Page 10 of Endgame
Disappointment tastes bitter in my mouth. A soft groan escapes me, and my gaze drops to my lap. To my clenched fists.
“Who gave you this order?” the judge asks. We sit close enough that I hear her hushed voice. “This is the first I’m hearing of this.”
“It was…” the plaintiff murmurs a name I don’t catch.
While they continue their conversation, a strange sensation arises in me.
Someone’s watching me.
This isn’t the first time I’ve felt this way.
The first time happened when I was on my last shoplifting mission a month ago. Minutes before I got arrested.
Something wasn’t right that day, same as it is now.
My senses whisper that something worse is in the works. I’m being stalked and someone’s conspiring against me.
That would explain the bailiff’s abrupt entry and the man in black in the retail store who stole glances at me the entire time I was there. I swear he ratted me out.
Back then, I had no proof.
I have no proof of any wrongdoing now either.
But I feel it.
“Okay, then.” The judge’s chair scratches. Her heels clink on the wooden floor as she walks out.
A door opens and slams.
I keep staring at my lap. Keep praying that my gut is wrong about this.
The air shifts the moment someone enters, and it’s like a current crawling across my skin.
The door to the courtroom closes behind the person with a quiet, final click. Their footsteps echo. They’re slow, deliberate.
“Oh, this is good.” I hear my attorney. “This is better than good.”
His pleased tone piques my curiosity. Ignoring the warning bells in my head, I lift my gaze and freeze.
What?
What?
No way.
Everett Alder.
Judge Everett Alder.
One of his former lawyers isn’t here, but he is.
What’s he doing here anyway? And how, just by existing, does he take my breath away?
While I stare, I forget about everything else and get lost in him.
He’s gorgeous, lean, and radiates power.
That scruff around his full lips is mouthwatering. His short brown hair only makes it worse, neat in a way that makes me want to mess it up with my fingers.
