Page 87 of Pushed

Chapter Twenty-Three

Machi

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Her hand came out andpointed in my direction, firmly planting in the air with no hesitation. “That's him.”

“So this is the man you saw the night you were taken?”

“Yes, he's one of them.”

Imperial's hair was pulled back into a snug ponytail, the ends were curled up, fanning out like the petals of a sunflower. A dark blue dress melted against her curves, following all the lines and architecture of her body to perfection.

She looked more amazing than ever, gorgeous and strong sitting up on the stand.

That wasn't exactly how I pictured our first encounter after everything went down, and still, I couldn't take my eyes off her.

Since she got up there, all I wanted was for her to glance at me, to give me one last look so I could see if she was okay or not. I knew if she just allowed her eyes to drift to mine, I'd be able to read her without her having to speak.

“One of them? So there were others there that night?”

Leaning into the small microphone, she spoke clear and steady. “Yes, there were three men there that night.”

The prosecutor turned in my direction, slamming his finger into the air. “Was this man there the night you were sold to Officer Roberts?”

Imperial's eyes skipped to mine for a moment, holding still for a single breath. My heart froze, unable to shed the elastic bands wrapping it tight. She was sad, she was lost and scared.

But not from what happened, her unspoken words tumbled through my head; she was afraid for me.

Nodding to her subtly, I wanted her to know it was okay, that she could tell them everything they expected her to.

None of this was her fault, not one second of it. There was nothing for her to hide when she hadn't asked for any of it to begin with.

I was the one on trial, it was my hands that did all the damage.Just mine.

“Yes, he was there.” Bringing her eyes back to the lawyer, she swallowed a thick gulp of air.

“And were you present when he decided that Sylvan Dullow needed to go?”

Fiddling with her thumb, Imperial looked down at her hands. “I can't say for sure.”

“You can't say for sure?”

“No.” Shrugging her shoulders, the corner of her lip flicked down. “He didn't tell me anything about that.”

“Do you remember the night he took you?”

“Of course, do you think I could forget that?” Veering her stare, she looked at him with a wary expression, unsure of where he was going with his question.

“Do you realize that another man was found murdered that same night? Another man, who we have linked to Mr. Dullow, was found strangled to death, do you know anything about that? Or is it just coincidence?”

“Objection your honor! My client is not on trial for the murder of Hans Fitzgerald, this has no relevance to the case.”

The prosecutor held out his hand in apology, brushing away the question. “I'm sorry your Honor, I'll move on.” Stepping in a large circle, he turned to face the seats behind me. “Why don't you tell us about that night, tell us how you ended up in the hands of Mr. White.”

Scrunching up her nose, she let her eyes fall over the twelve people all staring her down, eagerly waiting to hear the gory details. “I don't remember what happened.”

“Miss. Klein, do I have to remind you that you're under oath?”

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