by Shelly Bell
“Yes, Your Honor,” said a tall, lean woman as she pushed her way into the courtroom with a middle-aged couple following close behind. “Carol Patterson, attorney for the Petitioners.”
Both pale-skinned with white-blond hair, Mr. and Mrs. Merriweather looked so much alike they could be mistaken for brother and sister. Mr. Merriweather pulled out the chair for his wife, and his gaze narrowed on Jaxon. Mrs. Merriweather, on the other hand, kept her head down, her long hair shielding her face.
“Nicholas Trenton for the Respondent, Your Honor. Also with me is Kate Martin, my legal intern.”
“I’m a bit surprised by this motion, Ms. Patterson,” Judge Cross said. “It’s not every day we have an argument over the disposition of remains in probate court. I’ve had a few minutes to review the parties’ briefs on the matter, but I’d like to hear oral arguments before I render my decision.”
The Petitioners’ attorney remained standing while the rest of the courtroom took their seats. “Your Honor, my clients, Barbara and Frederick Merriweather, lost their daughter Alyssa Deveroux three days ago in a brutal murder. Since that time, the Respondent has come under suspicion for the crime, and information has come to light that their daughter was a victim of severe domestic violence inflicted by Respondent. It is their position that Respondent should not be rewarded for this alleged abuse or the possible murder of Alyssa Deveroux and that, had Alyssa had the freedom to do so, she would have given her parents the right to dispose of her body. They are requesting Alyssa be buried in their family plot rather than be cremated as wished by Respondent. If she’s cremated, any evidence the state may require in the future would be lost, and therefore the Petitioners feel it’s contrary to public policy for Respondent to retain the rights of disposition of his wife’s body. Furthermore, they’re asking for an injunction to bar Mr. Deveroux from attending the funeral of the woman he abused and may have murdered.”
The judge put up her hand in a signal for Ms. Patterson to stop. “Okay, I’ve heard enough. Mr. Trenton, what is your client’s position?”
Kate heard the excited whispers of the reporters in the room. Whichever way this went, she had a feeling they’d spin it unfavorably toward Jaxon.
Nick stood. “Your Honor, under my direction, Ms. Martin will be arguing the motion.”
He nodded to Kate and took his seat as she got to her feet.
“Good afternoon, Your Honor. The Petitioners’ facts in support of their argument are incorrect. First of all, Mr. Deveroux is not officially a suspect in this case. He was questioned and released by police because he discovered her body when he returned from a business trip. Second, Alyssa Deveroux never made any claim of abuse. The Decedent clearly stated in her last will and testament that she wished to be cremated. Jaxon Deveroux, her husband, was named in the will as the sole beneficiary and was given a financial power of attorney and medical power of attorney in case of incapacitation, demonstrating her intent to have her husband fulfill her wishes. It is public policy to uphold a valid will, and, as of now, there have been no claims made in probate that her will be held unenforceable. Moreover, even without a will stating her wishes, as her husband, Jaxon is the next of kin and would have the right to disposition of Alyssa.”
The judge shook her head. “Are your clients contesting the Decedent’s will, Ms. Patterson?”
The Merriweathers’ attorney stood and fidgeted, her hands smoothing down invisible wrinkles in her skirt. “Other than the paragraph regarding disposition of her body, my clients have not made any firm decision to contest the will at this time, Your Honor.” She pivoted her body to direct her next statement to the media. Her voice grew quiet and solemn. “Their only concern right now is to provide what they believed their daughter wanted and that is to be buried in the family plot along with all of her paternal grandparents and great-grandparents.”
The attorney was clearly attempting to tug at the emotional heartstrings of both the judge and the press. Kate hoped the judge would know better than to fall victim to an emotional argument over a legal one.
Kate ignored the media and spoke directly to the judge. “The Petitioners offer no proof of Alyssa’s wishes other than their word. Jaxon Deveroux was happily married to Alyssa Deveroux for ten years. He just lost his wife and now his in-laws have turned their backs on him when he needs them the most. To penalize him for someone else’s crime would only add to this tragedy. And to deny him access to her funeral . . .” She paused dramatically and dropped her head as if overcome by grief. “I know the Petitioners loved their daughter. But so did Jaxon Deveroux. And she loved him. That love was memorialized in the will in which she gave her wishes.”
Judge Cross sighed and drummed her fingers on her desk. “I’m troubled by this case. Although it is the court’s usual practice to follow the wishes of the Decedent as stated pursuant to the will, I would hate for any evidence to be lost because she was cremated. Which means we can do one of two things. One, we can permit immediate burial in a location to be agreed upon by the parties or, two, we can keep Alyssa’s body at the morgue until the police have time to investigate her murder. Unfortunately as we all know, this could take months or even years, and we have to ask ourselves is that fair to Alyssa?”
The judge’s gaze bounced over the attorneys’ heads to the press. “I’m going to reject the Petitioners’ request for an injunction and adjourn the issue of her cremation until an evidentiary hearing can be made. In other words, I hope the parties can work it out amongst themselves. Court is adjourned.”
Judge Cross left the courtroom, and immediately the reporters began noisily chatting about the hearing, several of them racing out of the room to call their employers with the story. Carol Patterson and the Merriweathers stood talking on the other side of the room.
Kate poured herself a glass of water. “I don’t understand. The law was clearly on Jaxon’s side. Why wouldn’t the judge make a decision on the cremation?”
“It’s not about right or wrong,” Nick explained, bending to retrieve his briefcase. “It’s about what looks good in the press. It’s about not wanting to make a mistake that would cost her the judge’s seat. It’s about politics and money. Today you’ve learned a valuable lesson. Justice has nothing to do with the reality of our legal system. But you did great in there. At least Jaxon can attend Alyssa’s funeral. Like I said, you’re a born litigator.”
Jaxon pushed back from the table and stood. “I agree.”
“But we lost,” she said.
Nick zipped his briefcase and rose. “We made our point to the media that Jaxon had nothing to do with her death. Now that we have some leverage, what would you like to do about Alyssa’s final resting place?” he asked Jaxon. “If you insist on cremating her, it will only make you appear as though you’re trying to destroy evidence.”
A muscle jumped in Jaxon’s cheek. “Even though that was her wish?”
“I’m sorry,” Nick said. “If you want to fight it—”
Jaxon put up his hand and shook his head. “No. Let her parents bury her in the family plot. Maybe after all of this is over, I’ll sue to have her cremated, but right now . . .” He lowered his voice. “My only condition is they not use Reverend Pierce to preside over her funeral or burial.”
Nick’s brows crinkled in confusion. “Who is—?”
“Just do it,” Jaxon ordered. He looked over at the Merriweathers with disdain and rubbed his temples.
Who was Reverend Pierce?
Nick slid a glance her way and then turned to Jaxon. “Before I do, there’s something you should know. Last night, Kate received a phone call threatening her to drop your case.”
Her heart pole-vaulted into her throat.
“Who? What did they say?” Jaxon asked, moving closer to her.
“I don’t know. The voice was computerized.” She glared at Nick. “You shouldn’t have told him.”
“I thought it was best if he knew.” He took her hand. “He can protect you when I’m not around. As
much as I enjoyed waking up with you this morning, I can’t stay with you every minute.”
Jaxon stared at their joined hands and clenched his jaw. Was he jealous?
Did he have reason to be?
“This is how it’s going to work,” Nick said with his usual air of authority. “Until we’re satisfied that you’re safe, Jaxon and I will provide you with extra protection. I’ll drive you to and from work. I don’t want you on that motorcycle. It’s too exposed.”
She refused to give up riding her Harley but nodded anyway, knowing she wouldn’t win this argument. What they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt them. “And if I need to go somewhere other than work?”
“Either Jaxon or I will take you,” Nick said, releasing her hand.
“I shouldn’t have told you,” she mumbled.
“Do you have a gun?” Nick asked.
She shivered. “No. I don’t like guns.”
Jaxon’s gaze burned into her. What was he thinking?
“Too bad. You’re getting one,” Nick said. “I’ll take you to the range to learn how to use it.”
She almost laughed but held it inside. “I didn’t say I don’t know how to use a gun. I said I don’t like them.”
Her daddy had put a gun in her hands and had taught her to shoot at five years old. She’d started with a BB gun and worked her way up to a rifle by the time she was eight. Won every Junior NRA event she’d entered. Her father had called her skill for making the perfect shot a “gift” because she never missed.
Damned gift turned out to be a curse.
She hadn’t picked up a gun in ten years.
Nick squeezed her hand. “Humor us. Keep it in your nightstand. That way if someone breaks into your apartment, you’ll have it with you. Unless you’d rather stay with—”
“No,” she interrupted. “I’m good. I’ll take the gun.”
She’d take a gun she’d never need over spending the night with Nick or Jaxon. She clearly couldn’t survive the temptation of either man.
Nick nodded solemnly. “I’ll get it to you by tomorrow.” He angled his body toward Jaxon and said, “Detective Lawrence called yesterday. They’d like another interview with you. I refused on your behalf.”
Jaxon played with his wedding band. “I’ve got nothing to hide.”
“That’s not the point. The more information you provide, the more they can use it against you to build their case. The Organization Against Domestic Violence has planned a march at the capital in Lansing for tomorrow. They’re using your case as an example of how society has become complacent when it comes to violence against women. District Attorney Candidate Mason Ford will be there giving a speech and forcing DA Savage’s hand. I’m meeting with a lobbyist to help counter their argument. We’ll prepare a package of educational materials on BDSM and send it to the media. While you two are at Benediction tonight, I’ll be on Channel Three as a panelist on the Let Them Have It program.”
Kate was impressed. The show’s host invited panelists to discuss the hot issue of the week. It usually ended with five intelligent individuals yelling at the top of their lungs, but it was the highest-rated nightly news show in Detroit.
“Are you coming with me to negotiate the terms of the funeral?” Nick asked her.
Jaxon picked up her briefcase. “Kate and I need to go over some of the protocol for this evening. I’ll take her home.”
Alone with Jaxon? Her pulse ratcheted up to supersonic speed. Didn’t they cover everything in his playroom? Or did he want to discuss last night?
Nick leaned closer to her. “Good luck tonight. If you need anything, and I do mean anything, you call me. Don’t keep secrets. I’ll pick you up in the morning, and we’ll meet Jaxon at nine at the firm to go over what you learned at Benediction.”
His head dipped toward her and for a moment she thought he was going to kiss her right there in the courtroom, in front of Jaxon and everyone else.
He didn’t.
“Stay safe,” he whispered before joining Carol Patterson for negotiations.
Jaxon watched Nick walk away before turning to glare at her. Caught in his web, she was unable to look away from him as all the memories of last night crashed into her like a tidal wave.
Stay safe?
She had no doubt Jaxon would protect her from any physical danger.
But who would guard her heart?
Chapter Four
FOR HER SAFETY, Jaxon insisted on accompanying her up to her apartment, and, without an invitation, he followed her inside.
She locked the door and then turned, bumping into a solid wall of muscle.
The apartment seemed to shrink to the size of a closet. Jaxon stood as still as an opossum playing dead. Every rise of his chest drew her closer and closer until she could no longer identify where she began and he ended. Pressing against her, the bulge in his pants jerked as it elongated from arousal.
What was she doing? She slapped her hands on his chest and pushed. She couldn’t go down this road with him again.
But when he peered down at her with those dilated pupils and hooded eyes, as if he were picturing making a meal out of her pussy, she could almost convince herself it would be worth it.
She darted to the kitchen. “Want a donut?”
“No, thanks.” He followed her. “Kate, I’m sorry about last night.”
She didn’t look at him. Just stayed in motion. “You don’t have to apologize. You were right. It was a mistake. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get some work done before tonight. You know the way out.”
“I meant what I said.”
She put her hands on her hips. “Which part? The part about you never getting enough of my pussy or the part where you said I fucking had you?”
The sides of his lips twitched. “The part about going over the protocol for Benediction.”
Heat flamed her cheeks. “Oh.”
Taking her wrist, he steered her to the empty space behind the couch. “I’m going to teach you how to kneel. For the purpose of instruction, I’ll refer to Dominants as masculine and the sub as feminine, but it’s far more common to see the opposite at Benediction.”
“I’d read that in my research, but I find it hard to believe.” His touch scorched her skin. Was he even aware that he was stroking the inside of her wrist with his thumb?
He smiled. “Men, especially those in high-powered, high-pressure careers, use BDSM as a means to release stress by relinquishing control to another for a time. That’s why the public’s misconceptions about BDSM are absurd. Would you ever call the President of the United States submissive? Of course not. He’s one of the most powerful men in the world, but in the bedroom, it’s far more likely for a man like that to hand over the power to his partner. And if she flogged him? Would you call the First Lady an abuser?”
She wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Great. Now I’ve got the image of the First Lady leading the President by a leash. I’ll never view them the same again.”
Wouldn’t owning a venture capitalist firm be considered a high-powered career? If so, why would Jax choose to be a Dom? And if Alyssa enjoyed pain, did that mean he was a sadist? All these labels and boundaries confused the hell out of her.
His finger drew circle eights on her wrist, and he inched closer, grazing her breasts with the hard planes of his abdomen. “I’m not saying he is a sexual submissive. Just that it’s far more common than people realize. Politicians, attorneys, doctors, police officers.”
His proximity was ramping up her arousal and sending mixed signals to her traitorous body. It obviously didn’t care that Jaxon had rejected her. It still wanted him.
She still wanted him.
In a rich, deep tone she’d come to recognize as his Dom voice, he said, “Now, there are several different slave positions, each with their own meaning and benefits. I’m not going to bother with the punishment poses since you’ll be limited to playing scenes solely with me, and you need to worry only about the ones that I prefer. The
first is the display pose. Get down to your knees.”
She took a deep breath, reminding herself that this wasn’t real, and sank to her knees.
He pressed his hand on the middle of her spine. “Back straight. Spread your legs as wide as your shoulders.”
She complied, feeling a bit like she was doing yoga. Except yoga had never turned her on like this. Every command out of his mouth made her a little wetter.
“Good,” he said, stepping in front of her to observe. “Palms up on your thighs.” He smiled. “Beautiful. If you were naked, your pussy would be on display for me, and you wouldn’t be able to hide your arousal.”
The glint in his eyes told her his statement was more than hypothetical. He knew exactly what this was doing to her. “I . . . uh . . . what about my gaze, Jax?”
“Straight ahead. If I’m in your line of sight, I prefer you keep your gaze on me unless I state otherwise. At the club, you’ll observe several subs and slaves keeping their heads lowered in respect to their Master. To be safe, avoid looking any Dominant in the eyes.”
He stared at her for what seemed like forever and then circled to stand behind her again. “Next we have a variation of the pose you’re in. Rest your weight on your heels and arch your back slightly. Clasp your hands behind your back.”
Her nipples peaked against her camisole, and her core began to throb in a steady beat. If she didn’t come soon, she’d have to excuse herself to the privacy of her shower to take care of the matter.
“Lovely,” he whispered before resuming his Dom voice. “The last one is the offer pose.” He returned his hand to her back and pushed. “Bend forward and stretch yourself out with your wrists crossed. Thighs at a forty-five degree angle.”
Her heart couldn’t take another minute of this and neither could her pussy. She propelled herself to her feet. “I think we’re done for today. Thank you for training me on the poses, but it’s probably best we don’t spend any time alone together other than when we’re at Benediction. I know Nick wanted you to play chauffeur for me, but it’s not necessary. He overreacted because I’m his intern and he cares about—”
