The one thing that Carter noticed sitting outside of the courtroom was that the building smelled like stale coffee. It was a stupid thing to notice or experience considering he was waiting for a judge to decide whether the man who used to beat him bloody was enough of a threat to legally keep away.
And yet his brain had decided to focus on coffee. He could already hear Miles making some wisecrack about his coffee addiction.
Miles sat beside him, but he seemed more wound up than Carter himself. That was just Miles's nature, to take somebody's problems emotionally and make them his own. It also didn't help that the accused party was Carter's abusive ex Lazarus. Miles with nothing if not protective of his loved ones, especially his husband. The moment Lazarus's name left Carter's lips in accusation, Miles was already fantasizing about feeding the man to a wood chipper.
Their attorney stood in front of them, his eyes scanning the content of a folder in his hands. The man did not look nervous, he never did for as long as Carter had known him. He had that stillness about him, the kind that made people lower their voices without knowing why. Alastair O’Malley was a consummate professional.
Across the hall, Lazarus Mercer sat beside his own attorney, talking gently between them. Carter tried not to look, but given the circumstances it was damn near impossible.
Lazarus had dressed well. His career as a top-tier fashion model would come into play here, where clothes might give him the false illusion of innocence. Wearing a dark suit and soft gray tie. Hair neat and hands folded loosely in his lap. He looked gentler by design, like some poor, innocent young man who spent time in the hospital being served for a crime he didn't do.
Supposedly.
Carter watched as the attorney leaned in and whispered something to Lazarus, to which Lazarus nodded. It felt like the lawyer was clearly coaching Lazarus.
Miles followed Carter’s gaze and went rigid, his knuckles tightening into fists. He wanted to say something to the smug, two-faced bastard but he knew not to. He knew now whatever was said or done could be used against them given the situation. So Miles drew in a deep breath and instead turned to his husband and asked, “You okay?”
“Yeah.”
Miles knew he was lying but he took Carter’s hand anyway and gave it a reassuring squeeze. Alastair finally looked up and said, “When we go in, Carter speaks only when asked. Miles, you do not speak unless I tell you or the judge directly addresses you.”
Miles’s mouth tightened but Alastair stressed, “I need you to understand the possible consequences. Voss will try to make you the issue. If you lose your temper in wanting to defend Carter, you may end up handing Voss the means to hurt him instead.”
Before Miles or Carter could reply, the courtroom door opened and a clerk stepped out and looked about the gathered people waiting and called aloud, “Kasey-McKinney versus Mercer. Protective order hearing.”
Carter looked to Miles who nodded reassuringly and gave his hand another squeeze. Without looking at Lazarus across the hall from them, Carter stood up slowly along with Miles and together they followed Alastair into the courtroom of Judge Miriam Calder. And for a brief moment, Carter could feel Lazarus’s eyes on his back and it was one of the most unsettling sensations he can ever remember having experienced.
The courtroom itself was smaller than Carter expected. The judge sat behind the bench, reading through the file and paid virtually no attention to anyone. He and Miles sat at one table with Alastair, Lazarus and Voss at the other.
Judge Calder finally spoke, “This is the matter of Kasey-McKinney versus Mercer. I’ve reviewed the petition, the police report, the photographs submitted, the therapist reports and the documents concerning prior proceedings between the parties.”
Her gaze lifted across everyone present and she spoke with authority, “I’ll say at the outset that I have very little patience for theatrics. This is not a stage. This is not a press conference. Do all parties understand?”
One by one, every person present for this case nodded and verbally agreed to the judge’s query. Her eyes scanned the room and only when satisfied did she continue. She looked at Alastair. “Mr. O’Malley. You may present your case.”
*Thank you, your Honor.” Alastair stood up and spoke directly to the judge.
“Your Honor, my clients are asking the court for continued protection because recent conduct has escalated from unnerving to dangerous. Their belongings have been disturbed inside their residence. A shirt Mister Kasey-McKinney admired in public appeared later in his closet. A bottle of wine his husband Miles handled at a market appeared later in his grocery cart when his back was turned. Their cat began behaving as though a stranger had been in the home, hiding, hissing, refusing rooms she previously favored.”
Carter stole a glance at the opposing counsel and Voss was shaking his head with this infuriating smirk on his face. As if he was already dismissing the accusations.
He continued, “Then Mister Kasey-McKinney was attacked with chloroform in his car in the parking garage of his home. The security footage confirms an altercation, though the attacker’s face is not clear. Police recovered zip ties and duct tape from the vehicle. A report was filed. A security guard and the HOA president witnessed the aftermath.”
Alastair turned so that all attention would be focused directly on the young man seated at the defendant’s table, “Lazarus Mercer is not a stranger. He is Mister Kasey-McKinney’s former partner. That relationship was abusive. The violence was witnessed. The injuries were medically documented. The police and the courts were previously involved.”
Carter looked down at his hands, feeling that familiar sensation of guilt and shame wash over him. Guilt that he had let it get that far, and shame over finding himself in that situation in the first place.
Voss stood before Alastair could continue and said, “Objection! Are we about to wander backward through every unhappy moment of a past relationship?”
Alastair did not even turn toward him as he countered, “Mister Mercer’s documented violence toward my client is directly relevant to the reasonable fear my client is experiencing.”
“Reasonable fear is not the same as proof!”
Judge Calder lifted a hand. “Enough. Mister Voss, I will allow limited testimony regarding the prior relationship and documented violence only as it bears on the petitioner’s fear and the nature of the relationship between these parties.”
Carter could swear he saw a flash of annoyance on Voss’s face equal to the satisfied smirk on Alastair’s.
Alastair turned slightly. “Mr.Kasey-McKinney.”
Carter swallowed hard before he forced himself to stand up in front of everyone. This was the single moment that he knew had to happen but didn’t want to experience. Opening old wounds. Reliving the pain he experienced. But still, he stood. All eyes on him, including the burning stare of Lazarus.
“You were once in a relationship with Lazarus Mercer?” Alastair asked.
“Yes.”
“Was that relationship abusive?”
“Yes.”
“Did Mister Mercer physically assault you?”
“Yes.”
“Were your injuries seen by other people?”
“Yes.”
“Were they medically documented?”
“Yes.”
“Did other people witness Mister Mercer behaving violently or abusively toward you?”
“Yes.”
Alastair paused the questioning for effect before he continued with the straw that broke the proverbial camel’s back. He asked, “There was an incident at a gathering of your friends and family. During that incident, did Mister Mercer put his hands on your grandmother?”
Carter looked at the judge, not Lazarus, and answered, “Yes.”
“What happened then?”
“We got into a fight.”
“Was Mister Mercer hospitalized?”
“Yes.”
“Were police and the courts involved after that?”
“Yes.”
Alastair paused before asking his next question, knowing it would set off a bomb in the courtroom. “When the shirt appeared in your closet, when your belongings were moved, and when you were attacked in the garage, did your past with Mister Mercer affect what you believed was happening?”
Carter’s eyes moved to Lazarus before he could stop them. Carter remembered the manipulative tears after putting Carter’s head into a bathroom wall hard enough to split the skin near his hairline. He remembered Lazarus crying “Look what you made me do,” still managing to find a way to blame Carter for his own actions.
“Yes.” Carter said. He took a deep breath and elaborated, “Because he’s done it before.”
Alastair did not push. It was a trait Carter appreciated most about the man. Instead, Alastair turned to the Judge and said, “No further questions at this time.”
Then, before Carter could take a seat, Judge Calder looked to the defense and said, “Mister Voss?”
“Thank you, Your Honor.” Voss said as he stood up and smoothed over his business jacket before he came around his table but took care not to get too close to Carter, knowing full well how to look respectful when plotting to take someone apart.
“Mr.Kasey-McKinney.” Voss said, “I want to be clear. I am not here to minimize your pain or your fear.”
Carter had to bite his tongue to keep from saying, “I’ll just bet!”
Voss continued, “You testified that Mister Mercer was hospitalized after the incident involving your grandmother.”
“Yes.”
“And you caused the injuries that put him in the hospital.”
Carter’s jaw tightened. “He grabbed my grandmother!”
“That was not my question.”
Carter swallowed hard, hating this man for his framework of bending the truth. He answered, “Yes.”
“You struck him enough times that he required hospitalization.”
“Yes.”
“And that happened in front of your family and friends.”
“Yes.”
“So there were multiple witnesses to your violence against him.”
Carter’s jaw tightened as he answered, “They saw me stop him from hurting my grandmother!”
Voss nodded like he understood and sympathized, when Carter knew nothing could be further from the truth. Voss proved that when he asked his next question, “Mr.Kasey-McKinney, did you see Mister Mercer enter your home?”
“No.”
“Did you see him place the shirt in your closet?”
“No.”
“Did you see him place the wine in your husband’s grocery cart?”
“No.”
“You did not see his face during the parking garage attack.”
Alastair stood up, “Objection, Your Honor! The defense has seen the same report from Doctor Gail Delacore that you have.”
But Voss was just as quick to counter with, “Your Honor, whether the petitioner participated in guided imagery may be relevant to treatment, but it does not make it more or less likely that my client committed the alleged acts.”
The Judge said, “I’ll allow the question. Mister Kasey-McKinney?”
Carter looked from the judge to Voss and said, “I saw his eyes.”
Voss countered with, “You think you saw his eyes.” This infuriating attorney then pointed out, “There were no fingerprints or DNA evidence tying my client to the scene of the attack. So when you say it was him, what you mean is that you feel it was him.”
Voss then turned to the Judge and said, “No further questions.”
Carter finally got to sit down and immediately he felt Miles’s hand in his own. The two men shared a look before they heard Voss continue with his defense, “Your Honor, my client does not pretend the past was painless. But this case is not about whether two people had a damaging relationship years ago. It is about whether this court has evidence that Lazarus Mercer committed the recent acts alleged. And … it does not. There is no clear image of my client in the garage. No forensic evidence. No witness who saw him enter the residence. The petitioners have fear, but fear is not identification.”
Carter looked at the table, hating the way the man was turning this around against him, making him doubt himself despite how certain he felt.
“Then we have the cruise ship incident.” Voss said, and Miles’s hand tightened around Carter’s. “My client was aboard a cruise ship where Miles McKinney-Kasey confronted him privately. Mister McKinnjey-Kasey grabbed him from behind, pinned him to a wall, and threatened him.”
Voss looked across the courtroom, his eyes directly on Miles, knowing the Judge’s own eyes would follow.
“My client was told ‘If I didn’t think that there was someone out there that would actually miss you, I would yeet you off the side of the ship and into the ocean and let the fish have at you.’”
The courtroom went dead silent in that awful way rooms do when something embarrassing and serious has happened at the same time.
“He was also told, ‘If I catch you ever around us again, you will vanish without a trace.’”
Miles looked like he was about to stand up but Alastair was swifter, grabbing his shoulder and keeping him right where he was seated. Voss’s mouth curved upward in an infuriating way as he continued, “The same man who threatened to make Lazarus Mercer vanish without a trace now sits beside his husband asking this court to believe that my client is the danger.”
Judge Calder turned to the other table. “Mister Mercer. Do you wish to make a statement?”
Lazarus did not look at Carter or Mister Voss. He looked at the judge respectfully, with a pained, tired expression. Very theatrical. Slowly he stood up and addressed the court, “I know Carter is afraid, and I’m sorry for that. I won’t stand here and pretend I was perfect. I wasn’t. But I did not enter his home! I did not touch his belongings! I did not attack him in that garage! I-I wouldn’t!”
He paused, just enough to sound like he was gathering himself.
“And on the ship, I should have walked away sooner. I can admit that. But I did not threaten Miles. I did not touch him. He grabbed me. He told me I would disappear.”
His eyes flicked toward Miles, then away.
“I am not asking Carter to forgive me. I’m just asking not to be punished for things I didn’t do because people still hate me for things I did years ago!”
Judge Calder watched Lazarus for a few seconds before she turned to Carter. “Mr.Kasey-McKinney. I have one question.”
“Yes, Your Honor?”
“Do you believeMister Mercer is responsible for the recent incidents?”
“Yes.” There was no hesitation. Carter just knew.
Judge Calder’s tone did not soften, exactly, but it became less procedural.
“Why?”
Carter could feel everyone looking at him. He looked at Lazarus who looked back. Those same, soft, deceptive eyes. The same ones that once watched Carter clean his own blood out of a sink.
“Because he knows how to scare me.” Carter said. “The shirt wasn’t random. The wine wasn’t random. The way things were moved around in my home wasn’t random. Then someone attacked me in the garage, and there were zip ties and duct tape in the car! And when he says he would never hurt me, he knows that isn’t true.”
Carter swallowed what felt like a rock in the back of his throat.
“Because he’s done it before. Many times.”
No one spoke for a moment. Judge Calder nodded once. “Thank you.”
Judge Calder removed her glasses and set them down in front of her and Carter knew before she said it. The judge looked at him with an expression of genuine sympathy.
“Mister Kasey-McKinney, I do not doubt that your fear is genuine. I do not dismiss the documented history between you and Mister Mercer. Based on what has been presented, there is reason for you to fear him. That is not the same as saying the legal burden has been met as to the recent allegations.”
Carter felt something drop inside him.
“The current record does not directly identify Mister Cross as the person who entered the residence, left the items, or attacked you in the parking garage. The footage is inconclusive. There are no fingerprints. There is no message, note, digital record, or eyewitness placing him at those incidents.”
“The prior abuse is relevant to your fear. It is not, however, proof that Mister Mercer committed these acts.”
She turned to Lazarus.
“Mister Mercer.” Judge Calder’s voice hardened. “Do not mistake this ruling for vindication. I am aware of the history here. I am aware of the seriousness of what has been alleged. If there is further contact, if new evidence emerges, or if you are tied to any harassment, surveillance, intrusion, or violence involving these petitioners, this court will view that very seriously. Do you understand me?”
Lazarus nodded once. “Yes, Your Honor.”
Judge Calder looked back at the file. She said, “The petition for an extended protective order is denied without prejudice. It may be refiled if additional evidence becomes available. The temporary order will expire according to its terms.”
The gavel came down.
“I have to admit, there are some matches where you look across the ring and all you see is a problem that needs to be solved, and then you move on to whatever comes next. But this one? This one, I am actually excited for. Legitimately, genuinely, butterflies-in-the-stomach excited, because I get to team with my husband again.”
“So really, I suppose I owe Frankie Holliday a fruit basket for this little present. Maybe something tasteful. Apples, pears, grapes, a couple of those little oranges, maybe a handwritten card that says, ‘Thank you for giving me the chance to stand beside my husband while we beat the brakes off Brandon Hendrix and Cyrus Riddle.’ I don’t know. I’m not as good as Miles when it comes to the whole sentimentality thing, but you get where I’m coming from.”
“Miles and I go home together. We wake up together. We share a life together. But in this sport? Our goals keep us apart more often than people realize. He has his path, I have mine, and sometimes those paths run side by side, but most days they are on different tracks entirely. So when we actually get the chance to stand in the same ring, fighting toward the same result, I treasure that. Because I know exactly how rare it is to have someone you trust completely standing at your side once that bell rings.”
“The last time Miles and I teamed together was back in February in the Double Jeopardy match against Alex Jones and Alexander Raven. And just in case anyone’s memory needs a little polish, we won. We walked in together, we fought together, and we walked out with our hands raised together. That was special then, and this is special now, but there is one very big difference between February and now.”
“This time, Miles is the World Champion.”
“And the benefit of teaming with Miles is that I know who is in my corner. I know who has my back. I know that if things get ugly, and let’s be honest, with Brandon Hendrix anywhere near the ring, ugly is practically guaranteed, I am standing beside a man who will protect me just as fiercely as I will protect him. That is not strategy. That is not convenience. That is love, trust, and years of knowing exactly who the other person is when the pressure hits.”
“And that, Cyrus, is where I feel genuinely bad for you because you can’t say the same thing.”
“You cannot look at Brandon “F’n” Hendrix and honestly tell yourself that man has your back. You cannot look across that locker room, see him smirking in your direction, and believe for one second that he would hesitate to sacrifice you if it benefited him. Brandon has no morals. He has no honor. He has no loyalty beyond whatever serves Brandon Hendrix in that exact moment. If you disappoint him, he will blame you. If you outlive your usefulness, he will throw you aside. And if he sees an opening to save himself at your expense, he’ll take it so fast you won’t even have time to be surprised!”
“That is who you are teaming with. Not a friend. Not someone who will stand with you when things get difficult. You are teaming with a coward in expensive wrapping, a man who likes to call himself dangerous because saying ‘spineless opportunist’ does not sell quite as well on a T-shirt.”
“And yes, Brandon, I did say coward, because that is what you were when you attacked my brother-in-law LJ Kasey from behind! That was not dominance or sending a message! That was a coward taking the cheapest shot he could find because he knew exactly what he was doing! You went after LJ from behind because that is your nature. You do not confront when you can ambush. You do not earn when you can steal. You do not stand tall unless you have already made sure the other person never saw you coming”
“LJ had his shots at you. Miles had his, and now? Now I get mine.”
“And I know that probably makes you roll your eyes, Brandon. I know you probably think that sounds cute, like Carter is getting all worked up because somebody put hands on someone he loves. But that is the problem with men like you. You mistake love for weakness because you have never understood what it means to have people who would burn the world down for you! You see family and think it is something to exploit. I see family and I know exactly what I am willing to fight for!”
“Now, Cyrus, this is the part that makes the whole thing complicated, because I actually respect you.”
“You stepped up to give me a match at Into the Void XV when I thought I was going to be swept aside. You did not flinch at the idea of facing a former World Champion. You embraced it. You proved to me and to everyone who watched us tussle in japan that you were everything your reputation preceded you to be! You are a walking legend inside of that ring and I stand by my opinion that my win was by the skin of my teeth! I won because I lifted my shoulder in time. That’s the honest truth. And now this?”
“Honestly, you deserved better than this.”
“You would have been better off with your original partner, Alexander Raven. And believe me, I know exactly what kind of man Raven is! I know his morals are twisted. I know his mind works in ways most decent people would rather not examine for too long. But at least Raven has some semblance of a code. At least with Raven, you could trust that whatever dark, warped philosophy he drags into a fight, he is not going to sell you out just because the wind changes direction.”
“With Brandon, you don’t have that. And that is a shame, Cyrus, because you have earned better than being someone else’s shield. You have earned better than being the body Brandon hides behind when Miles and I start closing in. You have earned better than being partnered with a man who will leave you bleeding in the middle of that ring if it means he gets to walk away clean.”
“But deserving better does not mean I am going to take it easy on you. Because I do wish this rematch between us was happening under better circumstances. I wish it was you and me without Brandon Hendrix’s stink all over it. I wish it was competition for competition’s sake, respect against respect, two men finding out who is better on the night without all of this extra poison dragged into the ring. I would have liked that, Cyrus. I really would have!”
“But Queen Frankie had other ideas.”
Instead, what we have is you standing beside Brandon Hendrix, whether you like it or not. What we have is Miles and me on the other side of the ring, ready to remind everyone exactly what happens when we get to fight together. What we have is a match where my respect for Cyrus Riddle and my loathing for Brandon Hendrix are going to exist in the same space and one emotion is not going to soften the other.”
“So Cyrus, I respect you. I really do. But Brandon? I cannot stand you. I cannot stand what you are, what you do, how you move through this business like consequences are something that only happen to other people. And if I have to go through Cyrus Riddle to get my hands on you, then Cyrus, I am sorry. Truly, I am.”
“But I will.”
