Page 4 of Queen of Blades

She grinned at his compliment. “We don’t know that yet.”

Shell casings, video evidence, eyewitness testimony. Harper tried every pretrial motion she could think of to suppress what she could. Unfortunately, what remained was still damning, and no matter how many times she tried, Dwight refused to take a plea deal.

“I have faith in you,” he commented. “You went to that fancy-dancey law school. Got a fucking good job putting away people like me. You know how them lawyers think. If you didn’t win this, no one could have.”

“Thanks.” She nodded.

Dwight was crass, dirty, and a criminal, but that didn’t mean he was without a sweet side. Yes, he was capable of the most heinous things, but he was still a human. Actually, he remained that little kid who wanted nothing more than to hear his outlaw dad say he was proud of him. So many stupid decisions and poor life choices led Dwight to that courtroom. It was sad, really, because she could see that cycle repeating itself withhisson.

One day, someone in his line would break their generational trauma. At least, she hoped.

The door to the courtroom opened, drawing their attention.

Stepping out, the bailiff glanced around. “You can come in now.”

Slinging her purse over her shoulder, Harper stood.

Dwight did the same but took hold of her hand.

Reflexively, Harper recoiled and stared at him as though he were a cobra who had tried to bite her.

Wearing the softest expression she’d ever seen, Dwight scrubbed the back of his neck. “Thank you.”

“Don’t do that yet.” She brushed off his gratitude and stepped toward the entrance of the courtroom.

“No. Really. You didn’t have to come down here and help, but you did. Especially with our history. I want you to know I appreciate it.”

“I didn’t do it for you,” she reminded him.

He hung his head. “How can you still be mad? It’s been like ten years.”

“Twelve,” she corrected. “Not that I’m counting or anything. It’s just how long I’ve been gone.”

“So, you missed me, too, huh?” He smirked.

Rolling her eyes, Harper shook her head. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

In that moment, she’d noticed that he didn’t stink of cheap whiskey, stale cigarettes, or burned plastic.He’s sober.When was the last time she’d seen him clear-eyed? Being shit-faced off your ass was practically a prerequisite to be a member of the Roughneck Riders. Sober Dwight and biker Dwight were two different people. Truth be told, she kind of missed the clean version. He was a good kid.

Unfortunately, that was the rub. He’d been just a kid. Now he was a grown-up, in the adult world, making the wrong mature decisions that carried harsh consequences. That was life.

Who knew how different things could’ve been hadbothof them left the life instead of just her. He might not have followed in his father’s footsteps. What kind of man could Dwight have been had he not wanted to get, or gotten, his patch?

The world will never know.

Sitting at the defense table, Harper straightened her spine and waited for the judge and jury. The charges weren’t against her, but that didn’t mean she didn’t feel like she was the one on trial. It’d been her strategy and her arguments which would determine Dwight’s fate.

He may have shot and killed lots of people, done a bunch of drugs, drank too much, and cheated on her, but he wasn’t all bad. She’d still feel bad if he were sentenced to life in prison, or worse. His kids were innocent, andtheydidn’t deserve to grow up without him.

“All rise for the Honorable Judge William McMunson.”

3

Paul

Phil’sTavern.Ugh.Whyhere? Of all the hole-in-the-wall janky places to get a few drinks, Harper chose Phil’s Tavern. So dark and dingy. Paul was willing to bet the place hadn’t been dusted or cleaned since the day it opened. Why was the floor sticky? Rolling his eyes, Paul scanned the shelves of booze behind the bar. Nothing but low-end swill. He doubted the owner would know an excellent whiskey if it slapped him in the face.

Such an odd place for a celebratory cocktail. Then again, maybe she wasn’t happy with the way the court case had turned out. Absentmindedly, he rotated his shoulder, fighting the stiffness from the old gunshot wound, recalling his last run-in with her client.

---