Page 76 of Drilled

I laughed. The relief that swept through me was cathartic. This wasn’t just about keeping my house and sticking it to my mother. The letter itself proved that Uncle Ricky really had been in my corner the entire time. He’d been my only ally growing up, and he was still watching out for me now.

“Laney, I think you should take the rest of the day off. You can leave everything to me, I’ll take care of it,” Nance said, one hand planted firmly on my desk.

I hissed a breath through my teeth, running my hand through my hair. “I would but I still have a preliminary hearing I need to get through first.”

Her eyes went wide. “Ah. I forgot. Well, I’d ask you to tell Dax I wish him luck but with you as his lawyer, he won’t need it,”

I smiled. Just as Nance turned to leave, I called her back. She paused with her hand on the doorframe.

“I really am lucky to have you in my life. You’re genuinely one of my favorite people ever,” I told her.

Her eyes flashed and she looked momentarily stunned. But as expected, she recovered quickly. Wiggling her eyebrows, she shot back, “It’s a short list but I’ll take the compliment anyway. Back at you, Counselor.”

*

Courtroom 402 smelled of wet wool and institutional floor wax. It was filled with the familiar low hum of public defenders murmuring to nervous clients. Mine was God knows where.

The judge was a tiny, shrewd-looking woman with sharp glasses who kept glancing at the clock. I chewed the inside of my cheek, counting down the seconds until she banged her gavel.

“Case number 26-CR-0894, State of Illinois versus Dax Miller. Miss Whittaker, where is your client? We are moving to the end of the call,” she said, voice clipped.

I stood up from my spot at the otherwise empty defense table and adjusted my blazer to hide the tremble in my hands. I’d dealt with late clients before, and I’d dealt with no-show clients before. There was no reason to start feeling nervous now.

“Your Honor, I ask for the Court’s brief indulgence before we call a warrant,” I said, keeping my voice steady and projecting clear across the bench. “Mr. Miller is currently en route. He was instructed to stop by the clerk’s office first to obtain a stamped copy of the newly amended bail conditions. There seems to be a bottleneck at the lower filing windows this morning.”

The judge peered over her reading glasses as she marked her docket sheet. “I’ll give you until the end of the call. If your client isn’t standing at the defense table by the time I finish the traffic cases, I’m issuing a failure-to-appear warrant and a bond forfeiture. Next case, clerk.”

I sat down again with a huff, trying to telepathically drag Dax to the courtroom by his nuts if need be. Five minutes may not seem like much to the average person, but in court it could be the difference between winning and losing your case. But if I dug a little deeper, below the annoyance was fear.

I was holding out for tardiness, but what if he truly didn’t show up today? I put enough faith and trust in him to stand here today. My gut told me he was innocent but now. I questioned everything. Dax had been forced to forge a life for himself that pushed him firmly outside of the law. What if that way of life was too deeply ingrained in him?

I knew how hard it was to remove myself from the obligation I felt towards my own cruel mother. Dax was choking on guilt over his family. If he couldn’t push that aside, it was going to swallow him whole and the thought of that happening made me anxious. I’d told him to prioritize his own well-being, but—

The clerk called the last case on the docket and the judge’s eyes snapped directly back to me. She eyed the empty seat next to me with distaste. “Alright, Miss Whittaker, that is the end of the call. Your client is officially a no-show. State, are you moving for a bond forfeiture warrant?”

The prosecutor stood up immediately, nodding. “Yes, Your Honor. The State moves for a failure-to-appear warrant and asks for bond to be set at fifty thousand dollars straight.”

I closed my eyes, rooting around my brain for any last Hail Mary but nothing came to mind. We were done. I started to pack up my things, but just as the judge raised her gavel, the wooden doors at the back of the courtroom burst open with a loud thud.

Dax strode past the gallery, breathing hard like he’d run to get here. A stray drop of rain rolled down his sharp jaw as he slipped through the wooden bar and took his place beside me at the defense table.

He mouthed a low, breathless, “Sorry!”

He’d pay for this later. For the time being, I didn’t even blink. The instant his shoulder brushed against mine, my reflexes kicked in and my mind sharpened its focus.

“Your Honor, the defense is present,” I said smoothly, stepping forward to block the state’s prosecutor before he could open his mouth. “And given the State’s blatant inability to produce the forensic lab results for the alleged evidence packaging this morning, we are moving for an immediate, expedited trial date. My client is a working man, Your Honor. He has completely complied with his bond conditions and we are ready to clear his name next week.”

The judge stared between us for a long second, her gavel hovering an inch above the sound block before she slowly lowered it. “Very well, Miss Whittaker. I’m setting this for an expedited bench trial next Thursday at nine A.M. sharp. Mr. Miller, you’re lucky your counsel knows how to stall. Case passed.”

As we turned to step away, Dax let out a low, rough breath. A slow, genuinely stunned grin broke out across his usually deadpan face, his eyes locking onto mine with a new level of heat.

“Holy shit, Whittaker,” he murmured, his voice a deep, gravelly vibration that sent a thrill straight down my spine. “You’re a literal shark in a skirt. I’ve never seen anyone dominate a room like that.”

Before I could lob back a retort, Dax swept me into his arms right there in the courtroom and kissed me. My face burned as we pulled apart and I made sure to avoid making eye contact with anyone else in the room as he dragged me outside and to his waiting Streetfighter.

The rain had stilled to a light drizzle, and the ride back home was exhilarating. When we reached the Graystone, I could hear Silas’s music blasting from the curb. I raised my eyebrows at Dax and he merely smirked at me.

Inside, the renovation was in full, chaotic swing. TLC was playing from a set of speakers Sy must’ve brought to the site today, and he sang along as he worked. Bear was straddling a ladder while violently forcing a fresh sheet of greenboard against the damp ceiling joists while Sy, drenched in sweat, was down on his knees using a nail gun to rapidly lock the new plywood subfloor down into the concrete pit.