whispered, the entire world grinding to a harsh stop.
He smiled, his eyes bluer than I remembered, his face much more rugged. “Hi, Angel.”
Chapter 2
Memories flooded in, so hard and so fast my knees wobbled. It couldn’t be. But it was. Him. My legs wanted to give, so I tightened my muscles to keep from falling. I looked frantically around, needing something to say. “You don’t have a lawyer?”
“No.” He flashed the same smile he’d had at seventeen. Sweet with a hint of danger. Well, now it was more dangerous with a hint of sweet.
I couldn’t breathe.
“Miss Alberto?” the judge intoned. “You should be saying something right now.”
“Um.” I bent to read the papers in the file.
“Um isn’t good enough,” the judge bellowed.
“It’s Ms. Albertini, Judge.” I winced. Scot’s notes danced in front of my eyes, blurring into nonsense. This was Aiden. He was in a freaking orange jumpsuit. Focus, damn it. Scot’s notes were all over the place, but there wasn’t a strategy or bail plan. I cut Aiden a look. “Let’s see how he pleads.” The file was a bit light for him to have been in lockup.
Aiden stood straight; his stance wide. He’d been tall as a kid, but he’d gained a couple more inches since leaving town at eighteen. He probably topped out at six-four, which was almost an entire foot taller than me. His hair was still thick and black, and those eyes. The deepest blue imaginable. “I plead not guilty and request a jury trial,” he said, his barely-there Irish brogue lilting his consonants.
“Albertini?” the judge bellowed.
I gulped. “Um, we need a week for trial.” I had no clue if we needed a week or three months. I couldn’t think. This was too much. It was Aiden. Where had he been? Had he missed me? Probably not. Didn’t matter. He’d saved me. That did matter—period. “No bond, judge. The state agrees the defendant be released on his own recognizance until trial.”
Aiden tensed next to me.
The judge lifted one bushy eyebrow and stared me down, his brown eyes hawk-like. “You sure about that?”
I scrambled through the papers, but nothing made sense. My mind was fuzzy, but even so, the arrest warrant wasn’t even there. I had nothing to argue that Aiden should remain in custody except the charges that the judge had listed, so even if I had wanted to keep him locked up, I couldn’t. Probably. “I’m sure, Judge,” I said, my voice as level as I could make it. The moment could be the end of my career, but I didn’t see a choice. Not really. Plus, everything inside me wanted to let Aiden Devlin go free. He’d done the same for me years ago, and that wasn’t something I’d forget. Ever.
“So be it. Let’s get the defendant counsel and then schedule a hearing for a trial date. You’re due an attorney, Mr. Devlin.” The judge held his gavel midair.
“I’ll acquire counsel on my own, your honor,” Aiden said quietly.
The back doors opened, and I turned instinctively to see who’d entered. Two men loped inside, both wearing jeans and black T-shirts. The first guy wore one of those motorcycle vests, or cuts, I’d seen on television. The guys were tattooed, scarred, and tough looking. Aiden glanced over his shoulder and straightened, standing even taller. I gulped, turned, and looked at the judge, my brain fighting to keep working.
“Court dismissed.” The judge slammed his gavel down, stood, grabbed the kitten, and swept through his door with the bailiff on his heels.
I coughed. “I’m not sure what you do next. I mean, how you get rid of the orange jumpsuit and get your clothing back.” I was babbling, but I couldn’t stop.
Aiden pointed to the closed door. “I go that way. The bailiff would’ve handed me off to the deputy waiting on the other side if I’d been held over for bond. Right now, I’ll go meet him.”
So he knew more than I did about the process. That probably wasn’t good.
“It’s nice to see you, Aingeal.” The Gaelic word for Angel. A nickname he’d given me as a kid that I still heard in my dreams once in a while. His gritty voice was familiar, even though I hadn’t heard it since I was twelve years old. “I mean, Anna.”
He remembered.
I blinked. Through the years, I’d daydreamed about him. A lot. He’d turned out even better looking in person than in my imagination, which was pretty darn good.
Talk about angels. If fallen angels really existed, one