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“Why not? She’s smart and beautiful. Seems like she’d be your type.”
Ryker was starting to believe his type was fiery redheads, but wisely kept that comment to himself. “Despite my reputation”—he used air quotes around reputation—“I’ve only dated a few women in the last several years. I flirt, yes, but that’s as far as it goes.”
She jutted up her chin. “Even that can be an issue.”
“True, but despite what you may have heard, I have a sense of time and place. I don’t walk around flirting indiscriminately.”
“Have you noticed the way your smile affects women? Seems pretty indiscriminate to me.”
She sounded annoyed, and Ryker briefly wondered if Hannah was jealous, but that was out of character for her and their relationship. He shoved the thought aside as quickly as it formed. “So smiling is off the table too?”
“No.” She closed her eyes and breathed out. Guilt flickered across her features. “I’m sorry. The question was out of line. It implied you couldn’t keep things professional. That’s not a fair assertion.”
“No, but I understand why you were concerned.” He placed a hand lightly on her forearm. The scent of her perfume—something light and flowery—filled his senses, distracting him momentarily with its enticing fragrance. Heaven help him, the only woman who might serve as a distraction was Hannah herself. “For the record, again, I have only dated a handful of women from the courthouse. All of those relationships were casual. We parted as friends. None of those relationships should cause an issue, even if they are working on this case.”
She bit her lip and nodded. “Okay.” Hannah glanced at the hallway behind him. “We’d better go. There’s Thomas and his attorney.”
* * *
Hannah did her best to compartmentalize the conversation with Ryker to the back of her mind as they continued down the hallway to the courtroom. She peeked at him out of the corner of her eye. He’d handled her question with grace and compassion, which was probably more than she deserved considering the ambush in the elevator. Her concerns might’ve been valid, but she hadn’t handled them well.
She didn’t want to think that jealousy might’ve fueled her response. That was ridiculous. Ryker had never shown the least bit of interest in her. Never flirted with her once. And she didn’t want him to. Except… except she could still feel the warmth of his palm on her arm even though he’d stopped touching her. It’d practically seared itself into her skin through the fabric of her suit.
It was unsettling. Hannah hadn’t even looked at a man twice since her husband died. This attraction to Ryker was ill advised. She needed to get it under control before feelings developed.
Reporters gathered outside the courtroom spotted Hannah approaching and headed straight for her like a mass of swarming bees. Claustrophobia threatened as they pressed around screaming rapid-fire questions she couldn’t answer thanks to the gag order. She hated this.
Ryker placed a steadying hand on the small of her back. His solid presence grounded her as she moved through the throng until they reached the ornate wooden doors where deputies pushed back the crowd to allow entrance into the courtroom. Several more journalists were already seated inside, but per the judge’s rules, didn’t move to ask questions. Some of them had sketch pads. Cameras—thanks to another one of Judge Wingate’s orders—weren’t permitted in the courtroom.
Julie’s mother, Mandy Jackson, stood near the railing separating the public area of the courtroom from the judge’s bench. She twisted a set of tissues in her hand and glared at her former son-in-law who was seated with his lawyer at the defense table. In her other hand, Mandy held two visible photographs. One was of Julie. Her daughter had been a vibrant and beautiful thirty-year-old with a wide smile and sparkling brown eyes. The other picture was a sonogram. The only one taken of Julie’s unborn baby. She’d been eight weeks pregnant at the time of her murder.
Hannah shared a glance with Ryker and headed straight for the older woman. “Mandy, you didn’t need to come to this hearing.”
“Hannah.” Mandy hugged her briefly. “Of course I did. I made a promise to come to everything. For Julie’s sake.”
“I know you miss her very much.” Ryker’s tone was compassionate.
“I’m angry, if you want to know the truth.” Mandy sniffed and wiped at her nose. Her eyes were red-rimmed, as if she’d spent the morning crying. “I couldn’t believe it when I saw someone had broken into your house, Hannah, and attacked you. Then when the journalists talked about that note…” Her expression hardened. “This is Thomas’s doing. He’s trying to wriggle out of being convicted. Please tell me you’re going to fight for my daughter.”
This was one of the hardest parts of Hannah’s job. Dealing with grieving family members who rightly wanted justice took a delicate hand. So much of what happened in the courtroom was out of her control, and there were no guarantees. She was careful not to make false promises. “I’m going to do everything I can for Julie, Mrs. Jackson. Ultimately, it’s the judge—or the jury, if we get that far—who makes the final decision.” She smiled gently. “But I’m not a quitter. You can count on that.”
“Thank you.” The older woman blotted her eyes with the crumpled tissues.
Ryker gestured to a nearby bench. “Come with me, Mrs. Jackson. We’ll sit together.”
Hannah shot him a grateful glance before slipping through the swinging door to the prosecution table. Kristin was already there, laptop open and court documents arranged neatly. She crooked a finger to indicate Hannah should lean closer.
“What are the chances Thomas will win this motion to dismiss?” Kristin asked.
“Not high, but I don’t think that’s the end goal.” Hannah removed a copy of the letter left at her home. The original had been taken into evidence. “His attorney wants to get this admitted into evidence at the trial. It supports the theory that Thomas was approached by a drug dealer to write illegal narcotic prescriptions, and when he refused, his wife was killed in retaliation. Has Jose given you an additional motion?”
“No, but he’s heading this way with something in his hand.”
Hannah glanced up to find Thomas’s attorney, Jose Ortiz, approaching their table. He wore an expensive three-piece suit, his hair cut sharply away from patrician features. As expected, he slid a motion in front of her. “One more small matter we intend to bring up today with the judge.”
She scanned it. As expected, the motion requested the judge allow the letter into evidence. “I’m going to object.”
He shrugged and picked an invisible piece of lint from his jacket. “Then we’ll see how the judge rules.” He shot her a cocky smile. “Come on, Hannah. You can’t possibly win this case. Drop the charges and let’s all go home.”
