Page 72 of Daring You

20

Astor

It’seasy to avoid the reporters.

They’re looking for Altin Yang, the lead attorney for the joint defense of Angel Lopez and José Garcia, not any of his minions.

I round the corner to the front of the courthouse and see the man himself, speaking somberly into the multiple mics shoved in his face. At his right hand, is Mike.

I’d seen Mike in the courtroom, along with Taryn. Altin had made his Hunger Games duo into a triple threat, and the three of us stood by his side as he argued the arraignments of both Lopez and Garcia. Mike kept it professional and so did I. Even he was smart enough not to hiss insults at me in front of Altin, and I wasn’t dumb enough to stoop to his level.

Unsurprisingly, the defendants weren’t granted bail. There was no way the judge was going to allow either of the two to be released on their own recognizance when they have expedited access to Mexico whenever they choose to invoke it.

None of us assumed we’d win. Altin simply wanted to stage a show in front of Spencer Rolfe, to let the state know we wouldn’t go down without a fight.

For once, I’m thankful for Mike wanting to take the spotlight. I have no green feelings about him standing next to Altin and being on national news, broadcasting his grim, serious-lawyer face all the United States. All I want to do is find a car, disappear behind the tinted windows, and leave.

Ben Donahue is Ryan Delaney.

It’s fact. One I’m angry at myself for not seeing sooner, and pissed at hearing from his lips. I’m upset, because I don’t know what to do with it. Him. The man who broke my heart and hid the remnants behind an assumed identity.

I spot a cab idling at the corner, and sprint toward it—an excellent runner in heels. The driver, leaning against the passenger side, flicks his cigarette to the ground and nods that he’ll take my fare.

“Thank God,” I mutter, and slip into the back.

I look up as I’m sliding on my seatbelt, and notice Mike’s attention on me.

His brows furrow, he makes a move to break away from the throng, but I say to the driver, “Drive.”

He turns the engine and we merge into traffic. I pretend deep interest in my phone, refusing to glance anywhere but at the screen…but I feel him, anyway.

As we motor away, I glance back through the rear window. Ben appears from the side of the courthouse, his sports duffel like a blue beacon of light among so much grey brick and black outfits. We lock eyes, but I flip around before he fades into the distance.

I tell myself that my clenched jaw, the hot rise in temperature behind my eyes, are nothing but an expression of stressful overload.

A heart, once broken, can’t break into the same pieces a second time.

I distract myself by reading through Taryn’s texts about an hour ago:

Taryn: At the courthouse. Meet us there, dammit, because Mike is here too. Yang doesn’t need the info yet, but will expect a full briefing after the hearing.

I text Taryn back,Don’t give Yang anything. I made a mistake tracing the funds. I’ll explain when I see you, but whatever you do, do NOT give it to Yang!

Taryn: Ok, but this is why Yang let us come to the arraignment today. An excuse is better than giving him wrong info. I’ll think of something, but you owe me.

Hopefully,this is enough of a delay that I’m gifted the time to figure out my next steps. More people are involved here, not simply Ben and I. There’s Taryn, too.

I glance at my phone when there’s another ding.

Ben: You have to talk to me. I’ll give you time, but don’t give up on me.

Ryan.

I black the screen on my phone and shove it into my tote. Tilt my head back and close my eyes.

Pretend the sounds of the outside city traffic and screaming sirens isn’t my world crashing down on my shoulders.

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