Page 27 of Throttle

“Perhaps it’s not my time.” I return his sinister stare.

He sucks air between his teeth. “Don’t worry. We still have plenty of time to right these wrongs.”

Choosing to ignore his statement, I pull a folder from my bag, slapping it onto the table. He doesn’t take his eyes off me, refusing to spare the documents a glance.

“We may have found some grounds for an appeal. Despite your efforts to… end our professional relationship, I’ve continued working on your case.”

He stares at me for a long while before chuckling, as if he finds me amusing. “Look at you. So pretty, yet so naïve. Such a waste.” He shakes his head, casting me a look of pity. “I warned you what would happen if you let me down. And that’s exactly what you did. So why would you spend your remaining days on earth working on some fucking appeal?” He glances at the folder between us. “Should’ve been getting your affairs in order. Saying goodbye to your loved ones.”

“Are you threatening me right now?” I snap, fighting to keep my emotions in check.

He shrugs. “Nah. Just making a helpful suggestion, counselor.” He glares at me, hate radiating off him as he silently wishes me dead. “I think we’re done here. I’ll see you inside.”

Tony looks away and I don’t wait for him to say anything else. He doesn’t want to file an appeal? That’s fine by me. I only offered to try because I’d do it for any client and the firm’s partners practically demanded I do so. We wouldn’t have gotten it anyway. Besides, according to Tony, I won’t be around much longer, let alone be available to make a filing on his behalf. My time will be much better spent figuring out a solution that doesn’t involve me going into hiding for the rest of my life.

I gather my belongings and leave the room, refusing to acknowledge my client when he calls out my name. I finally found a reason to start living instead of being stuck in a boring routine. Tony and his thugs will not take that away from me. I’m not going down without a fight, and this is one I won’t be losing.

I spend the remaining time before the hearing pacing in front of Throttle as he stands against the wall, his watchful gaze never leaving me. He tries to calm my nerves a few times but I’m too wound up. Eventually, he hands me a bottle of water, since I haven’t had anything to drink in a while. When I finish it, he pulls me into his arms, keeping me still and making me relax. I melt into him and bury my face in his shirt, inhaling his slightly sweet, woodsy scent.

This man and his club will protect me, I remind myself. I’m safe as long as I stay right here.

But for how long? Will I ever be able to walk freely out in public again? Or do I have to stay hidden away at the Disciples’ clubhouse? Will Throttle follow me everywhere like he does now? He may enjoy being with me, but he’ll grow tired of being my constant shadow.

Stop it, Sienna. None of that matters right now.

A warm palm caresses my lower back and I stop pacing. “It’s time to head inside,” Throttle announces and I glance at the clock overhead.

We’re right on schedule, and for once, I wish we were running late. Exhaling a shaky breath, I smooth out my skirt and brush a hand over my loose curls. He presses a quick kiss to my lips and I smile weakly in return.

“Piece of cake.” I can only hope that’s true.

“You can do this. I’ll be right here the whole time.” Throttle cups my face, willing me to believe him, and I almost do.

I’m an excellent attorney, but I’m in uncharted territory here. And everything is complicated by having a deranged client, who’s bound and determined to exact his revenge on me as if I were the one who killed those people and not him. He’s in this mess because of his own doing and that is not my fault. Unfortunately, that doesn’t change my situation and my time is up.

Let’s get this shitshow on the road.

With my shoulders back, I turn and walk inside the courtroom, taking my place at the defendant’s table. A moment later, two guards escort Tony down the main aisle, then remove his handcuffs. My client looks as though he’s at a dinner party, his eyes scanning the room and winking at various people.

Sick bastard.

When he stands next to me, his pupils darken and he shoots me a villainous look. This man despises that I’m still breathing and I have no doubt someone will pay for that mistake. He doesn’t say a word as he slouches into the wooden chair, acting as if he can’t be bothered to acknowledge my presence. I keep my distance, but I can still feel the anger radiating off him.

If there is a god in heaven, please expedite this process so I can get the hell out of here.

Judge Michaels arrives and we begin with oral statements. The victims’ families and the prosecutor have their chance to say their peace, using the opportunity to bring up every misdeed Tony has ever done or is suspected of doing. Most of what they mention are allegations and speculation, but no one cares. It doesn’t change the fact that this man is as evil as they come.

When it’s my turn to speak, I do my damnedest to paint Tony in a positive light. But we all know every good deed this man has carried out has only been to benefit him and no one else. He doesn’t even bother to take his opportunity to plead for mercy or leniency. He knows what he’s done, just as much as the rest of us. And he isn’t the least bit remorseful. In fact, I’m sure he’d kill those people all over again if given the chance. The only thing he likely regrets is getting caught. Well, that and having me for an attorney. Although there isn’t a lawyer west of the Mississippi who could have gotten him off on this one.

“Anthony Thomas Bertelli, I hereby sentence you to twenty-five years to life for each count, to be served consecutively.” Judge Michaels bangs his gavel, and the world falls away as blood rushes through my ears, drowning out all noise.

A shiver runs down my spine as I sense Tony turning his focus to me. His punishment is no surprise to anyone, least of all him. He’s just hell-bent on making someone else pay for it.

He leans toward me. “If I go down, you go down with me,” he whispers the threat he gave me a few weeks ago. As if I’d forget the words that have haunted me ever since.

I’m frozen in place until a loud scraping sound causes me to jolt when Tony’s chair legs drag across the floor. I quickly create space between me and my client while court officers move in to take Tony away.

A demented smile plays on his lips as he shuffles across the room in restraints, heading off to spend the rest of his life behind bars, where he belongs. But instead of secretly rejoicing that one less villain will be roaming the streets of Carnage—even if said villain was my client—dread washes over me. Because once I walk out of those doors and hit the outside world, I know Tony’s thugs will be waiting to finish what they started.

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