WICKED INTENTIONS { Completed}

Chapter 1

I'm going to be a horrible lesbian. Please don't send me to jail.

If the presiding judge wasn't peering at her so intently from his perch in front of the court Shakira Dalton would've gone on her knees and made the plea. Instead she focused on sending the message subliminally to the twelve men and women walking into the jury box.

One of the jurors, a homely woman with thinning white hair slicked back in a tight ponytail, sent Shakira a pitying look before turning her eyes away as she sat. Any hope Shakira had withered and died with that pitying look.

I'm going to jail.

Tears jumped to her eyes and before she could stop it, one solitary drop slid down her cheek. She brushed it away on the sleeve of her green blouse. Immediately another tear slithered to take its place.

"Be courageous. Be courageous," her lawyer, Wayne Perkins soothed. Usually his shock of red hair and odd way of squinting would've drawn at least a smile from Shakira, but not today. Like her, he didn't believe that she'd get out of this one. He'd told her so several times when trying to get her to take the guilty plea and the DA's offer of fifteen years. In fact he didn't even believe that she was innocent.

No one did.

No matter what Shakira said, everyone thought she was guilty. It didn't help that the whole world knew that Charlie had been cheating on her for the entire duration of their relationship while she was blindly playing house with him. The raging thought was that she'd killed him in a jealous fit.

Rochelle McPherson, Shakira's boss and Charlie's side-ho, who was seated right behind the prosecutor, had come in full mourning uniform. Apart from the snug, black dress, she'd hidden her face behind black netting attached to a hat larger than the Queen's. Every time she reached beneath the netting to wipe away tears faker than her lips, she shot Shakira a venomous look.

"Has the jury reached a verdict?" Judge Becker turned his gaze to the now seated jury.

"Yes, Your Honor." The foreman handed the sheet of the paper to the Bailiff who walked it to the judge's bench. The court was deathly silent and pregnant with anticipation as everyone watched Judge Becker read the paper.

Like an experienced gambler, the judge's expression indicated neither approval nor approval of the jury's verdict. Once done reading, he lifted his eyes to stare at Shakira. "Will the defendant please rise."

The audience shuffled in anticipation as Shakira and Wayne stood. Though her gaze was focused at the front of the court, Shakira could hardly see anything because of the tears now running down her face unabated. The judge turned back to the jury. "What say you?"

The court held its collective breath and Shakira lowered her head.

"On the charge of murder in the second degree, we the jury find the defendant, Shakira Dalton, innocent of all charges."

The court erupted into shocked motion while Shakira stood rooted to the spot, too stunned to react. Everything around her seemed to be happening in slow motion. The crowd of people who'd come to cheer her on yelling in excited happiness; Wayne turning to her with a look as shocked as hers; her mother, and her best-friend London rushing around the barrier to hug her; Rochelle's shrill screams that Shakira was guilty; and the judge banging on the gavel for order in the court.

It all seemed unreal. But it wasn't. This was really happening!

She was free.

FIVE HOURS LATER, Eve Dalton suggested, "Let's stop at Dairyland and get a chocolate sundae," as they exited Vechio's, a quaint Italian restaurant.