She began to pace again, gliding from one end of the narrow hallway to the other. She’d been a single parent since forever, raising her baby boy by her lonesome. Her husband, Colonel Jackson Broomes, an army helicopter pilot, had been killed during the Gulf War. The day that he’d been deployed to active duty, she’d promised him that she would do whatever it took to ensure the safety and security of his family. She’d assured him that he wouldn’t have to worry about his son, or her, while he was gone. She was still keeping that promise, still committed to doing whatever it took to keep her baby boy safe and sound, the way his father would have wanted.
Now her baby boy was a burgeoning young man, fast approaching adulthood, and keeping him safe was proving to be quite the challenge. When the boy was born, he’d come fighting his way into the world, kicking and screaming. Drawn to drama and commotion, Collin still hadn’t learned how to settle down and relax in his own silence.
She turned abruptly when she heard her name being called.
“Thank you for waiting, Judge Broomes,” the overpriced attorney she’d hired said, moving to her side. “We’re meeting upstairs. The mediator has already gone ahead. Judge Tyler has given permission for the victim to participate in the negotiations, as well.”
Katrina raised an eyebrow. “For what reason?”
“You may have heard of him. Matthew Stallion is a licensed attorney practicing law here in Dallas. He also heads the Briscoe Ranch Mentoring Foundation, which works with at-risk youth. He has a vested interest in seeing young men turn their lives around for the good. I think it would be to Collin’s benefit to have him present, which is why I asked for his participation.”
Katrina nodded. Matthew Stallion’s reputation had definitely preceded him. Knowing that her first encounter with the man would not be under the best of circumstances further soured her mood. She blew a deep sigh. “That’s fine.” She caught her son’s eye and shook her head, her annoyance registered all over her face.
Collin rolled his eyes skyward, knowing better than to say anything at all. The two followed behind their attorney as he headed in the direction of the elevator and the mediation rooms on the upper level of the courthouse.
Matthew and the state-appointed mediator, a young woman with crystal-blue eyes, a luxurious mane of blond hair and a wide smile, stood in conversation when they entered the room. The woman was giggling softly at something Matthew had just said, a full blush painting her pale complexion. Matthew was leaning in close, just a hair away from being too close, as he held the woman’s full attention. As the trio stepped into the space, the woman jumped as if she’d been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Clearly flustered by the male attention she’d been enjoying, the woman fought to gather her composure. She smiled politely as she gestured for them all to come in and find a seat, a manicured hand extended in greeting.
Behind her, Matthew Stallion pulled himself up to attention, securing his suit jacket around his frame. His dark eyes skated across the room, dancing over the other attorney and his client as they stared back with interest. Matthew’s gaze was suddenly drawn to the exquisite woman who’d entered the room last. There was no mistaking the familial similarities between her and young Mr. Broomes. The boy had his mother’s eyes, large dark orbs with forest-thick lashes that curled effortlessly. Energy vibrated from her stare as their gazes met and held. A smile pulled at Matthew’s full lips, his expression showing much more than the fact that he was intrigued.
From where she stood at the entrance to the room, Katrina couldn’t help but notice the handsome black man. She instinctively knew who he was, Matthew Stallion, the victim, the man whose car her son had stolen for a joyride. Matthew Stallion, of the prestigious Stallion family. He was a man of great wealth, was highly respected in the community and was considered one of Dallas’s more eligible bachelors.
She found herself held hostage by the intense look that he was giving her, his eyes still locked with hers. Everyone else in the room seemed to vanish as the man stepped toward her, his engaging smile drawing her in like a spider might lure dinner into its web.
He extended his hand. “Good morning. I’m Matthew Stallion. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said, the deep bass in his tone reverberating warmly.
Katrina took a deep breath, air catching in her chest as his hand grazed hers, his firm grip holding tightly to her fingers. She tilted her head in greeting, words failing her. The other attorney came to her rescue without even realizing it.
“Counselor, this is Judge Katrina Broomes. Judge Broomes serves the Two Hundred Thirty-Second District Criminal Court. And this young man is Judge Broomes’s son, Collin.”
Matthew was still holding tight to Katrina’s hand. Her son tossed him an uneasy smile, his hands still pushed deep into his pockets. With some reluctance, Matthew released Katrina’s hand and extended his handshake to her child.
“I’ve been looking forward to meeting the young man who jacked my car,” Matthew said, humor in his gaze. “What do you have to say for yourself?”
Collin’s uneasy smile folded into a deep frown as he returned Matthew’s handshake with much reluctance. “I’m very sorry,” he managed to mutter softly.
Matthew nodded his head slowly, his gaze shifting from Collin to his mother and back again. He crossed his arms over his chest as he leaned back against the desktop. “Where did you learn to pop a door lock and hot-wire a car?”
Collin’s eyes flitted to his mother’s questioning expression, then back to the man who was studying him intently. “My friend Paul’s older brother.”
Matthew nodded again. “We need to work on getting you better friends,” he said with a soft chuckle.
The boy suddenly looked scared.
Concern registered in Matthew’s expression as a consoling smile filled his face. He tossed an arm around the boy’s shoulder, patting him on his back. “I promise, you won’t suffer much,” Matthew said teasingly, winking his eye. His smile widened. “Why don’t we all take a seat and see how we might fix this mess?” he said.
Following his lead, Katrina took a seat at the far end of the table. Matthew, quite the gentleman, pulled out her chair for her. She sat back, falling into silence as she stared from her son to Matthew and to the people around the table, trying to make sense of her child’s actions. Her gaze kept returning to Matthew Stallion as he engaged her son in conversation, asking question after question about his life and his goals. Every so often Matthew would look in her direction, tossing her an easy smile before returning his focus to the matter at hand.
Katrina heaved a deep sigh, then inhaled deeply, holding tight to the warm air to calm her nerves. It was a good thing she was there only to observe, she suddenly mused. Katrina was unnerved by her reaction to the beautiful man who’d taken full control of the meeting. Unnerved because not since her late husband had any man had her quivering so unabashedly.
Chapter 3
Matthew engaged the voice-activation system in his car to dial his office. Traffic was backed up from Avery Avenue to Zang Boulevard. He strummed his fingers anxiously against the steering wheel of his new car as he waited for the cellular service to connect the call.
Mediation had lasted well over two hours. After their initial interaction, Collin Broomes hadn’t been much interested in talking, falling into a sullen silence for the balance of the session. His attorney and the mediator had both been diligent about hashing out a game plan for the young man’s future. But Matthew had been the only one to actually ask the boy his opinion, genuinely interested in what Collin might want for himself.
He’d hardly been surprised when Collin gave him little to nothing, his responses amounting to single-syllable answers. His mother had spoken only once during the entire discussion, reprimanding her son and advising him to check his tone when he became insolent. The boy had reeked of attitude, had a massive chip resting square on his shoulder.