Fangs and Fennel (The Venom Trilogy #2)(6)

Remo’s eyes slid back to mine, and he smiled. “Go get him, Alena. You are worth a thousand of him, don’t forget it.”

One more kiss, gentle and so soft it was like velvet brushing over my skin, and then he stepped away. Claiming territory. I don’t know where the thought came from, but I knew it was right the second it crossed the front of my brain.

“You did that on purpose,” I blurted out, “to make him think we’ve slept together.” I wanted to slap him, but I could barely move with the languor of the kiss still flowing through my limbs. He flashed a small grin back at me, totally unrepentant, as the officers moved him down the hall.

“I know I did. I want him to know that you are off limits to him. You’re mine, Alena. And I don’t share.”

His words were dark and full of promises my gutter brain was all too ready to dive into. So I said the only thing I could.

“I’m still married.”

“Tell that to the judge,” he threw back, and then he and his entourage disappeared around the corner.

Someone bumped my shoulder, and I turned to see Tad staring at me. He grimaced. “Here, take your papers. I’m not your assistant.”

I grabbed the folders and clutched them to my chest as though they were a shield that would keep Remo away, put Roger in his place, and make everything go back to the way it should be.

“Tad, tell me I can do this. I need one person to believe I can do this. I’m not sure even Remo believes.” I stared at him, willing him to support me. He looked down and away, and my heart fell with his gaze.

“Alena, you can’t fight the law. Not when you don’t exist to them. All they will do is string you up and use you as an example of what not to do. You could actually hurt the rest of us by doing this. But I’m here, right? I’m with you.” He slung an arm over my shoulder and guided me down the hall.

I shrugged his arm off and sniffed. “You know, a platitude now and again wouldn’t kill you. A little ‘rah-rah, go get him’ could go a long way to making this day not a total waste.”

“Alena Budrene versus Roger Budrene,” a voice boomed over the PA system, and I jumped as the vibrations rolled over my skin.

“That’s you,” Tad said.

I nodded. “Yeah, that’s me. But not for long.”

At least, I hoped Budrene wouldn’t be my name after this.





CHAPTER 2


I hurried into the courtroom, Roger and Barbie ahead of me, Tad behind.

At the front of the room sat the judge, looming over the whole place in his black robe behind a desk that seemed to take up half the length of the chamber.

The woman to his left cleared her throat. “Divorce proceedings for Alena Budrene and Roger Budrene.”

The judge shuffled some papers on his desk, and I squinted at the plaque in front of him. Judge Watts.

He let out a tired sigh and peered over the top of his glasses at Roger first, then me. His eyes widened and he blinked several times. Finally he pulled his glasses off, rubbed his eyes, and slid the glasses back on. “Mr. Budrene, you are divorcing your wife, is that correct?”

“Yes, but—”

The judge lifted a hand, then pointed a finger at me while his eyes never left Roger. “And is that her?”

“Yes, but—”

The judge pointed at him. “Not a word more than yes or no until I ask for it, or I will throw you in jail for contempt. I have a migraine and I want this over as soon as possible, as I’m sure you both do too.”

A tiny bit of hope flared in my chest. I liked Judge Watts more with each word he spoke. He shuffled his papers and frowned. “Mrs. Budrene, it says here you died? Tell me, how can that be?” He held up what I knew was a death certificate with my name on it.

I swallowed and then cleared my throat. “As you can see, Your Honor, I am very much alive. I have my driver’s license”—I dug into the pile of papers—“affidavits, government documentation of every kind to show that I am indeed alive, and I am Alena Budrene.” I smiled up at him with that last bit and dared to use a bit of my siren abilities to help things along. Not a lot, just a little push. The monster inside of me snickered.

Judge Watts visibly softened. “I can see that, my dear. Jacob”—he glanced at his clerk—“we need to clear up this young lady’s snafu with that death certificate. Put a note in to deal with that.”

The clerk nodded and wrote something down.

The judge turned back to me. “Can you explain to me why exactly there is a divorce, then? There are far too many people divorcing because their partner doesn’t squeeze the toothpaste tube the way they want.” He paused and smiled gently. “What I want to know, Mrs. Budrene, is, what are the grounds for the divorce? And are you both seeking a divorce, or is one party willing to try and make things work?”

I had a feeling he wasn’t always so soft with people, particularly when he had a migraine. I placed the stack of papers on the table in front of me and smoothed my top out, tugging the edges of it. “I believe we are both in agreement to the divorce.”

Roger nodded and then seemed to catch himself. As if agreeing with me on anything would be a sign of admitting I really existed as a person.

I smiled at the judge. “Well, it started when I got sick, and the doctors thought I might not make it. That’s when I found out that Roger was cheating on me. I mean, he’d been cheating on me a long time, I guess, but that’s when I found out. And he left me in the hospital to die.” I’d practiced this speech in case I was asked, and had the time needed to make an effort to get tears and the right inflection.