FIGHTING CONVICTION PREVIEW
While Fighting Conviction has an HEA, this read is not for the faint of heart. The Conviction series should be read by mature readers only (18+) and contains sexually explicit scenes, along with descriptions of human trafficking, drugs, strong language, and physical and sexual violence. Reader discretion is advised.
FIGHTING CONVICTION
Prologue
One year ago
"Go, go, go."
Hawk's command echoed against the shipping containers, shattering the silence.
Devil broke the line and emerged from their hiding spot. A dark figure appeared at his three o'clock. All it took was one shot from his Glock. A thump of a body hitting the ground, followed by a moment of silence, confirmed the threat was eliminated. The dead don't scream.
A sudden onslaught of gunshots drummed a staccato beat against Devil's senses. Cries of pain called to the medic in him, but he forced himself to concentrate on one woman's safety. Adrenaline twisted his chest but steadied his aim as he picked off the enemy, one by one. Blood rushed in his ears, muffling all distractions from his objective.
Devil reached the van, giving a wide berth to the first casualty of the night. A man sprawled out in the dim light, shot down by Jaybird's bullet. Judging from the odd angle of the man's legs and the dark stain creeping across the concrete, he wasn't getting up.
Nora, the woman with purple hair who'd made the shot possible, was pushing herself up onto the bumper of the van, attempting to get back in its open doors. She'd flung herself out to attack one of her captors, but the vehicle was the only safe haven among the chaos.
Gun ready to fire, Devil defended them as they climbed inside, turning halfway to scoop her up with his free hand. Still aiming while he hefted her into the van, he grunted from the effort of doing both at once. She was a tiny thing,but dead weight in the heat of battle only made more dead weight.
When Nora was tucked inside, he chanced taking his eye off the enemy and crawled in behind her, pushing body-sized duffel bags aside so he could shut the van doors.
Slamming the doors closed muffled the gunshots outside, but the van's thin metal walls only provided a false sense of security. He widened his eyes to see in the dark and realized how many heavyweight canvas bags there were. How many victims there were. The panic he'd always held at bay during a mission wrapped cold fingers around his heart.
"Where is she?" His hands skittered over zippers, afraid to open one and find something he couldn't unsee. Or worse. Someone he couldn't help.
"Here," Nora rasped. Her pale hand patted the lump next to her and Devil's heart stalled. Nora's head lolled to the side as she closed her eyes, her lethargy and labored breathing all signs of the drugs those bastards poisoned them with.
Devil latched on to the bag she'd indicated and unzipped, revealing blonde hair in the dark. He grabbed his flashlight from his tactical belt and shined it above the occupant's head to avoid beaming it straight at the woman inside.
Bleary caramel eyes fluttered open in the light. He couldn't resist brushing his fingertips against her warm cheek.
Even though she'd been kidnapped-and God-knows-what-else-a soft smile spread on her face and the stone barrier he'd erected years ago cracked. Tightness formed around his mouth and he felt the foreign sensation of his lips widening into a smile of his own.
"You're safe, Ellie. I'm with your brother. We're gonna get you out of here."
Ellie blinked and a tear escaped, crumbling his defenses further.
"You found me." Her soft whisper battered into his soul. The words splintered fissures in the barricades surrounding it.
Surrendering to his emotions, he bent to brush his lips over her forehead and smoothed her tangled hair away from her face.
"That's right," he answered.
Silky golden tendrils surrounded her, forming a halo. The air he sucked in couldn't make up for the breath she'd taken away. Devil rested his forehead on hers and he closed his eyes reverently, knowing he only had a moment before he had to aid his men outside.
"I found you, angel."
CHAPTER ONE
Present day
We've got another survivor. Get here when you can.
Ellie tucked her phone into a backpack side pocket and glanced around the half-empty classroom. Everyone was facing forward, listening to their professor drone on, so she slid her Russian textbook off the desk before stuffing it into her bag.
"What're you doin'?" Virginia hissed, making her platinum curls shake around her furrowed brow.
Ellie caught herself before she rolled her eyes. Barely. On move-in day, Ellie had been gifted a life-sized Barbie, Platinum Busybody Roommate edition. Ever since, Virginia Lowell had been butting her nose into Ellie's business. For some reason the peppy socialite never realized Ellie had neither the time, energy, nor desire to become friends.
"Gotta go to work," Ellie whispered before checking to make sure she'd gathered everything.
Satisfied, she silently stood and crept up the steps to the exit. Shuffling movements behind her and the feeling she was being watched made her turn around. All eyes were fixed on her. Turns out, every student was paying as much attention to the Russian 102 lecture as usual. Meaning nyet at all.
Language credits were a requirement at Ashland State University, but because it was a small, local college, the other more popular language options filled within the first hour registration was open. Ellie was probably the only student who'd voluntarily signed up for the dang class.Despite the fact Ellie was the most interesting thing in the room, Professor Novikov droned on about determining Russian grammatical gender. Why a bed is considered "female" wasn't ever something she wanted to analyze too deeply. Her prior interaction with Russians made her shudder to imagine that particular word's origins.
She turned back around and continued her trek up the stairs until she heard a throat clear.
"Miss Stone, do you have somewhere else you'd rather be?"
As usual, the harsh consonants grated on Ellie's nerves. At least hearing the language didn't give her panic attacks anymore.
She slowly pivoted, her hand still on her backpack strap. While studying Russian as a form of immersion therapy eventually took, anxiety still flooded through her under the heat of Professor Novikov's scowl.
Ellie tried to ignore the stress sweat already prickling at her forehead and avoided the blatant stares from her fellow classmates. The classroom had stadium seating, and with Ellie at the top of the room, inches away from the exit, Professor Novikov had the ability to glare up while simultaneously looking down on her.
"Erm... no, ma'am," Ellie began in English. While the class had taught her how to handle certain triggers, she still hadn't learned the language well enough to comfortably speak it, especially not on the fly or in front of an audience. "I-I have to go. I have a family emer-"
"-Emergency," Professor Novikov interrupted in English, also evidently lacking confidence in Ellie's grasp of Russian. "Yes, yes, I know, Miss Stone. You have explained this to me before, but I have to point out this is the fourth family emergency' in as many weeks." Professor Novikov peered over her rectangular glasses and frowned.
Ellie sagged in relief. Good. Professor Novikov hadn't noticed the many other times she'd snuck out, even though Ellie had never suffered through a class in its entirety. She must've gotten lax after the first few times, and the woman had finally caught on.
"The word 'emergency' is beginning to lose its meaning where your excuses are concerned, but putting that fact aside, this is a college lecture. You can't keep interrupting those of your peers who are interested in learning. I think your classmates and I need some sort of explanation."
"Um... I-I'm sorry, I don't have time to explain. I really gotta go." Ellie hedged her way toward the door as she spoke, but never let her eyes stray from the older woman pursing her lips and tapping her foot at the front of the tiered classroom. As Ellie's heel breached the exit threshold, Professor Novikov sighed and threw up her hands.
"Alright, but when midterms come, don't blame the mirror for your face, Miss Stone. It will not be my fault if you fail. Then again, maybe you are more punctual than I give you credit for. Maybe you are planning ahead to make up your absences in this course next semester."
Heat rose from Ellie's chest into her cheeks and she tried not to notice the depth of the silence around her as humiliation weighed her down. She nodded but Professor Novikov had already turned her attention back to her lecture. Ellie turned on her heel to leave and power walked, zigzagging around students moseying through the halls.
Bursting through the double doors, she was slapped in the face by unseasonably warm winter air, making her skin, already hot with embarrassment, feel cool in comparison.
She hopped down the stone steps of the Humanities Building two at a time and jogged to unlock her bike from the rack. When her foot met the pedal, Ellie tightened her grip on the handlebars and cycled hard to relieve her frustration. She tried to forget the guilt pricking at her conscience for disappointing Professor Novikov, and focused on riding through the campus pathways to get onto the street.
Why she cared so much, she didn't know. The few classes she actually gave a flip about were for her psychology major. And nothing else was a higher priority than her job. But if Professor Novikov had finally noticed that Ellie had been leaving early, then her other professors were likely noticing as well. That was definitely not good.
It would be such a hassle if she was placed on academic probation for skipping class. Not to mention the fact her brother, Jason, would rip her a new one if she failed out of college in her first year. She'd survived her first semester. Second semester wasn't looking as good, grade-wise at least.
Shaking her head to get free of the negativity, Ellie brought her concentration back to her destination. It wouldn't do anyone any good if she walked into work tense and aggravated. The least she could do was have a level head and sympathetic heart. Lord knows the survivor had suffered through a nightmare way more traumatic than a freaking classroom scolding.
It was almost a shame her teachers couldn't know about her job. If they did, maybe they would understand how hard it is to be concerned about conjugating verbs or memorizing music history in a required elective course when there were much bigger problems in the world.
How could she care about anything else aside from the nation's 20,000 daily domestic violence hotline callers? Or the 1.2 million children who were predicted to be trafficked in the next year, joining the six million who were already suffering? Or the ten million men and women who will endure intimate partner violence?
The numbers were staggering and some days she felt crushed by the weight of responsibility for the missing and broken people in the world. It was only eleven months ago Ellie had been one of them.
At her last turn, a white Corolla passed her. Ellie kept her eyes on the road while confirming the tag with her periphery: ERT 675. Raised spoiler on the back. Ellie couldn't see it from the corner of her eye, but she'd bet a week's worth of iced Frappuccinos the driver's side had a medium-sized dent in it.
She sped up and her heart began to race, but it had nothing to do with her bike ride. The past few days, Ellie had hoped she'd imagined seeing the car around town. But despite the fact she'd changed up her bike route and her schedule was never the same, she'd still noticed it every day on her way to work.
Maybe she was losing it. In this small college town, if the Corolla driver was also a student at ASU, of course she'd see it everywhere.Ellie groaned at the thought of having to tell her brother. Jason had calmed down with the seen-but-not-heard bodyguard crap in the past few weeks and Ellie had thrived with the breathing room. It was probably nothing but her paranoia, but telling him was part of the deal she'd cut for her freedom.
For almost a year, he'd insisted on one member from the BlackStone Security team watching her at all hours. It was freaking creepy. When she'd accomplished a whole semester of college and eleven extremely uneventful months while a watchdog hid in the shadows, she'd put her foot down. She'd even enlisted Jason's fiancée, Jules, to help convince him to let her live a normal life without a babysitter, and that was only after Ellie had promised to inform him any time she felt nervous.
A pale brick building on the edge of the block came into view and the familiar plain black lettering of Sasha's Thrift and Save Store sign set her at ease. She hoped other people who came to the store felt the same, since it was a front for Sasha Saves, a nonprofit crisis center for survivors of abuse and human trafficking.
Ellie and the other founders quickly discovered that some survivors who entered the building were stalked and monitored by their abusers. That's why Sasha Saves was a secret to everyone until it was needed. Word of the clinic was passed on from survivor to survivor, through their hotline, or from vaguely worded flyers they'd strategically posted in local bar bathrooms, and baby and intimate aisles of stores.
Hidden in plain sight.
And by turning the entrance to the clinic into a storefront, it prevented abusers from finding out their victims were getting help. Victims would call the survivor hotline, be given the address, and be instructed to say they were going to the store. Jason's private security firm even installed strong safety measures to further protect survivors, helping them seek relief and escape without getting damned for being their own hero.
Ellie hopped her bike up the sidewalk and skidded to a halt in front of the looping bike rack. Her fine, sun-bleached blonde hair tickled her cheek in the wind and she tossed her ponytail back over her shoulder as she locked her bike up to the metal. She glanced around, not surprised to find the Corolla had disappeared.
Yep. Losing it.
Still, it was better to be safe than sorry. Ellie pulled her phone from her backpack side pocket and sent off a quick text to Jason. He was probably getting as sick of her anxiety as she was.
Jason: I'll get Snake on it. Be safe. Stay near Devil. Text me if anything changes.
Ellie rolled her eyes. Jason was always trying to persuade her to agree to bodyguards again, but she was ready to move on. Sure, she might have to deal with her lingering PTSD, but she'd never shake her jitters until she started to live life like a normal college student.
After reading Jason's text, Ellie turned back to the nondescript, pale building. She rolled her shoulders back to gear up for what she was about to walk into. How bad would it be this time? Would she be able to help save this one? Would this one even want to be saved? Ellie closed her eyes and lifted her face to the sun. The heat from its rays warmed her skin and a cool breeze soothed her nerves. A slow, deep inhale of the fresh air calmed her, thanks to the faint scent of the lavender she'd planted in the store window boxes. She whispered into the wind, knowing without a doubt her best friend was listening somewhere up there.
"It's all for you, Sash. All for you."
CHAPTER TWO
Ellie shouldered open the heavy-duty metal clinic door. Wails coming from the medical room immediately bombarded her senses. She fought the panicked instinct to flee and instead ran toward the screeching.
The sight of the handsome, brooding redhead in a black T-shirt and jeans made her knees wobbly with relief. Whatever she’d barged in on was under control if Dev was there.
Ellie pressed a hand to her heart and willed it to slow as Dev methodically dabbed a patient’s cheek with gauze.
The woman looked exhausted, slumped over crosswise on the examination table with an ice pack against the other cheek. She seemed half awake, despite having a little girl in a green dress clutching her legs and screaming her lungs out.
Dev glanced up from his ministrations before gathering supplies from the counter. Raising his voice over the girl’s bawling, he introduced his patient. “This is Naomi.” He paused and indicated the child with a slight wave of his hand. “And this is Thea. Can you get her? I think she’s upset.”
Ellie held back a snort and relaxed at Dev’s unemotional delivery. It always set her at ease despite the circumstances. If he was freaking out then she’d have broken down right along with the child.
“Hi, Naomi.” Ellie lifted her hand in greeting and gestured to Thea. “Can I?” Ellie waited for the frazzled woman to give permission before approaching.
This was always a sensitive situation. Women who’d just escaped an abusive situation were still on high alert and extremely protective of their children, more so than usual. Putting the children first, even as their own wounds were being tended to, was their main priority. It was likely what drove them to the clinic in the first place.
At Naomi’s nod, Ellie tossed her backpack to the side of the room. She returned and bent low to gently peel Thea away from her mother.
“Shh, shh, shh… Thea? That’s your name, right? Thea… Can you look at me?”
Thea screeched louder and clung to Naomi’s jeans until Ellie kneeled to the ground and rubbed the girl’s back in small circles.
“Thee-aahh… what a pretty name you’ve got there.” After a few more off-key notes, Thea’s cries lowered to whimpers. She stopped climbing the examination table and slid to the floor before sagging against her mother’s legs. “There ya go. Do you want to turn around and say ‘hi’ to me? My name’s Ellie.”
She finally turned and Ellie sucked in a breath at the girl’s round face and the dimple in one of her cheeks. Her heart flipped in her stomach, as if she was falling into the dark pools of the girl’s eyes.
“Found you, Sasha!” Ellie whispered as she climbed farther up the gnarled tree. “You always hide up here.”
High in the branches, Sasha giggled before slapping a hand over her mouth to silence herself. “That’s because no one but you ever finds me.”
To give Ellie room to join her hiding spot, Sasha scooted across the treehouse planks. They settled in to wait for the other seekers in their manhunt. She and Sasha always won the game. No one ever bothered to look up.
Ellie pressed her closed mouth against her knee, still wanting to be quiet. Just in case. Sasha did the same and grinned at her. Ellie smiled back. They were safe.
“Ellie!”
Something shook her out of her flashback and Ellie blinked back into the present. She’d fallen on her butt with her hands bracing her. Dev kneeled beside her with a ginger grip on her shoulder while his brow furrowed in concern.
“You’re okay, angel. You are safe. You are in control. You are here, in this moment. You are at the Sasha Saves clinic.”
“I am safe,” Ellie mumbled. “I am in control. I am here, in this moment.” The robotic words left her lips automatically, as if each phrase were a button activating the next. Almost a year of therapy and the meditation was reflexive. It should’ve been. She’d sure as heck done it enough times.
“That’s right, and where is here, Ellie?”
“Sasha Saves clinic.”
The little girl with wild red curls and hazel green eyes watched her, curious underneath her long, spiky wet lashes. Except for the dimple in her left cheek, Thea actually looked nothing like her childhood friend.
Ellie swallowed back the reality that her flashbacks came without rhyme or reason. Whatever had sparked this one, she had no idea. All she knew was she had to bury that crap deep and get herself under control.
“What’s wrong with her, Mommy?” Thea whispered loudly. Her red curls bounced against her shoulder as she tilted her head to the side. Ellie didn’t like being the center of attention, but at least the girl’s tears had stopped.
“Nothing, she’s fine,” Dev answered for her, his thumb smoothing small circles over the T-shirt sleeve on her shoulder.
Thea’s mother frowned from behind the ice pack on her cheek. Ellie felt heat rise in her chest and brushed imaginary dirt from her hands.
“Sorry.” Ellie cleared her throat. “I…”
“Got caught up in a memory.” Dev’s soft monotone was jarring in the quiet room. Ellie lifted her gaze to his sad smile and her heart stuttered as he squeezed her shoulder one final time.
“God, he’s pretty.”
She’d thought the words, but they giggled across her mind in Sasha’s voice. Ellie nodded to both Sasha and Dev, hoping no one in the room could tell she was losing it. Her therapist explained that Ellie talking to herself in Sasha’s voice was a natural, healthy way to understand her grief. It would go away eventually when she no longer needed the coping mechanism.
“Copin’ mechanism, my ass.”
“Exactly.” Ellie blew out a breath and pasted on a smile. “Thanks Dev, uh, Thea do you wanna go check out our toys—”
“No! I wanna stay with my mommy.”
“It’s alright. They’re over here in this corner. See?” Ellie waved Dev’s hand away as she gathered herself up from the floor. “And look, you can watch a show on this cool bean bag.” Ellie took Thea by the hand again and led her to the toy box in the corner, along with the beanbag and tablet. “You can still see your mommy, but now you don’t have to hear the grownups talk about boring stuff.”
Thea scrunched her nose and lifted her chin in her mother’s direction.
“It’s okay, baby. I’ll be right here.” The woman’s raspy voice broke on the last word. Knowing what usually caused vocal cord injuries made Ellie want to scream on her behalf. But she bit her tongue. She’d have to run her frustration out later.
At the time Sasha Saves opened, Ellie had totally sucked at keeping her emotions to herself. Since then, she’d gotten so adept at hiding her feelings, even she was hard-pressed to know what they were anymore.
But she could always identify rage.
Naomi’s little protector nodded slowly and chose the tablet. Ellie inhaled a slow breath before gathering her courage up again. Unfortunately, fighting past a child’s reluctance to be helped was the easy part. Sometimes the adults fought back.
After a few moments of listening to make sure Thea was enthralled with the Pixar movie, Ellie braced herself and faced Naomi. The eye she wasn’t icing was nearly swollen shut, leaving Ellie worried about how much worse the side that needed icing was.
“El, like I said, this is Naomi. She came for our assistance.” Dev scrubbed his beard before calmly leaning against the counter and crossing his thick arms. His bedside manner was straightforward and had the air of a regular doctor’s checkup, which seemed to put survivors at ease. There’s no judgment in facts.
Giving a slow nod to Dev, Ellie stepped in closer and gave Naomi her full attention. “You met Nora when you came in, right?” At Naomi’s nod, Ellie continued. “She’s our manager and lets me know when someone wants to chat here at the clinic. I’m Ellie Stone. I’m the Survivor Services Director and Advocate. We can help you.”
“Survivor services?” the woman mumbled with a lilt on the end.
Ellie nodded and smiled. “We don’t say victim around here. If you’re seeking help, you’re a survivor.” She watched as a spark of hope lit Naomi’s brown eyes before Ellie continued. “Can you tell me what happened? Who did this to you?”
As soon as it lit, the flame extinguished. Naomi’s face hardened as her lips formed a thin line. But while she could snuff out her words, the pain in her eyes couldn’t be dampened. Like recognized like, and Ellie recognized that anger. The kind that burned inside until it either consumed or was extinguished. This woman may have been beaten back, but she’d never be beaten.
Naomi swallowed and grimaced at the effort. “Nothin’ happened.”
The lie grated against Ellie’s skin, compounded by Naomi’s gravelly voice. Dev’s lips tightened while he retrieved his notes and marked something on the paperwork.
“I understand,” Ellie began. “But your injuries… something happened… I’d love for you to tell me, rather than come to my own conclusions.”
Naomi narrowed her uncovered eye in warning. “I came here to get checked out. I didn’t come for anything else.”
Naomi’s insistence on silence weighed on Ellie, and she leaned on the nearby counter for support. “Please, Naomi? I think I can help you, but we need to know which direction to take.”
There was only so much they could do if a survivor refused to disclose anything. There were ways to still support them, but handing out pamphlets was much less effective than filing a police report.
“Bike accident,” Naomi muttered.
Ellie leaned closer and tilted her ear. “I’m sorry, what’s that?”
Naomi opened her mouth, only for her lips to tighten shut again. Dev cleared his throat.
“Ma’am, you’ve suffered numerous contusions, including petechial hemorrhaging in and around your eyes, and lacerations to your upper body and facial region. Those are most consistent with strikes with a closed fist, likely right-handed given the swelling and discoloration concentrated on your left temple and orbital area.”
“It was an accident.” Naomi’s light olive skin blushed even under the bruises, and her voice lilted up on the end, as if she was asking a question instead of trying to convince them.
“I’m sorry, Naomi…” Ellie began in a gentle voice, trying not to cause the woman more stress. But it was important she knew that they knew her story wasn’t plausible. “Your hoarse voice and the fingerprint bruising on your neck aren’t typically caused by—”
“It was a bike accident!” Naomi’s whispered shout cracked painfully and Thea’s attention swiveled toward them, her nose scrunched as she assessed the situation. Naomi, Ellie, and Dev remained silent, and Thea huffed before turning back to the tablet.
“Thea and I were ridin’ our bikes and… uh… hers swerved into mine. I crashed onto the ground.”
Dev’s schooled expression dropped enough to expose his concern.
“You have the opportunity to get help for you and your daughter… Don’t you want to take it?” He delivered the question in his cool monotone, despite the worry rolling off of him, but Naomi’s swollen eye narrowed a fraction as she hissed.
“Are you sayin’ I’m a bad mother?”
“No, but—”
“Absolutely not, Naomi. We don’t think that,” Ellie answered. “If your injuries need to come from a bike accident, then that’s where they’re from.”
Ellie scowled at Dev and his light cheeks reddened. He nodded at her silent reprimand before sagging against the counter. They’d been doing this long enough he should’ve known from Naomi’s mannerisms she’d shut down at a pointed question like that. But some cases—like ones involving strangulation—were too daunting to keep silent.
She returned her attention to Naomi, hoping they could move forward. “Do you think you need to go to the hospital?”
Naomi’s subtle shake “no” led Ellie to her next routine question, although she knew what the answer would be.
“Would you like to report this… bike accident? We can protect you—”
“No! No. I-I can’t.”
“Okay.” Ellie nodded once and retrieved a pen and paper from her backpack.
“Okay?” Naomi asked in her rough voice. “That’s it? You’re not gonna make me report it?”
Ellie raised an eyebrow. “Do you want me to report it?”
“Oh, God, no. I-I can’t come back if you do.”
Ellie bit her lip. The fear they wouldn’t come back the next time they needed help was why she never pushed too hard. “Do you believe there’s any way Thea would get hurt? Does she get in… accidents, too?”
Naomi’s exposed eye widened. “No. Of course not… it’s just, um, me.”
Ellie shrugged. “Well, I guess we can’t report a bike accident.”
There was a heavy pause, one with the weight of decisions hanging in the balance.
“You’re really not gonna report it?” Naomi asked again, the relief in her sigh made Ellie wonder for the hundredth time whether the decision to trust the survivor was a good one.
“No, I’m not gonna report it. We’ll keep documentation for our office, just in case you ever need it, but we’ve designed the fine print for our shelter so our staff aren’t considered mandatory reporters in this state. We’ll give you a phone number you can call anytime and someone will help you with whatever you need. I wish you would report it. But I can’t make you and I won’t take that choice away from you.”
Naomi might have scrunched her nose up like her daughter, but her face was too swollen for it to accomplish the same effect. Her chest puffed out on a deep inhale. After a long moment, Naomi finally shook her head. “It was just a bike accident.”
Ellie rubbed the fiery ache in her chest, yet another survivor refusing to bring her abuser to justice. It’d hit hard the first few survivors who’d refused to prosecute and receive all the help Sasha Saves could provide. But they had a saying around the clinic: ‘Help doesn’t always mean justice. Sometimes it means escape.’ If they scared survivors away then they wouldn’t even be able to provide that.
“Alright, I understand.” Ellie reached out and placed her hand over Naomi’s resting on the examination table.
Naomi’s breath hitched before quiet rivulets trailed down her cheek. “Thank you. Just… thank you.”
Her shoulders slumped and she suddenly looked much older than she was, which was twenty-five, according to her chart. The poor woman had been carrying so much for so long. Ellie gingerly patted her shoulder and squeezed.
Naomi carefully dried her tears with gauze. “Can I take this off?” she asked Dev before indicating the ice pack she’d pulled from her cheek. Ellie couldn’t help her eyes widening. The iced side of Naomi’s face was mottled with purple bruises and the thin skin of and around her eyelid was swollen shut to the size of a golf ball.
Dev checked his watch. “In a few minutes.”
Ellie averted her stare from Naomi’s injuries and brought her hand up to massage her forehead.
“Well, our attorney should be here soon—”
The door behind them crashed open and everyone’s eyes snapped to the noise. Naomi clutched her chest and threw one leg over the side of her seat while the other was poised on the floor, ready for escape. Dev’s back was suddenly in Ellie’s view as he shielded her with his body, so she peeked around him to see who it was.
Blue hair was the first thing Ellie noticed as Snake stood in front of the doorway. He lifted an awkward hand in greeting despite the fact both hands were holding boxes of wires. His pale cheeks flushed to a bright crimson.
“Oh… um. Hi.”
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