Hearts and Flowers (Hearts Series Book 2)

by A. M. Brooks

  A new judge I have never seen before walks into the courtroom and sits down. She was younger than I was used to, and she was smiling.

  “She one of yours?” I whisper to my father, leaning closer.

  “I don’t know what you mean,” he says before looking at his Philippe wristwatch. I fight the urge to roll my eyes. I took it as a good sign at least that he knew of her. She looked green and hopefully that would confuse Roman’s lawyer.

  As everyone sat down, the bailiff brought in Roman from a side door. He flashed his grandmother an Oscar-worthy smile before sitting at the table of his representative. I glare at the back of his head full of shiny black hair. As if sensing our hate, he turns halfway in his seat. His dead eyes met mine that were full of rage. Smirking, he turns back to face the front. I feel Ethan stiffen next to me. He saw the exchange and it pissed him off.

  “Alright, Mr. Delgado, you’re here for your sentencing today?” the judge asks, staring at him over the emerald green rim of her glasses. She pushes a chunk of blonde hair behind her ear.

  “Ah, excuse me, Judge.” Roman’s lawyer, stands from his seat hands spread wide. “My client stated not guilty at our last hearing. Today is our first trial day. The last was postponed.”

  “Because a new judge was requested, correct?” she asks, sitting taller in her seat.

  “Ah.” His attorney looks puzzled. “That is correct.”

  “And here I am.” She moves her arm in a flourish before cracking into a huge smile. “Now, there seems to be some question to the matter of the state’s case against Mr. Roman, excuse me, Mr. Roman Delgado. Now, Ms. Court Reporter, what does it say in the calendar?” Her voice drips in sweetness.

  Roman is watching his lawyer with wide eyes. I have to fight myself not to laugh out loud. Ethan is practically vibrating next to me as he holds it in. I wish I had brought popcorn and some Milk Duds for this shit.

  “Ah, it says trial day one, Your Honor,” the stunned court reporter responds.

  “Oh.” She looks down at her file again and back at her computer before putting the large lens glasses on top of her head. “Well, let’s get started then I guess. Please move my lunch appointment back two hours,” she advises the court reporter before sending her a wink.

  I hide my laugh with a cough.

  Roman and his lawyer are talking, their heads bent together. Roman looks pissed while his lawyer is trying to calm him down.

  “Should have kept Judge Provo, dipshit,” my father utters under his breath next to me. I almost let myself get caught up in the moment and agree with him until I see him check his watch again.

  “Who wants to start with their witnesses?” the judge asks.

  The state attorney sits back in his chair. “I’m completely fine with the defendant proceeding first,” he says, clearly enjoying this circus.

  “Your Honor.” Roman’s lawyer stands. “It’s customary for the state to present their evidence first—”

  “You should have spoken up then, Mr. Larson,” she cuts him off. The whole courtroom goes quiet except for the scratching of pens I can hear behind me.

  “We’ll go first,” he responds. His face turns red.

  “Call your first witness.” She smiles at him as if she didn’t commit another huge faux pas.

  Roman’s legal team is tactical. Their top witnesses are Roman’s boss at the gas station he worked at on weekends to speak for Roman’s character, his grandmother testified to bring the emotional element into the case, and finally, the one I did not see coming was Camilla Turner. She testified that her brother, Cody, was dealing and that Roman’s only actions had been trying to get Cody out of the business. She also testified that she was with Roman the night the Northland student died, and they were at a diner off of Lenux Boulevard.

  “The fuck?” Elijah leans forward and mouths to me. I sit in shock too. They were ruthless. Camilla not only threw her brother to the sharks, but the whole family chose to save Roman’s ass over their blood relative. My lip curled thinking how much the ZT needs Roman out. Something big is definitely going on.

  After Camilla fakes a few more tears, she sits her crazy ass back down. My eyes briefly fall on her only to find her already staring at me. Her eyes shine as she drags her blood-red fingernail from one edge of her ear across her neck to the next. A sadistic grin stretching her matching pouty, red lips making her look like the Joker. I raise my eyebrows because really, nothing about her frightens me. I wink at her.

  “Thank you, Ms. Turner, that was lovely,” the judge says before using her finger to wipe a smudge of lipstick off her upper lip. “Let’s move onto the state now. Yes, Mr. Hudson, please call your first witness.”

  “Here we go,” my father states before sitting up straighter. He adjusts his tie while looking over his shoulder.

  “Thank you, Your Honor,” Mr. Hudson responds. His first two witnesses were part of the drug task force who led two searches last school year. The one at Araminta and the one at Northland. Poor Cody was getting his limbs bit off by every shark in the water today. The lead of the unit at Northland discussed how a student had reported she received drugs from Cody. She had also told him about a party where she often had seen Cody and Roman.

  “And where is this student, Officer Malone?” the defense questions.

  “That student was ready to testify, Your Honor, then she disappeared two days after the information was leaked to the press,” Officer Malone states.

  My mouth drops open. I look at my father who keeps his stare fixed on the stand. There was a moment of silence followed by a hum of voices around the whole room.

  “Quiet, quiet please,” the judge calls to the room, waving her hand. “If you can’t produce this witness, then we need to move on, counsel,” she says. You can tell she’s affected though.

  “Yes, Your Honor.” Mr. Hudson rests his hand on the desk as Officer Malone leaves the podium. “The state calls next Lead Detective McCall with the Nevada Drug Enforcement Administration Agency.” Everyone shifts in their seats when a man rises from the back and walks forward. He raises his right hand and is sworn in.

  When he takes a seat, I hear Ethan murmur, “No way,” under his breath. Detective McCall is the prestigious officer my father and his friends brought in from Nevada. He’s been given silent awards for his acts of heroism in the force. In my mind, he was middle age man who was into body building with years of experience worn on his face. I was wrong. There is no way Detective McCall is more than five years older than us at most. He looks military. He looks deadly. He also looks like he’d be great to bring out as a wingman.

  “So f-ing hot!” I hear one of the reporters say behind me. I watch as Mr. Hudson begins to ask the detective questions. His answers are clipped, not going into much detail, but deliberate. He’s painting a very different scene than the defense was trying to portray.

  “Video surveillance, you said, correct?” Mr. Hudson asks.

  “Yes,” Detective McCall answers. “Our unit received surveillance footage from a known area that is frequented by the cartel. On the video, we were able to identify Mr. Delgado and another unknown subject at this time.”

  “And you’re sure it was Mr. Delgado?” Mr. Hudson questions.

  “Yes,” the detective replies.

  “Your Honor, the state would like to introduce exhibit C, this photograph that was time and coordinate stamped by the DEA Nevada agency,” Mr. Hudson states, holding up an award size picture.

  “Objection,” the defense attorney interjects.

  “Overruled,” the judge replies, smiling of course. She takes a minute to study the picture.

  “Significance,” Delgado’s attorney asks, grasping at straws.

  “Please ask your client to explain further,” the judge says to Mr. Hudson.

  “If you’ll notice the coordinate stamp and time on the photo directly conflicts the defense’s alibi that he was with Ms. Turner and that he has made a connection with the Zero-Thirteen cartel,” Mr. Hudson s
tates.

  “Objection,” the defense jumps in. “These could be doctored.”

  “The live footage that has been introduced as exhibits D and E. Also if you look closely to Mr. Delgado’s Apple watch, the date and time are right there.” The state rests their case with that information.

  Another hour later, the judge is leaning back in her seat, playing with a strand of her hair. The state rests and Delgado is sitting rigid in his seat, waiting. Detective McCall was a game-changer they weren’t expecting.

  “I have heard testimony and cross-examination from the state and the defense,” the judge declares after a few minutes, “I will have a ruling within forty-eight hours.” Everyone is in shock that she won’t deliver. Roman visibly relaxes into his chair.

  “That’s bullshit,” I hear Elijah say.

  “I’ll check-in,” my father states before standing and adjusting his tie again. He slips past us to leave and I don’t mind. The room already feels less suffocating with him gone. The bailiff comes to get Roman, bringing him back for transport. His family and Camilla cry ugly, fake tears as he is lead away.

  With nothing else to wait for, Ethan, Elijah, and myself stand up and exit the courtroom.

  “That was interesting,” Elijah observes once we’re outside the doors.

  “Interesting?” Ethan replies. “That was awesome. Who is that guy?” he asks, gesturing to Detective McCall who is talking with Mr. Hudson still.

  I shrug. “Newbie.”

  “He’s badass,” Ethan acknowledges. I nod in agreement.

  “You on your way then?” Elijah states with a frown.

  “Yeah, my flight leaves in two hours,” I tell them. We exchange man-hugs, a quick fist bump before I head out. It’s a short flight to Spokane, Washington but I’m anxious to be there.

  The next day, I wake up in my hotel room and get ready before my tour. I only ever toured one college two summers ago and that had been UNC. I know today will be a challenge with the biggest hurdle being not to make this school feel like they are second choice. I never thought I’d have a second chance and this time around they’re my number one. My job is to make them assured.

  The fall weather here is comparable to the Midwest. Colorful leaves litter the grass and the roads. It’s cold enough to need a thick jacket but warm enough that I can walk comfortably around the campus. The campus itself is decent size and nearby to a river and lakes. I’ll still be at home on the water. I walk quickly to the facility for my meeting. By the time I get there, I like everything I’ve noticed about the campus. I’m more comfortable than at the Stanford tour.

  “Mr. King,” the coach greets me the minute I walk in the door.

  “Coach,” I greet him, shaking his hand back. “Thanks for having me.”

  “Let’s go chat for a bit,” he says, leading me to his back office. We go over the basic questions about my application and I feel like I’m applying for a job. When he touches on the issue with my knee, I hesitate.

  “What about it?” I ask carefully.

  “How it happened and how it’s changed your perspective about yourself,” he repeats himself.

  “I was in a car accident that I caused,” I deadpan. I feel the mask that Nora always talked about starting to slip in place and I fight to shake it off. “I only have myself to blame. Since then, I’ve taken care of my knee and my body to stay healthy. I appreciate more the gift I have of my life that I can still walk and dribble.” I shrug, starting to feel like I’m in a pop-up add for addicts or something. RECOVERY HERE should be flashing over my head in neon red or some shit.

  I can tell by the way he studies me he knows there is more I’m not saying. I was as honest as I was going to be. Seeming to accept my answers, he writes a few notes in his notebook.

  “Should we take a tour?” he questions before standing.

  “Sounds good,” I reply, following him out of the office.

  “Well, this is where you’ll go after hours. The study and tutor room three days a week. And the locker room is over here.” He points to a large grey door right off the workout gym. “And this door over here is the athlete entrance. You’ll get a card printed up that is your door pass. Do not lose that pass.”

  “I won’t,” I promise him.

  “Get Alex your name and picture before you leave.” He nods to the pretty brunette behind the desk.

  “Yes, sir,” I say.

  “King.” He turns back to face me. “I expect your application to the dean by next week, yes?”

  “Yes, sir,” I say again. I smile like an idiot walking over to Alex to get my picture taken.

  When she’s done, I grab my phone and power it back on. Six text messages are waiting for me.

  E: Cuz! We won! We won!

  Elijah: Roman got 3-5 years. ZT is going to be pissed.

  Elijah: We should talk retaliation.

  E: We are the champions, my friends!

  Elijah: You should tell Nora…

  Nora: I heard. Can you talk?

  I race off campus, hailing a cab, and head to the airport, ignoring all messages except for Nora’s. She reached out to me. She wants to talk. She needs me. My thoughts are zero-to-sixty and all I want to do is get back home.

  Darrian: My flight is in an hour. Talk now?

  Nora: We’re just about to take off. I’ll call you when I land.

  Darrian: K

  My heart squeezes in my chest. I respond quickly to Elijah and Ethan that we need another group meeting. Roman was an important piece on Zero-Thirteen’s chessboard and our queen knocked him off. The worst part is that she wasn’t even aware she was doing it. I close my eyes and rub the tension building in my neck. I need a drink. I need a meeting. If I hadn’t fucked this all up last year, Nora wouldn’t be in this position. It bothers me that she’s worried. She reached out to me. I hate why she did though. Guilt swims in my stomach. I know I don’t deserve her. I don’t deserve the second chance I was just handed an hour ago on a silver platter either.

  The entire flight, my knee bounces and I flip over every idea and possibility of how to keep Nora safe. Without a doubt, there will be repercussion. Not only because of her narc move but because she’s mine. Three to five years is not that long based on what information they have right now. It’s safe to assume the state and DTF’s bigger fish is Pierce and his suspected involvement. They’re shaking up the tree and rattling my world along with it.

  The minute the plane touches down, I have my phone powered back on. One text from Nora.

  Nora: I’m home. My dad and Jodi are home too. Can’t leave. Still talk?

  Darrian: I just landed. I’ll call you when I get to my place.

  Nora: Okay :)

  I swear it is the longest drive of my life from the airport to my house. I send a quick text to the guys and let them know to meet me here in twenty minutes. Clicking on Nora’s name, I wait five rings before she picks up.

  “Hey,” she says quietly. I can picture her sitting in her closet trying to make as little noise as possible so her dad won’t hear.

  “Hey baby,” I say.

  “Don’t call me that,” she huffs. I can picture her rolling her eyes. I really want to see her.

  “Sorry, hey beautiful,” I try joking, hoping it will make her feel better.

  “Darrian,” she says.

  “What?” I ask, holding back my laughter.

  “Shut up,” she answers and we both chuckle. “So…” Her voice trails off. She wants to talk about it, and I wish I had more answers for her. A better game plan.

  “He got three to five years,” I confirm, my throat gravelly from holding my emotions in. “The guys are going to come over so we can talk. There is no way there won’t be any fallout from what happened today. They’ll use anything they can to get to me.”

  She inhales sharply. “I don’t want you to get hurt because of me.”

  “I won’t. I’m more worried about you,” I tell her honestly. I flick my lip ring, anxious for her to keep
talking.

  “I can take care of myself too, you know.” She sounds upset.

  “I have no doubt you can. I’m just worried still. This isn’t a wannabe gang banger like in the movies and books. Pierce is an evil fucker. They all are,” I amend after remembering Camilla’s little stunt in the courtroom of all places.

  “I know,” she huffs out. “I just…I’m scared. I want it all to be over.” Her admission tears at my chest.

  “I wish I was there,” I say softly.

  “I wish you were too,” she replies, once again knocking me on my ass. I’m unworthy. A fuckin’ low life for doing this to her. But I’m still keeping her.

  “Nora, the guys are worried too. I’m sure your friends as well. I’m probably going to demand a lot from you for the next couple of weeks. You may not like everything we decide, but can you please trust me?” I beg, laying it all out there for her. Nora has rediscovered her independence, yet she’s also a nurturer in her soul. She’ll hate my plan but will fall in line if she sees it is the absolutely only way to keep everyone else safe too.

  “I’m working on it,” she says. “Isn’t that what we decided the other night? We’re working on trusting each other again.”

  “Right,” I confirm for her. I never should have lost your trust in the first place, I add silently.