Lies & Devotion (Blood and Iron Warriors Book 3)

by Kat Kenyon

  Behind him, I see Tyler, dressed in a sharp navy suit, and a white dress shirt with a vibrant purple tie. When our eyes connect, he stands and holds out his arms. Forgetting my escort, I throw myself at him, soaking up the warmth and security of his touch. It doesn’t matter that I saw him last night for a couple hours.

  “Okay you two, I get it, but we only have about ten minutes before we go in. Given the new filings, we need to discuss this before we go.” Arnowsky snorts.

  Tyler growls under his breath before releasing me. Head bent, he kisses my forehead, face dark with anger. “We do need to talk, baby.”

  Releasing me, he pulls out a chair and settles me into it. In front of his chair are two sets of papers, both of which, he pushes to me as he sits.

  I look from my boyfriend to my attorney and they both look ready to smack someone. “What’s going on?”

  Arnowsky snaps his bag open and pulls out a giant stack of papers. “Rayne, your mother has filed to undo your power of attorney, claiming that if you were assaulted as you claim—”

  Tyler hisses at him even as my brain stutters.

  “Tyler,” Arnowsky snaps, glaring at him. “As I was saying, she says if you were assaulted, you were under too much duress to make a decision like giving control of your life to a young man who has already broken your heart.”

  “That’s not why I did it.”

  “I know that, but she’s claiming you couldn’t have made a rational decision or choice when you were still injured and suffering from the shock of the event.”

  My nails dig into my palms, the bite helping keep me focused. “I knew exactly what I was doing. I tried to get away from her when I was a minor. As soon as I turned eighteen, I made sure she’d never have control over me again. My mother’s a parasite sucking the life and joy from everyone around her.”

  Nodding, Arnowsky gives me a small grin. “Good. You’re getting up on the stand today and say that. Will you be able to give solid examples?”

  It’s not a question if I have enough, but which to pick out of the many. “Um, she left me behind when I was ten at the beach, forgot me until two in the morning. Or do they want to know about her beating me with the cord of a lamp? Or shall we talk about her boyfriends? How several tried to sexually abuse me, and she blamed me or said I was lying. Or the drugs? Or maybe—”

  Arnowsky looks like he’s going to be sick. “Any one of those is bad. It sounds like she shouldn’t have had children.”

  “Nope,” I snap even as Tyler’s hand wraps around mine.

  “Tell it all. All that you can bear. Put it all on the record. If she tries to argue or say you’re lying, I’ll have Corey ready to go to show who’s the liar.”

  “Is he here?”

  He chuckles. “He’s here, so are Tyler’s mom and aunt, Detective Gillete, and several of your friends. All of whom ignored our recommendation to stay home since they won’t be allowed in the courtroom.”

  Turning to Tyler, I ask, “Who?”

  The wry grin that spreads across his face, is etched with amused annoyance. “Bay, Mike, Tate, Tegan, and Kevin. Those assholes are ridiculous. I told them they wouldn’t be able to come in.”

  “I’m happy they’re here.” Arnowsky sifts through the stack of papers he pulled out. “They’ll be able to testify as to how things were should we need to counter Ms. Donahue’s argument. I’ve looked at other cases and there is nothing on point for this, which means…” His palms press to the stack. “Listen, these things are rarely clear-cut. Facts matter and those friends of yours can testify to the facts. Like you didn’t go home for holidays. You’re not manic and your depression and fear are the result of a single factor. You have PTSD, something your therapist noted.”

  His eyes snap up and meet mine. “If every person with PTSD were told they couldn’t make decisions we’d have a cadre of military, police, doctors, and millions of others being stripped of their rights.” An evil smile appears. “I hope her attorney makes that argument, because I dare the judge to write a holding even coming close to it. The nation would have his head on a plate in a week.”

  “Is there anything else I should know?”

  Tyler squeezes my hand and says to both of us. “Anne’s here.”

  “And who is she again?” Arnowsky asks.

  “Anne’s my grandfather’s secretary.” Her presence should make me happy, but something tickles at the back of my mind, a soft red warning light based on the way Tyler’s been talking about this. “She’s the one who pays the bills for him, for me.”

  “So, you’re close?” Arnowsky asks.

  I pause. The question isn’t something I’ve ever thought about. “No. The only time she’s ever seen me was when Gabe put me in the hospital the first time.”

  There were times I needed someone to be there. To believe me. To get me out of that house, and no one ever came. She knew and still, she and Gramps never did a thing.

  “Wait.” Arnowsky taps the table. “Your grandfather never came to the hospital? That’s in my notes somewhere, and you’re saying this secretary, she never came to check on you when you were in the hospital this January?”

  “No.”

  Tyler growls beside me. “No. The hospital contacted her mom against her wishes and mine. I called Anne, but the only person who gave a damn was Corey.”

  Arnowsky pinches his nose. “Are you telling me, that after the attack, it was just you and Corey who bothered to see to her needs?”

  “No. I’m saying our friends tried to be there. My family was there, but her family wasn’t, except for Corey.”

  Our attorney’s eyes stare up, tilting back into a hard shrug. “Well, that makes this easier. If your mother couldn’t be bothered to call or come see you before this case, then she shouldn’t be allowed to have a say in your life.”

  A knock, and the door swings in with Neil standing in the gap. “It’s time.”

  Behind him is a bailiff who nods at us.

  Packing his paperwork, Arnowsky gives me a tight smile. “Let’s get you home.”

  • • • •

  When we walk to the courtroom, our friends are waiting. We don’t have a lot of time, but Bay sweeps me into a hug, followed by Tate. They all give us a nod as we head in and assure us they’ll be there when we get out. They’ve been with me the entire time I’ve been at school and they’re still standing by me, even in the middle of what feels like hell.

  When the doors close behind us, I get my first real look at the courtroom. Frenwhit sits beside the prosecutor, and behind him are the cops who took me from our apartment.

  Next to them is Emily and a dark-haired man in a suit. She’s in a simple black sheath and her hair’s pulled tight into a bun, makeup simple. She’d look beautiful if she didn’t show the effects of meth. From her skeletal limbs to the subtle impression of pimpled wax being slowly melted off her face, she looks close to death. I don’t know how her teeth are still in her head or if the imaginary itch she has is something she really thinks she can dig out with enough effort.

  She’s a poster child for what happens when you lose control to something that can never love you back. Drugs are a lover that, no matter how much you give, will only leave you shattered. They can never be a home to the lost or a haven to the weary. They’re a dead end where you run your car off the cliff. My mother just doesn’t realize she’s already in the air.

  In contrast, Leslie is sitting on the other side of the courtroom with a small, encouraging smile on her face. Her ivory pantsuit and young face are the polar opposite to the mother on the other side. It’s sad.

  It makes me angry.

  Margot is with her, an unhappy sneer on her face as she looks around, while Corey sits on her other side in a black jacket. He gives me a nod when we see each other, and I can tell he’s trying not to glare at Emily.

  Behind Corey, Anne is busy tapping on her phone looking like an older version of Cher, if Cher ever aged. She doesn’t seem to notice me at first, and when she
does, a frown passes over her face.

  The process of walking down the aisle for the first time feels surreal with the judge’s desk looming at the front of the room.

  Arnowsky and Tyler sit on either side of me as soon as we settle, and Corey stretches his hand to me. Images of him taking me to school pass through my mind. Of him waiting for me at my dance classes, his textbooks in his lap. Of him getting me to eat vegetables. Of tickle attacks and singing in the car. Leaning back to him, our hands meet. My brother whispers, “I’ve got you, baby sister.”

  At the front of the room, the bailiff stands and announces the judge, bringing everyone to their feet. And we begin.

  Emily stands with the man who is apparently her lawyer and joins the prosecutor at the table. The man stands and waves in my direction. “Your Honor, my client believes her daughter is grossly incompetent and unable to care for herself or make decisions.” He flicks a glance at us. “After leaving home, Miss Mathews both started and ended a high-profile relationship with Mr. Blackman, and during that time she became hostile to communication with her mother. It’s a well-known fact that Mr. Blackman wasn’t faithful during their relationship. This appears to have had a detrimental impact on her psychological well-being. She ceased all communication with her mother, something that is not normal for a seventeen-year-old. She lost weight. She didn’t take care of herself, and everyone around her knew it.” He sighs. “Rayne claimed her ex-boyfriend, Gabe Stevens, was harassing her. This paranoia came on the heels of months of estrangement with him, and she persisted in this belief, even though the university found no evidence. It’s clear—” He coughs uncomfortably into his hand even as I want to throw up. “While it’s clear Miss Mathews was taken to the hospital, the details of that visit have not been provided to me, but it was after this visit, she signed the power of attorney to a boy who cheated on her and who she left.

  “Your Honor, my client finds it hard to believe that under normal circumstances, where Rayne Mathews was fully competent, she would give control of her life to an ex who is a known cheater and who didn’t care enough about her to keep her in the first place.”

  My body shakes, and I feel like I’m flying apart, it’s only the locked grip of Tyler’s hand on my thigh that keeps me grounded.

  “Your Honor, if she was assaulted in the way they claim, and again we don’t know that, because those medical records haven’t been released to us, then she wasn’t in any condition to make a decision like removing the authority of the only person to take care of her for her entire life. Her mother.” The asshole looks down at my mom and gives her an encouraging nod. “We ask the Court to nullify the POA granted to Mr. Blackman and allow her mother to send her back to the hospital where she can get help for her psychological issues.” Sitting, he gives Emily another nod.

  Tyler’s been still the entire time and I can tell he’s having to work to keep his mouth shut. He’s leaning forward, chair pushed back, feet planted like he wants to jump out and go smash the guy.

  “Do you have any witnesses to call?” the judge asks her attorney.

  “Your Honor, I’d like to call Emily Donahue.”

  She rises with as much grace as she can fake, taking the stand, swearing to tell the truth. For ten minutes, he asks her neutral questions she can answer without lying, but even then, she doesn’t give full answers, skimming over the truth of my childhood. How it was my brother who fed me, took care of me…loved me. She doesn’t mention his role at all and it makes my blood boil.

  “She’s always been a difficult child. She never understood how hard life could be. I was worried when she went to school that the reality of growing up would be too much for her. My daughter is high-strung with bouts of anxiety and depression. Unfortunately, nothing I did helped her, and it was harder because she had a habit of lying to get out of trouble.”

  “Objection,” Arnowsky growls next to me. His hands shift new documents to the top of his pile.

  “Sustained. Please keep your answers to facts, not your opinions unless asked.”

  “Okay, Ms. Donahue, did your daughter lie often?”

  “All the time.”

  My chest shrinks so much it feels like my ribs are beating through my ribs.

  “Did she think people wanted to hurt her?”

  “Yes, that was one of her most common lies and unfortunately one of our regular arguments.”

  She spends the next thirty minutes making me sound like a flighty, incompetent liar. Every time I told her about the men she dated, even the three days spent in the hospital after Gabe’s beating, she makes it sound like I made it up.

  “Thank you,” her attorney says smugly, returning to his seat.

  Emily smirks at me when Arnowsky gets up.

  “Ms. Donahue.” Arnowsky stands and hands a series of documents to the bailiff. “Entered into evidence, Your Honor, Ms. Mathews’ school records, phone records, text records, a statement from my client’s high school employer, her dance instructor from her teens, and hospital records. You’ll also find the agreement between Ms. Donahue and Mr. Lawrence Mathews, regarding the financial support provided to her for Rayne’s care.”

  “So entered. Have them marked A through L.”

  “Now, Ms. Donahue, you claim Rayne had a great childhood that for some reason left her anxious, depressed, and damaged; what part do you play in that situation?”

  Lips thin. “That’s just her character.”

  “Really? Because according to your son, Corey, she was a happy, sweet child. She only became nervous when you were intoxicated by one of your many habits or when the men you regularly brought to the house would be inappropriate.”

  “Objection!”

  “Overruled. She opened the door. You said she had no reason to cut off her mother and said she was lying. This goes to credibility.”

  Huffing, Emily’s attorney glares at Arnowsky. “Your Honor, they have to have a basis for these outlandish accusations.”

  “We can substantiate everything, Your Honor,” Arnowsky assures the judge.

  “Continue,” the judge says, waving at Arnowsky.

  “So, Ms. Donahue, did you get high and get violent with your daughter?”

  “No.” Emily struggles to keep her tone flat, but I can tell it’s a struggle.

  “No, you didn’t get high, or no, you didn’t get violent?”

  Flicking her finger at me in dismissal, she dismisses him. “I might have had a glass of wine here and there, but it wasn’t a big deal.”

  “You didn’t beat her?”

  “Of course not.”

  Holding up a folder, Arnowsky hands it to the bailiff. “Exhibit A includes a note from the school nurse when Rayne was seven showing severe bruising on her lower back and legs. Where did that come from?”

  “I don’t recall.” Emily shifts in her chair, eyes dropping down.

  “Do you recall how she came to have long welts on her back, one that wrapped around her back and left an open sore?”

  Her hand begins its never-ending scratching at her arm as she glares balefully at Arnowsky. “I don’t remember that ever happening.”

  “That’s strange,” he says as the bailiff hands the documents to the judge. “Because the school says you were brought in about it. They reported it to Children Services.”

  “They couldn’t prove anything,” she sneers.

  “So, you do remember.”

  “You make it sound like she was tortured. My children were never in harm’s way.”

  Flipping through the stack in his hand for a moment, Arnowsky pulls out one and hands it to the bailiff. “So, tell me how your son’s ribs and arm were broken when he was sixteen.”

  Emily’s face pales, looking at Corey then me.

  I didn’t know.

  “Ms. Donahue. Your son. How did he get those injuries?”

  “I don’t know,” she says softly.

  “Really?” Arnowsky’s nose wrinkles as he looks back at Corey and me. “Didn’t your boyf
riend at the time attack him? Beating him so violently he had to get medical treatment?”

  “Corey was telling lies.” She says it but her voice stutters. “He was jealous there was another man in the house.”

  “So, you let your boyfriend beat him?” Arnowsky’s voice is sharp with disgust.

  “No. That’s—” There’s a tremor through her body as her fingernails leave dark red lines down her arm. Snapping her eyes to Arnowsky. “He was always saying my boyfriends were mean, and Jake, he, he—Jake tried to be nice to him, but Corey said he touched him. It was unforgivable to accuse someone of that.”

  “Unless it’s true.”

  Her breath stops. “What?”

  He walks up to the witness stand, voice hard. “It’s unforgivable, unless it’s true. Did it ever occur to you to look into it?”

  Her head swings like a bobblehead. “No. He was always saying men were looking at Rayne wrong, but he knew Jake wasn’t, so to get rid of him, he changed his story. Made himself the victim. It was absurd.” Her body shakes, nails looking like they’ll pull her skin off.

  Behind me, Corey’s exhaling hard through his nose and I want to hug him.

  “Interesting. Your Honor, we submit this conviction of Jacob Riley, convicted of sexual abuse and assault of a fifteen-year-old boy into evidence. Mr. Riley is still in prison.”

  My already pale mother blanches and stares past me to Corey, who whispers, “Bitch.”

  “I had no—I never saw—I—”

  “Don’t worry, Ms. Donahue, I understand. But since you had no idea, can you tell me why you never noticed the bruises on either of your children? Or why you never took your daughter to school, dance class, or anywhere for that matter?”

  “I was busy. I had two children to take care of.” Her breathing is coming hard and fast as her fingers dig in and she keeps looking from her attorney to Corey.

  Nodding with fake enthusiasm, Arnowsky slips her a few pieces of paper. “You know the name of Rayne’s school and dance studio, yes?”