Page 42 of Breakaway

“Andi?” There’s an edge to the way he says my name, so any relief I felt from hearing his voice evaporates in an instant. “Shit, sweetheart. I’m stuck in traffic, thirty minutes out. I called dispatch to figure out what the fuck is going on, and it looks like a fender-bender is blocking the road.” My mouth is suddenly dry, my entire body breaking out in a cold sweat. I barely register Briggs taking the phone from me.

“I’m sorry, Detective Hardass. Did I hear that right? Surely not. You most certainly aren’t saying that you’re running behind, and now we’re expected to wade through the cesspool of news reporters because our inside man, who was supposed to be taking us through an alternate entrance, left something as simplistic as traffic up to chance?” Briggs grows angrier with every word he spits, the vein along his temple thumping in tune with his rage.

“I can’t control shitty drivers!” Raiden shouts, his own worry and frustration bleeding through his typically calm demeanor. “Andi, I need you to listen to me,” he starts, waiting until he hears my grunt of confirmation, the only sound I seem to be capable of making at the moment. “You’ve got this. Keep your head held high and walk right on by like they don’t exist. Don’t pay them any mind. Think of something else entirely. Head to Courtroom 2 and I’ll be there as soon as I can. Briggs won’t leave your side, and he damn sure won’t let anyone get within touching distance.” I don’t need to glance in his direction to know that Briggs is wearing a determined expression, his energy overflowing with fierce protectiveness.

“Okay.” I finally manage to speak, my stomach twisted into knots and threatening to expel the donut I just scarfed down.

“Atta girl,” Raiden praises, but the hitch in his voice is telling. He’s pissed at himself for things not going to plan, but it’s not his fault.

“Get here quickly,” Briggs demands, ending the call before I can say goodbye. I watch in a daze as he sends a text to the group chat and stores our phones in his glove compartment, then exits the SUV before coming around to my side. I shiver at the breeze that greets me when he opens the door. A moment later, he turns my body to face him and cups my cheeks tenderly. “Look at me. This isn’t worth it if it’s going to cause you to have a panic attack. There’s more to consider here than just yourself.” His gaze drops to my stomach, as if I need to be reminded of the baby growing inside of me.

“I know you want to face your past and put those demons to rest, but you have to weigh the consequences, Angel. If this is going to hurt you in any way, I will toss you over my goddamned shoulder and force you out of there. Understood? I’m dead serious, Andi. If I catch the faintest hint of reluctance in your body language, I’ll call this whole thing off.” I try my best to glare at him indignantly, but I’m certain it falls flat. My ire is no match against Briggs’ determination.

“I’ll be fine,” I choke out, forcing my nerves into submission as I take his offered hand.

My grip grows tighter as we make our way across the parking lot. It doesn’t take long for our arrival to become the focal point of all the journalists clamoring for a career-defining piece. Their chatter sounds like TV static, grating and loud, but I diligently follow Raiden’s instructions and plow through the crowd without offering their starved curiosity a single crumb to fight over. Questions are hurled at me from every direction, but any time one of them steps too close or asks me something particularly invasive, Briggs is there to act as a barrier, his menacing glare causing them to scurry away.

“Fucking vultures,” he swears, pushing through the heavy doors of the courthouse. We breeze through security, then take a moment to study the directory in the lobby. Once we’ve figured out where we need to go, Briggs takes my hand and leads us down several hallways and up a flight of stairs. I’m so anxious, I can’t be bothered to keep up with how many turns we’ve taken, trusting he’ll get us where we need to be while my thoughts are a million miles away. There’s a small group of people waiting outside the courtroom for the doors to be opened, so Briggs leads us over to a private alcove to avoid any curious stares.

“You doing okay, Angel?” he murmurs, keeping his worry between the two of us.

“As good as I can be,” I whisper, resting my head against the wall. I close my eyes, taking a minute to pull myself together. I have no idea how long I stand there, breathing deeply and reminding myself of why I feel the need to do this, but when I straighten and blink my eyes open, the first thing my blurry vision lands on makes my lungs burn from oxygen deprivation. I stumble, my knees going weak at the sight of Ada Stillwater standing fifteen feet in front of me, a smartly dressed man gripping her elbow. My panicked movement draws Briggs’ attention instantly, but it also puts me in Ada’s sights.

She glances up, our two-toned eyes colliding. Unconsciously–instinctively–my hand goes to my stomach, as if I can protect my child from the very presence of her. She tilts her head, eyeing my peculiar behavior with a keenness that has bile burning the back of my throat. I watch in horror as realization washes over her face, a twisted smirk quirking her lips. My stomach sinks, an icy rush of fear flooding my veins at what I’ve just revealed to such a despicable human being.

“Angel?” Briggs dips down, trying to catch my eye. “What’s wrong? What’s got that look on your face?” He spins around, glaring daggers at every person who dares to look in my direction. I push him aside, rushing towards the bathroom we passed on our way in. I barely make it through the door before I shove a stall open and drop to my knees. Everything I’ve eaten over the past twenty-four hours makes a reappearance. Briggs follows, not caring in the slightest that he’s in the women’s restroom, and gently lifts my hair so it’s not in the way.

“Morning sickness?” he questions, softly stroking my spine. A choked laugh tumbles out of me, but quickly morphs into a broken sob. “Hey.” His alarmed voice penetrates my panic as he scoops me off the floor, his chest to my back as he walks us towards the sink. I rinse my mouth, too blindsided and shell-shocked to be embarrassed about my current state. “Talk to me, Angel.” I peel my eyes open, meeting his concerned stare in the mirror.

“Ada Stillwater,” I whisper hoarsely, her name alone inciting a riot of emotions, but mainly dread. “Tobias’ mother. She’s here. She saw me, Briggs. I didn’t mean to, but I touched my stomach. And like the bloodhound she is, she homed in on the movement instantly. She knows. That evil, demented woman knows I’m carrying her gran…” He cuts me off, his hand covering my mouth before I can finish saying the word.

“She is nothing to this baby,” Briggs swears vehemently, his fingers spreading across my stomach and cradling it protectively. “That bitch won’t ever have the honor of being called any variation of the title. She’s a mockery of the fucking name. We can leave right now. Just say the word, and I’ll get you the hell out of here. It’s one thing to face Tobias; you were prepared to see him. But you never signed up to deal with his psychotic ass mother.”

He patiently waits for me to gather my scattered thoughts, and when I finally straighten and meet his gaze, the fear I felt from Ada’s unexpected appearance begins to abate. It’s still there, a low simmer heating my insides, but it’s no longer the raging inferno that completely immobilized me. Determination fills the cracks her presence has caused in my armor, so I drag in a deep breath and steel my spine, knowing it would only excite her to see me cowering in the shadows.

“The damage is done,” I start, fisting my trembling hands. As supportive as Briggs has been when deferring to me in certain situations, I wouldn’t put it past him to overrule my stubborn nature and whisk me away if he thinks for one second that my health, or the baby’s, is at risk from the stress this case is causing. “Nothing would entice Ada more than to see me tuck tail and run. I refuse to give her that kind of power. As you said, she has no claim on this child. No more than Tobias does. Whatever scheming and plotting she’s undoubtedly doing, it won’t change the outcome of her involvement.” I sag against the wall, the weight of the day pressing heavily on my shoulders, and it’s barely begun.

“In that case,” Briggs states, ripping a paper towel from the dispenser before dampening it with a bit of water. “We can’t have you going out there looking anything less than unbothered.” He swipes beneath my eyes, removing any mascara that started to run while I was losing the contents of my stomach. Next, he pulls a tin of mints from his pocket and offers me one. I gladly take several, flashing him an appreciative smile. “Ready?” he asks, nodding towards the hallway, the sound of voices growing as I take a few more seconds to shore up my defenses.

I nod, mustering up a smile that belies my confidence, and say, “Let’s go.”

Briggs takes my hand, his touch a comforting reassurance that I’m no longer alone. Our arrival is timed perfectly with a security officer ushering us inside the courtroom. I don’t see Ada, but I have no intention of actively seeking her out. If I never lay eyes on that woman for the rest of my life, it’ll be too soon. As planned, we seat ourselves at the very back, hoping to fly under the radar as much as possible. I fixate on the clock mounted behind the bench, counting down the seconds as I wait for Raiden to join us. It ticks away, but there’s still no sign of him. Right when I’ve given up hope, the door creaks open, drawing my attention.

My relieved exhale is cut short, replaced with shock and confusion as I finally catch sight of the late arrival. Seth saunters in, taking a seat on the opposite side of the aisle, his gaze focused straight ahead, completely oblivious to the two of us. Brows furrowed, I tap Briggs’ thigh to get his attention. Leaning forward, he follows my line of sight, looking just as perplexed as I do. Last I heard, from what little correspondence we’ve exchanged recently, Seth wasn’t planning to attend today’s hearing. Hudson has therapy on the opposite side of town that conflicted with the timing, and while his sessions are private, I’ve never known his father to venture beyond the waiting room.

Nothing about his appearance leads me to believe that he woke up this morning with plans to be here. And if he did, his choice in attire was certainly given the least amount of consideration possible. The buttons of his flannel long-sleeve shirt are askew, haphazardly thrown together with a pair of heavily faded blue jeans. While it’s arguably not the traditional clothing one would grace a courtroom with, something tells me that Seth’s lack of effort regarding his wardrobe is a direct reflection of how he feels about Tobias–a waste of time and energy. Before I can wave him over to sit with us, his body grows rigid, hushed whispers filling the room.

As if I can sense his presence, my eyes are drawn towards the sound of shuffling, my breath hitching at the sight of Tobias being ushered inside the courtroom through a side entrance. He’s flanked by an officer and, presumably, his lawyer, hands cuffed in front of him, but no restraint in the world would ever allow me to feel a modicum of safety when forced to share space with him. A whimper escapes me unbidden, causing Briggs to shift uncomfortably, his fingers gripping my thigh and squeezing in an effort to ground me. I close my eyes and count to ten, pushing aside the persistent need to flee.

I have no recollection of what’s said over the next few minutes, only tuning back in when Tobias is instructed to stand and address the judge. Despite knowing what his intentions are, it doesn’t make it any less painful when he actually voices it. As expected, he declines his right to a speedy trial. My stomach tightens when I think of the ramifications, how long this could be drawn out because of his cowardice. A few more words are exchanged between the legal teams, but I’m no longer present mentally. Maybe if I had been more attuned to my surroundings—to Seth, in particular—I could’ve prevented the macabre scene that plays out in a matter of seconds.

As Tobias is being led from the courtroom, Seth uses the momentary distraction to his benefit, lifting the firearm fastened to the officer’s side who’s been tasked with guarding the main door. Faster than my brain can process, and with expert precision and aim, he fires the weapon, lodging a bullet between Tobias’s eyes. The last thing I see before Briggs covers my body with his own is the spray of blood painting the pristine white walls of the courtroom. My ears are ringing, but mixed with all the screaming and chaos taking place is the unmistakable sound of a second gunshot. A devastated scream claws its way up my throat, because I know, with absolute certainty, that Seth was the intended target.

I try my hardest to push Briggs off of me, hoping by some miracle, if I can just get to Seth, that maybe, just maybe, he can still be saved. My effort is futile when pitted against the heavy form covering me protectively, refusing to budge, regardless of my begging and pleading. My screams mix with the din of others who’ve just witnessed the gruesome murder of a man who deserved far worse, but my cries are for the broken father who just took the law into his own hands and orphaned his child. If there was ever a question of whether Tobias still held even the tiniest shard of my heart, this moment obliterates any doubt.

Instead of mourning the first man I ever loved, the person he was before being enticed by greed and power, I’m grieving Seth Taylor. For Hudson, who’s going to lose the only parent he has left, either through death or imprisonment. Somehow, the harsh, shaken voice of another officer pulls me from my panicked thoughts, and I belatedly register his shout for us to exit through the judge’s chambers. Briggs immediately goes into fixer mode, lifting me from the small space where we were sheltered between the rows of benches. Predicting my next move, he sweeps me off my feet, pressing my face to his chest as he carries me from the room.

“Don’t look, baby,” Briggs implores, his voice catching painfully. “Jesus, fuck, don’t look.” His heartbroken plea confirms my worst fear.