Page 1 of Prey for You

PROLOGUE

~ BRIDGET ~

The State calls Bridget Reynolds to the stand.

I barely felt my body as I pushed out of the chair beside Jeremy where we’d been seated behind the prosecution table. My limbs seemed disconnected. On delay. As if I controlled them remotely. I felt nothing. When I sat in the chair on the stand and it swiveled, my heart skipped, but then I caught it and straightened my position to face the court. Other than that, my pulse barely rose.

The doctors would be pleased.

I was vaguely aware of being sworn in, but it was background noise. The TV on in the room when you weren’t paying attention. I couldn’t have told you what words left my mouth. It was all happening in someone else’s world. Surreal.

Gerald told me once they called thisdepersonalization. I asked him how I could train my mind to do it more.

He wasn’t impressed.

The murmuring in the room faded to silence and everything sucked in so tight, all I could hear was the quiet hum of the air conditioning.

Even though I didn’t have any family or friends attending, Sam had several from his church. But there had to be more than fifty people in this room. Press, bloggers, crime-sluts. All of them staring at me, salivating. Like I was a car crash about to happen. Fucking jackals.

Then, my eyes met Sam’s for the briefest second and it was like being yanked through a door. Suddenly, I waspresent.Every sound in the room—murmurs, rustling papers, the air conditioning—rushed in.

My heart began to pound.

Shit.

I turned my attention to the space, ignoring the morbid spectators, forcing myself to focus on the unimportant details. Like… whatever happened to the old-school court rooms with solid wood panels and crown molding? The kind that looked like a scene from a BBC drama?

With its blue carpet and gray walls, this courtroom felt like a 1980s DMV.

“Please state your full name, address, and occupation for the record.”

His voice was so loud in the silence, I startled. Then I had to clear my throat and remind myself thatlegallymy name was still Bridget Reynolds.

Fuck.

“…and… I don’t have a job.”

The lawyer—his name was Derek. He was a big shot Prosecutor. And a total dick—gave me a patronizing smile.

“I’ll be clearer with my terms: What activities do you undertake that result in you receiving funds?”

Ugh. “I have my parent’s life insurance, and I’m kind of a snitch,” I mumbled.

“Snitch?”

I sighed. “I find predators online and feed them to the FBI.”

Derek’s smile grew sharper. “How long have you been a paid informant for the Federal Bureau of Investigation?”

“Almost ten years.”

Derek nodded and looked down at his notes on the podium. “Miss Reynolds, today we’re here in regard to the alleged criminal activity of the Defendant, Samuel James Priestley. Is he here today?”

I had to swallow a snort. “Yes.”

“Can you please identify him for the court?”

I looked at Sam and our eyes locked. For a split second, the courtroom disappeared.

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