Max and I both went stiff as planks and backed away.
“Whoa there,” I said. My eyes were fixed on the gun. I’d seen guns before, but they’d always been in plastic bags, laying on one of the tables in the courtrooms. Every once in a while Max would pick one up during the closing argument and wave it around for dramatic effect. I would laugh softly and shake my head. But not at that moment.
“Sir,” Max began, “I don’t think that’s really necessary.” He turned to me. “Maybe we could find a slot for him today.”
I nodded eagerly, trying to control the tremors racking my body. “Oh, yes. We could wait until tomorrow to file that brief. How about we fit him in right now?”
“Good idea. We’ll—”
“Shut up,” the man growled. “I’m not an idiot.”
He stepped forward. Max and I put our hands up on impulse.
“What is it you wanted to talk about?” Max said politely. He sounded calm, but his hands remained up.
“Matthew Stewart.” His teeth ground together as he said the name then he used a curse word even my father wouldn’t have used. My mother would have smacked him into the next century if he’d even thought about it.
Max cocked his head. “Matthew Stewart?”
My mind spun backwards, searching for the name’s place. It struck on a case that ended six months ago. We’d defended a young man named Matthew Stewart. I was trying to remember what he’d been charged with when the man said, “You got him off. A murderer, and you let him go.” The ghostlike echo was gone, replaced by a snarl similar to a buzz saw.
Max tossed me a confused look then returned his gaze to the man. “I did defend the boy and he was found innocent. I’m afraid I don’t understand the issue.”
“He was guilty. That’s my issue.”
“The jury thought otherwise.”
“Only because you’re a slick, slimy talker who mesmerized them.” The gun shook.
Max, meanwhile, suddenly looked angry as well. He hated it when people suggested lawyers did nothing more than con the jury.
“Listen,” he snapped. “All I did was my job. The jury agreed with me. The evidence was ridiculously flimsy. And furthermore—”
“Max,” I cried and held my hands a little higher. I could see the man’s jaw tightening with each word Max spoke. “This isn’t a good time, okay.”
Max ruffled. “I am merely explaining the process.”
“This isn’t a good time.”
“If he wishes to discuss the case—”
“He’s holding a gun on you, Max. He does not wish to discuss the nuances of the law.” I couldn’t believe he was honestly that idiotic.
“How would you know? Have you ever been held up before,” he snapped back at me.
“What are you two? Married?” the man cut in.
“No!” we both yelled back in unison. I bristled violently. Max said “no” far too fast and too passionately. I might have as well, but that wasn’t the point.
“Well, you argue like you are,” he returned and shook his head.
I balled my fists. “What are you? A relationship counselor?”
There was a flash of movement in my peripheral vision. I realized it was Max right about the time I saw him smack the man’s wrist. The gun hit the ground with a thud. I thought Max was going to go for it, but instead he kicked man’s knee in sending him flat to the floor right at my feet.
That was our first bad break. He didn’t hesitate to grab me by the ankle and yank the floor right out from under me. I came down on my tailbone hard, sending a sharp pain up my spine, but there was no time to think about the pain.
A hand was on my collar, yanking me up again a second later. Then there was an arm around my waist, holding me up and a hand completely around my throat with a thumb pressing hard into my jugular.
“Any closer and I snap her neck,” he growled.
The sound echoed through my eardrum as his sour breath curled my nose.
My eyes focused on Max. He gritted his teeth like they were tearing into someone’s flesh. “Let her go.”
I’d never heard that tone of voice come out of him. It made me shudder.
The man started to drag me backwards. “Stay where you are.”
Max moved forward anyway. He no longer looked like a slightly geeky lawyer. He was a warrior ready to kill his enemy.
My captor responded to the move by clenching down so hard on my throat I whimpered. Max stopped in his tracks.
“If you hurt her—”
“Like you have a heart for anyone,” he spat back and continued to move.
I tried to make myself dead weight, dragging and digging in with my feet, but he moved like I weighed nothing more than a skipping stone.
“Please,” I softly begged, but I could barely hear my own voice.
My feet tripped over the threshold, knocking both of my shoes off as I tried to grab hold. As soon as we were through the doorway he threw me down to the floor. I wrenched around in time to see him grab the door and slam it then an instant later fling it back open. I couldn’t understand what he was doing until I heard the smack and Max cry out.
He’d known Max would come running after us and had opened the door right into his face to slow down any attempt to pursue.
“Max,” I screamed, but the big hand had me by the collar again and yanked up, cutting off my vocal cords.