Independence: #2 Angel (25 page)

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Authors: Karen Nichols

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BOOK: Independence: #2 Angel
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“You’ve never brought a sub here before,” she said quietly, pressing her face against his side and sighing.

“I’ve never met a woman who fit me as well as you do,” he admitted after a thoughtful pause. “I enjoy the dominance but not always some of the other aspects.”

“Maybe you see too much of it misused in your job,” she suggested with a little yawn. “I don’t understand a lot of the why…but I know it’s not…I know everybody finds happiness in something different. The fun part is when you find it in the same things, I think.”

“The fun part,” Colin whispered and turned to face her, holding her against him and shutting down his mind for the night. He needed to be on his game tomorrow. He’d started the process and only hoped he could make the system work.

He lay listening to her breathing softly against him, his gaze on the rain sputtering against the glass of the windows.

Chapter Twenty-One

He woke with the soft music playing from the nightstand. Curled against a soft bottom, his cock was awake and eager. By the time he returned from the bathroom, she was stirring, stretching and losing the cover of the blankets. He adjusted the boxers he’d slid up his legs after the quick shower and watched the tanned body slowly revealed to him with each new movement and stretch.

“Morning,” Angel shoved her arms behind her and blinked. “Shower…”

“I’ll be downstairs when you’re finished,” Colin leaned down to kiss her and let the disheveled hair filter through his fingers. “Toast? Juice?”

“Please…I’ll be fast…oh…my clothes…” Her head swiveled to the stairs and back. Colin could almost see her weighing the options available.

“I’ll bring them up and leave them on the bed for you,” he told her with a laugh, buttoning the sleeves of his shirt as he watched her scramble from the bed. “If I spend much more time watching you naked, we’ll both end up late for the day,” he chuckled and went down the stairs.

“I don’t know what to expect,” Angel finally said as she paced her kitchen half an hour later. She’d unlocked the café and worked quickly to get coffee brewing, hot water bubbling and the oven ready for baking.

Colin stood with feet apart near the window in the kitchen, watching her. He’d been waiting for the silence to break. He’d tried asking but she assured him she was fine. It didn’t surprise him that she’d had a spare backpack of clothing in her car. But he’d been polite and given her privacy when she changed in her office. He asked again if she was alright but received only a curt nod when she delivered coffee and a plate of mixed fruit and croissants.

He gave some thought to going into Dom mode, but this was her kitchen; her employees. Crossing back and forth when they were alone, was acceptable. But he wasn’t going to undermine her image in her business. So he did what he’d come to do best. He waited.

“We’ll handle it together, Angel,” he assured her, wondering at the slight nod she gave in response. She hadn’t said anything yet about the fact that she didn’t ask for him to do this. “Have you never thought to get a restraining order against them?”

“No one ever believed me,” she answered softly, her head shaking, one shoulder up and down resolutely. “So how could I?”

“Not all officials are like the ones you’ve run into, babe. And you could have asked Gabe for help,” he saw the panic in her eyes when her head jerked up and she stared at him. “He and Bailey became friends with the police Lieutenant, Templeton? She’s reviewing the case for us now. And she’ll be at the hearing. She’s on our side.” He tipped his wrist up. “We need to go, Angel.”

“I know…” She went and talked to the young woman near the counter for a few quick minutes. When she returned, she got her purse and jacket and smiled when she slid her hand in the palm he held out to her. “Alright.”

Colin took a quiet minute to frame her face, kissing her with a promise that it would be alright. One way or another.

“Will you be disappointed, Colin?” Angel waited when he went around the front of the SUV and slid behind the wheel.

“Disappointed?”

“If this doesn’t work,” she said with a winsome smile. “It’ll be alright. I won’t blame you,” she shrugged. “It just is the way it’s supposed to be. I keep thinking he’ll get tired of the fighting…tired of me…or maybe I’m wishing it were that way.”

“We’ll handle it through the courts, Angel. This isn’t the way it’s supposed to be. For you or anyone,” he told her as he guided them to the highway and down the ramp to the courthouse.

“I’ve never been here before. No parking tickets…and I think it’s intimidating,” she admitted, her hand clenching the door handle, waiting for the SUV to come to a stop once he’d settled on a parking space. “I’m not a coward.”

“Angel…” her name was drawn out slowly but the hand closest to her was up to quickly grasp her wrist before she left the front seat. “There is nothing wrong with being afraid of people who use brute force to get their way. That’s neither sane nor consensual,” he waited, watching her lips twitch even when she kept staring out the front window.

“I tried this once before, Colin. I was twenty-five and in one of many baking classes in Seattle at the University,” she recalled, glancing down to see he’d slipped his fingers into hers, the look on his face calm and patient. She sighed. And sexy. She loved stroking his face and drawing her finger down the dent in his chin. He wore a silver shirt today with a darker silver tie. “I know I made it easy for him sometimes. They’d worry me so much, I wasn’t eating right or getting much sleep.”

“Now you have me to worry for you,” he offered with a wink.

She dragged in a slow breath and met his gaze. “We should go. I don’t want to be late.”

Colin released her fingers and was out and around the side, taking his briefcase with him in one hand. He dropped his keys into the pocket of his suit jacket and took her hand again. She walked proudly, her head up and stride matching his as they mounted the outside stairs.

Angel laid her purse on the conveyor belt and stepped through the weapons detector, waiting on the other side for him. She looked down at her feet as they walked across the expansive foyer bustling with people. Her shoes squeaked on the shiny marble; while Colin’s made a heavy, dull thud. He wore his low boots beneath his suit pants.

“Will they be there?” She finally asked in the elevator to the fifth floor.

“This is a slightly different venue that usual,” Colin answered cautiously. “I’ve asked the judge to evaluate the paperwork, and she’s asked for you to be there. After the last altercation, your father’s attorney is involved, so naturally he was informed.” He listened to her long sigh, her head nodding in understanding. “You will be on the other side of the room, Angel. Nowhere near him.”

“I’m okay,” she answered with a squeeze of his fingers.

“Maybe I’m not,” he teased. “Humor me, huh?” He was rewarded with a nervous giggle that turned into a gulp when they stopped before a glass topped door with the judge’s name etched on it. He turned her to the open chamber, the small version of a courtroom. “This is family court, Angel. Things are usually a little more relaxed.”

“I don’t feel relaxed,” she whispered hoarsely.

“I know, babe, I know.”

He held the door for her, guiding her to the side of the small replica of a courtroom. He set his briefcase on the table and took a seat next to her. She held her hands in her lap, probably to keep from letting anyone see them shake, he thought.

He slid his palm over her two and offered warmth and assurance. His fingers tightened when the door behind them opened and she closed her eyes, thick, dark lashes squeezed.

Her expression changed as she listened to the hushed, familiar voices. The animation was gone, her features smooth and deceptively calm. Four of her brothers and her father had appeared for the hearing, as well as Earl Leonard.

“I’d like to speak with my daughter. We can easily have this resolved without the involvement of the courts.” Joseph Morehouse remained standing, staring toward a daughter who was stiff and did not look in his direction.

“This is up to the court now, Mr. Morehouse,” the attorney at his side reminded him. “The papers have been filed. There is no…”

“Nonsense. I want to speak with Angelica and she can dismiss this entire mistake by dropping the charges.” He continued staring at her, the pale glaze in his eyes unwelcoming when she turned her head to look at him.

When she turned away without a word, she kept her head high and tried to breathe without shaking. If the man intended to push the issue and ignore his attorney, the command for all to rise, made the decision for him.

The judge entered from behind the room, her robes fluttering slightly as she strode to her chair and dropped a large stack of folders to the top of the large desk.

“Have a seat,” she said with the faintest hint of old south in her voice. Hair the color of rich honey was short and curled haphazardly around her ears and forehead, barely touching the collar of her robe. She rested one hand on top of the files, her fingers drumming. “That’s quite an entourage, Mr. Gamble. But not all of the defendants.”

“Four of Miss Morehouse’s brothers, your honor.” The attorney gestured to the well-dressed men behind him.

“I don’t need an introduction, councilor. And Mr. Joseph Morehouse…I recognize you from the press,” she eyed the additional man critically. “And you would be?”

“Earl Leonard, your honor. The Plaintiff’s fiancée.”

A gasp from Angel had the judge raising an eyebrow. “Mr. Leonard, I’m not sure what country you believe we’re residing in, but all of my information indicates that Miss Morehouse has not only declined your suit publically, but adamantly and before many witnesses.”

“I have given my daughter to him, your honor. Pledged her to…”

“Mr. Morehouse…” the judge interrupted sharply, still casually reclined in her large chair, her fingers still absently tapping on the folders. “Again…I’m not sure what country you believe you live in…but in the United States, we do not own people, therefore, we cannot ‘give’ them to anyone.”

“However, I am not here at the moment to correct a generation or two of misogynistic garbage,” she tapped the folders a little more. “I’ve read through your files…”

“Your honor, I am so sorry for being late,” Lieutenant Natalie Templeton shoved into the room, ducking the guard. “Really. I got stuck at check-in because of my weapon.”

“Lieutenant, always an entertainment,” the judge chuckled. “You can present your assessment of the attempts by Miss Morehouse to stop the harassment, abuse and assault upon her by her relatives. I won’t even call them family, because no human family should ever behave in such a way to another member.”

“Briefly, your honor, I believe the officers who were tasked to handle these reports and complaints, were either incredibly incompetent, or bought off in some way to brush the issues under the carpet. I have my best computer person digging to find the evidence. Angelica Morehouse, like most people, accepted what they were told by figures of authority. I’ve filed complaints to the two houses involved and the officers will be suspended pending a review,” Natalie Templeton raked the free hanging long hair back from her head. “Just dealing with the last two complaints of assault and kidnapping, it is my professional opinion that charges should be brought against all the individuals named in the formal complaints.”

“It seems, from the files and information you’ve collected, that Miss Morehouse has been the victim of too many people wanting to control her life without asking her permission,” Judge Andrea Fox looked expectantly at Tyler Gamble. “Comments, Mr. Gamble before I ask some questions?”

“Everything the Reverend Morehouse has done, has been to help his daughter through the troubled times in her life,” he began coolly, his voice smooth and confident.

“Just so we can cut to the chase, Mr. Gamble…Mr. Morehouse…I had my own people conduct an in-depth background check on Angelica Morehouse. She’s spent a great deal of time with nannies, her maternal grandparents and schools. She’s never even had a parking ticket. There are no wild college parties; no hint of anything off color while she was taking her various cooking classes. No problems from the employers she’s had learning her trade and the bank that financed her business have glowing praise for her.” She looked at Colin. “Stand up for me, Miss Morehouse, please.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

“Yes, ma’am,” Angel quickly got to her feet. She wished she’d worn something better than jeans and a t-shirt. Her jacket hid her clothes to her knees, though.

“Remove your jacket for me.”

“I…” she swallowed and nodded, opening the buttons slowly and letting it slide from her arms to fall in the chair.

“You look quite healthy, Miss Morehouse.”

“I…yes, ma’am, I am.”

“I found nothing to indicate you had any issue that was troubling, outside of your relatives intruding on your life.”

“I don’t, ma’am. I love my work…baking and blending coffees and teas,” Angel answered honestly. “I…I run on the beach when I can and on a treadmill when I can’t.”

“My daughter lacks a proper Christian influence in her life,” Joseph Morehouse stood up, despite the hand of the attorney on his arm.

“Mr. Morehouse, again, I have to wonder what country you’ve chosen to live in. In this country, we have the right to choose. Nothing in my background check revealed that Miss Morehouse is dancing around naked in a forest during the full moon while corrupting impressionable minors,” she said with a crooked grin at the slight giggle from a nervous Angel. “However, if that were her choice, it is her right to do as she pleases, as long as she doesn’t hurt herself or someone else in the process. In other words, sir, it is not your business or your right, to impose your beliefs and choices upon anyone. She is intelligent, prosperous and self-reliant. She appears quite articulate and has references that backup everything I’ve uncovered.”

All heads went to the noise at the main entrance, Elizabeth Morehouse entered with a somber dark dress betrayed by the flapping of the expensive overcoat she wore.

“I am so sorry, your honor. I’m here to offer support to my husband at this most trying of times.” She took a seat to the back.

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