—
Hailey is quiet as she gets ready for court. I know she and I are good, but the insecurities caused by her not saying the words I want to hear are fucking with my alpha instincts. That’s why I’ve basically put them in storage until I know I’m not going to scare her off.
I also know she is exhausted, because so am I. Last night was nonstop body worship on both our parts. Fucking amazing.
She is less vulnerable now than she was, but I don’t know what she is going to do when put in the same room with that fucking piece of shit.
“Morrison,” I hear from behind me. I turn around to see her standing by the door, and I feel my jaw twitch and nostrils flare. “You okay?”
“Me?” I ask, pointing to myself.
“Yes, you. There isn’t anyone else—”
“Let’s keep it that way.”
Her lip turns up in the corner. “Are we gonna do this again?”
“If you say so.”
She rolls her eyes. “We’ll be late.”
“You got my name on your ass today?” I ask as I grab the suit jacket off the hanger. I turn around to find her standing right in front of me.
Instead of answering me, she reaches out and grabs my sack, squeezes, and then turns to walk away.
I grab her and pull her back against me. “Find what you’re looking for?”
“Yep.” She stares up over her shoulder at me.
“You haven’t said a word today.”
“I’m tired.”
“Sore?” I smirk as I kiss her neck.
“A bit, yes.” She leans to the side, exposing more of that beautiful neck.
“That’s hot.”
—
We arrive at Clark County District Court thirty minutes before the proceedings are scheduled to begin. We meet the prosecuting attorney, and he explains that I am going to be questioned and to just answer to the best of my recollection.
“Mr. Timmons is facing charges including vehicular assault, assault with a deadly weapon, attempted murder—”
“How long will he be in jail?” Hailey interrupts.
“We can offer him a deal—drop the attempted murder charge, in which case he would get two to twenty years, but the likelihood of him serving even five years is slight. I’d like to offer him assault with a deadly weapon with a mandatory four years in prison, followed by two years’ probation.”
“I want him to rot,” I tell the district attorney.
“I completely understand, but nothing is guaranteed in a criminal trial. He takes a plea, and you’ll know where he is for the next four years, minimum.” He looks at his watch. “I need an answer. If we can settle this now, we avoid court and save the taxpayers money. If you want me to take this to court—”
“Give him the plea,” Hailey says as she looks up at me. “It’s a guarantee. Marisa will be—”
“Eight, ten when he gets off probation. Still too young, babe.”
The attorney looks through his file. “Marisa is his daughter?”
“My daughter,” Hailey answers. “He agreed to give up his rights.”
“Do you have that in writing?”
“No, I have his word.”
The DA leans back in his chair and looks up at us. “So, this whole thing is about you, the mother of his child?”
“Watch the way you speak to her.”
“No disrespect, but if this goes to trial, they get a jury, and they spin it the right way—paint you as a cheat and you as a home-wrecker—he isn’t going to spend four or five years; they never do. I can’t tell you what to do. It’s your choice, Mr. Caldwell.”
“I want to talk to him,” Hailey says.
“No fucking way!”
“I want to talk to him,” she repeats.
“Hailey—”
“I trust you with our lives, Morrison, so trust me with this.”
I look in her eyes and see she is determined, focused. I see game in her eyes—her tell is the squaring of her shoulders, the twinkle in her eyes, the swallowing of her breaths, and the way she allows her arms to uncross and hang at her sides, giving the illusion she is open, vulnerable. However, the rubbing of her ring finger against her thumb shows a trained eye she is anxious.
“I see a game running in your head. You think you got game?”
“I know I do.”
“You won’t convince him if he sees this.” I raise her hand up. “Relax the hands. Fuck, I can’t believe I’m allowing this shit. It feels like I’m sending you off to battle that piece of shit alone, and I don’t like it, Hailey, not even a little bit.”
“He is in cuffs and shackles,” the DA says as he stands.
“If he tries to touch you in any way, I’m gonna kill him with my—”
“Morrison.” Her eyes shift to the DA.
“Didn’t hear a thing.” He walks to the door. “I’ll have him in the room next door.” He points to the two-way glass. “She won’t be far.”
I pull her into a hug, wishing I could keep her here, away from him, but she needs this. I know she does.