Declared: Cuffs & Briefs, #2

By Valentina Don and Petra W.

I was declared.

 

He was my criminal defense attorney.

 

It wasn't supposed to be this way.

 

The more time we spent together, the more I cared.

 

I had to barter my own deal.

 

A new deal.

 

One he wouldn't be able to refuse.

 

Part Two in the Cuffs & Briefs Series

• Language: English
• Publisher: Perfect Escape
• Release date: Dec 1, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393534778

Book preview

1. THE NIGHTMARE

No, please, I didn't do anything wrong.

On some level, she knew the words she spat out weren't going to help her. Nothing and nobody could help her. Not at this point. Laura was alone in this. Just as she had been for the longevity of her marriage. Horribly alone. She knew her marriage wasn't what it used to be. She saw the signs toward the end, but she didn't care, she pushed them all aside, because she loved her husband.

Loved—past tense—being the takeaway, as in so long ago she couldn't even dig deep enough to reach those feelings if she wanted to. Which she didn't.

In reality, who she loved was a despicable, incorrigible man who cared about no one but himself. After all, Stone imagined any husband who truly cared for his wife wouldn't have put them in the position Eli put her in. But the worst part of all was that he didn't care. None of it fazed him. He was calculating and cold. He was the makings of a son-of-a-bitch, whose name would haunt her for the rest of her days.

Eli, what have you done? Laura screeched the question out, hoping that it would alarm the police officers as to who was at the heart of the crime. Who was really to blame.

Dragged away in handcuffs that were hard and cold to the touch, she imagined the bruise they would leave behind, the bruise that would be an everlasting reminder of her failure in life, of where she went so miserably wrong.

Eli stood frozen in the doorway of their apartment, still wearing his slacks and untucked dress shirt from work, and just stared. He watched the entire scene play out and didn't move an inch. Didn't put up a fight with the cops because he knew what he had done. He knew he was in the wrong. And the coward that he was didn't want to end up handcuffed and dragged away like his wife. So, he turned a blind eye. The biggest reaction he had was directed to her in a wordless, and meaningless gesture, when his shoulders arched upward in a casual shrug. It was as if he hadn't a clue as to what was going on. Now, she could tell him where he could shove that casual shrug.

It was in that moment, that brief moment, when she was being dragged away, Laura looked back at the man she married, the man she gave everything up for, and looked into his eyes. It was then, she saw nothing but ice that caused shivers to run down her spine. She'd heard many times before that eyes were the window to one's soul. Standing there, she saw no soul. She saw no heart. She saw a ruthless, no-good husband who screwed his wife.

Eyes as cold as stone, she mused.

She didn't bother to say his name or ask him one last time for his help. To help her out of the bind he so carelessly placed her in. She knew he wouldn't help her. Nor did she plead with the rare soft side that he showed his wife but once in a blue moon. No, if that kind, compassionate man did exist at one time, then he was not coming out to play nice now.

Remaining quiet the rest of the time, she allowed the police officers to do their job. As the storm outside got worse, the rain coming down in buckets, lightning struck, the sound chilling her to the bone. She looked up at the sky one last time that night and took note of the horrible storm before the officer interrupted her thoughts, reading her her Miranda rights.

Then, with not a care in the world, he shoved her head first into the back of his cop car. A lone tear presented itself and she blinked it back, turning her lips into thin lines. Tears were a sign of weakness that she couldn't afford to show any longer. For the time being, whether true or not, she was being held as a prisoner of the state for a crime she didn't commit. That was one fact, though, that didn't have any bearing currently.

Sirens blaring, they drove off into the darkness, the rain pelting the car as they drove in the opposite direction of the storm. She turned her head and looked out the window and watched as the rain ran down the side window. As each drop slid out of view, so did the place she once called home.

Once at the police station, she complied. She figured putting up a fight wasn't going to do her any good. She was placed in a holding cell a little while later, the musty scent still engrained in her memory, the dingy walls and chipped paint, and the stale food they called dinner. They slid the plate to her emotionless, like she was no better than the grime on the bottom of their shoes, like some caged lion that would attack if they released her.

Her chest felt constrained, it felt all too real, like she was back in that horrible place. She felt her grip tighten on her pillow and twisted in her sleep, moving about as her eyes were glued shut, but she couldn't stop. She tried to pry them open, but they wouldn't budge. Couldn't. She couldn't wake. Not yet.

The memories sucked her back in. In her holding cell, Laura stared down at her ensemble, taking in the wet, soggy clothes. Her white cotton V-neck clung to her. Her grey sweatpants sopping with cold water that chilled her to the bone, and the pink, fuzzy, bunny slippers she had received as a birthday present from one of her friends years ago were as good as destroyed now. Her slippers were just as salvageable as her marriage—not at all.

As the loose strands of hair that were untucked from her braid dripped water on the marked concrete, Stone thought of how she got here.

She was caught off guard. That was the best way to describe it. Which was why Laura made a promise to herself that day. Standing inside a holding cell with nothing but the clothes on her back made her think. What came of her thinking was a vow. A vow unlike any other she had made before. As Laura stood in place, waiting for the police to tell her what was next for her, waiting to hear from someone—anyone—she stared down at her naked finger. The finger where her wedding ring used to rest. With a heavy sigh, Laura vowed that if she was lucky enough to get out of this bind, she would never again allow a man to put her where she was now, to control