Twisted (Never After #4)(43)

“No, no cops,” I say firmly. “Alexander’s body hasn’t even been found yet, and my father would never forgive me if I had the police sniffing around. Besides, I’m pretty sure most of them are in Julian’s pocket anyway.”

She huffs out a breath. “Then we’ll find you a lawyer who doesn’t give a shit.”

A grin works its way across her face, even though her eyes are as dark and as serious as I’ve ever seen them. She holds out her hand, pinkie extended. I wrap mine around hers and her smile widens.

“Ride or die, bitch,” she says. “We won’t go down without a fight.”





Chapter 18





Julian





This office is small and cramped for someone who’s been a judge the past twenty years, with its blank white walls that have yellowed over time, offset by the dark wood furniture that Anthony McFarlane, the person I’m here to see, has spent a pretty penny trying to make more prestigious than it is.

Working as a municipal judge has its limits on grandeur, I suppose.

Right now, the size of the small room works in my favor, allowing me to see every single twitch of his face as he bumbles out worthless excuse after excuse for why he can’t give me what I’m asking for.

“You don’t understand,” he implores, his small, framed glasses slipping over the large hump in the middle of his nose. “There’s a mandatory twenty-four waiting period from the time of filing a marriage license to when we can perform the ceremony. Besides, I can’t just draw one up and force her to sign. It doesn’t work like that.”

Nodding, I reach into the pocket of my suit, pulling out the small compact staff and pressing the button just beneath the top, the sound of it snapping to full size reverberating off the cramped walls. I flip the staff over the back of my hand, the smooth black metal feeling strong and sure as it lands in my palm. “I need for us to work together here, Your Honor.”

Beads of perspiration line the edges of his hair, his eyes flicking from the staff and back to my face. “Julian,” he implores. “There’s only so much I can do.”

I take a step forward, the edge of his desk digging into my thighs through my black dress pants. “Remember when you came to me five years ago?”

His forehead creases as his entire stature droops in his chair. “Julian…”

“Ah, ah, ah,” I tsk, reaching out until the end of my staff presses into his solar plexus. “Indulge me, old friend.”

Anthony’s mouth pinches shut.

“What was it again that had you rushing to me for help?” I tilt my head to the side.

He doesn’t reply.

“It was your wife,” I answer for him. “She was about to find those heinous videos of you bent over your desk like a stuck pig, getting pegged by your intern. How old was she again, nineteen?”

I cluck my tongue. “Naughty boy.”

His cheeks grow ruddy. “You promised to never— ”

“And I haven’t,” I interrupt. “I used my connections, my name, to help a friend in need. Wasn’t it that year I also gave you that stunning emerald necklace for your anniversary?” My smile drops, eyes narrowing as I dig the staff farther into his skin. “Or am I confusing that with the time you asked for those two-carat stud earrings for your mistress?”

He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“Doesn’t matter, I guess. You made the right choice in coming to me for help. But you know, I feel almost guilty now.” I laugh before cutting it off abruptly, my gaze burning through his.

The resounding silence is thick.

“Don’t you want to know why?” I press.

“Y-yes,” he stutters.

Leaning my torso over the top of his desk, I lower my voice to a murmur. “I never got rid of the tapes.”

His cheeks turn pink, panic spreading through his features.

I move the tip of my staff from his chest, dragging it up his throat until it rests beneath his chin. I force his gaze to meet mine with a flick of my wrist. “I’d hate to see what would happen if they got into the wrong hands.”

Withdrawing my staff, I start to flip it again, enjoying the way Anthony’s eyes follow it around and around in my palm.

“But there’s only so much I can do.” My hand stops moving. “You understand.”

His jaw muscles twitch, his body vibrating in his seat. “Give me an hour.”

A smile spreads across my face. “I’m not unreasonable. I’ll give you two.”

Snapping back my staff, I close it and place it back in my pocket as I leave the room, walking through the stale halls of the Badour courthouse.

I move to grab my phone, my fingers ghosting across Yasmin’s, and I smirk, wondering how badly she’s freaking out over losing it. Three days ago when I told her to pack, she didn’t mention it, and I’m sure by now she’s figured it’s gone forever.

If she’s a good girl today, maybe I’ll give it back. Once she’s married to me legally, it doesn’t really matter if she attempts to talk to the boy, and I’ve rigged her phone to send transcripts of everything to me anyway.

Picking my own cell from my pocket, I scroll past the new voicemail from my mother and dial my office’s reception.