chapter 12
Scarlett
“YOUR HONOR, I REQUEST that all charges against my client be dropped,” Jaxon says as he looks at the judge. “The prosecution has no case, and my client’s arrest was premature. All the so-called evidence against her is circumstantial. The gun found at her house had no prints and there is nothing definitive to confirm that gun was the gun that actually killed Detective Melvin,” he summarizes.
I hear a chair scrape against the floor and the prosecutor, an older man with salt-and-pepper hair and an ill-fitting suit, stands up. “Objection, Your Honor. Mr. Bentley is out of line. Not only did we find the gun, but Ms. Reyes emptied her bank account and fled the country—”
“My client left the country to help her sick aunt, not because she was fleeing. She has been there for the last two years caring for her aunt and returned the moment she was asked to, instead of remaining in France or going into hiding. Her aunt sent me her medical records showing that Ms. Reyes was indeed with her during her two years abroad.”
“This is ridiculous, Your Honor—”
“That’s enough, both of you,” the judge says sharply. She’s younger than I expected, but she oozes authority. “Mr. Nguyen, does the prosecution have any evidence against Ms. Reyes other than the gun?”
It’s been a long day, and it’s been hard to listen to everything everyone is saying I must have done when I know the truth. But I’ve sat here, my chin up, hoping that Jaxon’s words will be enough to keep me from being wrongly convicted. As I’ve watched him in his element, I’ve noticed how much power and confidence he exudes, and that’s not something that’s taught, that’s just him. He was born to do this job.
“Since this is only a preliminary hearing, the police are still working—”
Jaxon interrupts the prosecutor again. “Your Honor, while it’s not my job to do what the police are supposed to do, I have proof that my client did not kill Detective Melvin.”
I stare at Jaxon with my mouth open. He didn’t tell me this. As there is a murmuring all throughout the courtroom, the judge bangs her gavel.
“Order in the court. Mr. Bentley, what are you talking about?”
At that, the back door opens and a woman enters with a man and another woman. The first woman is in a suit, with her long auburn hair piled on top of her head, wearing a stern expression. The man looks a bit rough around the edges and has a scar across his neck. He’d look dangerous, except he has his arm protectively around the second woman. I notice her thick red hair immediately. The woman in the suit eyes Jaxon, but walks toward us.
“Your Honor, my name is Faye Black. Can the four of us”—she indicates the prosecutor and Jaxon—“go into judge’s chambers for a brief discussion?”
“This is completely out of line, Mrs. Black, but I’m curious to see what this is about. My chambers. Now.”
I watch the four of them go into a secluded office while the couple takes a seat in the back.
WRINGING MY HANDS NERVOUSLY, I shift my feet. The woman Darren was with for all those years, Valentina, is absolutely beautiful. Her red curls bounce as she leaves the courtroom after me. Considering the outcome, that her boyfriend, Irish, admitted he killed Darren while defending her and will do two years in prison, I’d think she would hate me, and I brace myself for such. But as she approaches me, there’s no hate in her eyes. No animosity whatsoever.
She puts her hand out, and I give her mine. “I’m sorry for everything you’ve been through.”
“You too,” I say softly. “I’m sorry about Irish.”
She takes a deep breath, and I can tell that it pains her that he’ll now be doing time. “I just wanted to tell you that I had no idea he had a wife all those years. If I had known, things would’ve been different.”
“I didn’t know about you either,” I whisper, squeezing her hand. “I’m so sorry things have to be this way, Valentina.”
She smiles sadly and lets go of my hand. “You didn’t kill Darren, Scarlett. Don’t be sorry.” She pauses, debating on what to say next. “I want you to know that when your lawyer came to see me, I didn’t know what Irish had done. He kept it from me for two years and I don’t think he ever intended to tell me. So what I said to your lawyer about not knowing anything, I was telling the truth. I’m sorry you got brought into this. Go and enjoy your life now, like I have been ever since I met Irish.”
A few men come to stand behind her.
Great, I put one of their biker friends behind bars, and now they must all hate me.
“I’m sorry,” I blurt out, feeling tears hit my eyes.
“You okay?” Jaxon asks, coming to stand next to me and placing his hand on the small of my back. I don’t react to his touch like I normally would. It’s like my body has accepted it now. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
He leads me outside to his car and opens the passenger door. I’m thankful he drove me here because I don’t think I should be behind the wheel right now. So many emotions are hitting me at full force—relief, thankfulness, but now also guilt. I hate that Irish has to do time, and that Valentina has to lose him for a couple of years. This is all Darren’s fault. How many people can he keep hurting, even from the grave?
“Are you okay?” he asks me again. “They didn’t say anything to you, did they? Because if they did . . .”
“No, they were nice. She was . . . really nice to me, and showed no malice whatsoever,” I say, taking a deep breath. “I guess I feel a little bad if I’m being honest. I know I am innocent, but . . .”
“He did the crime, Scarlett; don’t feel guilty. His actions caused him to be in the place he is now, not yours,” he says to me. “You should be celebrating. All of this hell is over for you now. You can go on with your life; you can be happy.”
“I know,” I breathe, nodding to myself. “I’m finally free of him.”
Darren was an evil man, and now that this is all over, he can no longer cause me any pain.
It just sucks it’s at the expense of Valentina’s newfound happiness.
“What would you like to do to celebrate?” he asks, glancing at me before looking back at the road. “Anything at all.”
I don’t really feel like doing anything except going home to my bed and not leaving it for the next few days, but he’s trying to cheer me up, and I’d never take that effort for granted.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “Maybe we could go to the beach. I’ve been wanting to go since I returned but never got around to it.”
“The beach it is,” he says, glancing down at his suit. “Are we going to stop and get changed, or are we just going to wing it?”
“Wing it,” I say, grinning. “Let’s be spontaneous.” I pause, and then add, “Or at least my version of spontaneous. Maybe we can stop and grab a few beers, or something.”
“You drink beer?” he asks, sounding surprised. “I thought you’d be more of a wine kind of girl.”
“I like wine too,” I explain to him. “But I think the beach calls for some ice-cold beer.”
“Beer it is,” he says, and just like that, he gives me what I want.
I’ve never had that before.
I put the window down, letting the breeze hit my face, and smile.
I can’t save Irish, but I can enjoy the second chance I’ve been given. A fresh start. A new beginning. Now I just need to decide what it is I want, what will make me happy, and then go after it.
My journey is only just beginning.
“EVERYONE IS STARING AT us,” I notice, even though it doesn’t really bug me. I’m just pointing out a fact.
“Probably because we’re extremely overdressed for the beach,” he muses in a dry tone. He’s taken off his jacket and tie and rolled up his sleeves, while I couldn’t do much except unpin my hair and remove my shoes. So we’re sitting on the beach, with me in a navy-blue knee-length dress, beers in our hands, enjoying the sunlight and the sound of the waves.
“We are, aren’t we,” I say with a smile on my face. I bring the bottle to my lips and take a sip. “I just realized I never said thank you.”
“For what?” he asks, turning his head to look at me.
“What do you mean ‘for what’? For getting the charges dropped, for going above and beyond your duties,” I start, reaching my hand out to touch his. “For showing me that there’s good in the world. For being a person I can trust. For the flowers. For everything.”
I’m probably not explaining it well, but I just want him to know that he didn’t have to be so amazing. He could have done the bare minimum in defending me, or not believed me at all, but he didn’t. I had so much going against me, I wouldn’t have believed my story. He didn’t have to go out of his way to do what he did, and it shows what a great human being he is.
Not only is he handsome, but he’s also kind. Smart. I’m only now letting myself admit this attraction I have toward him. I know I’m not meant to think of him like this, but that doesn’t stop my mind from going there.
“You don’t need to thank me, Scarlett,” he says, squeezing my hand. “You’re due to have some good in your life, don’t you think?”
“Yes, I do,” I reply boldly. “You didn’t have to give it to me, but you did, and I don’t think I can thank you enough.”
He tucks my hair back behind my ear. “You’re welcome.”
I want him to kiss me, but at the same time, is it too soon? We literally just left the courtroom. Who am I kidding? It’s definitely too soon, and I shouldn’t even be thinking about it.
Think of something else, Scarlett.
How about the fact that my life can finally be normal?
I smile at the thought, my eyes closing, but when they open he’s right there in front of me, and I’m clouded once more.
I don’t know what the rules are, or if he even wants to kiss me, but I know it’s not the best idea. He doesn’t kiss me though. Instead, he takes his hand away from me, and looks back to the sparkling blue water. I always said after this I’d leave straightaway, but with Jaxon next to me, I don’t want to.
Maybe there is something here for me after all.
Neither of us have addressed this . . . this thing between us though, and we’re acting like we’re friends. That’s fine for me. Besides, I don’t know if I’m ready to dive into something serious yet. Two years seems like a long time to heal, but I don’t know if I’m completely healed yet. I’ve never really had the option to explore my freedom, both with men and with my daily life. So getting into something right now might not be the best option for me. For now, I’m just happy being with him, feeling safe and knowing I have someone I can rely on. That isn’t something I’ve ever really had, and it’s a beautiful feeling.
“Will you let me cook for you tonight, or are you going to be stubborn?” I ask, being a little forward in assuming he’d want to spend more time with me after this. I don’t know what’s come over me. I’m not a woman who is usually forward, ever.
His deep chuckle makes me feel warm inside. “If you want to cook for me so badly, I’m not going to say no. I could take you out for dinner though.”
“No, I’d like to cook for you,” I say, taking in his features. I’ve never seen eyes as gray as his, surrounded in thick dark lashes I could only dream of. His nose is straight, his lips perfectly full and firm.
Kissable.
The stubble on his cheeks is getting darker every day, and I wonder if he’s growing it out. I think he’d look good either way. I don’t know why I’m checking him out so much now, maybe it’s because before I’d only look at him when I had to. I didn’t want him to catch me staring, but now something is changing. I’m free, and there are possibilities all of a sudden. The cloud of uncertainty that followed me around has vanished, my future is now something I can actually contemplate.
I can do anything I want, be whoever I want, without restriction.
Freedom.
What an underrated word.
And Jaxon . . .
I can look at him; I can admire him. I don’t have to hide it anymore, or be afraid of my future.
I don’t have to be afraid of anything.
Except his response to me.
“Home cooking it is,” he murmurs, eyes dropping to my mouth. “I think you should stop looking at me like that, Scarlett.”
I swallow hard. Our faces are close, but not touching. It would only take me leaning toward him a little to have our lips touch.
“You smell good,” I blurt out.
He grins, flashing his straight white teeth. “So do you.”
“I don’t think I want to stop looking at you,” I admit, laying my head on his shoulder. “I don’t think I’ll ever forget today.”
He wraps his jacket around me as the wind picks up. We finish our beers, then take a long walk on the beach, the sound of the loud crashing waves relaxing me.
He doesn’t take my hand, but we walk with our arms casually brushing every now and again, and that tiny bit of contact sets me on fire.