Tangled: A New Adult Romance Boxed Set (12 Book Bundle of Billionaires, Bad Boys, and Royalty)

by Lakes, Krista

  Flecks of pink floated to the floor as Stella pulled off more polish. “Well, it was her brother.”

  “If only he’d just...”

  Stella understood. If only Bobby Ray hadn’t been a jerk. If only Dane hadn’t taken the stool. If only Stella hadn’t danced on the bar. Too many things to count.

  “So what are you going to do?” Janine asked. “Just keep working here? Did you go home?”

  “Hell, no. I’m living with Beatrice.”

  “I’m sorry my mom was so awful.”

  Stella kicked at the bits of polish on the floor. “Not your fault.”

  “What can I do?”

  Stella walked over to the counter and pulled her binder from the shelf. “Help me decide where Dane and I should go once he gets out.” She plunked the book on the glass and flipped through the pages. “New York? Bound to be lots of troublemakers there. Dane would seem downright upstanding.”

  Janine fingered the book. “I think New Orleans is the murder capital of the world.”

  Stella’s hand froze over the page.

  “God, I’m sorry. Stella. I’m sorry.” Janine’s face crumpled. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

  Stella closed the book. “No, it’s fine. I started it. And we probably can’t go anywhere anyway. Not until after the trial.”

  “They can’t find him guilty, can they? I mean, Bobby Ray was looking for that fight.”

  “The lawyer said that they wouldn’t be able to go for murder in the end. They wouldn’t win.”

  “Oh, good. Will they just drop the whole thing?”

  Stella shoved the binder back under the counter. “No. But hopefully the jury will see the situation for what it was, and give him probation.”

  “Surely they will. Dane’s a nice guy.”

  Stella braced her elbows on the counter, looking out the window. She could just catch the corner of the courthouse from here. Somewhere inside was Dane, awaiting his fate. As bad as it was for them out here, it had to be so much worse for him in there.

  30

  Hearing

  ––––––––

  “YOU ready for this?”

  Dane glanced up at the barred window. Justin, the new lawyer, grinned at him through the small rectangle. The silver lines in front of his face made him look like he was the one in a cage.

  But he was familiar with the view. For a week he’d mostly just sat there. The jail wasn’t equipped for long-term inmates. He’d had to shower in the officers’ quarters, and meals were brought to him three times a day from the diner down the street, except Sunday morning, when a deputy had arrived with donuts. A sympathetic woman who came to give him a clean set of scrubs brought a newspaper and a crossword-puzzle book.

  Dane stood up, smoothing the jacket and shirt he’d last worn at the funeral. Ryker had brought it by yesterday, although they’d only allowed the brothers the briefest of “Hey” and “You look like shit” before sending him off again. Ryker had managed to say that he was splitting town. The scene was no good, and he felt Joe’s business might suffer if he stayed. Said he’d leave a number with Joe when he got settled again.

  For an hour after Ryker had left, Dane had held the jacket to his face, smelling the traces of perfume still lingering there from when Stella had held on to him at the service. He wanted to smash something after learning Ryker had to leave town, but the smell of her calmed him. He’d only known her two weeks. And barely that. It’s all they’d ever have.

  The door screeched open, and the deputy ushered him into the corridor. Justin strode confidently, animated, and Dane could see that this was the sort of thing he lived for—the thrill of someone else’s life hanging in the balance.

  The deputy stepped behind Dane, cuffing his wrists.

  “What’s that for?” Justin asked.

  “He’s got a history,” the deputy said. “Smith said to bring him in cuffed.”

  “Who is Smith?”

  “The sheriff.”

  Dane tightened his fists. That man from the funeral. Vivian’s stooge.

  “Put him back in the cell,” Justin said. “I’m going to file a continuance instead. I’m not having him go out in cuffs.”

  “Awww, don’t do that,” the deputy said. “Smith will get his panties all in a wad.”

  “Then remove the cuffs.”

  “Hold on just a minute.” The deputy trotted down the short hall and through the locked doors.

  “What was that about?” Dane asked.

  “Not sure. But damned if I’m going to let them make you look like you can’t handle yourself right before we issue a plea.”

  The door swung open again, and the deputy returned, followed by the sheriff from the funeral.

  “That one’s got an ax to grind,” Dane said.

  “Not today.” Justin held out his hand, but the sheriff ignored it.

  The sheriff’s voice was a growl. “He got violent in the interview room. He’s got a history with multiple witnesses. He’s cuffed.”

  “Fine,” Justin said. “Then put him back in the cell. I’ll file a continuance and a request for a change of venue due to prejudice. You guys are poster children for an unfair trial.”

  The sheriff rocked forward, one hand on his belt, the other on his holster. “You city lawyers are all alike. Thinking you can come in here and showboat.”

  “We can indeed,” Justin said. “It’s called balance of justice. Dane, let’s get you settled back in the cell. I’ll see you again in Springfield, or maybe we’ll have to go as far as Columbia or St. Louis. You ever been to St. Louis?”

  The sheriff grumbled low under his breath. “Uncuff him.”

  Justin stepped back so the deputy could release Dane. “Good choice,” he said. “It would have been mighty inconvenient when I had to subpoena you about that funeral. Were you there in an official capacity? Or do you just wear your uniform for fun and intimidation?”

  The sheriff growled again, but Justin took Dane’s arm and led him away. They passed through two more doors, then stood outside the hall that led to the courtroom. “Just be cool,” Justin said. “If you show any emotion on your face, make it be remorse. Otherwise, keep your head down and your hands on the table.”

  Dane would do anything this boy said. He was downright grateful to have the man now. He’d pay Stella back every dime, but this guy was worth it.

  Justin pushed through the door and led them to their table. Dane kept his head down, but still saw Stella, who had positioned herself just behind his chair. His body went on alert, and he didn’t feel in control anymore. He wanted to sweep her up and escape, get out of this hellhole and back onto the open road, knocking aside anyone who got in his way. Even crashing on the banks of a creek had felt better than this.

  He sensed her lean forward, and his back burned with the anticipation that she might reach out and touch him. She was that close. But the bailiff came out and called, “All rise,” so they stood.

  Dane forced himself to think of other things, his mother’s funeral, Joe’s roses, his motorcycle locked up at the impound lot. The old judge entered, his hair flying in wisps around his bare head, and they all sat again.

  The movement sent a waft of perfume his way. Stella. He could barely contain himself, only just able to avoid turning around.

  Suddenly the plea bargain seemed a mistake. Maybe he could get off, avoid doing time.

  But when the sheriff took a staunch position by the witness stand, sneering at Dane in front of the whole courtroom, Dane realized the odds were stacked against him here. His fate had already been decided in some back room. And no Justin or slick city ways were going to change what happened here today. Justin had already made the call. The prosecutor had agreed to the terms. They just had to state the plan and make sure the judge approved the plea.

  The old man shuffled his papers. “I understand you two have come to an agreement.”

  The prosecutor, a large man in a fancy suit, approached the judge and laid a paper
before him. “Daniel Scoffield has agreed to plead guilty to a lesser charge of manslaughter.”

  Dane heard the gasp behind him but could not afford to turn around. This was it.

  The judge looked sternly just behind Dane, then back at the prosecutor. “Was a term agreed upon?”

  “Twelve years, your honor.”

  Dane sensed Stella stand up. “You can’t do that!”

  The judge banged his gavel. “Young lady, take your seat.”

  “But that asshole knifed Dane from behind! You can’t send him to jail for twelve years! It isn’t right!”

  “Take your seat, or you will be removed from this courtroom!”

  Dane could hear shuffling behind him, probably someone trying to calm Stella down. He caught another strong draft of perfume. Bound to be Beatrice. She must have come in after he did.

  He could hear muffled crying, then he caught sight of Stella moving to the center aisle. “I won’t be quiet! This is wrong! You are railroading him because he’s not from here!”

  She was wrong, and Dane wanted to tell her this was his choice. But he sat numbly, staring at his chewed-up hands, scabs from the motorcycle crash flaking off his fingers. Still, in his peripheral vision, he could see her, all dressed up in a black skirt and shiny top.

  Justin stood up then, putting an arm around her. “Stella, calm yourself. Dane arranged this deal. It was his choice.”

  She turned to him then. “What? Why would he do that?”

  “Please sit down,” Justin said. “Let us finish this.”

  But Stella wouldn’t sit down. Her face was bright red. “I hate you! I hate you, you son of a bitch! Stand up for yourself! Do something! Don’t let these people walk all over you!”

  The judge banged the gavel again. “Smith. Get her out of here, and make sure she stays out.” He pointed at Stella. “You’re about to get yourself fined, missy.”

  Smith took Stella firmly by the elbow and led her down the aisle. She turned around, staring at Dane. He tried not to watch, but still moved tightly on his chair so he could see her until they pushed through the doors at the back.

  So she hated him now. That was probably for the best. Now all of them could go on, and hopefully she could find that new city she wanted so bad, and a better life, like they’d never met at all.

  *

  Stella’s feet looked warped and pale against the bottom of the kiddie pool. She’d been soaking them for an hour in Beatrice’s backyard, trying to get the ache out from wearing those tight pumps.

  So much for her whole attempt at reinventing herself, dressing respectably in long skirts and nice clothes, no more Flashdance or micro-minis or jelly flats. She’d still blown up in a courtroom, and now her feet were raw and sore, her shirt untucked as she sat among grass and weeds and dirt like the common girl she had always been.

  The back door slammed, and Beatrice settled in a splintering lawn chair.

  Stella wiggled her toes, bright with pink polish. “What are you doing with a kiddie pool anyway?”

  The chair groaned with the weight of her boss, and Stella hoped it would hold together.

  Beatrice kicked off her own shoes. “I got a cute little niece.”

  “In Holly?”

  “Nah. Up in Jefferson City. She came down over the summer, though.”

  “Oh, yeah. I remember that now.” Before Dane. Before Grandma Angie. Her life was like the calendar. BC and AD. Before chaos. After Dane.

  Beatrice scooted the chair forward. “So you want to know what happened after your little show?”

  “Do I want to know?”

  Beatrice dunked her feet in the pool. Stella hoped hers never looked like that, bloated white hunks of flesh, lined from the pinch of the shoes.

  “He got the twelve. Fifteen, actually, but eligible for parole in twelve.”

  Stella bent over her knees, the air knocked out of her.

  “I know, honey. It’s a long stint.”

  “Did the lawyer not do him any good?”

  “He did. I talked with him. They tried to pull some shenanigans at the end, but Justin kept them in line.”

  “Did you get to talk to...” She couldn’t say his name.

  “Dane? No, honey. They took him right out.”

  Stella stared into the pool, leaves dropping from the trees overhead onto the surface of the water. The wind blew a chill through her. They were probably at the last of the decent weather. Fall would be sliding into winter soon. “What happens now?”

  “Justin said most likely he’ll go straight to the Missouri State Pen.”

  “Can I see him there?”

  “Not for at least thirty days. He has to go through some orientation.”

  Stella lay back in the grass. Fat clouds floated carefree across the blue expanse of sky. She wanted to take a shotgun and blow a smoking hole right through the big white puffs.

  “He won’t want to see me.”

  “I wouldn’t assume that.”

  “I called him a son of a bitch.”

  “He knows you. Knows you were upset.”

  Stella covered her face with her arm. “How will I even know where he’s gone?”

  “You can write him. He’ll tell you.”

  “I don’t think he will want to hear from me.”

  “I think he will. Write him.”

  Stella listened to birds cawing, and some little kids screeching a few yards over. A car chugged down a nearby street, missing on one cylinder. Life was going right on. Everybody else’s life. Hers had come to a halt.

  “Stella, I know he was important to you. But maybe you need some perspective. You only knew him a couple weeks. Maybe it’s best you keep on with that plan you had to move out of Holly and start a new life.”

  Stella swallowed hard. She ought to do exactly that. Even after she paid the lawyer, she still had some cash. She could go. Forget everything that happened. She was totally free now.

  “I don’t feel free,” she said. “Suddenly I’m more attached to this damn place than ever.”

  “Well, don’t think I’m pushing you away. I’m happy to keep you around.” Beatrice pulled her feet from the pool with a splash. “You can stay here as long as you like, and I won’t allow any tomfoolery in my shop. I don’t need the business that bad.”

  Stella sat up. “You think my being in your shop is a bad thing?”

  “Not in the least.”

  She pulled her feet from the pool. “Where is Ryker? He wasn’t there today.”

  Beatrice wouldn’t look at her, messing with her shoes.

  “Bea! Where is Ryker?”

  “He was catching some flak. Left town.”

  Stella jumped to her feet. “Why didn’t anyone tell me? Where did he go?”

  “Just told Joe he’d get in touch.”

  “How will Dane find him? What about Dane’s stuff?” She stuffed her wet feet back into the pumps.

  “I don’t rightly know.”

  Stella dashed across the lawn and into the house. She snatched up her purse and the keys to Grandma’s Mustang.

  Beatrice caught up with her. “Where are you off to?”

  “I don’t know. Dane’s place? Joe’s?” Hysteria rose in her. Things were changing too fast now. If Ryker was gone, how would she know anything about Dane?

  “Be careful, darling.”

  Stella hurtled through the front door and into the car. The engine roared as she backed out of the driveway and onto the street. He couldn’t be gone. Not yet. She needed him.

  Kids riding bikes turned to stare as she careened through Holly toward Renters’ Row. Other cars simply stopped, letting her pass by, as if they knew and understood not to get in her way.

  The duplex stood empty, the dirt yard looking more forlorn than ever. A “For Lease” sign stood in front of it, shiny and new.

  Stella killed the car and rushed to the door, almost tripping once again on the overturned pot, still blocking the path.

  She banged on the door, but
no one answered.

  She moved to the front, trying to peer in the window to the living room. The blinds were down. She tried the pane, to see if it was locked, but it was shut tight.

  She walked around to the back door leading to the kitchen. Also locked.

  The kitchen window didn’t have blinds, so she dragged a weathered water hose under it, making a tight coil that got her an extra two feet to stand on. She could just peer over the sash, somehow hoping to still see the wobbly table stacked high with beer bottles and pizza cartons.

  The table remained, cleared off, and all the counters were empty. The fridge hung open, all its contents gone. Stella sagged against the siding. Ryker was gone.

  Her pumps sank into the soft ground as she trudged back to her car. She opened the door and just sat there, staring at the front of the duplex, remembering the three of them in that spot the night the assholes broke her window. How did they get away with that? And the knifing? And now her Dane was doing time.

  And this was it, a moment she’d dreaded but was a long time in coming. She laid her head on the steering wheel and bawled her eyes out.

  *

  “State your name.”

  Dane held his state-issued towel, white shirt, and gray pants in front of him, naked except for a pair of rubbery shoes. His wet hair dripped down his back. His face felt raw from the shaving. “Dane Scoffield.”

  The attendant ran a finger down the list on his clipboard. “Daniel Scoffield?”

  “Yes.”

  “In here you are Daniel Scoffield. You got that?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The guy liked the deference Dane gave him, squaring his shoulders. “All right. Get dressed. You’ll see your caseworker next. And I wouldn’t go barefoot in here.” He gestured to the perpetually damp floor outside the showers.

  When the man didn’t move, Dane realized he would have an audience. He laid the stack on a bench and knocked off one shoe, awkwardly sticking a leg into a pair of gray boxers, putting one shoe back on, then repeating with the other leg.

  “You’re gettin’ it,” the attendant said. “You’ll have a second set of everything checked out to you later today.”

  Dane nodded, pulling the top over his head.

  “All right.” The attendant unlocked and opened the metal door. “Let’s get you to Miz Penders. She’ll get you situated.”