Dark Justice

Chapter One

Luke—Twelve Years Ago

All rise for the jury.

I stand, my legs unsteady. The jurors filter in, one by one, their eyes downcast. Those who look, only glance at the prosecutor. Not me or my defense attorney.

Wayne’s breath hitches. It’s a whispery whoosh, a sound he likely doesn’t realize he’s made, but it tells me everything I need to know. I almost collapse in defeat.

He thinks they found me guilty. And by their expressions, I agree.

I size up the crowd gathering in the courtroom. Most of them sit on the prosecutor’s side. Clint is there. Once my best friend, but now I’m convinced he’s a killer. He’s next to Lauren. The love of my life and the one I presumed would stand by my side forever. But since she believes I killed her sister, I guess I can’t blame her for turning her back on me.

But Clint? Fear curls my spine. He’s charming, I’ll give him that, but he’s an absolute psycho. Nobody in Lauren’s family will listen, especially Lauren. And before all this, I wouldn’t have believed Clint is the killer. He killed her sister. How do I know she won’t be next? How can I protect her if I’m locked in prison for the rest of my life?

The judge drones on about the charge, then asks the jury if they’ve reached a decision. Wayne shifts and gives me a blink that tells me he wants to make sure I’m aware of what’s going on. I’m eighteen, for God’s sake. How could anyone my age understand criminal justice?

He’s warned me of how you can never predict a jury, but this group of fourteen holds their heads high as if they’ve never been surer in their lives. Two of them are alternate jurors, so it’s up to five men and seven women to decide my fate.

An older gentleman hands the bailiff the verdict. I hold my breath, and the judge reads. We the jury find the defendant, Lucas Donovan Fuller, guilty of murder.

Gasps fill the room. Chaos erupts, at least in my bones. More like a commotion, nothing too disastrous to alert the judge, and something he’s probably accustomed to. He only regards the crowd. A lot of loud talking, crying, and my mother’s wails. He’s way more patient than me and waits for everyone’s reaction to subside.

My muscles grow weak. I badly want to sit and wonder when I’m allowed. I want to reach out to Lauren. Tell her I’m sorry this happened, I didn’t do it, she has to trust me, and please, please don’t trust Clint. I open my mouth to say these things, but my attorney stations his hand on my shoulder, as if his one palm is going to keep me silent.

He warned me over and over not to react. I’m not allowed to speak. I am barely allowed to move, and I can’t look her way, although I shift to do so. The bailiff puffs out his chest and walks closer, as if I’m going to bolt.

Calm down, Wayne says. We still have punishment. Don’t make a scene.

Why shouldn’t I react? This is life changing. My life is over. I’m going to prison. The judge hasn’t declared a final sentence but after everyone’s testimony, I’ve started to believe my own guilt. I’m likely going to prison for the rest of my life.

LUKE—PRESENT DAY

Luke Fuller’s pen scribbled across the page. His heart hammered while he wrote the words, ears filling with the deep drum of his heartbeat as if he was re-experiencing the event. Tired of writing, he shut the notebook and tossed it on the wrought-iron table beside him, along with his cap and shades. He stood and opened the grill to check the ribeye.

Food would be ready in a few minutes, and all he needed was right here. A little salt and pepper, paper plates and plastic forks to eat with, and a cooler full of drinks. Even a hundred feet from the river, the bullfrogs’ croaking put him at ease.

A sound he never expected to hear again.

He closed the grill, grabbed a beer from the ice chest, and lounged on the patio chair. It took a while for his heartbeat to settle. Writing these memories was difficult, harder than he expected, and his body ached from the flashbacks.

The sun descended, a showcase of gold fueled by rain clouds and humidity. He loved the open porch and didn’t want a screen to filter him and the outdoors. With bug spray, sleeping out here at night was a dream come true, despite the oppressive mugginess. Lightning flashed in the south, implying the much-needed shower was near. Nothing better than the clatter of rain on the roof.

Even the mosquitoes avoided the Texas July heat, but he’d take heat over the prison cell where he’d spent the past twelve years of his life. He’d take it over that any damn day.

LED lights strung across the porch offered a soft glow to ease him come sundown. He hated the darkness. Too many reminders of prison and the things he wanted to forget. But this darkness out in the country was peaceful, welcoming, different. Almost bearable.

A car drove up, the headlights zipping through the trees. His muscles tensed. He studied the nearby monitor attached to the front security camera. The car parked, the lights shut off. His lungs tightened, burned, then disintegrated when the woman stepped out and sauntered to the back.

She remembered. Friends always came to the back door. But she was no friend.

He blinked, his gut churning. Was he dreaming? Hallucinating after writing those memories? Lauren shone bright in his mind, even the seductive scent of honey and berries he once loved to sample behind her ear.

Her footsteps echoed up the stairs, and she came into view. She was no illusion. He remained sitting, nonchalant and drinking his beer as if he had no care in the world.

His mouth dried. The beer a sour tang. Her presence meant nothing good.

She thought he’d killed her sister. The entire community deemed him guilty before a jury of his peers sentenced him to life in prison. His sisters never stopped fighting to prove his innocence. He was released two months ago thanks to Adrienne and Charlotte and the team of defense attorneys who fought for him.

But he favored prison over the look of revulsion on Lauren’s face. A flowing skirt skimmed her knees, the imprinted flowers rivaling the charm of the countryside. Her slender body was as gorgeous as ever, heating him in ways better left ignored. She wore open-toed sandals. He never understood why she chose those shoes while hiking. They had to stop many times during their treks to pluck out grass burrs.

At one time, they didn’t mind the interruption.

Her dirty blonde hair was darker, accented by rich caramel, and the image of her ocean blue eyes burned in his memory. Despite the similarities, she wasn’t the same woman who once loved him.

He didn’t flinch when she pointed the pistol his direction. He continued to sip his beer, his ears tingling with the chatter of June bugs and crickets. If she wanted to shoot him, so be it.

Although he hadn’t killed her sister, he was just as much to blame. He had been selfish in spending his time with Lauren and didn’t mind leaving her sister alone. He trusted his best friend, had known him since grade school, but ignored his recent questionable tendencies. The town of Terrence was quick to point fingers while the real killer roamed free.

LAUREN—TWELVE YEARS Ago

Lauren cried in Luke’s arms. His strength grounded her while she prayed Elizabeth would be found safe. But she had been found, and she wasn’t safe.

Someone murdered her. Her throat slit. Her body—Lauren shook the image away. She hadn’t been allowed to see her, so her imagination played havoc with reality.  

Reality was, her baby sister, the one she was supposed to protect, the one she was not supposed to outlive, was dead.

She had left her little sister so she could be alone with Luke. Her parents, even throughout their own grief, begged her not to feel guilty. Elizabeth was twelve and pleaded for them to trust her and let her stay by herself. She loved it every time they agreed. She was afraid of nothing.

Lauren would have given her life for her little sister. And whoever stole her life would be punished.

Is everything okay?

She flinched at Clint’s deep boomy voice. His footsteps pounded into her skull. Luke’s arms tightened, but she sensed him shaking his head at his best friend.

She withdrew from her fiancé’s warm arms and faced Clint, swiping tears from her cheeks. No. Nothing is okay. Did you hear? They found Elizabeth. She’s dead.

Clint’s eyes widened, face blotched in horror. He stepped forward as if to approach, but Luke took her in his arms again and held her, shaking his head at his friend. She snuggled into Luke’s chest and breathed in his musk.

She hadn’t always liked Clint. He annoyed her. But he tirelessly worked to help find her sister. His father, the mayor, assembled an extensive search party and went above and beyond their duties, then vowed to catch the murderer. Clint had been Luke’s best friend since forever, and maybe one reason he annoyed her. She wanted Luke to herself and hated to share.  

But she was grateful for his help. His ancestors founded this town, and the ones still alive were powerful. They considered themselves everybody’s family.

The door crashed open. Lauren jerked and turned. The sheriff bulldozed in with two of his deputies. Lauren frowned.

Lucas Donovan Fuller? the sheriff said.

Luke’s hands dropped to his side. He stepped away from Lauren, fists clenched. His face paled. Yeah?

Lauren floundered, opened her mouth to say something, but her breath stalled and confusion wracked her brain. Clint tugged at her and she stumbled backward into his hold.

What was happening? This was no time for nonsense.

The sheriff continued. You’re under the arrest for the murder of Elizabeth Cooper.

Her brain stalled. Lips grew numb. Vision blurred as the sheriff slapped the cuffs on him. She opened her mouth to say something, to argue all the reasons the sheriff was wrong. But they hauled him out of the room, and everything grew black.

LAUREN—PRESENT DAY

Lauren Cooper pointed the pistol at Luke, knees knocking and thighs quaking. She was proud of herself for keeping a steady grip despite her sweaty palms.

She’d practiced plenty, eyeing her target, strengthening her resolve. Today, Luke Fuller was her target. Maybe her first moving target—although he didn’t move, didn’t even flinch—and definitely her first human target. Still, she’d often imagined him on the other end of her gun.

What was she thinking? She risked losing her job over this, even facing jail time, for threatening with a firearm. Was it worth it to lose everything she’d worked so hard for? Even worse, to risk her daughter’s wellbeing?

Luke had murdered Elizabeth, was released, and now another man accused. But not just any man. Clint Merkel. A close friend. Almost family.

Thousands of times she’d confronted Luke in her dreams. Robbed him of life as brutally as he had robbed her twelve-year-old sister’s. More like nightmares. The man she once loved with all her heart. The jury had convicted him, but now he was exonerated. Doubts still clouded her mind. The newest facts couldn’t obliterate twelve years of certainty, no matter how credible.

Her spine clenched. She had tossed and turned and cried herself to sleep for years. Her emotions skyrocketed all over the place. Suppressed memories jumbled out of her. Memories of his kiss, his embrace, their shared lives, their plans. In high school, they’d been dubbed Luke and Lauren. She didn’t want to plan college without questioning where he’d go. They were a team, a couple and everybody—including her—presumed they’d stay together after high school.

Stupid to give her life away to a man, to halt her ambitions and plans. And then one fateful night the truth had been discovered, and the cops had placed the cuffs on his wrists.

He was still the most handsome man she had ever seen. Still captivated her. The sting of attraction needled through her muscles, her bones, her heartbeat. Her pulsed thrummed into her toes. She fought to stand her ground and reveal nothing about his effect on her.

Thunder boomed. She jumped. The rain began a harsh and fast hammering on the roof. 

He sipped his beer, body relaxing as if knowing she wasn’t about to pull the trigger. He remained unaffected by the thunder, by the deluge, and by her presence.

You going to shoot me or not? He shrugged one shoulder, his drawl tightening the shivers in her stomach. Heat flared under her skin, the familiar anger—the reason she came here—blazed to her core. Him all casual, enjoying a beer while smoke billowed from his fire pit. The spices of the steak tore knots in her throat.

But she wasn’t only angry at him. She was angry at herself for letting him charm her.

The storm doused the dusk, but miniature lights lined the porch. She saw every inch of him and the way his gaze slid over her. They had studied each other for hours when they were younger, in love and carefree. The green of his eyes soaked up the earth and emitted the colors of eternity. They were harder, his face bearing a few scars only she might notice.

He dropped his beer to the table beside him. What are you doing, Lauren? Just shoot me already. I’ve practically been dead these past years, anyway.

Her throat closed. She refused to imagine what he experienced these last few years.

Luke shifted forward and frowned, let out a rickety cough, then perched his elbows on his knees. He swiped a hand over his face, then continued. Look. I’m sorry about everything. Sorry you had to go through the loss of your sister and you believed I did it. Sorry I couldn’t comfort you. I’m... just sorry.

His wobbly voice shattered her reserves. His movements broadcasted an unexpected nervousness. She let out a whoosh of breath, every fiber of her being sinking into a black hole of misery. Tears rolled out of her, hot and choking. Her grip on the gun wavered but remained clasped in her fingers.

He stood and swaggered toward her. His heavy-booted steps on the wooden planks thudded in her ears. She wanted to back away, but her butt rested against the porch railing and an invisible anchor rooted her to the ground.

She swayed.

Her hands shook, and her best interest was to put down the gun before somebody got hurt. Most likely her.

She lowered the pistol. He stopped in front of her and took it. She was too weak, too helpless to fight. His presence suctioned every bit of her power.

He set the gun on the ground. She jumped as another round of thunder boomed. Rain pounded the roof. Droplets hit her skin, but not enough to matter. She craved the cool refreshment. He stood facing her, his eyes boring into hers. She licked her lips as if drawing sustenance from that one small move, a move that drew his gaze to her mouth.

She swayed again, about to fall. He grabbed her and pulled her into his arms.

Careful. His words wisped across her ear and trailed down her spine to spool into a reservoir of lust in her loins.

She planted the top of her head against his chest and sobbed as he held her. Her shoulders shook, the tears escaping in violent torrents. She couldn’t stop no matter how hard she wanted to.

He smelled like mesquite smoke and musk, along with crisp grass cuttings under Texas sunshine. Stupid, stupid to imagine such things.

The tears were a release. A goodbye she never had a chance to say.

Had she believed he was capable of murder? She refused to listen to his sister when she begged. All the evidence pointed to him. The police, the prosecutor, even the city mayor had convinced her.

How could they all be wrong? Her mind churned with questions. Questions she should have asked before she’d threatened him with a gun.

His fingers skated up her hair, and he tucked a piece behind her ear. She straightened her spine and lifted her head, willing her body to fight the attraction as her tears dried.

I don’t know if I believe it, she finally said.

What? That I didn’t do it?

She nodded, her limbs weak and trembling.

Well, if Clint didn’t do it, why did he run?

She wondered the same thing, but Clint being a killer was terrifying, even more so than Luke, considering she’d entrusted her daughter with him.

She lowered her head and sniffled. He placed his fingers under her chin and forced her to look at him.

Not a force but a slow, gentle move. He had always been gentle. Clint had been the edgy one, the one who tested her nerves. And yet after Luke had been accused of murdering her sister, she had turned to Clint as a friend and let him take part in her life. How had he manipulated her? How had she allowed it? Her belly flopped, the drying tears searing her throat.

She’d always felt safe with Luke. Safe, yet vulnerable, because her heart was at risk.

He dropped his hand from her chin and finger brushed her hair. Her neck tingled. She longed to savor his mouth on hers after all these years.

I’ve imagined being in front of you, begging you to listen. His voice was a slow deep penetration to the core of her being. Something impossible to pull away from. I did not kill your sister, and as much pain as I knew you were in, it broke my heart you never gave me a chance.

She lifted her chin higher and stared straight into his eyes. And I imagined having the chance to stand in front of you and kill you.

A strangled sob escaped him. His eyes flickered. Her body grew warm with regret. Regret for her words, regret for refusing to hear him out so many years ago, and regret for wanting him so much she hurt.

You’ve got that chance now. Why don’t you take it?

PAIN RIPPED LUKE’S heart. His body ached with the need to touch, taste, and experience Lauren. An eternity had passed, although it seemed like only yesterday.

He wasn’t sure which one of them came to the other first, but the fiery touch of her lips almost brought him to his knees. He planted his hands under her ass and pressed her closer. Their tongues warred and tangled. When she didn’t pull away, he lifted her skirt, his fingers penetrating her heat.

She was hot and wet. Thunder boomed and rain pounded on the roof. She rested her spine on the deck pole and opened her legs wider, groaning when his finger slipped inside, in and out. Her hands gripped the back of the pole and she lifted her head, exposing her neck. He sucked the skin beneath her ear.

He dropped his shorts, thrust aside her thong, and entered her. She lifted one leg around his waist. He clasped his hand on her thigh to hold her steady.

He almost caught himself, almost pulled away and fled from her presence. He’d choose a bullet over the torment of her leaving him again. But she pressed against him and let out a soft moan and when she returned his kiss, it was impossible to pull away.

The pressure built too hard, too fast. He slowed down to prolong the tidal wave of pleasure, but her hips moved in sync with his and he couldn’t focus, couldn’t find his grounding.

The mating was over within moments. She convulsed around him and he exploded into her, a torrent of longing for more pouring out of him in droplets of sweat. They stilled. Realization dawned in her eyes and with it came panic and regret. He released her and meant to talk, soothe her, tell what he so longed to say, but without warning she fled from the porch.

He reached out, wanted to ask her to stop and give him more time, give him the benefit of the doubt she had refused. But his tongue tightened in his throat and the sound emerged in a raspy groan.

He had never stopped loving her. Her image kept him sane in prison. He had held onto the memories, even when faced with no choice but to let her go.

Night descended, elevating the darkness in his mind. She disappeared, and he stood helpless. The storm raged beyond his porch. Her headlights lit up, then the car rumbled away.

He pulled up his shorts and planted his forehead on the deck pole, squishing his eyes closed. Moments before, her body had pressed against this same pole. Anguish tore through him, deepening the wound of his regrets.

Smoke billowed out of the grill, the charred beef’s stench saturating the earthiness of rain. Her pistol remained on the floor. A brutal reminder of why she’d come.

He hadn’t raped her. He hadn’t. But he might as well have. He hadn’t controlled his intentions and had taken advantage of a vulnerable situation. His actions could create a hell of a wildfire if she were to cry rape. Many people still considered him guilty.

Her included.

Chapter Two

Lauren fled, tripping her way down the wet steps. The rain pounded the earth, matting her hair and disguising the tears in her eyes. But nothing disguised the burn.

No escaping the guilt, no escaping the longing she felt when she looked into his eyes.

Massive puddles erupted from the hard and unrelenting rain. Mud coated her feet by the time she reached the car. Her hand slipped against the slick handle, and she dropped the keys. She cried out and knelt to grab them before the earth took hold.

She had to get out of here. Fast. Why had she come?

Navigating through the downpour was almost impossible. The storm was a testament to her mistakes. The flashing lightning continued to mock her. She turned from his driveway onto the county road, the tires digging into the sludge to get away. She slowed, taking it easier once she was out of his property. The wipers clunk-clunk-clunked against the windshield. She couldn’t see.

The summer storm struck like most in Texas. Hard and fast with a deluge of rain that raised creeks and shut down low water crossings. She had to consider her life. No matter how desperate she was to flee, she’d sit in the car and wait if she had to. But she could make it to the creeks and wait off on the side of the road somewhere. Anywhere but here. They weren’t too far to drive.  

She gripped the wheel and peered into the dark night, the glow of her headlights a bridge into oblivion. Lightning crackled across the sky, a warning strobe of gloom.

Her heart pounded against her chest, her throat a swampy mess of tears. 

Why had she let Luke violate her? The caress of his breath brought back memories of the two of them together.

Who was she kidding? She welcomed his touch, his tongue, his caress. No violation was involved.

For Crissakes, he’d killed