” she continued, “I’m adding additional charges of obstruction of justice, attempted kidnapping, attempted murder, and conspiracy to commit murder. Multiple counts, one for each person present in the courtroom at the time of the armed assault. Until these new charges can be processed, we will proceed with the initial charges, because I want this case handled promptly. And since this is a bench trial, we don’t have to worry about empaneling another jury. Ms. Baptiste, I understand you’ve been through a trying experience, but are you prepared to give your testimony now, or would you prefer to wait until tomorrow?”

Jennifer squared her shoulders, her gaze fixed on the Amirs. “I’m ready now, Your Honor.”

Noah stood at the back of the courtroom, watching with admiration as Jennifer took the stand. For hours, she detailed the Amir family’s conspiring to abduct Chloe from her biological mother. She outlined every detail of how Tarik had used her to find Salem Hudson, his ex-lover, who’d escaped his abuse and gone into hiding while she was pregnant. How Tarik had convinced Jennifer that she was helping him find the woman he loved, to help him make amends and bring her home again. She outlined how after Tarik’s death, Sayifa and Rashid had contacted her, played upon her emotions of wanting to be part of her biological father’s family. Once they were convinced she would help them, they’d told her of their plan to bring Chloe back to their home in Dubai—where they belonged, she claimed. It was only after she’d agreed to help that Jennifer found out Sayifa had no plans to bring Chloe’s mother to Dubai too. No, she had a much more insidious plan for Salem, she wanted her dead. Her voice never wavered, even as Sayifa stared at her with undisguised malice.

When the prosecutor finished his questions, the judge called a brief recess before cross-examination began. The defense attorney seemed defeated, though he asked questions he obviously already knew the answers to. None of which helped his clients. Noah approached Jennifer as she stepped down from the witness stand.

“You were incredible,” he said softly, resisting the urge to take her hand in full view of the courtroom.

A small smile curved her lips. “I simply told the truth.”

“Sometimes that’s the hardest thing to do.”

Their moment was interrupted by a commotion at the defense table. Rashid had slumped in his seat, his face ashen. His attorney frantically called for medical assistance, and the judge ordered paramedics be summoned.