A Twist of Betrayal by Allie Harrison Page A

Dan stepped down from the witness stand, and Justine couldn’t help but watch him as he moved past.
    “Next witness.”
    “The Defense rests,” Justine said. The trial wasn’t over yet, but she felt a tremendous weight lifted off her shoulders. She’d put up one heck of a fight with everything she had. The evidence the prosecution had was little more than circumstantial. Justine had a good chance of winning, she could taste it. Almost as well as she still tasted that kiss.
    “We will recess until tomorrow,” the judge said, “at nine a.m. with closing arguments. Court is adjourned.” He struck his gavel and stood up.
    The room began to clear, and Justine began to put her notes into her briefcase. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up, and she knew from somewhere behind her, Dan Franklin watched her. It was as if some unseen electrical current connected the two of them. It was the idea of that current, the connection that held her thoughts, that kept her from seeing the defendant’s movement.
    In a flash, the defendant who had just stood next to her shoved against the bailiff and snatched his gun from its holster.
    The gun went off, sending a heart-stopping explosion echoing through the room. Chaos broke out instantly. Justine was hardly aware of the several screams from others behind her.
    Frozen with terror and utter disbelief, she stared at the hole in Judge Sandors chair. If he’d still been sitting there, he would have been shot square in the chest. After that, Justine saw everything happen in a slow motion. She felt each beat of her own heart. The defendant—her client—still held the gun in his hand.
    At the same time, Justine felt as if time stopped. She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t drop to the floor in hopes of hiding behind her chair. She couldn’t believe this was happening. The case had been going well for her client.
    Apparently, he had doubts. Or he was stupid. Or worse, he needed a drug fix.
    She felt responsible for him, for his actions, yet she was unable to stop him now. There was so much chaos, she couldn’t focus. She felt detached, as she was watching a movie placed on fast forward, and she couldn’t keep up. Hell, she couldn’t even think enough to react. She remembered calling his name in an effort to stop him. But he turned and looked at her with murder in his hard gaze. She still couldn’t believe this was happening to her. He didn’t really point that gun at her. He didn’t really look at her with an expression that clearly said he had every intention of killing her.
    Something hit Justine and knocked her right off of her feet. She smashed against the defendant’s table and fell to the floor, taking her briefcase with her and sending its contents all about. The collision knocked the wind from her lungs. Her hips hurt instantly, one from colliding with the edge of the table, the other on the hard wood of the floor.
    Another explosion echoed off the walls.
    Justine’s first thought was that she’d been shot. Probably in the chest by the way she couldn’t breathe. But then she forced in a much-needed breath, and realized the weight of whatever hit her covered her completely, making that breath hard to take.
    The gray smoke of Dan’s gaze met hers, and the warmth of his body touched her everywhere. His now familiar scent filled her. In a single instant, heat mixed with security surrounded her.
    Then suddenly that warmth and security was gone as he rolled off her. Still on the floor, Dan rolled into the legs of the defendant and knocked him off balance just enough that between Dan and the bailiff, they were able to maneuver the gun from his hand without sending any more shots through the room. By the time Justine was able to bring her breathing under control, without sounding like a panting race horse, Dan and the bailiff had the defendant face down on the floor. Dan held him in place as the bailiff slapped handcuffs on his wrists.
    Yet, when Justine looked