Ronan’s fantasies went to Elizabeth in a bathtub, her curved body covered with suds, her black hair wet. He bet she looked cute with her hair all damp and spiky.
The cop clicked the cuffs onto Ronan’s wrists behind his back, and the pleasant vision dissolved as he felt the sting of Fae magic. Even the small bite of it ground through his nerves and tried to set off a spark from his Collar. Elizabeth looked concerned as he winced, but Ronan shook his head at her.
“Don’t worry about me, Lizzie-girl. But do me a favor. Find a lawyer called Kim Fraser—she’s mated to Liam Morrissey in Shiftertown, and they live next door to Glory. I know you know Glory—she comes in here all the time. Tell Kim what happened for me?”
Kim, a human, had set up a law office that specialized in helping Shifters. Because human laws governing Shifters were restrictive and complex, Shifters needed all the help they could get.
“All right?” Ronan repeated, looking hard at Elizabeth. “Tell her?”
Elizabeth pressed her slim hands together and held them a little under her chin. Human body language for I don’t know what the right thing is to do here.
“You can call her if you don’t want to go to Shiftertown,” Ronan said. “Her card’s in my front pocket.”
Ronan’s hands were locked behind his back and staying there. Elizabeth took a step forward. The female cop didn’t say or do anything, just watched, ready to take down both of them if they tried anything stupid.
Elizabeth’s hair smelled good. So did the rest of her. Ronan scented Elizabeth’s residual fear from the robbery, overlaid with the warm goodness of her, and behind that, concern for someone else. Layers of scent that told him all about her.
He liked how she’d put the red streaks in her hair. Defiance—that’s what it meant. Elizabeth seemed like a good businesswoman, following the rules, but those little streaks said she could be bad if she wanted to be. Or maybe they were a reminder of a time when she hadn’t walked the straight and narrow. Ronan thought he wouldn’t mind a glimpse of the bad-ass Elizabeth.
Elizabeth dipped her fingers into Ronan’s front pocket. She did it quickly and competently, not touching Ronan at all as she plucked out Kim’s business card. The move was practiced, as though she’d gotten good at taking things out of people’s pockets. Skill was the word. Interesting.
“I’ll call her,” Elizabeth said, palming the card. “But I’m coming down to the station with you,” she said to the cop. “He helped me, and it’s not fair he’s getting arrested when some gang kid tried to kill me.”
The female cop shrugged. “Suit yourself. Come on, Shifter.”
Ronan winked as the cop took his arm in a practiced grip and shoved him out the door. “I like you, human woman,” he said to Elizabeth. “See you downtown.”
Elizabeth called Mabel, reassuring her sister that everything was all right, then reached Kim Fraser on the phone and told her what had happened.
She then drove her small pickup downtown, following the cops to the jail and courthouse. She found it ironic that she had to leave her truck in a crappy lot with a sign saying Park at your own risk, while the arrests for the night were taken safely around to the front door.
Inside the station, Elizabeth gave her official statement to the female cop, then was told to stay in the waiting room until someone came to take her to Ronan’s hearing. She hadn’t thought the hearing would be tonight, not this late, but apparently Shifter Division processed Shifters as swiftly as possible.
So Elizabeth waited. Around her, arrests for the night were brought in, anything from indecent exposure to grand theft auto to assault with a deadly weapon. This was the heart of Texas, in a well-populated county, and the arrestees ranged from men with shaggy hair, baseball caps, and strong South Texas accents; to Spanish-speaking kids who glared in fearful defiance; to brightly dressed prostitutes with hair of every shade and shorts cut high up their butts.
Elizabeth had never been in this particular police station, but they all gave her the creeps. The smell was the same—burned coffee, body odor, and floor cleaner overlaid with stale cigarette smoke. Smoking was no longer permitted inside, but the smoke clung to the clothes of people who went in and out.
Never again, she’d vowed. For Mabel’s sake. Elizabeth had half-feared that the female cop would run a check on Elizabeth’s name, but then, even if she had, the woman would have found nothing. Elizabeth Chapman had no criminal record, and no connection to anyone with a criminal record. Elizabeth had made sure of that.
After a long time, a tall black bailiff stopped in front of Elizabeth and said in a booming voice, “Ms. Chapman? Come with me.”
Elizabeth sprang up and followed the man, half-running to keep up with his long-legged stride. “Where are we going?”
“The Shifter’s hearing,” was all he would say.
The bailiff led Elizabeth through a door and down a hall that was eerily deserted. At the end of this, he unbolted and unlocked a steel door that had to be a foot thick. He took Elizabeth into a short hall, maybe five feet in length, which had no other door but the one at its far end.
Why was Elizabeth reminded of zoo cages? The kind with two doors and a space in between, where an animal could be trapped if it tried to escape. The bailiff unlocked the second door, also of foot-thick steel, and ushered Elizabeth into a long, narrow courtroom.
It was a courtroom unlike any Elizabeth had seen, and unfortunately she’d seen quite a few during her colorful adolescence. The judge’s bench, at the far end, was raised six feet off the floor and caged in front by floor-to-ceiling iron bars. A woman in judge’s robes was just coming through a door right behind the bench. Bench, door, and judge were unreachable by anyone on the courtroom floor.
Ronan sat in a large metal chair below the bench, at a right angle to the rest of the room. His hands were now shackled in front of him; a chain between the shackles hooked them to a ring on the heavy chair, which in turn was bolted to the floor.
The courtroom was unadorned, no paneling on the walls, no heavy wooden tables or carved benches, just a generic linoleum floor, white walls, and two plain metal benches in the front of the room. A nervous man in a suit, probably the prosecutor, occupied the right bench. A man and woman sat together on the bench on the left.
The woman was human, with short dark hair, a business jacket and skirt, and a briefcase. Her buttoned-up look screamed lawyer, though she wore sandals on bare feet instead of hose and shoes.
The man next to her was a Shifter, no doubt about it. He had dark hair, eyes of incredible blue, and a Collar around his neck. He lounged on the bench, watching everyone in the room, including the judge, with an air of command.
Most people believed that Shifters posed a threat to humans, and looking at this man, Elizabeth finally understood why. Ronan was huge and full of muscle, but this Shifter, while nowhere near as big as Ronan, exuded a strength of presence that spoke of power. No matter that he wore a Collar, he could be deadly, and he wanted everyone around him to remember that.
Ronan saw Elizabeth and lifted his shackled hands in greeting. He looked the calmest of anyone in the room, no matter that they were treating him like a dangerous animal.
Granted, Elizabeth had seen Ronan as a big, scary bear, and even now, with his buzzed hair, glittering eyes, and muscles bulging out the Red-Hot Lover T-shirt, he still looked frightening. But he gave her a nod—in thanks, she guessed, for calling Kim and then showing up herself.
The tall bailiff locked the door, the clang of the keys loud. The judge hammered once with her gavel. “Counsels approach the bench.”
That was it. No one else apparently would show up to this hearing, no court stenographer, no other witnesses. Maybe the session was being recorded, but what did Elizabeth know? Perhaps records weren’t kept of Shifter hearings.
As Kim rose with the prosecutor and walked confidently toward the judge, the bailiff said to Elizabeth, “Sit over there.”
He pointed to the seat next to Kim’s Shift
er. The Shifter sat up from his lounging position, smiled, and patted the bench next to him. The smile was charming, but it was also predatory, and his eyes were watching, watching. Ronan caught Elizabeth’s worried look and sent her another nod.
Elizabeth went to the bench. The Shifter rose, though both judge and bailiff scowled at him, and stuck out his hand. “I’m Liam Morrissey,” he said. “You’re Elizabeth?”
“Elizabeth Chapman. I called your wife.”
“She’s my mate.” Liam closed his right hand around Elizabeth’s and then laid his left hand on top of it, sandwiching her fingers in a cushion of warmth. Liam Morrissey was the leader of the Austin Shiftertown, Elizabeth knew. He and his wife—no, mate—Kim, were the liaisons between Shifters and humans. “No worries, lass,” Liam said. “You answer the judge’s questions and tell the truth. Kim will take care of the rest.”
The pressure of his hands on hers and the confident look in his eyes, together with the Irish lilt to his voice, were soothing and reassuring. Elizabeth found herself nodding, wanting to promise she’d do her best.
Ronan said from across the room, “You can let go of her now, Liam.”
Liam’s smile widened but he released Elizabeth. “I’m thinking you’re growing a mite possessive, my friend,” he said to Ronan.
“I’m thinking she’s had a bad night,” Ronan growled. “That and I can break your head with one hand.”
“Shut it, Bear. I’m mate-bonded. You have no competition from me.”
The judge pounded with her gavel. “The defendant will stay in order,” she said sharply. Both Ronan and Liam went quiet but neither looked contrite.
The Shifters are in charge here, Elizabeth realized. Not the judge, not the bailiff, not the prosecutor. Liam and Ronan might be inside the cage, but they’ve taken it over.
“The defendant will approach,” the judge said.
The bailiff unlocked Ronan’s shackles from the chair, helped him stand, and led him forward. Kim came to Ronan’s side, not looking worried, though the prosecutor kept his eyes on his notes as Ronan hulked next to him.
“The charge is assault with intent to kill a human,” the judge said. She had dark hair going to gray, a face like a squashed prune, and a flat voice. “How does the defendant plead?”
“He pleads mitigating circumstances,” Kim said. “And intent to kill is not on the arrest sheet. The human in question was armed with a loaded nine-millimeter pistol. My client was defending the owner of the store the human man had come to rob and was shot by the human in the process.”
The judge eyed Kim in dislike. “I asked for the plea, not the defense. You’ll have the chance to speak in a moment. Prosecution?”
The prosecutor finally looked up from his file folder. “The victim, Julio Marquez, is at the hospital being treated for claw wounds. Mr. Marquez describes being attacked by a bear in Ms. Chapman’s shop on South Congress. In fear for his life, Mr. Marquez shot but missed. The bear then struck Mr. Marquez again, rendering him unconscious. According to Mr. Marquez, he entered the store on a dare by his friends and waved around his gun. The bear attacked from the back of the store. Mr. Marquez did not see him before that.”
Elizabeth jumped to her feet. “That’s not what happened!” A dare by his friends? No way in hell. Elizabeth had looked into the cold, hard eyes of the kid, which had held an anger too old for his age. She’d recognized that anger. Julio Marquez was a dangerous young man.
The judge banged her gavel. “Ms. Chapman, sit down, or you will be fined for contempt.”
The prosecutor leafed through his file. “Mr. Marquez’s statement and Ms. Chapman’s are not exactly the same, but both agree that the bear attacked Mr. Marquez.”
“Because Marquez was forcing me into my office at gunpoint!” Elizabeth cried.
Another steely glare from the judge. “You will be called to give your version of events in due time, Ms. Chapman. Sit down.”
“Best sit down, love,” Liam whispered. “Kim will take care of it.”
He sounded confident. Elizabeth sank to the bench, and Liam nodded at her. Good girl. Ronan sent her another reassuring look over his shoulder.
Even Kim seemed unperturbed. “The witness is understandably stressed, Your Honor,” she said. “It’s late, and she’s had a bad experience.”
The judge really didn’t like Kim Fraser. For defending a Shifter? Elizabeth wondered. Or for marrying one?
The prosecutor broke in. “Maybe Ms. Chapman should be allowed to give her evidence so she can go home.”
The judge’s face softened as she listened to the prosecutor. The man was attractive in a slick sort of way . . . what a witch.
“Of course,” the judge said. “Ms. Chapman?”
At that moment, Elizabeth’s cell phone pealed. She was surprised she could get a signal behind all the steel doors, but the name that popped up on the screen was Mabel’s.
“Cell phones are supposed to be off,” the judge snapped.
“I have to take this. It’s my little sister. She’s home alone, and she’s worried.”
The judge looked as though nothing had ever harassed her more. “Outside.”
The bailiff unlocked the door. Elizabeth charged out, and Liam quietly followed her.
“Mabel? I can’t talk right now, honey. I’m in court.”
Mabel’s frantic voice cut over hers. “Lizzy, there are men outside, trying to get in. A bunch of them, and they have guns. I don’t know what to do. I’m so scared!”
CHAPTER 3
“Call the police,” Elizabeth yelled down the phone, watery fear pouring through her. “Call them now.”
“I tried. They don’t answer.”
“Then you hide. I’m in a courthouse. I’ll get—”
Elizabeth stifled a shriek as Liam Morrissey snatched the phone out of her hand. “Mabel? This is Liam Morrissey. Connor’s uncle, that’s right. You rest easy, now, lass. I’ll take care of this. Stay down, behind a bed, don’t go near the windows. My lads will be there before you can count to ten. All right?”
He clicked off the connection and dialed another with ease of long practice. While Elizabeth stood there with her mouth open, Liam said quietly into the phone, “Sean, get Dad and Spike and go up to Thirty-Fifth Street near MoPac. Mabel Chapman. She’s got armed intruders. Go now.”
Whoever was on the other end hung up, but Liam kept hold of the phone. “Now, don’t you worry. My brother will take care of your sister. Let’s go back and get Ronan sprung.”
Elizabeth didn’t move. “I can’t. I have to go home.”
Liam put a warm hand on her shoulder. “You going home would only put you in danger as well. My brother and my trackers can help Mabel better than the police. No one stops my trackers, lass. No one. Come on, now.”
Liam had reassurance down to a science. In spite of her gut-wrenching fear, Elizabeth let him lead her back past the bailiff and once more into the courtroom.
“Oh, I see that you’re still with us, Ms. Chapman,” the judge said. “How nice. Please approach and read the words on the card.”
Elizabeth promised to tell the truth and the whole truth, so help her God, then went over her story, prompted by questions from the prosecutor. It was like being in a play—she might not know her lines, but the prosecutor wanted her to say certain ones, judging from his cues. Ronan, back in the chair, leaned forward, resting his big arms on his knees, watching her closely.
Fear for Mabel gnawed at Elizabeth as she answered the questions. Liam still had her cell phone. He glanced at it from time to time, his face grim.
Elizabeth concluded shakily, “So I know that if Ronan hadn’t been there, Marquez would have killed me.”
“But you don’t actually know that,” the prosecutor said in his condescending way. “That’s only what you guess.”
That did it. The gloves came off. “Look, I grew up with kids like Marquez,” Elizabeth said. “Any guilt or conscience in him went away a long time ago. He only deals in
if-then questions. If I can identify him, then he shoots me. In his mind, I was dead as soon as he walked in the door. End of story.”
The prosecutor shrugged apologetically at the judge. “It’s still only what she thinks.”
At that point, Liam got up and went to the door again. He held a murmured exchange with the bailiff, who did not look happy, but the bailiff let him out.
“Defense counsel, any questions for the witness?” the judge asked.
So far Kim had listened with a calm look on her face, not objecting to anything the prosecutor had said. Elizabeth had stood in front of judges before—sometimes as the defendant—and a good defense counsel would have been all over the prosecutor’s overly leading questions.
“I have only one, Your Honor,” Kim said. She turned to Elizabeth, her face expressionless, professional. “Ms. Chapman, tell me, at any time—before, during, or even after the scuffle—did Ronan’s Collar go off?”
Liam reentered the room. Behind the bailiff’s back, he gave Elizabeth a thumb’s up, and Elizabeth somehow knew that Mabel was all right. Her legs nearly buckled in relief. But what had Liam done?
“Ms. Chapman?” Kim asked, waiting.
“Uh—go off? What does that mean?”
Kim said, “When a Shifter tries to attack someone, the Collar around his neck shocks him. It’s very obvious—you’d see a white-blue arc running all the way around the Collar, sparking like those plasma balls. The Collar causes a lot of pain and stops the Shifter. They’re programmed to suppress a Shifter’s instinct to kill.”
Elizabeth replayed the awful scene in her mind, remembering the swift silence with which Ronan had burst through her office door. She closed her eyes and made herself remember every detail. Ronan’s huge face, the Collar clasping his big neck, the power in his gigantic body as he knocked Marquez to the ground.
BodyGuard (Butterscotch Martini Shots Book 2) Page 2
