Page 5 of Salem's Fall
I suppress the twinge of annoyance that flares in my gut. Because of my age, looks, and gender, powerful men like this are always assuming I’m a secretary. Normally, I might say something to put the man in his place, but seeing as I’m already on thin ice, I decide not pissing off such an important client is the smart move.
“No problem.” I go to stand, but Quinn puts a warm hand on my shoulder, pushing me down.
“James is my associate,” he says. “Not your errand girl.”
“Oh, I see.” Damien exhales a quiet chuckle, the sound low and deliberate. “My apologies.”
There’s an unspoken tension in the room as the two men exchange looks. Whatever history exists between Quinn and Damien, it’s clear they’re not fond of each other.
“It’s fine, Quinn. I don’t mind,” I say, trying to ease the tension. I turn to give Damien a forced smile. “I need a cup myself anyway.”
“Let’s begin, then, shall we? We don’t have much time before the hearing,” Quinn says, steering the conversation back to business as I walk over to the drink setup and grab three heaping mugs of coffee for everyone. “Let’s go over the basics. What do you know about the state’s case against you?”
Damien leans back in his chair, settling in. “Not a whole lot. They told me last night I’ve been charged with first-degreemurder, as you know.” His tone is casual, as if he’s discussing the weather. “They didn’t say much else.”
I return with everyone’s drinks and take my seat next to Quinn.
“Today is just the arraignment and bail hearing,” Quinn explains as he studies the file and shuffles through paperwork, going over the arrest report. “The judge will inform us of the specific charges. We’ll argue for bail. The District Attorney is going to push hard against it given the severity of the charges. Don Smith is a slimy shark, and he’s going to fight for all he’s worth on this case—you may have heard he’s gunning for Attorney General? He’s going to see you as his steppingstone to that, but we have some strong points in our favor.”
Damien raises an eyebrow. “Such as?”
“You have no prior criminal record,” Quinn says, reading from his hearing notes now. “You’re a prominent businessman with strong ties to the community. We’ll be able to argue that you’re not a flight risk and pose no threat to the public.”
“And do you think you’ll win?”
Quinn’s shoulders straighten, a cocky grin on his lips. “I’ve never lost a bail hearing, and I don’t intend to start today.”
Damien studies Quinn for a moment, his fingers tapping idly against the table, a slow, deliberate rhythm.
“You sound confident. I hope you’re right,” he says.
“I know Judge Matheson well,” Quinn says. “She’s tough but fair, and she’s got a soft spot for me. I was on crew with her son at Princeton, and she’s close with Dad.”
“Ah, Senator Kensington. Hope your father is doing well these days.” Damien glances at me again, the intensity of his gaze warms my skin, unwelcome and electric. “And you, James? How are you finding all of this? I imagine a violent murder trial is a bit… unsavory.”
There’s something in his voice, something taunting, challenging, like a cat playing with its meal.
“I enjoy felony cases very much, and I’m looking forward to being a part of your legal team. We’ll do everything we can to make sure justice prevails.” I choose my words carefully. It’s against firm policy to promise him a win, but I want to sound confident too, like Quinn sounds.
Damien chuckles softly. “Oh, I imagine you will, James.”
“We’ll meet you in the courtroom, Blackhollow.” Quinn stands and gives Damien a hard look. “I’ve got everything handled. Once we’re in there, don’t speak unless I tell you to.”
“I’ll be on my very best behavior. Don’t worry,” Damien says, giving Quinn a mock salute, but there’s a sharpness behind his smile.
Quinn grabs the police guards who have been waiting patiently outside during our meeting, and we all head together to the courtroom to wait for the judge to arrive.
Quinn and I take our seats at the defense counsel table, Damien sitting between us. My shoulder is mere inches from his, and I can feel the heat radiating off him. His presence is electrifying, a magnetic pull that’s impossible to ignore. I swallow, trying to keep my expression steady, but my pulse thrums in my ears, a mix of nerves.
My first major hearing.
My first go at being Quinn’s second chair.
And, yes, the first time I’ve ever been this close to a man as powerful and intimidating as Damien Blackhollow.
The courtroom quickly begins to fill, and I realize with alarm that word of Damien’s arrest has already spread like wildfire. Every pair of eyes scans the room, the energy palpable. People lean in, whispering in excitement, already building their own narratives.
A few moments later, the District Attorney strides in with his team, looking every bit the bulldog he’s known to be. Don Smith is an older man with a balding head and a broad, thick frame that fills out his suit in a way that’s more solid thanpolished. Despite his slightly rumpled appearance, there’s an undeniable force about him—a kind of intimidating presence that suggests he’s more than capable of tearing through any defense if given the chance.
