Come To Me (Dare With Me #3) - J.H. Croix Page 0,45

dry, my phone rang. Glancing down, I didn’t recognize the number, but I recognized the Oregon area code, so I answered out of curiosity more than anything.

“Hello?”

“I’m looking for Gemma Marlon.”

“This is her. How can I help you?”

“Excellent,” the man said smoothly. “I’m Tom Johnson, and I’m an attorney working on the legal case involving Shawn Winston. You’re listed as a potential witness, and I was hoping we could speak to you.”

“I’ve already said that I’d like some time to think about it and I’ll get back to you,” I said, trying to keep my tone firm.

“To clarify, I don’t work for the DA’s office. We represent Mr. Winston. You were listed as someone whose testimony might be positive for our client. Your hesitation to be available for the prosecution speaks volumes.”

My mouth fell open as shock slid through me. For a second, I was bewildered, thinking it was insane that they’d think any of his victims would testify for him. Anger and bitterness followed. I’d seen this kind of thing in the news, where they persuaded people to change their stories years later. I finally scrambled together enough sense to reply.

“I don’t know what gave you the idea I would be willing to testify in any way that would be supportive for your client. Absolutely not.”

The attorney didn’t miss a beat. He replied smoothly, “Well, if you reconsider, please let us know. He is innocent of all charges, and we are hoping to present that case to the court and to the public. Please don’t hesitate to call.”

“I won’t reconsider,” I said firmly.

I hung up the phone and set it slowly on the counter before curling my arms around my waist and crossing the living room to look out the windows. I felt sick and cold, so cold.

“The nerve!” I muttered to myself. “How do they even know I haven’t agreed to testify yet?”

As I stared through the windows, my eyes landed on the horses, as they almost always did. Shasta had his chin resting on Charlie’s rump, something he did often. I took a breath and let it out slowly.

Without thinking, I walked outside, crossing the parking area into the pasture. I walked through the barn and into the paddock area adjacent to the pasture. I fetched some treats out of a small sealed bucket that was mounted on the outer wall of the barn, immediately beside the door.

The horses were smart. The minute they heard the sound of the bucket opening, their heads lifted and they jogged over.

“Hey,” I said softly when they stopped outside the fence.

I gave all four horses treats and took a few minutes to scratch between their ears. I let Shasta nuzzle my shoulder and felt myself calm down. Time with horses was grounding, and I was grateful I happened to be home when I got that strange call.

After that, I climbed in my car and drove in to my studio, my mind spinning over what-ifs. The call from my former coach’s attorney solidified a decision for me. I would testify as a corroborating witness. Whether or not it would be freeing as my mother hoped, I absolutely was not going to be part of letting my former coach get away with something. I would do everything I could to make sure he was finally held accountable in a genuine, meaningful way.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Diego

Harley tossed her cards on the table and let out something between a sigh and a growl. Glancing sideways, I asked, “What are you cranky about?”

“I never win,” she huffed.

“You won last night,” Grant interjected, apparently unaware of how much my sister did not appreciate being corrected.

Case in point: Harley’s eyes shifted to him. “Thank you for clarifying that I won a single game. I don’t know what I would’ve done without your reminder.”

Grant’s eyes widened, but he opted for silence. Tucker didn’t even bother trying to hide his snicker.

“You’re not supposed to notice things like that,” I commented to Grant. “Much less point them out.”

Grant shrugged easily. Not much got to Grant, not even my sister’s pointed comments. He organized his hand while Flynn placed his next card down on the table.

“When do we have yoga class?” Harley asked a few minutes later.

Flynn answered, “I assume you’re talking about Gemma coming out here. She’ll be here tomorrow night. Will you be at the class?”

“Definitely. Daphne says her classes are awesome, but that’s not why I’m going.”

Tucker rolled his eyes. “Do tell, then. Why are you going?”

“To spy on Diego and