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

by Lexxi Callahan

  Working in Sellers Tower would be a daily reminder of that history. Worse, she would run the risk of running into Stefan or Jen. Stefan would probably have her thrown out if he caught her there.

  She swallowed hard, forcing the emotion down as she got out of her car. Funny. A partnership in one of the oldest and most respected law firms in New Orleans had been a dream she’d never allowed herself. Monsters didn’t have dreams that came true.

  But the princess that had just walked into Sellers Tower ahead of her was currently enjoying her happily ever after.

  And it was enough, Madlyn decided. Jen was happy.

  Madlyn had promised Robert minutes before he died that she would take care of Jen. Despite what anyone thought, Madlyn had kept that promise. The personal sacrifices she’d made to keep it were irrelevant.

  She tucked the envelope under her arm, and by the time she stepped off the elevator, she was resigned and calm, no emotion in sight. But before she could hand the envelope to the receptionist and ask her to deliver it to Grant, Jared walked into the lobby, smirking at her.

  “You decided to show up?”

  She swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. She hadn’t seen him in three days and she drank him in before she could stop herself. He was wearing the dark khaki slacks and Tattersall shirt she’d picked out on their shopping spree, and the only metal he was wearing was that complicated watch that was inexplicably sexy. His shirt sleeves were cuffed, and he wasn’t wearing a tie, but with his clean-cut short hair, his version of business casual was delicious.

  She ignored her irregular heartbeat but still let her eyes drift down his body. “I see your grown-up clothes arrived.”

  He grinned. “Admit it, you’d prefer me without clothes.”

  The receptionist giggled, and Jared winked at her. Then in a quick move she didn’t see coming, he stepped up next to her and slipped his arm around her waist. “Let me show you to your office, Ms. Robicheaux.”

  He steered her into an empty office, and she stepped away‏‏. Before she could utter the angry words forming on her lips, she saw the bank of windows, and all that anger died away. It was a corner office with glass on two sides. The view of the city and the Mississippi River were amazing. There was even a paddleboat pushing off, stirring the muddy water up as it prepared to take tourists for a cruise to the Bywater and Marigny.

  “This office has the best views,” Jared said, his voice so normal it hurt. Like he’d blown off their last encounter, while she hadn’t slept much since he’d walked away. “We thought you’d like it, and you have a private conference room through there. We weren’t sure what you needed in the way of furniture, but Dad said that—”

  “Stop,” she whispered, forcing herself to turn away from the windows. This was not for her. “I just came by to return the contracts. This is not going to work.”

  His friendly expression narrowed into anger, and she was tempted to step back.

  “What’s not?”

  “Me. I can’t work here. I appreciate the offer, but—”

  “You already accepted the offer.”

  “No. I told your father I would consider it. It was a generous offer, but—”

  “But nothing,” he snapped, then took the envelope away. She didn’t even attempt to stop him. “We had a deal.”

  “I changed my mind.” She stood her ground but couldn’t resist crossing her arms.

  “Well, that’s too bad because we have a meeting with Drew Reese tonight.”

  “Who?”

  “My friend from high school your grandfather sent to West JDC.”

  She took a steadying breath. “I am not going to help you destroy my grandfather.”

  “I just need you to take a statement. That’s all. Grant can’t do it tonight. He has plans with his kids.”

  She turned to look out the windows again. She and Robert had done one of those tourist cruises. Robert had a thing for boats. He’d been saving up for a sailboat he could take out on the Pontchartrain. He’d wanted to buy it himself and had almost had enough saved.

  She forced the memory back down and took another deep breath. But nothing could make her swallow back the bile of hatred crawling up her throat. The possibility of an actual witness statement about West JDC was too tempting to pass up. It was probably a wild goose chase, but with her grandfather in jail, it wouldn’t hurt to try. And she needed to know what they knew. If they had any proof that could hurt her grandfather, she couldn’t allow them to use it.

  “I’ll help you in an unofficial capacity, but that’s all I can do.”

  “Then I’ll pick you up at 6:30. Dress casual.”

  “I’d rather just meet you.” She brushed past him, anxious to get out of the office before she changed her mind and signed the contract.

  “But you don’t know where the meeting is, so I’ll pick you up.”

  “Fine,” she snapped and brushed past him. That light floral scent almost brought him to his knees.

  Jared watched her stalk down the hallway in those impossibly high heels with the pop of red on the soles. His heartbeat didn’t return to normal until she left the office, but it still wasn’t right. Fuck, she was gorgeous. That red suit had been trimmed in black leather, and on anyone else it would have looked ridiculous. The pencil skirt had clung to her thighs and legs well past her knees, and he was sure she was wearing black stockings underneath it.

  He was going to have her wearing that suit. For the first time, he was glad he had an office because he was going to bend her over his desk, push that skirt to her waist and plow into her so hard that—

  “Jared!”

  He blinked, startled out of his X-rated fantasy when Grant bellowed his name for the third time.

  “What?” He matched Grant’s angry tone. He dropped the brown envelope to cover the erection testing the limits of his new slacks before he turned to face his brother. The shocked look on Grant’s face made Jared even angrier. His brother was not used to seeing him angry. Hell, no one was used to seeing him angry. Because he didn’t get angry.

  “I thought I heard Madlyn,” Grant said, his expression still curious. “Did I hear Madlyn? Where did she go?”

  “She forgot something,” Jared flat-out lied, and it was easier than he thought it would be. Grant nodded. “I’m meeting her tonight so we can interview Drew.”

  “Drew?” Grant look confused. “Drew Reese? Is he back?”

  Jared nodded. “He returned a few weeks ago. Medical discharge.”

  “You told Madlyn about him? Everything?”

  “I might have left out a few details.”

  “Well, she doesn’t scare easily so it should be fine. Just be careful. I don’t like you hanging out at that bar.”

  Jared rolled his eyes. “I play at that bar every Friday night. You do know I’m not a kid anymore, right?”

  “Dressed like that, I almost believe you’re a grown-up.” Grant gave him a rare smartass grin.

  “Just because you’re getting close to forty doesn’t mean you can start acting like my father.”

  The grin died a quick death on Grant’s face. “I’m not close to forty.”

  “Closer than me.” Jared brushed imaginary lint off his shoulder and tried not to laugh as Grant disappeared back into his office with his usual scowl back in place.

  Jared knocked on her door promptly at 6:30, the sarcastic grin on his face fading quickly when his eyes swept over her. “You can’t go in that. I know you have a pair of jeans. I saw you wearing them.”

  Madlyn looked down at the black slacks she’d changed into. She’d kept the red silk blouse on and was about to slip on the short black jacket that went with the slacks. “Jeans?”

  “Yeah, jeans and a T-shirt, nothing too sexy. Not for where we’re going.”

  “You think this is sexy?”

  He grinned. “You can’t wear those shoes either. They’ll get ruined.”

  “Where are we meeting this guy?”

  “It’s poker nigh
t.” His grin twitched, and he didn’t look as sure of himself. “At Trick’s.”

  “You have got to be out of your mind if you think I’m going to Trick’s with you.”

  “Do you want to meet Drew or not?”

  “If he plays poker at Trick’s, that means he’s a biker. I’ve run across some of those Legion guys before. I’m not walking into their lair voluntarily.”

  “Where did you run across Legion?”

  “I represented a couple of them a few years ago.”

  “Did you win?” he asked.

  “I got the charges dropped.”

  “Then you don’t have anything to worry about. Besides, Drew’s not Legion. He’s Trick’s cousin. He plays poker with them once a month. Now change.”

  “I’m not changing,” she warned him. “If you want me to interview him, this is what I’m wearing. Take it or leave it.”

  His eyes skimmed over her again, and he didn’t look happy. He shrugged out of the denim button-down he wore over his trademark T-shirt. This one had a cupcake on it with Xs for eyes and its mouth wide open like it was dead. ‘Sugar Coma’ swirled around it in elaborate script. The design was gray on black again.

  He threw his shirt on the bed and stripped off the T-shirt at the same time he stepped forward. Her breath caught at the sudden revelation of all that skin. Her vision blurred as she drank in the elaborate scrollwork of tribal tattoos that twined up his arms to the hard outline of his pectorals. He continued to move towards her, and she stumbled back before she could catch herself. His serious expression lightened into a smirk as he backed her against the wall. She was face to face with his ink, which she’d been dying to see, but now all she could do was stare at the metal barbells through his nipples.

  When he reached the buttons of her shirt, she snapped out of it, batting his hands away. He hissed like he’d been burnt when he saw the flash of red under her silk shirt.

  A fire, sharp and sweet, ignited under her skin and ran all the way to her toes. That perverse spark inside her filled her with that strange, heady power he brought out in her. She had a weakness for lingerie. It was one of the few indulgences she allowed herself, and just for herself, because she knew no one else would ever see it.

  The red demi-bra wasn’t even one of her best, and it certainly wasn’t sexy, apart from the color. But the way his eyes were riveted to her chest, she wondered what he would do if she wore one of her more elaborate sets.

  His wadded-up T-shirt hit her in the face before she could fully form the thought, and he stalked out of her bedroom. She didn’t even try to stifle the smile that almost split her face apart, but she did manage not to laugh out loud as she ducked into her closet and changed into her favorite pair of jeans. The jeans were faded and ripped at the knee, but she’d had them forever. She didn’t wear them often because they looked like they had been painted on.

  Feeling illicit and a tiny bit excited, she knotted his T-shirt at her waist, then found him in the kitchen, smoldering between angry and hungry. He’d put his shirt back on and buttoned half of it, revealing the leather cords he wore around his neck and a glint of metal. His eyes raked over her, and the flash of regret that crossed his face told her everything she needed to know.

  “Ready?” she asked, teasing him with the bored stare she knew got all over him.

  “Let’s go.”

  She smiled to herself on the way to the car. This might be fun after all.

  And he had told her she should have more fun.

  One tense car ride to the French Quarter later, she was surprised when they pulled up at Elliot’s restaurant. “You can’t park here.”

  “Yes, I can.” Jared cut the engine. “I technically still work for Elliot. He won’t care.”

  “You work for Elliot?”

  “Yeah. He let me go part time when Jen and I opened the bakery and I had to pitch in at the law firm.”

  She couldn’t help being surprised. How many jobs did he have? “How long have you worked for him?”

  “Since high school. I started as a plongeur—”

  “What?”

  He grinned. “Dishwasher. Elliot’s kitchen is old school.” He slid out of the car. “But I’ve worked almost every position, so he keeps me on the payroll so I can fill in last minute.”

  “What were you doing when you went part time?” she asked when she met him at the back of the SUV.

  “Saucier.”

  “Seriously?” Madlyn didn’t know much about kitchen hierarchy, but she did know saucier was impressive.

  He opened the tailgate and grabbed a black knit beanie. “He lost cooks after Katrina. They couldn’t get back to the city, so I moved up fast.”

  He dragged the beanie over his short hair. She let herself look at him while he slid his rings back on his fingers and the loop through his lip. She flinched as he did that, the age difference between them yawning wide. She would be thirty soon. She was pretty sure he was twenty-five or six. She wasn’t that much older than him, but sometimes she felt ancient.

  Her fingers tightened into fists as she watched him slide one of the barbells through his eyebrow. And as he transformed himself into the scruffy musician right in front of her, Madlyn decided she didn’t give a damn how old he was.

  He grinned when he caught her watching. “You want to do the other one?”

  “No,” she said, something primitive firing up inside her at the idea as he held out the shiny curved metal with black balls on the ends.

  “You sure?”

  Her stomach tightened. None of it should have been sexy, but all of it left her breathless.

  “No, thank you,” she said, managing to sound bored as she crossed her arms and feigned impatience.

  He grinned, unscrewed one end of the barbell, and slid it through the tiny opening at the edge of his eyebrow. “If you behave, I’ll play for you after we talk to Drew.”

  Her heart skipped a beat. As much as she wanted to deny it, she wanted to hear him play. She wanted to see him on stage. And she’d never been that girl. Never had crushes on musicians.

  That wasn’t her. Until now.

  Her knees didn’t feel right as he hitched the guitar case over his shoulder. Why was that so sexy?

  “After we talk to Drew, I’ll get a taxi. You can stay and play.”

  His arm slid up around her head and pulled her close. “You won’t be able to leave.”

  She pushed away from him, stepping back to smooth her hair. He held out his hand for her. And like an idiot, Madlyn took it.

  Shock stabbed the center of his chest as her fingers curved into his. For a second he couldn’t breathe. Not that he’d been managing to get enough oxygen since she’d opened her door dressed like Catwoman getting ready for court. But then she’d make a paper bag sexy. Then she’d stepped back into her living room in faded skintight blue jeans and his T-shirt, and Jared was done.

  She looked younger. No, it wasn’t that. She appeared more approachable. Not that that was an improvement because he had the feeling he might try to hurt anyone who approached her.

  Now walking the few blocks to Trick’s back entrance, they made a strange pair. Trick’s was thumping when they walked in the back entrance. The building looked like it was falling apart, but there was a security code to get in. He keyed it in, grinning at her surprise.

  Inside, the bass was so strong from the basement, the old building reverberated with it. Her grip tightened on his hand, and he glanced back at her. He didn’t say a thing, just pulled her closer, and she followed him down the dark corridor.

  They turned a corner that had more light, but he stopped short. She ran straight into his back at the same time a scruffy guy barreled into the hallway, lobbing obscenities back into the room he’d just backed out until he noticed them staring at him.

  “Duke?” Jared asked, keeping her close behind him.

  Surprised, the man rounded on them. A full beard and mustache hid the details of his face, but not the grin when he recogniz
ed Jared. He was older, too. Early fifties, if Madlyn had to guess.

  “Marshall?” The biker cocked his head. “Hope you didn’t come for poker ’cause you’re too late. Game’s over. Reese done went and fucked it up for all of us.”

  “What’d he do now?”

  “Dumb fuck just bet his girlfriend and lost. I’m out of here before my old lady finds out.” He waved at the door in disgust. “Patsy will skin me if she finds out I was involved in this shit. Damn fucking Loup Garou are always nothing but trouble. Don’t understand why Trick puts up with Reese’s shit. Later.” He disappeared down the hall, still cussing and grumbling.

  Madlyn stepped in closer as they watched him walk away, the Legion skeleton on the back of his cut glaring at them as it held out a piece of parchment with ‘For we are many’ written on it in dripping blood.

  “Did he say what I think he said?”

  “Yeah.” Jared nodded. “I think so. It has to be a joke. Drew would never—”

  There was a loud crash. Glass broke, and angry yells erupted from the room.

  “Maybe we should come back,” Madlyn suggested, easing back.

  “Afraid?” He backed her against the wall, pressing his body against hers as World War III continued in the other room. “Don’t worry; I’ll protect you.”

  “But who’s going to protect you from me?” she asked sweetly, glancing past him as a huge pissed-off guy in a Legion cut stomped out of the room with a screaming girl thrown over his shoulder, followed by a couple of other guys. Madlyn started forward, and Jared caught her back.

  “Just wait,” he said, stopping her from moving.

  “Did they really bet a woman in a poker game?”

  “C’mon.” Jared pulled her into the room where two guys were putting the poker table back together and a third guy was pouring whiskey into shot glasses at the small bar across the room. He glanced up, the fierce look on his face giving way to a grin that was out of place on his cut-glass face.