The Fall of the Red Queen (Self Made Men...Southern Style Book 3)

by Lexxi Callahan

  The Fall of the Red Queen

  by

  Lexxi Callahan

  For my husband, always

  and

  Penny and Laura who hid me away for the best week ever so I could finish this book.

  Acknowledgements

  This book may be self-published but I certainly did not do it by myself.

  I have the most amazing beta readers: Michele, Michele, Eagle, Rahab, Ana, Teri, and Laura. You guys are awesome. Thanks Maria for the final polish!

  A note from Lexxi

  Fall of the Red Queen is book three in the Southern Style series. If you have not read Sweetened with a Kiss you may want to read it first, or, as one of my beta readers said, you’ll miss the full emotional impact. It is not a serial. The books feature two different couples but the heroine of Fall of the Red Queen is also the “other woman” in Sweetened with a Kiss. There are always two sides to every story.

  Fall of the Red Queen completes the first series arc of the Southern Style Series, but more books are planned.

  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Epilogue

  Cast of Characters

  Chapter One

  Jared Marshall parked outside the sports bar and double-checked the address his brother had given him. He couldn’t picture the Red Queen in a place like this. This bar was way too lowbrow for such a high-powered attorney. An unemployed attorney now, he reminded himself, trying not to be smug.

  He pushed the heavy wooden door open. It was unlocked despite the ‘Closed’ sign. The place smelled like beer, smoke, and floor cleaner. Chairs were upended on the tables, and the flat screen TVs strategically mounted around the room were playing financial news instead of a game.

  The swinging door behind the bar opened and Madlyn stopped mid-stride, almost dropping the tray of beer mugs she was carrying. Strange, he remembered her being taller. She looked younger with her dark hair pulled back in a ponytail. Her black eyes had a cat-like tilt and went even wider when she saw him. She was genuinely startled, something he doubted she was very often. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.

  “We’re closed,” she snapped, turning away quickly to fill the cooler with the mugs.

  “I’m not here for a drink.” He slid onto a barstool, trying to reconcile the intimidating shark he’d expected with the woman in blue jeans that should be illegal. He’d never seen Madlyn look anything but sleek and dangerous in a red power suit and lethal heels.

  And was she actually working here? He couldn’t believe it. “This doesn’t seem like your kind of place.”

  She ignored him and kept loading mugs into the cooler.

  “You aren’t even curious about why I’m here?” He kept his voice light and casual, despite the grinding of his back teeth. When she still didn’t respond, he fired his first volley. “How’s your grandfather? Enjoying the view from the other side of the bars?”

  She stopped, keeping her back to him. Her grandfather Judge Winston Robicheaux was cooling his heels in jail on fraud charges. The scandal had effectively closed her family firm. Which explained why she was here instead of stalking through the halls of justice like she owned the place.

  He watched her brace herself. He bit back a grin. She had to brace herself to face him? Oh, this was going to be fun.

  She turned, her eyes solid black ice. “What do you want?”

  He gave her his most charming smile.

  She didn’t blink.

  Really? He couldn’t remember the last time that smile hadn’t gotten him what he wanted. Instead, it got him a withering look that was famous for reducing people to ash.

  A spark ran straight down his spine, firing up a strange hunting instinct and an unexpected surge of lust. He shifted on the barstool and managed to project his usual lazy charm. He wanted to round that bar, back her against the wall, and show her just how much she needed to brace herself. Fortunately, the bar was between them.

  “What I want isn’t the issue.” He glanced around again, feigning indifference. He refused to give away how important this was to him. “My father, on the other hand, wants you to join our firm. There’s no reason for you to hide out here. You haven’t been disbarred.” His smile was slow. “Yet.”

  Again, she didn’t react, but she did answer. “I’m not hiding. I’m helping. This bar belongs to my mother and my stepfather, not that I owe you an explanation. And you know what you can do with your job offer.”

  “So you’ve had offers from other firms?”

  She stepped closer to the bar and focused that intense stare on him. Her eyes weren’t black, but they were the next thing to it. Her skin was somewhere between fresh cream and ivory. Had she ever had a tan? He doubted it because it meant she would have had to relax in the sun, and he couldn’t picture her relaxing at all. He’d never seen anyone wound so tight.

  “I’m not interested in anything you have to say.”

  He shifted again, swallowing a wistful sigh. The things he could do to unwind her. Damn. He’d have to be careful, take it slow. Too fast and she’d probably shatter. Although, shattering her sounded fine to him.

  “Shame,” he sighed, unable to resist needling her. “We could’ve been so good together.”

  Her eyes narrowed, but before she could verbally shred him, a cheerful voice destroyed the tension between them. “Maddie? Who’s your friend, honey?”

  “Maddie?” Jared mouthed silently.

  She gave him another withering glare as the older woman joined them. “Sorry, Mom, but he’s leaving.”

  Mom? Jared glanced past her to the small, pleasantly rounded lady with salt-and-pepper hair that didn’t know which way to stick out. She was wiping her hands on a towel and smiling brightly. That was her mother? Maybe Madlyn was adopted.

  “Nonsense! He just got here. Wait, I know you. I saw you on the news. You and your brother are taking on the Hanging Judge? ’Bout time. Winston Robicheaux is a menace.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Jared liked her instantly.

  “Well, then you can help my daughter. That old man has held my grandson hostage since…”

  “Mother.” Madlyn’s sharp tone didn’t cut through the shock that rolled down Jared’s spine.

  “Hostage?” Jared repeated. “Now that’s interesting.”

  “He’s not here to help me,” Madlyn told her mother.

  “Now, I’m not so sure about that.” Jared watched her closely. The emotion skittering across her face was strangely vulnerable. Was that panic? Now he was genuinely curious. He turned to her mother. “Do you mind if I borrow her for a while? I’ll bring her back before you open.”

  “Oh, you kids take your time. Make her eat something, too. She’s about to blow away.”

  “Good idea. My ride’s outside.” He ignored Madlyn’s murderous expression and took his time sliding off the barstool and going to open the door for her. He’d been right. This was fun.

  “Go on now with you.” Her mother waved her out the door, despite more protests. “You neve
r did know when to ask for help. Tell this young man what he needs to know.”

  “I don’t need any help.” Madlyn’s teeth clenched, but she did as her mother said. She might be a badass, but she didn’t want to upset her mom.

  Jared could identify with that. His mother…no…he buried that thought. He and the Red Queen had nothing in common. So he ignored the light floral scent that teased him as she swept by him.

  “Well.” He unlocked the SUV with his remote, then pulled the passenger door open for her. “Maddie.” He tasted her nickname and loved the flick of annoyance that tightened her mouth. Annoyed was even better than startled. “So…what’re you hungry for? Gingerbread? Small children?”

  She ignored him, her expression blank, as she got into the SUV. What was she thinking? His gut said she was fighting a laugh. But that went against everything he knew about her. Did she even know how to laugh?

  “This.” Her tone was so menacing, it made the hairs on the back of his neck rise. “Is not going to go well for you.”

  Heat tightened in his groin as she finished, and the inappropriate and unexpected response caught him off guard. Fortunately, she faced front before she finished, and he hoped like hell she hadn’t seen his jaw hit the pavement.

  He slammed her door and walked around the front of the car. He was fairly certain he’d just won round one. And he couldn’t wait for round two.

  He slid in behind the wheel and started the car without a word. Her arms were crossed, and she ignored him, which worked for Jared since it gave him time to get himself under control. He couldn’t blow this shot for so many reasons.

  His brother Grant was building a case against her grandfather, and he wanted access to Robicheaux firm files. Madlyn had that access. And she was an exceptional attorney. They needed another full-time attorney. His father’s Parkinson’s disease had progressed to the point that Milton could no longer put off retiring. Grant just couldn’t do it all himself. He was a single parent with two teenagers.

  When his father officially retired, Jared would have to take a more active role in the firm. He was prepared to do it, but there was just one problem.

  He hated everything about being a lawyer.

  He had enough Marshall in him that he was good at it, and the first time he’d gone to court with Grant had been pretty exciting. But the day-to-day paperwork, research, and strategizing scraped across his soul like fingernails on a chalkboard. He would lose more of himself every day. He just wasn’t a suit-and-tie guy. He didn’t like the fight and the pressure to win. He liked to create things that gave people pleasure, like music or cheesecake. Not helping them destroy a marriage because they couldn’t talk to each other, or suing another person over the principle of the thing.

  No. That wasn’t him.

  That was Madlyn Robicheaux.

  She was good at destroying things, even seemed to enjoy it. If he convinced her to join Marshall and Marshall, she could continue wreaking havoc, and he could go back to doing what he loved. So as much as he despised the Red Queen, he needed her to take this offer. All he had to do now was convince her they were her only option. And Jared was good at convincing people to do what he wanted.

  He stopped at a Vietnamese place without asking if she liked Vietnamese food. She didn’t speak when he parked the car. She stayed silent as they walked into the restaurant and were seated.

  She wasn’t sulking. She was waiting. Patiently.

  Too patiently.

  Like a spider who had finished its web and now waited for its prey to stumble into the trap. It unnerved him more than he wanted to admit.

  “So, Maddie,” he began, determined to disturb her more than she was disturbing him. He relished the way she flinched when he used her nickname. She didn’t like it, which made him like it more. It was so not her. She was too hard around the edges to be a ‘Maddie.’ “What was that about holding Robbie hostage?”

  The server arrived, and Madlyn quickly gave the girl her order while avoiding his question.

  “Same.” Jared handed the girl the laminated menu without looking away from Madlyn. Her eyes met his, but this time he was ready. The intensity of eye contact with her should've reduced him to ash. Instead, it made him want to reach across the table and rub some heat into that frozen expression.

  “What do you want?” She surprised him by glancing away first.

  “After what he did to Jen Taylor, do you really have to ask?”

  “Taylor?” Madlyn’s eyebrows lifted. “Don’t you mean Jen Sellers?”

  That barb fell short, but he didn’t let it show. “Your grandfather kidnapped her, drugged her, and tried to annul her marriage. He’s not getting away with it.”

  She didn’t blink at the accusation, but she also didn’t deny it. “I’m confused. You don’t mind that she’s married to Stefan? Seriously?” Her smile was pure evil. “Oh, that’s right. You escorted her down the aisle, didn’t you? How’d handing her over to Stefan feel?”

  “She loves Stefan.”

  “So you’re just friends?” She was laughing at him, but her expression didn’t change.

  “That’s right,” he bit out. They were just friends. He loved Jen. He’d die for her. But he’d realized a while back he wasn’t in love with her.

  Those black eyes sized him up, searching for a weakness. When she didn’t find one, she released a bored sigh. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not going to help you destroy my grandfather.”

  “Are you sure about that? Because things aren’t looking so good for you.”

  Her bored expression never wavered. “Be a good messenger boy. Go back and tell your daddy I said no.”

  His head snapped back. “Messenger boy?” Boy?

  She smiled again. Well, it wasn’t so much a smile as it was a show of even white teeth. And while her mouth was surprisingly kissable, she’d probably bite him.

  Although biting didn’t sound awful.

  Not that he was thinking about kissing her. Biting back, maybe…no, not that either.

  She was not his type, and this was business. “One way or another, that judge is going down. We’re offering you a chance to not go with him.”

  “A chance?” she scoffed. “You mean you want a chance to go through the firm’s records?”

  She’d guessed that fast. He’d underestimated her, which was rare for him. Usually, he was good at reading people, but he was way out of his league now.

  “Tell your brother that he can have all the records he wants as soon as he gets a subpoena.”

  Jared scoffed, leaning back in the booth. “Why? So there’ll be a fire? I don’t think so.”

  “It’s the only way you’ll get them.”

  “We’ll subpoena them as soon as you’ve moved them to a more secure location.”

  “What if I destroy them myself?”

  There was something off in her expression, and his instincts kicked back into gear. Something didn’t add up. So he played his next card, which was the other reason he wanted the old man in prison for the rest of his life.

  “You ever heard of West JDC?”

  Panic flickered across her face so quickly he almost missed it. “Westerfield Juvenile Detention Center,” he added, just to be clear.

  “I know what West JDC was,” she shot back too quickly. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

  “That was your grandfather’s favorite place to send the juveniles who came through his courtroom.”

  She stared, but instinct told him that blank expression was hiding something.

  “Wonder why that was?”

  “I have no idea. Why do you care?”

  “He sent my best friend there when we were in high school. Sentenced him to eighteen months.”

  “And I care because…”

  “Eighteen months in a juvenile detention center for a fight after a football game doesn't seem excessive?”

  “Again, I don’t care.”

  But she was interested, he could tell that. “He serve
d almost two years.”

  She took a deep, bored breath. “Just spit it out.”

  “He was supposed to be released in the first part of September.”

  She shrugged.

  “2005.” If he hadn’t been paying attention, he would've missed the flinch.

  “It was chaos after Katrina,” she said.

  “And who cares if hundreds of kids are still incarcerated in a building without power and water?”

  She was on her feet before he finished his sentence, and Jared forgot all those good southern manners Hazel Jean Marshall had instilled in him since he could walk. The voice that snarled out of him was something he’d never heard before. “Sit down.”

  Madlyn sat. The steel in Jared Marshall’s voice had worked on her before she registered it. And that was a first. She never reacted. Not to anyone. People reacted to her because she was always, without fail, a step ahead.

  Not this time. She hadn't seen any of this coming. She’d known Grant could be ruthless. But dangling her dream job in front of her in order to get access to her grandfather’s files? And sending baby brother to turn on the charm? She hadn’t known Grant had that in him.

  And damn him, it was working.

  Except she found Jared Marshall more disturbing than charming, and she hadn’t quite processed why. His hair was too long and so black it almost looked blue. His close-cropped beard made his angular jaw look even harder. Tribal tattoos wound around his forearms disappearing under the shirt sleeves he had cuffed.

  How far did that ink go?

  She had to focus to hear what he was saying. She was distracted by his mouth and the silver loop piercing the corner of his bottom lip. It was hard to concentrate on the words passing those gorgeous lips. She didn’t want to listen. She wanted to taste.

  Forcing herself to look away from his mouth, she hit on the tanned column of his throat left bare by the buttons he’d left undone. The teasing black tips of ink that showed at the open collar made her mouth run dry and other parts of her run the exact opposite.

  So now she was officially crazy. He was sitting here, threatening her with all kinds of bullshit, and all she wanted to do was see how fast she could get that shirt off him. She was dying to see how far those tattoos went and if all that golden skin was covering the rock hard lean body she suspected it was. Yes, crazy. Absolutely loony.