Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 54091 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 270(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54091 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 270(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
The space outside the courtroom I’m walking to is filled with traffic defendants. People of all ages are waiting for their hearings, and I’m the prosecuting attorney for all of them.
“Hey, you work here?” a man asks me. “I can’t find my attorney.”
“I’m sorry, I can’t help. Try the bailiff.”
Once I get into the courtroom, I tie my long hair back, already sweating, and regret my decision not to slam an energy drink earlier. My eyelids are heavy. I could easily curl up on the table I’m sitting at and sleep for the next eight hours.
But duty calls. And last night was so worth today’s exhaustion.
It’s somewhere between three and four p.m. when I walk back into the office after making a run to the coffee shop a block away from the courthouse. I powered through my hearings and all the work I needed to finish today. My late lunch consisted of a chocolate chip cookie and a cold brew coffee, and between the caffeine and the sugar, I know I’ll make it through the workday without falling asleep face down on my desk.
“Look what just arrived,” Missy says, gesturing at a vase bursting with red-stemmed roses. There must be at least two dozen, and they smell heavenly.
“Those are gorgeous. Who sent them?”
She lowers her brows. “I guess you’ll find out when you open the card.”
I pull my drink away from my mouth. “They’re for me?”
She grins. “The card says Queen of Mean Mara Torres.”
I laugh, imagining Leo placing an order and asking for the card to be signed that way. How did he pull this off? He’s in Tampa right now.
I snatch the card, my stomach somersaulting with excitement. Red roses sent to my office. That’s a first for me.
When I pull the card out of the envelope, the words on it make me giddy.
Thanks for an amazing night. I can’t wait to see you again.
Leo
The message on the card means more to me than the roses. I carefully tuck it back into the envelope. This is the first time since last night that I’ve felt scared.
I’m already in over my head with Leo. We were both there for each other in moments of vulnerability, and it brought us closer. But this isn’t a real relationship. When whatever it is runs its course, it’s going to hurt. I don’t know how I’ll be able to be around him at fondue nights or all the other times I see him—because of Carter—and not be visibly upset.
“You don’t look happy,” Missy says.
I sigh softly. “I am. Just running through all the ways this could go bad.”
“Girl.” She gives me a stern look. “Don’t do that.”
She’s about to give me a full-blown lecture when she’s interrupted by Gayle walking into our little section of the office.
“Mara, can we talk in your office?” she asks.
“Sure.”
I’m immediately tense because I can tell my boss is unhappy about something. Was it one of the cases from this afternoon? Did I do something I shouldn’t have?
As soon as we’re alone inside the office Jayden and I share, I close the door.
“This office is terrible.” Gayle shakes her head as she looks around.
She’s right. It’s dark and depressing and even though it’s been years since it was repurposed from a janitorial supply room into an office, it still smells like Pine-Sol.
“We’re not here all that much,” I say.
“Have a seat.”
My stomach churns nervously as I sit down behind my desk, Gayle taking Jayden’s chair. We have the fronts of our desks pushed together so we can share the space for our many files and pass them back and forth easily. When we need to meet with people, we use a conference room. No one but us usually sees this office.
“Our IT people reached out to me about an email that came in for you this afternoon,” Gayle says. “You know there are certain words that get flagged by the system.”
My eyes widen and I swear my heart stops. Surely none of my friends would send a profane message to me here, even as a joke. If all my hard work to make a respectable name for myself here has been compromised by someone’s hairy balls meme, I’m going to lose it.
“I’m so sorry,” I say, feeling sick. “I don’t—”
She cuts me off. “It’s nothing for you to apologize for. I just need to make you aware. The message gets removed from your inbox when it’s flagged.”
I stop short, confused. “I guess I’ll need you to elaborate.”
The corners of her mouth turn down slightly in a frown. “The message said, ‘You’re dead, bitch.’ We do unfortunately get messages like that in this line of work.”
I pinch my brows together, shocked. “And you’re sure it was intended for me?”
She nods. “The sender thought he was being clever and masking his IP address, but the sheriff’s department has already traced it to a one-block radius of Drake Harn’s address.”