Charity Case - The Complete Series - Piper Rayne Page 0,89

the hallway. Reporters with microphones out and cameras already zoomed in.

Reed exits the elevator and you’d never guess he just received a blow job upstairs. His briefcase is in his hands, his lips straight, expression intense as he nods a few times at the people yelling out questions to him. He answers a few but never slows his pace on the way to the courtroom.

He passes by me, a fleeting glance in my direction and I question if he even saw me. If it wasn’t for the quick scowl I saw cross his face I’d say no.

“Your boy isn’t happy.” Pete pushes himself off the wall to follow the group in.

“Why do you say that?” I rush to keep up with him.

“You really are piss-poor at reading non-verbal clues.” He shakes his head like this is a disappointment to him.

“What did I miss?” I ask while I push past the heavy courtroom doors.

“His hand tightened on his briefcase. His eyes stayed on yours a beat longer than they should have. His one look to me had the threat of physical harm in it.”

“You got all that in the split second he walked by us?”

He laughs and stands outside one of the rows, motioning for me to go in first. Following behind, he sits next to me, thigh to thigh.

“He told you not to act like you knew him?” Pete whispers.

“It’s none of your business.” I wish Pete would stop asking questions about Reed and me.

“Good boy. Glad to know that all his bullshit about being on the good side of things, didn’t make him naive.”

“Okay, you can stop talking now.” I roll my eyes.

“If he’s going to be a permanent fixture in your life, I have to make sure he can protect you both.”

“I can protect us. Me. I’ve done a good job of it for the last seven years.”

His hand pats my knee and I slide it over, so it drops off. “Relax, you’re drawing attention to yourself.”

I scowl in his direction just as the judge enters the courtroom. Everyone stands, Reed glancing over his shoulder to spot Pete and me. There’s no recognition or emotion in his gaze.

“You may be seated,” the judge says and we all sit down.

“Your boy is threatened by me. Funny. You divorced me,” Pete continues to talk even though I ignore him.

The head juror hands a piece of paper to the sheriff who hands it to the judge. She reads it and my focus is on Reed. He’s sitting straight, his arms resting on the table, waiting for the verdict. The defendant stands.

“Here’s the big moment,” Pete whispers and I elbow him in the ribcage.

“We the jury find the defendant…guilty.”

The juror continues talking but I watch as the tension leaves Reed’s shoulders. He glances to his partner who helped him, and they share a satisfied look.

A few people on the defendant’s side cry out and the judge bangs his gavel to get everyone under control. The defendant’s head falls into his hands as he weeps. It’s all very dramatic and it isn’t until a woman on the other side tries to jump the separation to stop them from taking the defendant away that I understand why Reed was so adamant about not letting anyone here know we’re together.

Once it’s all said and done, Pete and I stand.

“Well, now your boy has his pick of DA offices in the country.”

I glance back to see Reed’s gaze on me as I leave the courtroom with Pete. I want to raise my hand, but I follow his instructions and tuck my head down, leaving without acknowledging him.

“What are you talking about? And would you please call him by his name instead of ‘my boy,’ it’s getting old.”

Pete follows me outside. Like Mother Earth knew it’d be a day to celebrate, the sun is shining, the birds are chirping, and people are littered across the courtyard enjoying the weather, ignorant to what just happened in that courtroom.

“You think after winning this case, he’s going to stay an assistant district attorney, emphasis on ‘assistant?’”

“He doesn’t want to go into the private sector. Not everyone is a money grubber.”

“That money grubber supports our daughter. Well, I may add.” He lights up a cigarette.

“Fifteen feet rule,” I singsong and he takes a few giant steps away from the front doors.

That’s the difference. Reed follows the rules while Pete disregards them.

“People are going to want him, Vic, he won’t be in Chicago long.” He pats me on my back, smoking his