King (Great Wolves Motorcycle Club Book 10)

by Jayne Blue

  “Well, some people are looking at you as the last clear chance to have avoided this particular catastrophe. I’m not saying I’m one of them. Huck, look at me.”

  I hadn’t realized I wasn’t. I raised my eyes and felt my nostrils flare as I stared Terry down. He set his mouth into a grim, lopsided smile and put his hands up in surrender.

  “I just need to get you out of the crosshairs for a while. That’s all.”

  “You’re benching me?”

  Terry shook his head. “No. I’m reassigning you. Sending you someplace quiet for a few weeks. Giving you a nice cushy assignment. You might even like it.”

  “It’s already sounding like a shit sandwich.”

  Terry laughed. “Ann Arbor, Huck. Not Siberia.”

  “Might as well be the same damn thing. Nothing out there but hippies and college kids last time I checked. Not really my crowd.”

  “Judge Jillian Key, ever heard of her?”

  I shook my head.

  “There’s been a few death threats. Nothing out of the ordinary, but somebody over there seems to think she’s important.”

  I let out a hard breath. “Jesus, Terry. You’re sending me over to Judicial Security? You want me to be a glorified babysitter? No fucking way.”

  Terry slowly rose from behind his desk. He rested his weight on his fists and stared me down. “I’m doing you a favor, Raymond. You don’t need to know the particulars, but certain people want you on administrative suspension. Those people are wrong and the review board is going to prove it to them. In the meantime though, I don’t need you around here in their faces. So go to Ann Arbor. Make sure this Judge Key doesn’t get herself into any trouble. Like I said, she’s apparently important to a few people higher up that sign our paychecks. Maybe even the president since he put her over there. Cool your jets for a while and watch some college football maybe. Then I’ll get you back here where you belong. Besides, somebody over there asked for you special.”

  I raised a brow. “The hell?”

  Terry shrugged. “You can figure it out when you get there. The judge has burned through a couple of other deputies. They say she’s a little eccentric. I need you, Huck. You and I both know you’re one of the best deputies we’ve got. So go down there and earn some brownie points and help me help you.”

  “Great. Eccentric white-haired old lady, bleeding-heart judge who probably hates law enforcement, I’m guessing. Nothing but whackos down there, Terry. Yeah. This one seems tailor-made for my skillset.”

  But Terry was done talking. He sank back into his chair and turned toward his computer screen. With that, it seemed I was on my way to fucking Ann Arbor.

  Jillian Leticia Key. God, even her name was insufferable. I headed into the federal courthouse in downtown Ann Arbor. The streets bustled with hippies, college students, and the smell of lawyers. It’s the kind of place where you can find a juice bar on every corner but God help you if you’re looking for a damn Diet Coke.

  Courthouse security directed me to the judge’s courtroom. Terry wanted me to make an appointment with her but that’s not how I work. If Judge Jillian Key were in any real danger, I needed to see her in action without her knowing I was watching. I’d heard from two other deputies she’d thrown her detail before. Terry called it eccentric. I called it plain stupid. I needed to know who and what I was dealing with and it was better if I saw her before she saw me.

  I pulled her docket up on my phone and my eyebrows went up. I was just about to walk in on a motion hearing. I recognized the name of the lawyer for the defendant. Jerry Jordan. The guy was pure, high-priced scum. Dirty as hell, he represented most of the made guys in the Moldonado crime family.

  Jordan stood at the defense table, his gold rings flashing as he ran his fingers through his slick-backed hair plugs. God, he really was the worst of the worst. I recognized the government’s lawyer and my blood ran a little cold. Cute little thing. Tight ass, long legs. Shelby, Shelley … awe, shit. I’d met her about a year ago at a convention in Traverse City. Let’s just say we’d gotten along very well for about six hours.

  Shannon Collier. That was it. She turned as I took a seat behind her. Her blue eyes widened then narrowed. A hot blush colored her cheeks as I raised a hand to wave at her. Fuck. So much for doing some under the radar recon. I just hoped Shannon … er, Shelby … awe, fuck it … didn’t make some kind of scene. I’d never called her again after that weekend and right now she looked like the type who minded. She coughed into her fist and turned back on me. Yeah. She absolutely minded.

  “All rise!”

  Judge Key’s deputy came through the door. The woman was built like a fire hydrant: short, solid, and round. She had closely cropped black hair and cold dark eyes that took everything in, including me. Strike two on trying to do this on the down low. That said, she could be an ally. I gave her a quick nod and put my hand on my hip. She wore her Marshal’s badge in prominent display on her chest. She saw mine on my belt right away but didn’t meet my eyes again. A small door opened to the left of the bench. A shock of blonde hair caught my eye.

  Then Judge Key stepped up to the bench and my heart went straight to my cock.

  This was no white-haired old lady. Jillian Key was young. My age probably … mid-thirties. She wore her white-blonde hair in a tight bun twisted at the nape of her neck. She was shapeless in that black robe but I caught a flash of her leg as she stepped up that made my guts twist. They were long, tan, athletic. I found myself wanting to know what else she had under there. Fuck. She didn’t have any nylons on and her black high heels made her calves flex.

  “Mr. Jordan,” she said, her voice low and smoky. I pulled up her profile on the courthouse website and wished I’d done it before. I’d wanted to catch her off guard today but the exact opposite was happening.

  Jerry Jordan puffed out his chest and went on a tirade about how the government’s motion for more discovery was aimed at harassing his client. He never took a damn breath and stepped out from behind his table and toward the judge.

  My back stiffened and from the corner of my eye, I noticed the fireplug Marshal at her side reacting the same way. You don’t approach the bench without asking permission first. And you don’t do it just so you can get in the judge’s face while you’re talking. But Jillian Key seemed unfazed. She wore a pair of black, horn-rimmed glasses on the edge of her nose that gave her a sexy librarian look I don’t think she understood. She kept her expression neutral, those steely blue eyes cool and calculating. Just a tiny tremor near her mouth belied the anger that may have simmered beneath.

  When Jordan finally did take a pause, Judge Key let out a hard breath. “Mr. Jordan, do you recall what I asked you to do the last time you were in my courtroom?”

  Jordan smiled and shrugged. “Judge Key, I’m asking for the government’s motion to be dismissed with costs.”

  Judge Key crossed her arms in front of her. The wide sleeve of her robe slipped back, revealing her delicate wrists. Her eyes were wide and full of cold steel. She had pure white skin and high cheekbones. Her tongue darted out for just an instant as she licked her bee-stung bottom lip.

  “Mr. Jordan, did you produce your client today as I asked you to?”

  Jerry held his hands out and shook his head. “Your Honor, this is a frivolous motion aimed at harassing my client. In fact, your predecessor never would have scheduled a hearing on this. Judge Moller would have heard this just on pleadings. My client’s presence can’t possibly be required.”

  “It is if I ordered it. And I did. Would you like the transcript from last month’s hearing read back to you? I’d be happy to do that but I think my memory is pretty sharp, Mr. Jordan. I told you if you didn’t produce your client today I would hold you and him in contempt. You’re here. He’s not. You’ll find I’m good on my word, Mr. Jordan. The deputies are going to take you into custody in about five minutes. They’ll explain your rights to you. We’re adjourned.”

  With that, Judge Jillian Key banged
her gavel and sent one of the most highly connected lawyer scumbags on the planet to jail. When Jordan turned, his eyes narrowed with cold, murderous intent that made my hand go to my sidearm on instinct.

  Shit. This job was going to be tougher than I thought.

  JILLIAN

  “Don’t say it.” I muttered it under my breath as Rhonda held the door to my chambers open for me. She shot me a grim look with one dark brow arched high. The woman was only five feet tall, but every inch was all solid, sassy, African-American power. She had a hand on her gun belt and the other one flat against the door as she pushed it open wider. She shook her head and followed me in.

  “Judge,” Rhonda said. “Not my job to tell you how to do yours. But I can’t lie. The look on Jordan’s face just now is going in my memoirs if I ever write ’em.”

  I shook my head and fumbled with the zipper on my robe.

  “You maybe want to hang on with that,” Rhonda said as I slid one arm out of the thing. Beneath it, I wore my running gear … black spandex biker shorts and a neon pink tank top over a black sports bra. It was twelve o’clock. Every day at twelve o’clock, rain or shine, I got my miles in. Six of them, looping through the University of Michigan’s main campus. Then I’d shower and change at the Rec building or in the private bathroom connected to my chambers and face the rest of my docket.

  “Rhonda.” I smiled down at her and kicked off my three-and-a-half-inch black pumps. I kept a change of socks and my running shoes in my desk drawer. “I’ve got three more 12b hearings to round out my already shitty day. I need to get some miles under my feet.”

  Rhonda sighed and put her hands on her hips. Someone was already knocking on the door behind her. That was highly unusual since it was coming from the courtroom, not the door to my offices on the other side of the hallway.

  “Just indulge me,” Rhonda said. “Zip your robe back up and slip your power pumps back on. I don’t think you noticed with all the fun going on out there, but I think the Marshals Service has sent another deputy to talk to you. He was sitting in the courtroom and I don’t have to be psychic to figure that’s him now.”

  I let out a sigh and spread my hands across the top of my desk. Things had been moved. I kept a green blotter at the center, a mug of pens in the top right corner. The afternoon’s files should be spread out in order across the blotter but they’d been moved to the side. The flower pot was wrong too. It should be in the top left corner of the desk but it was centered now. It was Tuesday. The cleaning crew came in to dust and polish the wood. I gritted my teeth and moved the plant into the right spot. The files would have to wait.

  “Judge?” Rhonda took a step toward me as the knock on the door started up again. “We’re bordering on rude not letting him in.”

  “It’s not the way I like to do things, Rhonda. He should have made an appointment. Tell him to come back tomorrow.”

  Rhonda cocked her head to the side and her smile softened. She crossed her arms in front of her and blinked at me. “I know, Judge. I know. But we can’t micromanage this one. We need to let them do their job so you can keep doing yours. Let’s just see what he has to say. Okay? You need a team, Judge. I might not be enough.”

  “What if I don’t like him?” I hated that my tone sounded almost like a pout. The others they sent had been disrespectful both to Rhonda and to me. I’d gotten the impression the Marshals Service had just been trying to humor me. It was Rhonda who had insisted we bring in more muscle and expertise. I thought she might be overreacting, but decided to trust her judgment. Her experience inside this courthouse vastly outnumbered mine.

  “Well, for now let’s keep an open mind. This one looked young, at least,” she said, shooting me a wink.

  “Great. I can’t afford to babysit another …”

  Rhonda put up her hand. “Not too young. Young like you, I mean. A big guy too. And uh … fine.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Don’t tell me you’ve already got a crush on him.” I teased her. A single mother of two teenage boys, Rhonda had been in a long-term relationship with Howie Dillard, a former tight end for the Lions, and currently one of their scouts. They made an adorable pair. He was a foot and a half taller than she was but standing together, Rhonda still looked fierce and formidable. Howie had been pestering her to marry him for years, but Rhonda liked her independence. I loved and trusted her like no one else in my life and I’d only known her for just over a year. I’d inherited her from my predecessor after President Vance appointed me to this seat. It had been a bold move and had angered plenty of people. But here I was trying to do the best job I could where the learning curve is steeper than anyone can tell you.

  Rhonda didn’t wait for me to tell her no again. In that, she knew me too well. If she’d given me even another beat to stall, I probably would have found a reason to duck out the other door and postpone meeting US Marshal Deputy Whatsisname.

  Then he walked in.

  My eyes went up and up along with Rhonda’s. He was huge, broad like he too could have played for the Lions. He wore a white cotton dress shirt stretched taut over his solid biceps. He carried his suit coat over his shoulder and I could have found that disrespectful, but my gaze flicked to his hands. He had long, tapered nails. He held one hand out to Rhonda and shook hers. He shot her a row of white, straight teeth. He folded his jacket over his forearm and ran his other hand through his blond hair. Not platinum like mine, but bleached golden from the sunlight. He fixed his dark blue eyes straight on me and set his jaw. With his hands on his hips now, the jacket clutched in his fist, he looked me up and down, raising the temperature of my blood. I crossed my arms in front of me and let my face harden into a neutral mask.

  “Good afternoon,” he said, his voice a warm tenor. The corners of his full mouth lifted into a half smile revealing a deep dimple in his right cheek. “I’m from the Marshals Service. I suppose you’ve already guessed that. I’m Ray Huckman, Your Honor.”

  Ray Huckman did step forward then and extend his hand. I didn’t want to shake it. I still had my arms crossed in front of me in a sort of protective shield. I plastered on a smile and held my right hand out. Ray Huckman’s grip was strong but so was mine. His flesh warmed mine and I took a step back, sliding my arm back in front of me.

  “Jillian Key,” I said. I had the urge to tell him not to bother with titles. Just call me Jillian. But, like my arms in front of me and the potted plant on my desk in precisely the right spot, I wasn’t ready to let my armor fall away. Not even for a man who looked like Deputy US Marshal Ray Huckman. Mercy.

  “It’s good to meet you, Deputy,” I said. “I hope you haven’t wasted a trip.”

  Huckman’s face fell for just a fraction of a second. Then he plastered that infuriating half smile back in place. Oh yes, maybe not for the Lions, but our man Ray Huckman was a player. That was obvious. He was probably used to getting women to do whatever he said with just a flash of that smile and that darting wink. I’ll admit it, the man was drop-dead, knee-melting sexy. Having him around me was going to draw attention. I had a feeling Rhonda would think that might not be a bad thing. She herself had been with the Marshals Service for over twenty years. I still thought she was blowing things out of proportion. Sure, there had been a few harassing phone calls. Some of them came through to my personal line even after I’d changed it. But surely this had to come with the territory. As a judge I was always going to make at least one party very unhappy with every case before me. I was the new kid on the block here though, I couldn’t have the rest of the town and the judiciary think I was too skittish to handle it. They had enough reasons to tear me down if they really looked hard enough.

  “Well, ma’am, why don’t you let me be the judge of that.” Ray Huckman’s accent was pure Midwestern, but he delivered the line like a southern gentleman. “I’m sorry I didn’t call to tell you I was on my way. But I’ll be honest, I kind of wanted to see you in action before we met.”

  I nodded. “You wanted to see how I conduct myself
. So, have you formed an opinion already?” I stepped around my desk and sat on the edge of it. I crossed my legs in front of me and kept Ray’s gaze. The robe helped keep my armor in place and I mentally thanked Rhonda for making me keep it on. Huckman’s smile widened just a touch, then he let out a laugh that sent a flash of heat zinging through me.

  “Well, ma’am, I’ll say you definitely got my attention. I’m still trying to decide whether what I just witnessed out there was real. You just sent Jerry Jordan to jail?”

  Rhonda snorted and quickly tried to cover her mouth. I gave her a hard stare then turned my attention back to Huckman. “He had it coming,” I said. “I don’t care who he is or who he works for. If he’s going to come into my courtroom, he’s going to follow my rules. Besides, they’ll probably kick him in an hour or two.”

  “Yes ma’am,” Huckman said, eyes twinkling. “You definitely made your point though. But all levity aside, one of the first things I’m going to need from you is an enemies list. Like it or not, Jerry Jordan is on it now. Probably his client too. And I need you to fill me in on what’s been happening.” His last request was directed more at Rhonda. I saw her eyes dart to the side and it made my heart trip.

  “Rhonda doesn’t keep secrets from me nor I her,” I said. “She provides security, but I also consider her to be a close personal friend. She should be included in every discussion we have.”

  Huckman nodded. “Of course. I’m not here to step on anyone’s toes. Deputy Powell and I work for the same team.”

  Rhonda pulled up a chair and offered one to Huckman. I stayed perched on the edge of my desk. “Haven’t they sent you a file, Deputy Huckman?” Rhonda asked. “Everything we’ve received has been sent on.”

  Huckman nodded. “I’ve just started looking through it. But I wanted to get your thoughts first. And it’s Huck. That’s what most people call me. Only my mother called me Ray and she passed away when I was seven.”