Page 2 of Embrace Me Darkly

She bit back a grin. “Yes, sir.” She hesitated before walking away. “There’s a group of us meeting at Probation. Join us?”

He scoffed. “Are you kidding? I need to clean up my office and review some other case files.”

She rolled her eyes, then started toward the exit.

“Constantine.”

She paused, turning to look back over her shoulder, her brows rising in question.

“You should call your mother. She’ll have heard by now. And she’ll be proud.”

“Sure,” Sara said, then turned and hurried away, wishing Porter hadn’t mentioned her mother. Not today when Sara was riding high on the verdict. Her mother had never once commented on Sara’s career, neither to congratulate or intervene. As far as Sara could tell, she wanted as far away from the world of criminal law as she could get. Which meant as far away from Sara, too.

So, no. Sara wouldn’t be calling. If Deborah Constantine wanted to congratulate her daughter—hell, if she wanted to give any sign that she remembered she even had a daughter—she could make that call herself.

But it would be a cold day in hell, Sara knew, before that would happen.

* * *

As far as Sara knew, the local dive bar, Probation, had been tucked away on Hill Street since the beginning of time. Or at least since the first courthouse was built in downtown Los Angeles. With its narrow etched-glass windows, dark wood exterior, and heavy doors engraved with the scales of justice, there was no mistaking the place as anything but a hangout for attorneys and cops.

For Sara, it had become a second home, a place her mentor had brought her after that first exhilarating day as an intern at the District Attorney’s office back when she’d been a 2L. The bar had been the icing on an already tasty cake. A respite from the intensity of the work, but still surrounded by people who understood her drive and dedication. Her need to guard the lines that kept the world safe. And to punish those who crossed them.

Now, Probation was as comfortable as her own condo. And since it was only two blocks from home, at least as convenient. She tugged open the door, then stepped over the threshold as she closed her umbrella, laughing and smiling as everyone in the bar started to call out various incarnations ofWay to go, Constantine!

She did a self-congratulatory spin as the room burst into applause, but it was Petra Tsang who topped off the celebratory cake when she let loose with a piercing whistle guaranteed to get everyone’s attention. “To my bestie,” she shouted, gesturing toward Sara with a gloved hand that extended from a long-sleeved tee. “A kickass lawyer who got a jury to convict in two hours. That’s barely enough time to elect a foreman. And boom, smash, Xavier Stemmons goes doooown. This woman is amazing. I’d marry her if she weren’t so damn tall!”

“Get in line!” That from Manny Hernandez, her office-mate since her first day on the job, and he’d made no secret that he was attracted to Sara. It wasn’t mutual, but considering how much her body was humming with victory, the allure of a little friends-with-benefits action couldn’t be denied.

“Don’t even think it,” Petra whispered as she reached Sara’s side. Sara rolled her eyes. They’d met during Sara’s sophomore year of college, when Sara had interned for a Legal Aid organization, and Petra had been doing volunteer PI work, clocking hours as she worked toward getting her investigator’s license along with a degree in criminal justice. They’d hit it off, and the friendship had blossomed from there. Usually, Sara thought that was a good thing. Right then, she thought that Petra knew her too damn well.

“Not going there, and you know it.” Over the last three or so years, the thrill she used to get from self-medicating with a one-night stand had faded. Sara knew that was a good thing, but that knowledge didn’t ease the constant ache inside her, like the pain of a phantom limb.

“Not with Manny, maybe,” Petra continued, cocking her head so that Sara followed her further away from the table. “But I wouldn’t be your bestie if I didn’t point out thathe’shere again.” Petra said the last with a flourish and a significant nod toward the bar.

Sara followed her gaze, her chest tightening when her eyes found the man sitting on the other side of the dark room. Unlike most of the men in Probation, he wasn’t wearing a suit. Instead, he wore jeans and a crisp white button down. His dark hair had a hint of curl, and was just long enough to graze his shirt collar. It gleamed in the light, and Sara could imagine the feel of the strands, soft between her fingers. The fantasy was so tactile it felt like a memory, and she held her breath as he turned to look right at her, his face chiseled perfection. She held his gaze, then looked away, unnerved by her body’s visceral response to this man.

“A friend of yours?”

Sara jumped at the familiar voice behind her, then turned to face the man. “Dan. Hi. I wasn’t expecting to see you tonight.” A lawyer with a football player’s body, Dan Cummings had spent the better part of her career asking her out. He’d finally worn her down, but after three months of dating and stress-relieving screwing, she’d ended it right before Stemmons’ two-month-long trial began. And before he could start making noises about getting serious.

His dark eyes studied her. “Do you think I’m that petty? You blew it out of the park.”

“That’s high praise from a public defender.” She shrugged out of her suit jacket and tossed it over the back of a chair, relishing the cool air on her bare arms, revealed in the silk tank top.

“Yeah, well, I’m glad he wasn’t my client. Stemmons was garbage. A monster. He—”

“No.” The word came out with more force than Sara had intended, and suddenly all eyes at the table were on her. “No,” she repeated, softer but with no less force. “Don’t you dare give him an excuse. A monster? There are no monsters.”

Dan laughed. “Hello? Aren’t you the woman who wrote your undergraduate thesis on vampire folklore?”

“I did. There’s a wellspring of insight into humanity hiding in tales of the supernatural. But that’s fiction. Monsters? Please. The monsters hiding under your bed are just the personification of our human fears and guilts. Stemmons is as human as I am. As you are. And he’s evil.”

She held his gaze, silently daring him to argue. A moment passed, then Dan sighed, shaking his head. “You’re right. But what he did to those girls….” He shuddered, the horror thick in his voice. “I do my job because everyone deserves representation, not because they’re innocent. But if Stemmons had come to me, I wouldn’t have taken his case.”

Thick tension hung over their table, the eyes of the other attorneys on them.

“You would have,” Sara finally said. “Because you’re good at your job, and that’s how the system works. And you know I respect you for it.”

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