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Jess

Monday

Like the weekend never happened, like I wasn’t assaulted on Friday and Kane wasn’t nearly murdered on Saturday; like we didn’t sleep all of Sunday and take turns chugging orange juice like our lives depended on it, I walk into my office at nine on the dot Monday morning, after driving Kane back to his truck at the club – or more accurately, four blocks from the club.

He refuses to let me get closer, and because he’s as stubborn as I am, he called my cell while he walked the rest of the way and didn’t hang up again until I walked through my own front door to have a shower and get dressed for work.

After Abel had him beaten up on Friday and drugged on Saturday, it boggles my mind that Kane’s going back to work today.

Gotta work, Blondie. Gotta stick to the plan.

I just don’t get it. His world and mine are so unbelievably different, so far removed from each other, it gives me whiplash. Not only doesn’t my boss want to harm me, but she actively tries to make my life better. When my former boss decided it was time to retire and live thefishin’ life, Jules came along in fancy heels and big city money and took over; she didn’thaveto keep me on as staff – I was a law student, a paralegal, and nothing more. She didn’t even know Alex yet, had no clue that he was basically family to me, but she kept me on based only on my experience and work ethic.

She could’ve dumped us all and brought in her fancy city staff. She could’ve dropped me down to receptionist and coffee clerk, but instead, the defense attorney ate humble pie and askedmeto teachherwhat I knew of family law.

In exchange, she’s supporting me well above the industry standard salary for people in my position and pays all of my law school tuition.

Jules gives me time off for classes and exams without batting an eye, and in exchange for the first year where I worked twenty-three hours a day to bring her up to speed in family law, she teaches me what she knows from her career as a criminal defense attorney.

Whenever anyone asks why she would want to defend a criminal, whenever Alex – who’s so personally offended by criminals – would ask what’s going on in her head, she would simply reply with the same verbiage she has a million times before.

The deck is so stacked against a defendant, that she believes everyone, no matter the charges they stand against, deserves skilled and enthusiastic representation.Because what if they’re not who the law claims they are? What if they’re innocent?

What if they’re Kane?

Kane is someone Iknowto be a criminal, but I wholeheartedly believe he’s not a bad person.

I can’t be objective about him, and I can’t represent him. Hell, I can’t represent Jules and Alex either, who have flipped sides and now intend to prosecute.

I can’t walk away, either.

I refuse.

But no matter my choices and or how much I upset my boss, even if I decided to fuck Kane on the judge’s bench during session, she still wouldn’t have me harmed.

I don’t know why he’s gone back today. He refuses to talk to me about that part of his life. Instead, he’d rather touch his dick and send me crazy.

He’d rather treat me with kiddie gloves and leave me in the dark.

He’d rather hoard me and keep me locked up in his apartment during our down time, and when we aren’tdown, he’d rather pat my ass and pretend that ignorance is a legal defense.

It’s not.

“Jess?” As I pass through reception and into the hall, Jules pokes her head through the boardroom doorway and snags my coat sleeve. “Come in here, can you? Bring the Hayes and Bishop files.”

Like she could read my mind and nowknowseverything I’ve been doing this past week, anxiety seeps into my bones as I approach the boardroom with my handbag clutched against my healing ribs.

I already have the files; no need to go to my office.

Stepping into the one-way glass room – we can see out, but no one can see in – I stop at the serious faces that surround me.

Alex sits at the head of the table – not Jules’ husband today, but the formidable chief of police. And his best friend and senior deputy, Oz Franks, sits to his left.

A man I don’t recognize sits beside Oz, but the purpose in his eyes says everything I need to know.

“Um…” I squeeze my hands tight around the strap of my bag. “What’s going on?”


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