Chapter One
Leah White had planned on spending her free day shopping for a new outfit, yet she found herself in a courtroom—the very courtroom she spent half her life in since qualifying as an attorney three years previously.
In here, every sound echoed around the pale wood-panelled walls. Sometimes it seemed as if the heartbeats of the accused did the same. The high windows were opaque, turning the white South Dakota sunlight ethereal, and it was easy to believe they were being watched over by a higher deity.
“All rise,” the clerk called.
Leah’s friend and fellow attorney, Willow, stood and turned to her.
“You’ve got this,” Leah mouthed, giving the thumbs-up sign.
Willow managed a tight smile and tapped the side of her head, checking for stray hairs that had escaped her high ponytail. A nervous habit.
It was Willow’s first lone bench trial defending, and she’d asked for Leah’s support. Seeing her nibbling on her bottom lip, frowning and fidgeting, Leah knew coming along today had been the right thing to do.
And the new dress for her father’s stuffy mayoral garden party could wait. She didn’t want to go anyway. Why would she?
She stood, along with the rest of the courtroom. Judge Lincoln walked in, robe billowing and his brow creased like a plowed field.
He was Leah’s least favorite judge to preside. And today, he’d have even less patience than usual. The annual Pierce Bike Rally meant not only was the town completely overrun with MC clubs during the event, the resulting debauchery, fights, and bad behavior also meant the court would be overrun for weeks afterward.
Judge Lincoln sat.
Everyone followed suit.
While he shuffled papers, his movements fractious and impatient, Leah touched the small heart locket that sat beneath the hollow of her throat and looked past the court reporter at the defendant.
Carter Harris.
Her stomach tensed and she snatched her breath in.
He was staring straight at her. Bangs of his brown hair, the color of fallen autumn leaves, fell to his eyes—eyes that were piercing blue, even from this distance. His mouth wasn’t set in an anxious line as it should have been—as everyone else’s would be at this moment. Instead, it was curled at the right side, a half smile, a cocky hint of a grin.
She released the locket and tipped her chin. Her scalp heated.
Carter Harris was a senior member of the Devil’s Barbarians, a notorious one-percenter California motorcycle club. He was young, late twenties, but his prospecting period had been short owing to the fact his father had been the chapter president before taking a bullet to the brain a few years previously.
His gaze didn’t waver. He just sat there, watching her.
She looked away and resisted the urge to fidget with her collar, her necklace again, or the buttons on her white silk blouse. Unable to help herself, she glanced back at him.
The heat tormenting her hair roots intensified because he was still watching her, still kind of smiling her way.
Damn it.
With determination, she kept her expression neutral and set her attention on Willow, who appeared to be writing last-minute notes.
Willow wouldn’t be pleased that Carter hadn’t taken her advice. She’d told him to put on a suit for court and a tie to go with it. Instead, he wore his leather cut over a black Nirvana t-shirt, and a pair of shades were poked into the frayed neckline.
Judge Lincoln cleared his throat. “Let’s begin.”
Out of the corner of her eyes, Leah saw Carter’s head turn toward the bench.
She braved another look as the judge started proceedings.
Carter’s cut stretched over his broad shoulders, and a sprinkle of stubble grazed his sharp jaw line. His Adam’s apple was prominent, and his nose had a bump in the center, as though it had been broken. He had a dip beneath his bottom lip that softened his face somehow, balanced the intensely masculine features in a way that made her wonder if he had a gentle side.
Gentle side. As if?