A Judge's Secrets Page 4

  Traumatic events had different effects on each individual. He had seen more than one man vomit after mortar rounds had exploded in the cars next to them, while others shrugged off similar events like they were nothing more than a Tuesday at the office. Admittedly, the latter were seasoned. How they had been affected by the death and mayhem when they had first encountered it was something they would likely never talk about.

  In those moments in which a person was forced to see who they were at a noncognitive, purely instinctual level, few impressed themselves. People who experienced traumatic events had to confront themselves on a primal level and often were disappointed with what they found.

  Ugh. He pulled on his beard as he made his way around to the driver’s side of his truck. Maybe I’m feeling too much. I need to shut that shit down. Feelings got people killed.

  Whatever was going on inside him was something he could think about later; right now he needed to focus on his job. Bury that stuff; deal with it later.

  He rolled his shoulders and climbed inside, his game face on. “Are you in any physical pain?”

  She looked up at him, a look of surprise on her face. Had she noticed that he wouldn’t even use the word feeling in order to check on her? Or was it that she had picked up on the steel doors closing over his core?

  “I’m fine.”

  “Let’s grab one of the EMS workers and have them come over and check on you.” Although she’d seemed to have only superficial injuries, he didn’t want to take a chance.

  She opened her mouth as if to speak, then clamped it shut and stared down toward the glovebox. They sat in silence for a long moment. He didn’t press her. “I’m fine. Just... Let’s go.” She spoke slowly, like her words were fighting each other for air.

  He hesitated, wondering if he should go against her, but he didn’t say a word. Instead, he started the truck and pulled out of the parking lot. They passed by a firetruck as they exited.

  There was nowhere either of them had to be, nowhere that he could think of to go and nowhere he could think of taking her. Yes, there were the easy options: her place, his private house, his apartment at STEALTH HQ, or even a motel where neither of them would be recognized and where she could be safe. All of them were reasonable options, but none of them felt exactly right.

  He hadn’t been prepared for this outcome—he’d gone in for a meeting and come out with two attempted murders.

  There was a right response to this situation; he just had to find it and put his dick back in his pants.

  His truck’s blinker clicked, the monotone sound barely audible over the road noise as he drove toward the interstate. He pretended to have a plan as he got on I-90 and started rolling east, toward Butte. Butte...there was an option. He could hole her up in some small B&B until this mess rolled over.

  He glanced up at his rearview, looking for any possible tails. There was a white sedan three cars back, which had been behind them for at least three blocks before they had hit the on-ramp. He took the next exit, but when the white car didn’t follow, he got back on the interstate. He half expected the judge to ask him what he was doing and why, as she didn’t seem like the kind of woman to sit idle while in a time of turmoil, but she sat with her hands folded in her lap.

  Would she continue to surprise him? People rarely did.

  Most people were woefully predictable. In fact, there were a multitude of psychological studies that stated the brain of a listener normally could tell what a person speaking to them would say three words ahead of whatever was actually said. Remarkable science, but it only spoke to how unoriginal people could be. His thoughts moved to technology and big data. It was really no wonder that the internet and artificial intelligence had grown leaps and bounds, being one step ahead of the people actually using them. It was no secret that this accumulation of data, then mixed with the predictability of human nature, could be so dangerous.

  STEALTH was deep into the world of black ops and tech warfare. So much so, that his boss, Zoey, was working on creating a new team just to handle the tech side of things. She had been doing a tremendous job, but unlike big data, she didn’t have an automated system. She still required hands on a keyboard.

  “Where are you right now?” the judge asked, pulling him from his thoughts as he drove down the highway.

  He gave her a look of surprise. “What? What do you mean?”

  “I mean, obviously you were thinking about something or someone right there. You going to tell me who she is?”

  Oh, she is good.

  She could try to elicit information from him all she wanted, but that didn’t mean he would let her in. “You need to save your questions for the bench on that one, Your Honor.”

  She cocked an eyebrow, but she didn’t continue her line of questioning.

  After a long, quiet moment, he wished he had told her that she had been off the mark and that he hadn’t been thinking about a woman—at least not a woman in the sense she assumed he was. There were no women in his life, not that way. He hadn’t been with a woman in at least a year—not since his divorce.

  Really, what did it matter what she knew or didn’t know about his private life? All she needed to know was that he was there to help her and he would come between her and a bullet if needed. Anything beyond that was irrelevant. He was a damned professional, even if his heart wanted to make him become less than.

  And yet, that gave him no right to be cold; he could be a decent human being to her and still have boundaries. “Sorry if I came off a little rude there. It’s just, well, I’m not great with women. Or people, for that matter.”

  Some of the tension on her face diminished. “It’s okay. I know how important it is to keep some secrets to oneself.”

  “Agreed, but I hope you accept my apology.”

  “Done. Now, are we going to go to the Canadian border?” she asked, laughing a tiny bit as she flipped down the visor and started to sweep away the crumbling dried blood on her face. “If we are, I probably need to run home and grab my passport.”

  He chuckled. “Are you telling me that you are good with just dropping everything and running away?”

  “Well, given that no judge appears to be safe at the courthouse right now... I have to think I’d be better off just about anywhere other than there.” She sent him a smile as she rubbed a smudge of dirt off her left cheek.

  She must have been starting to feel better, as she had finally seemed to once again find her voice. Pulling her cell phone from her briefcase, she started to text someone.

  “I’m sure I don’t need to tell you this, but whoever is coming after you may very well be able to track that thing in your hands there.” He motioned to her phone.

  “I was just texting my secretary so he could take care of my upcoming trials and have them rescheduled or reassigned. He’s also telling police I’ll be in touch shortly since they obviously know of the car bomb, if not about Judge Hanes.” She shot him a thin smile. “I’m putting myself at your mercy. You better be able to keep me safe. Can I assume I’m in good hands?”

  Had she missed the part where he had been hired to protect Judge Hanes and yet Hanes had nearly died? If he was in her shoes, he would have told himself to get lost. He just had to fake it and make her feel like he was in complete control. A little “nothing to see here, folks,” mixed with “I’ll be back.”

  He chuckled at the thought.

  “Are you laughing at me?” she asked, her smile growing.

  “Hardly,” he said. “I was just thinking about Arnold Schwarzenegger.”

  “Really? I ask if you can be trusted and you go full Terminator on me?” She shook her head, playfully. “You are such a dude. I should have guessed exactly what kind of moviegoer you were the moment you walked into Judge Hanes’s office.”

  “Oh, hey now, what is that supposed to mean?” he countered. “Were you judging me?”<
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  She laughed, the sound high and bright and in complete juxtaposition to the reality in which they had found themselves thrown. “That is my job.”

  She had a point. One that was completely inarguable. And yet, that didn’t keep his curiosity at bay. “And what exactly did you think of me when you first saw me?”

  She gave him a sidelong look, like she was trying to decide whether or not she would tell him the truth or pass off some kind of altered version of it. “I thought you looked competent.”

  Competent. He was really secretly hoping for something more like hot or devilishly handsome, but he would take competent.

  “Fine compliment, coming from a woman like you. You are certainly competent yourself.”

  She smiled and her eyes brightened. The simple action made her look ten years younger and for a moment he wondered exactly how old she was. If he had to guess, she was probably about thirty, but he would never say it aloud. If anything, she looked younger than he was. And she was far more beautiful than any female judge he had seen before. Not that he’d been around too many judges; it wasn’t in his nature to find himself in a position that required him giving testimony.

  “It’s funny that you should say that about me,” she said, sounding contemplative. “There are many voters who think that it was a mistake to put me into the position that I’m in.”

  “Why do you say that?” he asked, careful not to assume anything.

  “First, I’m a woman. This is Montana. We aren’t known for being especially progressive. Though, I like to think that is changing.” She nodded, a look of pride in her eyes. “Second, I’m the youngest woman ever to be seated as a district court judge.”

  So she was likely around thirty. He didn’t know a ton about the demographics of political and judicial positions, but he could guess at that one. “You must be incredibly proud of all that you have accomplished in such a short time. Seriously, you are an amazing woman.”

  “I told you, I wouldn’t have been able to do it all without Judge Hanes’s mentorship. He has been an incredible advocate.” She sounded nearly reverent about the man, which made him wonder exactly how far their friendship went, but he didn’t dare to ask.

  He liked her and if she admitted that she had something with the older, fatherly type judge he wasn’t sure how it would color his opinion of her. But what did that say about him? Who was he to have an opinion on who she slept with? It wasn’t even his business, though technically in this circumstance it did border on his “needing to know.”

  “Is he married?”

  Her brows furrowed. Of course, she would know what he was thinking even though he thought he had done a pretty decent job at hedging on the question of their past without actually asking.

  “No, I haven’t seen him naked. No, he is not married. And no, there is no romantic attachments between us,” she said, nearly snarling. “You know, it is exactly that kind of thinking that has stood in the way of a woman being in a position like I’m in now. Everyone just assumes that for a woman to get ahead she had to sleep her way to the top. And I can tell you, with one hundred percent honesty, that I haven’t opened my legs to get where I’m at nor where I’m going.”

  He nearly covered his head at the verbal beating she was giving him. He hadn’t meant the question like that and he certainly hadn’t intended on insulting her in any way.

  Things had been going so well, and then...kaboom...he had to make a misstep.

  He should have just stayed quiet. Why hadn’t he listened to himself?

  “I’m sorry, Judge DeSalvo. I certainly didn’t mean to question your...” He paused, unsure of exactly the words he should say: reputation, womanhood, respect, honor, integrity? None of them felt exactly right. But what had?

  Ugh.

  “You’re fine.” She didn’t let him find the word he had been looking for, but maybe that was for the best. He’d created a mess.

  “No, really. I’m sorry.” It was all he could think of to prove his sincerity. “The only reason I even approached that subject was out of necessity, not condescension. If there was any sort of romantic entanglement there, it means that there could also be some sort of third wheel complications that could happen.”

  “To be clear, you think that his wife would try to murder him and me?”

  He pinched his lips together. Yes, that was exactly what it meant, but somehow it didn’t seem like quite the right thing to say to her at the moment. Sometimes, when a person was at the bottom of a hole, it was best to stop digging.

  “I’m just trying to narrow down the list of suspects. Who would want you dead, and why. That kind of thing.” He had to question her thoroughly on this, but he’d wanted to wait until she was safe and somewhat recovered from the explosion.

  She ran her hands over her face one more time, getting the last remnants of blood from her skin. There were tiny lines on her face, thin scratches like little hyphens.

  He’d always prided himself on policing a world and helping it to run in an orderly fashion. He reduced violence and provided safety, so civilians and high-ranking officials could go about their business and function appropriately. And the woman beside him provided justice. Together, they made the world a place worth living.

  What am I, Shakespeare now? he wondered. What is she doing to me? I’m a door kicker, not a philosopher. I need to keep my head in the game.

  “I have never really had this kind of run-in before,” she said, thankfully unaware of the weirdness that was happening in his mind. “I knew that I could run into this kind of problem eventually, but it’s only been about a year since I have been on the bench. I thought I would be safe a little while longer.”

  “It is the moment you think you’re safe, that you are at your most vulnerable. Your guard was down. I get it. I see it all the time. It’s funny when guys have been in country for a long time. In the sandbox, they become desensitized and what would’ve freaked out a grunt becomes commonplace for them. I knew a guy who stood up in a bunker to take a picture for Instagram and got his head blown off. Complacency has always been humankind’s worst enemy.”

  She nodded. “Working in the judicial system, I have to agree with you. Though I’m not sure if complacency is the right word. In my case, I think that narcissism is humankind’s greatest enemy. People start to think that they can get away with anything if they are just smart enough.”

  He agreed with her there. The two parts often went hand in hand when it came to criminals. It was those who thought they were smarter than the rest of the world who grew bolder with time and lacked consequences for their terrible choices. Those choices grew darker, more nefarious, and they got what they wanted. Then they grew complacent and took things for granted. Sometimes they got caught, but not enough.

  “Thinking about being complacent,” he said, “you need to get rid of your cell phone. We can get you another one if you want, but for now you need to throw yours out on the interstate. Got it?”

  Before he even finished speaking, the window was down and she was shoving the cell phone out.

  “I wanted to do that with that stupid thing for years.” She laughed, rolling up the window.

  “I can only imagine.”

  “So where are you taking me? You had to have had some sort of plan for Judge Hanes in the event you guys had to bug out, right?” She paused. “Did I say that right, bugging out?”

  “You can call it whatever you like, but in the end it all means getting the hell outta wherever you are. And no, I can’t take you where I had planned on moving him to. Is there somewhere you think you would like to be taken? Somewhere you think it would be safe?”

  She chewed her bottom lip, thinking. “There are always hotels?”

  “Their databases are relatively easy to hack and if we use your credit card or my credit card, it would be pretty easy to track us down. We need something that won’t
leave a paper trail. How averse are you to spending a night out in the woods?”

  She looked at him like he’d lost his mind. “You can’t possibly think, for a single second, that I am camping.” She motioned down to the clothes she was wearing. “This suit is a Dillard’s finest—the best of the best in Montana. And if you think it is appropriate for sleeping outside, you are sorely mistaken. I’m more of a hotel girl. I need a hot shower and preferably a finger or two of vodka before I hit the sack.”

  Oh, I’d hit the sack with her, all right, he thought, then he realized what he had just let slip through the filter of his mind. Shit. No. Job. Judge. Boundaries.

  His cheeks warmed. “You’re right. No tents, no camping.” No hitting of the sack...at least not together.

  But if they couldn’t go to a hotel and they couldn’t camp, that left them with only a few options. They could go back to the STEALTH headquarters at the Widow Maker Ranch, but that would be the first place a hitman would look if they knew that Evan was involved.

  “Up ahead, in just a few miles, is a little town,” she said. “My pseudo-mom lives there and she would take us in. Her name is Judy.”

  “Would anyone think to look for you there?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “Judy was my mother’s best friend growing up, and when my mother died, she kind of filled her shoes. No one would know that but a select few. It is about the safest place I can think of.”

  “Tell me where to turn.”

  She nodded, and he could feel some of the tension slip away, momentarily. But as quickly as the pressure lifted, it was replaced with awkward silence.

  But he could live in the silence.

  Judge DeSalvo motioned at the next exit. “Turn here.”

  He followed her directions, but stayed quiet.

  She clasped her hands together tightly in her lap; so tight that he could see that her fingernails were digging into the backs of her hands. There were any number of things that could have been bothering her, but he hated to assume or even talk about it. To talk about it and give it air would only make them grow closer. He couldn’t want that.