His thumb touched the minuscule wound left by the Cajun’s knife.
In another world, in another time, she might have thought his fingers were gentle, caressing. But here and now, she knew who he was. He’d been here last night. He’d held her—let the Cajun touch her. A quiver of revulsion rippled through her.
He’d threatened her with a searing glare and watched her like a hawk in court.
Lily felt sick. A cold sweat broke out across her face and neck.
He tightened his hold. “Don’t faint on me, Lily. I need you to be strong. You have to listen to me.” His breath was hot on her ear.
She tried to turn, but he held her in place, tight up against his unyielding body. The heat he gave off burned her to her core.
“You almost got kicked off the jury today. Do you know that?”
She swallowed against his fingers, which still held her throat in an ominous caress. Any second he could tighten them and choke her.
“Do you?” he snapped.
She nodded jerkily.
“You’ve got to be brave. You’ve got to stop looking like a doe facing a rifle.”
His low voice sounded earnest, as if he was worried about her. She closed her eyes and fought the urge to give up, to lean against him and stop struggling.
But she knew he couldn’t be trusted. He was the enemy. He had hurt her. He’d held her while the Cajun had hurt her.
“That’s pretty much what I am,” she said shakily.
“You’ve got to look confident. Can you do that? It’s the only way you’ll survive.”
“Wha-what are you talking about?” she croaked, confused by the urgency in his tone.
His hands slid down over her sleeveless top and tightened on her bare upper arms. He turned her around to face him.
His face was grave, his blue eyes burning with intensity as they searched her face. He lifted one hand and traced the bruise the Cajun had left on her jaw with a surprisingly gentle brush of his fingers.
Conflicting emotions swirled inside her. He’d grabbed her, threatened her. Why was he being so kind? Was it a trick? Was the Cajun waiting outside?
She stiffened, and cut her eyes over to her front door.
“Shh. It’s okay. He’s not here.”
Her gaze shot to his, suspicious. “He sent you?”
“No. I came on my own, to warn you.” His left hand touched her chin. “Listen to me, Lily. Jury summations are tomorrow. They won’t take long. The prosecution thinks they’ve got the case sewn up. Get up in the morning, shower and fix your hair. Put on makeup. Do whatever it is you do to look good.”
Tears burned her eyes. She shook her head. “I can’t do it. I can’t sit there in front of the judge and the lawyers, with the families of people Sack Simon killed watching me with their hopeful eyes. I can’t betray them.”
“You’ve got to. You have to walk into the jury box like you own it. Don’t give the ADA a reason to kick you off the jury. If you do, your father will die.” His face darkened. “You’ll die.”
She blinked and the tears streamed down her cheeks, down her neck. His thumb moved, rubbing the dampness into her skin, touching her in a way he had no right to. Making her feel safe when she knew she wasn’t.
“Don’t cry, Lily. Be strong.”
She sobbed.
“Shh.” He bent his head and put his mouth against her ear. She sniffled and was hit with the scent of him— soap and mint.
He’d brushed his teeth to come threaten her again. A little hiccuping giggle burst up from her chest.
“If you can be strong, if you can hold out, I promise you I’ll keep you safe.”
“You?” she spat, jerking her head away from his seductive whisper. She hiccuped again and looked him in the eye. “I’d rather die.”
He sighed and his eyes went storm-cloud gray. “Then you will.”
He turned her around and pulled her back up close against him again. His soft, ominous whisper burned through her. “Think about it, Lily. It’s your only chance. It’s the only way your dad will survive.”
He pushed her toward the couch.
She stumbled and fell onto the cushions. By the time she’d righted herself, he was gone.
The smell of soap and mint lingered in the air.
Chapter Three
When the jurors filed into the jury box, Brand’s mouth fell open. He’d told Lily to do whatever she did to look good, but he hadn’t expected much.
Whatever she’d done, it had worked. She looked like a different person. Gone was the pale skin, the fearful, darting eyes, the entwined fingers.
Her brown eyes sparkled, her hair was shiny and wavy and her skin glowed under the harsh fluorescent lights of the courtroom.
He frowned, feeling the knots of tension in his neck tighten even more. He’d tossed and turned all night, worrying that his visit had been too much for her, that she wouldn’t show up at all this morning.
Her transformation was amazing. Too amazing.
A sick dread spread through his gut. She didn’t look like this because he’d warned her. He eyed the pugnacious lift of her chin, the determined line of her jaw, and his mouth went dry.
She looked like a new woman because she was. She’d come to a decision.
Beside him, Foshee whistled under his breath. “I reckon you was right about one thing, brau. She jus’ needed some rest. Looks like a whole new woman.”
Too much like a whole new woman. Ah, Lily, what have you done?
As the DA got up to make his closing arguments, Brand shifted and cursed under his breath for Foshee’s benefit. “Damn it, I gotta take a piss,” he muttered.
The little Cajun looked at him sidelong. “Mebbe I better go wit’ you.”
“Oh yeah? Like girls? I don’t think so. I’ll be right back.”
Brand stood and slipped out of the courtroom, aware of Lily’s eyes following him. He didn’t dare look at her—he wasn’t sure why.
Standing alone on the courthouse steps, out of earshot of anyone who might walk up, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed the preset number.
“Pruitt.”
“It’s
