Page 50 of Blind Justice

Blake steepled his fingers. “If this is a setup—and I believe you when you say it is—then I seriously question your safety. You need to be cautious.”

Noah’s pulse ticked up. “My notes are in a safe location.” He tapped his head. He didn’t tell him Hilton’s thumb drive was in his pocket, and Alex was securing his briefcase with his written notes.

Blake exchanged a glance with Ruth. “Take time off work. And tell Alex Marcel to keep his distance. If someone is pulling strings, we don’t need another target.”

Noah exhaled, everything settling deep in his bones. He turned to Ruth, his voice rougher than before. “Rae, I’m so sorry.”

Her brows knit. “For what?”

His throat tightened. “You’re a target too.”

Blake stood, signaling the end of the meeting. “Alright. It’s late. Ruth, your client looks like he’s about to collapse. Get some food. Get some rest.”

Noah stood stiffly, exhaustion finally catching up to him. Ruth collected the paperwork and led him out of the office.

In the hallway, she glanced at her watch. It had been a long day. Then, she turned to him, eyes warm despite everything.

“Join me for dinner?” She batted her lashes dramatically.

Noah hesitated—then smirked, exhaustion be damned. “Yeah, I could use a good meal.”

She grinned, grabbing her coat. “Perfect. Let’s get out of here.”

* * *

The underground garage was dim,the overhead lights casting long, flickering shadows across the concrete walls as Ruth walked toward her car. Her heels clicked against the pavement, the sound steady and precise. She kept her stride purposeful, her breathing even.

Beside her, Noah was silent. She didn’t have to look at him to know his mind was spinning. He’d been through hell, and it wasn’t over.

As they neared her car, Alex was already waiting.

“Alex, I hate this. Until we figure this out, Blake suggests you keep clear of Noah,” Ruth advised, pausing as she reached for her keys.

“I figured. Ruth, I’ll keep an eye on your mom.” His voice was even, but there was something in his tone—something firm. He faced Noah. “Watch your back.” He sighed. “Let’s transfer your briefcase to Ruth’s car.”

Ruth shot Noah a glance. She knew what Alex was really saying:I’m worried about you. Keep your files close. You can’t risk them being anywhere else.

Noah didn’t argue. He knew.

She stepped aside as Noah and Alex unlocked the trunk and carefully moved the briefcase over. It was heavier than it looked—not only in weight, but in meaning. It held some of the leverage Noah had.

When the trunk clicked shut, she resisted the instinct to reach for Noah, to press a reassuring hand against his arm. He was still so tense, so tightly wound, and she wasn’t sure if he even realized how much of that tension was guilt. Not guilty of the crime, but of involving her.

Alex shook Noah’s hand and kissed Ruth’s cheek. “See you soon.” They watched him walk away.

“So, what are you in the mood for?” she asked instead, deliberately light. “As far as Pierre’s fine dining options go, we have… steak, steak, or more steak.”

Noah let out a chuckle—a real one—and she felt something in her chest ease.

“Steak sounds good.”

“Brayburn’s it is, then.”

The restaurant was warm, inviting, a stark contrast to the day’s events. Dark wood paneling, soft amber lighting, the quiet murmur of conversation all around them—it should have been relaxing. But Ruth could still feel the residual weight of the day hanging over both of them.

They slid into a booth near the back, and the moment they both exhaled—almost in sync—it was clear just how much they’d both been holding in.

“Insane day,” she muttered, adjusting her sling before reaching for her water.

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