Hidden Heart (Love Is The Law 1)

by Isabella Brooke

  "That wasn't the only reason."

  "No, but it was a pretty damn big part of it, actually. You men get funny about your sisters. Possessive."

  "It will be fine. We've got the small matter of tomorrow's court case, first. Then my jail time. We'll cross the other bridges in the future."

  "I don't want to think about any of it."

  "Let's not." Turner kissed the top of her head, tenderly, and Emily tried to push out the worries and negativity from her mind. She squirmed around to put her face in reach of his, and he kissed her again.

  Gradually his kisses grew deeper and she broke off briefly to move around and face him fully, sitting across his thighs with her legs either side of his waist. His hands crept down over her buttocks, and squeezed.

  "Hey." She pressed the flats of her hands on his chest. "Play nicely."

  He squeezed harder, and growled, before kissing her hard and then nipping her lower lip with his teeth. She giggled and wriggled, but she was completely under his power, and she felt herself grow hot and damp.

  Turner's kisses worked from her mouth to her neck where he pulled lightly at her ear lobe. His hands roamed up across her hips to finally come to rest cupping her breasts. Instinctively she arched her back, thrusting herself into his grasp.

  Turner whispered in her ear. "You're wanton."

  "I'm wanting," she murmured back. "Are you going to take me here, right now?"

  He nibbled along her shoulder, pulling her satin top to one side to expose her skin. "I could stop, you know. Just at a crucial moment. Stop, and leave you wanting…"

  She wanted to say what, until you're out of prison? But she refused to even think any more about prison, or crime, or the court case and sentence. "You wouldn't dare."

  "I'd dare, but I wouldn't want to." He sat back and moved his hands to her waist, pushing back up to slide the slithering fabric up over her skin. She raised her hands and allowed him to pull her top right off, so that she was sitting on him in her bra and skirt.

  "What if someone comes along? A dog walker or something?"

  "Then we charge them to watch the show," Turner said wickedly and before she could protest any further, he bent to her breasts and began to kiss along the swell of flesh that escaped the top of her bra.

  "Oh god…" She shifted around on him, not sure what to do. She wanted to respond and reach out to his waistband, and tug him free of his jeans, and pleasure him in kind. But she also just wanted to sit back and drown in the flood of ecstatic feelings that were rising up from her loins.

  His left hand slipped down, along her belly and her thigh, before pushing back up underneath her skirt. His fingers sought her knickers, pulling them to one side and she cried out as his thumb began a slow circle, taunting her.

  She had to move and slow the pace down or she'd be screaming her head off within a minute. "Let me," she urged, wriggling backwards, away from his tormenting fingers. She curled her spine, and quickly undid his jeans. He put his hands on the floor and tipped his hips upwards so that she could slide his clothes down and reveal himself, already fully aroused and ready.

  She bent further down and took him in her mouth.

  "Ahh, fuck, Emily…" he grunted as his hands found her head and he wove his fingers into her hair. "Go steady, I might not…"

  She teased him with her tongue like he had taunted her with his thumb, ignoring his protestations. His words asked her to slow down but his body betrayed him as his pelvis jerked and moved in increasing urgency.

  "Emily!" He pulled her away with a supreme effort. She gazed at him, drinking him in, each line of his body, each twitch of his muscles, each fleeting expression that crossed his face. For a long moment they gazed at each other, and she realised he was doing the same: imprinting the encounter on his memory to sustain him through the coming months.

  "Come to me," he said at last, his voice husky. "Oh god, let me fuck you."

  She scrabbled out of her knickers and grabbed for a condom, and then let him lift her up. She hovered over him, resisting the pressure of his hands on her hips that were urging her down. She gyrated for as long as he could bear it, until he snapped and forced her hard onto his stiffness.

  Her scream was bitten back into a gasping sigh as he filled her and they began a slow, rocking motion. He tried to lick at her breasts again, and sucked her nipple into his mouth, through the lace of her bra, but she lost her rhythm as the building arousal threatened to overwhelm her within moments.

  She steadied herself, slowing down, but Turner was becoming frantic and he drove the pace now, and she was forced to abandon herself to his increasing need. She clung on to him, gripping his shoulders, digging her nails in as he pounded upwards and all she could do was ride him.

  "This is not just for today," he muttered through gritted teeth as he slammed into her. "This is for tomorrow and next week and next month until I see you again."

  Her breasts bounced and she pressed herself against him, wanting every part of her body to be in contact with him. There was a liquid fire surging in her belly and she felt tears spring to her eyes. "Oh god, yes," was all she could say in reply. Just fuck me she moaned in her head, too overwhelmed to even voice it.

  With a suppressed roar he began to buck and throb and she clung on as her own orgasm followed a moment later, and she ground herself against his pubic bone, and rode the waves of clenching, exquisite pain and pleasure for as long as she could.

  He held on tightly, keeping his arms wrapped fiercely around her as her tears fell without apology or explanation. He murmured low nonsense into her ear, reassuring her, bringing her back down to earth by gentle degrees.

  Emily buried her face into his shoulder, not wanting to look up or leave his arms. Not now, not ever. But gradually her sobs subsided and she took a deep breath before sitting straight.

  "I'm s-" she began but he put his fingers to her lips instantly, anticipating her apology.

  "Don't. No. What for? Nothing. This was beautiful. You are beautiful."

  "It should have been a special moment. I've ruined it by crying."

  "You ruin nothing by having emotions, you great twit."

  She closed her eyes briefly, half-laughing. "Oh, Turner. Oh god!" She opened her eyes in shock as her sense returned to her. "Look at the state of us!" She scrabbled away, and he laughed at her as she began a frantic search of the daysack for tissues and wipes. Then she realised she was half-naked, and abandoned the bag to get herself dressed and decent as quickly as she could.

  Turner grinned at her as she panicked around, cleaning up and dishing out drinks at the same time. "Steady on. No hurry."

  The words stung. There was a hurry. Every moment of this day really counted. She met his gaze and saw the sadness there, in spite of his broad smile.

  But she didn't say anything. A part of her didn't want to speak again. She waited until he was dressed again, and passed him a can of fizzy drink, and then they sat side by side again, looking out over the valleys and seeing nothing but their unknown futures.

  * * * *

  Pearl Black was dressed in her finest clothes, but they were all from the time before her body was ravaged by cancer and distorted by the medication. Still, she'd spent a long hour that morning, getting her hair and make-up right. She greeted Emily with a warm and open smile.

  "Emily, love. Thanks for coming. How are you? Oh god. I can't get my head around it. Are you all right? Do you want a sweet? Oh god, I can't even eat. Here, Elaine, sort out the sweets."

  She thrust the paper bag into the impeccably-manicured hands of the woman at her side, who furrowed her brow at Emily. "Mum, calm down. It's not like he's new to this, is it?"

  "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, love. I just can't believe it. Can't get my head around it."

  Emily thrust out her hand. "We've not met. I'm Emily Carrera. You're… Elaine?"

  "Yeah, Turner's sister." Elaine looked at Emily's fingers like she'd never shaken hands with anyone before.

  Maybe she hadn't. />
  She took it gingerly and gave a quick squeeze, but she didn't smile. In fact, Emily felt as if Elaine was glaring at her.

  Nothing was said, though, and they stood on the steps of the court in an awkward silence for a long moment. Emily swallowed, trying to moisten her dry mouth. She'd been in the public gallery of courts before, of course, during her journalism training and also when covering stories in the past. But this was different.

  Elaine shot her another look of dislike, and turned away. "Come on mum. Ready for this?"

  Mrs Black looked back. "Okay. Emily? Come on up with us, love."

  Wearily, Emily followed the family up the steps and into the court.

  * * * *

  Mrs Black sat between Emily and Elaine, but Emily fancied that she could still feel the waves of enmity washing over her from Turner's sister.

  It was understandable, really. She'd not been able to have a conversation one-to-one with Elaine, and she wasn't sure what Turner had told her.

  And even if he'd told her everything, there were a hundred different ways she could interpret it. But the bottom line was that this course of action would be now depriving Elaine's sons of their father and their uncle, and leaving her with the task of caring for her mother as well as trying to complete her own training.

  As Emily listed the reasons for Elaine to hate her, she grew more and more despondent, and sank down in the bench. I'd hate me too, under the circumstances.

  The various barristers all took turns in making long and incomprehensible speeches. There was debate. Tiny sounds were magnified in the courtroom. The rustle of papers and the discreet cough of the stenographer bounced off the dark wood panelling and ricocheted around.

  None of them had attended the first hearing at the local magistrate's court. It had been a perfunctory affair as the offences committed by both men were serious enough to go before a judge at Crown Court. Now, though, they were facing a long day - or many days.

  Turner pleaded guilty. Tears rushed to Emily's eyes as she watched him stand in the dock and look out over the room, his head held high.

  "Do you regret what you have done?" the prosecutor asked.

  "I regret everything. I am ashamed of everything. I've confessed to everything because this is the only way I can make a clean start."

  From across the courtroom, Riggers shouted out an obscenity and the judge glared as the police officers stifled him.

  "How do you plead?"

  "Guilty." He said it clear and loud, his chin jutting up defiantly. Emily gripped the brass rail in front of her as the courtroom stirred and low murmurs passed around.

  "Oh, Turner," whispered Elaine. "What are you doing?"

  "The right thing," her mum hissed, staring straight ahead.

  Then it was Riggers' turn and he did himself no favours at all. He bristled in the dock, angry and unrepentant. He avoided the questions, directing a stream of vitriol instead at Turner. Eventually the judge had to point out he was in danger of contempt of court, and Riggers subsided unwillingly.

  And so the trial rumbled on. They had a recess, then returned to the debate. Riggers was the one who was slowing things down; he pleaded innocent, and then under questioning confessed, but within three minutes he had descended into a tirade against the justice system.

  Emily kept her eyes fixed on Turner for most of the day, fixing him in her mind. Occasionally he looked up and nodded, but at this distance it was impossible to say if he was looking at her, his mum, or his sister.

  Matthew looked up only once, and his face didn't even twitch in acknowledgement when he saw her with Turner's family. He turned away and ignored her for the rest of the trial.

  Eventually the jury retired to deliberate. Turner's plea of guilty meant it would be a short one, although Riggers as co-defendant was complicating matters slightly.

  "Do you want a sweet?" Mrs Black offered her mints around once more, and Emily took one politely. She had been running through her options for some time, and she had to speak.

  "Elaine."

  Elaine cocked her head and looked at Emily with aggression plain on her face. Her large hoop earrings swung against her neck and she looked down her nose at Emily. "What?"

  "Err…" all Emily's prepared speech drained out of her mind. "Um. How's the nail course going?"

  She shrugged. "Pointless, really. I won't be completing it. Don't have time." She turned away, looking out over the courtroom, pointedly signalling the conversation was over.

  "Look, if Turner and Riggers go away… which we know they will… what I wanted to say was, actually, you know, if you need anything, I mean you and Mrs Black, any help or whatever, then, you know, I'm here…"

  Mrs Black smiled. "Ah, love, that's really sweet of you. Thank you."

  "Help? Yeah, like what?" Elaine drummed her talons on the railing. "Sorry, but you don't look like you're rolling in money."

  "No, I don't have any money. But I don't think that's what would help, really. I know Turner's got it into his head that a big heap of cash makes everything all right. But really, I think you just need… babysitting, advocacy, that kind of thing."

  "What the fuck is avokissy?"

  Now wasn't the time to try and explain the concept of cultural capital and social mobility. "Advocacy - I mean, someone to speak on your behalf. Not that you can't, I mean, just like, there's services I think you could access. Both of you."

  "I don't understand." Elaine kept her gaze elsewhere, stubbornly uninterested, but Mrs Black wanted to know more.

  "What services, love?"

  "Because of your… illness. There's help, you know. Around the house, financial help, housework, general care, transport. But the thing is, they are not easy to access. But I'm good at that sort of thing, you know, finding stuff out and getting things done. It's what I do."

  Elaine continued to sneer. Mrs Black patted Emily's thigh in a mumsy way. "Well, let's get this trial over with first of all. I have to tell you, though, that you're welcome in our house at any time. Please. Do come and visit."

  Elaine exhaled and shook her head, her high ponytail bobbing, but she didn't say anything. All three lapsed into silence until the jury filed back out, rather more quickly than anyone had expected.

  Emily slid forward on the bench and hung on to the rail. She knew what was coming but it didn't make it any easier. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Elaine reach out and take her mum's hand.

  The foreman of the jury stood up. "We find both defendants guilty of all charges brought before them."

  And then there was the sentencing. More debate, deliberation and waiting. Emily wondered if they'd adjourn for sentencing in the morning, but the judge had been making notes and gave his pronouncement relatively quickly, or at least, quickly in legal circles.

  "Turner Black. I have no choice but to offer you a custodial sentence, as is the guidance in these situations. You planned and carried out a robbery on a small business, as part of a small team. This is a serious thing and with the aggravating factor of a weapon being carried, albeit a baseball bat, would usually start at four years. However, there are mitigating circumstances. I believe you to be genuinely remorseful but I am not convinced you understand how much work you will have to do when you are released, to make your new life successful. I also accept that you willingly gave yourself up for arrest, and willingly and unprompted did offer up details for other offences you have committed in the realms of car theft, counterfeit goods, money laundering and general low level nuisance behaviour. For all of these things, you have offered no excuses; only your regret. For the attempted robbery, I am sentencing you to a minimum term of fourteen months. For the other offences, I am able to sentence to you a further twelve months, suspended."

  "Two years!" Emily's head swam. She'd thought she had prepared herself but hearing it said out loud made the bile rise up in her throat. "Oh god, more than two years."

  Elaine relented and leaned in across Mrs Black. She didn't make eye contact, but she spoke in
a low voice, an almost reassuring tone. "He'll serve seven months. Half of the first sentence in prison, and half out on probation. The other is suspended so if he fucks up again he'll be recalled to serve the rest. And yeah, he will end up doing two years." Finally she looked Emily in the eye, challenging. "So you better had be good enough to make it worth him going straight, okay?"

  Elaine sat back with a sigh and crossed both her arms and her legs. Mrs Black patted Emily's thigh again, and Emily gave her a slight smile in gratitude.

  Then it was Riggers' turn. He was looking worried but the judge wasted no time in getting to the point.

  "You have shown no remorse and no regret. However, the attempted robbery was thwarted and no violence was done. No firearms were used and nothing was taken. You have no previous record and for this reason, I am bound by sentencing guidelines to commit you to the minimum recommended term of twelve months custodial sentence."

  Riggers exploded in the dock, hurling himself into the air, shouting "Grass!" Emily recoiled, even though he was metres away, and far below, as his spittle-soaked ire seemed to be directed at her in the gallery.

  "Emily Carrera! You're a fucking grass and I'm going to…" the police officers wrestled him down, and out of the dock, and through a door within seconds.

  "Oh shit," she breathed. "Thank god he's gone down."

  "You're in trouble," Elaine remarked, and there wasn't any triumph in her face any more. She looked sad, and weary. "Because Turner might be serving seven months, but Riggers is only going to do six."

  Emily thought her heart had stopped and cold sweat sluiced down her back. She scanned the courtroom anxiously but everything was packing up, the day's long business done. Matthew didn't look up. He shuffled his papers into his briefcase and swooshed off into a corridor, talking to the other barrister. The judge was gone, and the court recorder clearing up. The ushers were directing people out.

  Emily couldn't stop the tears now. Seven months. So much better than she'd feared; after the initial shock of hearing the two long sentences, she was now flooded with relief.