Page 12 of Dirty Judge

THE POWER OF A JUDGE, PUBLIC OFFICIAL OR A PRIVATE PARTY TO MAKE DECISIONS ON VARIOUS MATTERS BASED ON HIS/HER OPINION WITHIN GENERAL LEGAL GUIDELINES.

LIAM

Iwaited until Miss Spencer disappeared before deciding that dinner could wait until later.

Returning inside the courthouse, I headed to my chambers and shut the door.

I opened my laptop and pulled up her driving record, wondering if maybe—just maybe—I’d ruled with clouded judgment.

At first, only a few infractions appeared. They were just the previous warrants I’d sent and this year’s violations.

Then another row of ten.

Then another.

Then another.

What the hell…

By the time the full page finished populating, there were eighty-six documented citations, and half of them were for the simplest things.

Failure to use a turn signal, failure to come to a complete stop at a stop sign, failure to slow at a yellow light.

There were five citations for jaywalking, four for a broken taillight, and three for illegal U-turns.

It’s like she’s allergic to every single traffic law.

By the time I read through her fiftieth “warning,” I realized that if anything, I was far too lenient today. And I should’ve suspended her license for life.

“Judge Ashton?” Mara knocked on my door. “Are you in there?”

“I am,” I said. “Come in.”

She opened the door and leaned against the frame.

“I could’ve sworn I saw you leave to get us some food.”

“Us?”

“Yes,us.”

“Only one of us is an assistant, Mara…”

She rolled her eyes, confirming that she was the only person on this staff whom I would ever let get away with that. She’d been with me long before I became a judge and she could practically get away with anything.

Except murder.

“Whatever came up must be important,” she said. “So can I have a few minutes of your time?”

“You can have exactly three.”

“Thank you.” She shut the door and handed me a sheet of paper. “Mister New Yorkwants you for its annual ‘Men of Manhattan’ feature—cover shoot and all.”

“I’m not interested,” I said. “For the sixteenth time.”

“They know that, but they’re not taking ‘no’ for an answer this time,” she said. “They’re going to run a third-person versionof your story, and they’re willing to use your official swearing-in photo if you don’t agree to an interview.”

“Tell them there are plenty of other judges and lawyers they can use,” I said. “Give them my list. Start with?—”