Down & Dirty_Jag

by Jeanne St. James

  “Where’s Pudwhacker?”

  And when that vision opened her mouth to speak... Yeah, he just about creamed in his county-issued tighty whities. “I was assigned to your club by Mr. Pannebaker.”

  “Why?” came out sounding more like a grunt than a question.

  “Because I’m good—”

  In bed? I’ll be the judge of that.

  “And he’s busy.”

  She yanked the chair away from the table and the metal legs screeched along the filthy pitted concrete floor. She smiled when he winced at the sound.

  “You gonna be able to sit down in that skirt?”

  She proved it when she slid that ass, which he had yet to get an eyeful of, onto the seat.

  He was jealous of that scrap of metal. No doubt. Should be his face instead.

  “Sure thing, Mr...” She flipped open his file, ran a finger along a document inside and then tapped it. “Mr. Dougherty.”

  “You wear that for all your clients? Or am I special?”

  She plastered on a I’m-only-here-because-I-have-to-be smile. “All my clients are special, Mr. Dougherty.”

  “I’m sure,” he muttered. “Bet everyone who pays those fuckin’ high hourly fees feels special.” He reached around and rubbed his ass. “Feelin’ real special right about now.”

  She tilted her head and considered him. “You wouldn’t have to pay anything if you hadn’t been arrested.”

  Well, that was true. But sometimes statements had to be made and he, as well as his club brothers, had to be the ones to make them.

  “Shit happens.”

  “That is does. So here we are. Can we get started, Mr. Dougherty?”

  “Hawk.”

  She pursed her lips for a moment. And in that moment his balls tightened painfully. Damn, didn’t he want to shoot his load all over her face.

  Suddenly she dropped her torso beneath the table and then popped back up. Hawk watched as her breasts also bounced back, testing the top button of her deep V-neck blouse.

  He blinked. Since when were threads so damn strong?

  Then his breath rushed out of him loudly when she slipped on a pair of glasses.

  Holy fuck. She just became every man’s sexy librarian wet dream.

  I’ve been a naughty boy, Ms. Librarian.

  She placed some sort of flat computer that didn’t have a keyboard on the table. What Ivy would call a tablet. Not that he cared. He didn’t fuck with those types of things. He barely knew the basics when he used the computer at his bar and even then he let his computer whiz of a cousin do the rest.

  He didn’t have time for that shit.

  She dropped her gaze to the folder. “So, I went over your charges—”

  “Read my last name without your glasses.”

  Her head rose. “What?”

  “Read my name without your glasses, now you need ‘em?”

  She stared at him. “I forget to put them on sometimes since they’re just for reading. Your name was bit blurry, but I could make it out. Does it matter if I’m wearing my glasses or not?”

  Fuck yeah it does. Especially if you’re naked.

  And in my bed.

  “Gotta name?”

  Her mouth opened and closed once before saying, “Sorry, I should’ve introduced myself. I’m Kiki Clark.”

  His brows shot up his forehead. “Kiki?”

  “Yes, sir,” she said on a dramatic sigh.

  Hawk muttered, “What the fuck.”

  She shrugged. “Ask my parents.”

  “So, you ain’t lyin’.”

  “I never lie.”

  His brows shot up once again, this time in disbelief.

  “Okay, maybe sometimes. Only when it’s important. Like when someone’s freedom hangs in the balance.”

  Well, damn. “You lie to judges,” he stated.

  Without even the slightest hesitation and a fleeting smile, she answered, “I plead the fifth.”

  Hawk leaned back in his chair and barked out a laugh. “Yeah, you’re just like a real Robin Hood.” He shook his head. “Damn, wanna get in your skirt.”

  “I’ll dry clean it for you first if you want to wear it. Might be a bit tight on you, though.” She lifted a shoulder slightly. “No loss for me, since I’ve never been fond of it anyway.”

  “Fuckin’ damn,” he whispered.

  She arched a brow. “Is that good?”

  “Fuck yes. For me, anyhow. But I’ll make sure it’s good for you, too.”

  “I’m relieved,” she said, sarcasm dripping from her voice. “I’ve already had too many selfish pricks in my bed.”

  “I’m not a selfish prick.”

  “So you say.”

  He studied her. “How many is ‘too many?’”

  “You first. How many women have you had in your bed? I’ve heard rumors about those biker parties.”

  “If you’re talkin’ about at the same time... then a few. Wanna be one?”

  “How about we just agree to keep our relationship on a professional level. Me as the lawyer and you as the defendant.”

  “Doubt that’s gonna happen.”

  She made a noise. “It’ll happen.”

  “You say so, babe.”

  Now she gave him a do-I-really-have-to-tolerate-this-asshole? smile. “I certainly do, pumpkin.”

  Hawk snorted and grinned. He liked a challenge. And she was pushing all his buttons. In the right way.

  She again arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow at him. “Now, can we get down to business?”

  He wasn’t ready to get down to business. Or at least the business she was here for. He liked playing with her. And she didn’t seem to mind it either. He liked that. No, he fucking loved that. “Right here on the table?”

  She shook her head and sighed, then ran her gaze over his head before switching gears without a warning. “Did it hurt to get your head tattooed?”

  It hurt like a bitch. “Tickled.”

  Now both of her brows rose. “You’re ticklish?”

  “Wanna find out?”

  “Another time, but thanks. The guards might frown if we get into a tickle fight.”

  Hawk’s grin widened. They’d probably be jealous, if anything. “Not scared of bikers, are you?”

  “Should I be?”

  “Depends on how bad they wanna fuck you.”

  “You want to fuck me...” She glanced down at her file. “Hawk? Is that your real name?”

  “Yeah. On both accounts.”

  “Ah. Okay. I’ll take your uncontrollable desire into consideration before I step into a dark room alone with you.”

  Once again Hawk sat back in his chair, crossed his arms over his chest, and smiled.

  She was a feisty one. Classy. Curvy. A lot of hair to pull. Smart and a smart ass as well.

  Right up his alley.

  Yeah, he liked a good challenge.

  He might have to taste her between her legs to see if she was sweet, too, as well as spicy.

  “Gotta get outta here. Got a bar to run.”

  “Right.” She peeked back at her paperwork before meeting his gaze directly. Head on. Nope. No fear at all in those eyes. “The Iron Horse Roadhouse. Maybe you should have thought of that before you kicked that biker’s ass.”

  “Just defendin’ myself.”

  She leaned forward giving Hawk a better view of her tits. “So, let me get this straight, the man that you knocked out and badly injured put his hands on you first?”

  Shit.

  “He put his paws on DAMC property.”

  When she noticed where his eyes were, she sat back. “Him specifically? Or someone in his club?”

  Hawk shrugged then stretched his neck out toward the left and then toward the right, cracking his spine, before answering, “Don’t matter. All the same.”

  “Not in the eyes of the law.”

  “Justice is blind,” Hawk grumbled, thinking about the ten years former club president Zak spent in prison for a crime the Shadow
Warriors set him up for.

  Fuckers. They deserved everything they got and then some.

  “I can’t disagree with you on that. That’s why I got into criminal defense.”

  Speaking of defense... “Where’s my brother?”

  “The other Mr. Dougherty has been released.”

  What the fuck? “How’d he get sprung an’ my ass is still sittin’ in here?”

  Kiki lifted a shoulder, one he wanted to sink his teeth into as he was making her come.

  “He didn’t waste my time trying to get down my pants. Or up my skirt.”

  Right. He was sure Diesel would take a shot at that if given the chance. “Doubt that’s the reason.”

  “And you would be correct. Though this can’t be proven, I have a feeling your brother’s size alone intimidated the witnesses. No one saw him do anything but hold the front door open to the pub to let the rest of your crew in.”

  Lucky fucking bastard.

  “What did these so-called witnesses see me do?”

  “They saw enough that you would be held responsible for the damage.”

  “So, it has nothin’ to do with crackin’ some Shadow Warriors’ heads. Just the damage to that bar?”

  “Sort of, but not exactly.”

  “That’s clear as fuckin’ piss.”

  “I agree.”

  Hawk grunted. “Club’ll pay for the damage.”

  “Already done.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “So, what’s the hold up?”

  “I have to go before the District Justice and plea for leniency. He seems determined to make an example of at least one of you. You came into his section of the city and wreaked havoc, Mr... Hawk. Judges tend not to frown upon that. They tend not to like motorcycle gangs—”

  “Club,” he corrected her.

  “What?”

  “Club,” he barked. “DAMC’s a fuckin’ club, a brotherhood, not a gang.”

  “Okay, well,” she pushed her glasses up her nose, “Club, then. Judges tend not to like clubs going to war in their area. Can you see where he’s coming from?”

  “You know this DJ?”

  “Yes.”

  He narrowed his eyes as he watched her face carefully. “Good?”

  “Very well, yes.”

  Hawk leaned forward over the table until they were almost face to face. “You fuck ‘im?”

  He couldn’t miss the uncomfortable swallow and the flash of shock that crossed her expression. Finally, he got a reaction from her. But it quickly disappeared as a blank mask slipped over her face.

  “I’m not going to answer that. That’s simply ridiculous.”

  “You gonna wear a skirt like that when you plead my innocence?”

  When she sighed with impatience, Hawk’s gaze became glued to the rise and fall of her chest.

  “I’m not pleading your innocence. I’m shooting for a reduced sentence.”

  “Then you plan on fucking me an’ not in a good way.”

  “I’m going to do my best to get you out of here and back to your club and your brotherhood as an ‘upstanding business owner who made an unwise decision.’”

  Hawk snorted. “In self-defense.”

  “No. I’m not going to insult the judge that way. You’ve learned from your time here and you’ve learned from your mistake. You’re taking this as a life lesson and will be a better citizen because of it.”

  Damn, she was good. She almost convinced him with that bullshit. “Sure, babe. Sounds like a plan. Long as it works.”

  “It’ll work if you keep your mouth shut in the courtroom and you don’t stare down the judge in defiance. You let me do all the talking while you’re as quiet as a church mouse and looking as harmless as one, too.”

  “Mice can do a lotta fuckin’ damage.”

  Hawk bit back a laugh when she slapped a hand to her forehead and her eyes bugged out behind those sexy little glasses. “Fuck my life,” she said under her breath.

  Damn, that was hot. “Love a classy lady with a dirty fuckin’ mouth. Wanna wrap my fist in all that hair when you’re suckin’ my cock with it.”

  She opened her mouth, blinked, sucked in a deep breath and then sighed loudly before saying, “You really know how to sweet talk a lady.”

  “Don’t want you to be a lady. Want you to be a hell cat. Not prissy. Sweatin’, screamin’, bitin’, scratchin’, fuckin’. Comin’ so hard you see spots.”

  “Well, all righty then. Let me pull up my calendar so we can schedule that.” She held up a finger as she tapped an app on her computer/tablet/electronic thingy. “Date?”

  “First night I’m outta this joint.”

  “Location?”

  “On the floor, against the wall, on a table, in my bed.”

  “Well, that’s a lot of typing.” Tap, tap, tap. “Okay, let me make sure I got this down correctly... Suckin’, scratchin’, bitin’, sweatin’, fuckin’, and...” She glanced up from her tablet.

  “Screamin’. Forgot screamin’.”

  “Ah.” She nodded, tapping the screen. “Screamin’.” She lifted a brow his direction. “Anything in particular?”

  “My name.”

  “Got it. Screaming H-A-W-K. All that against the wall, on the bed, the floor and hanging from a ceiling fan. Right?”

  “That’ll do for starters.”

  “Right. I can’t wait.”

  “Me neither.”

  “Can you promise me one thing?”

  “What’s that, babe?”

  “It’s going to be the best fuck I’ve ever had?”

  “Have a feelin’ it’s gonna be the best fuck I ever had.”

  She tapped her finger against her bottom lip then tilted her head. “Okay, I lied. I need another promise.”

  “Shoot.”

  “If I get you out of here, you’re not going to punch anyone else.”

  “Can’t promise that, babe.”

  “Why?”

  “Got enemies.”

  Her pretty blue eyes narrowed. “Who?”

  He zipped his lips shut.

  “Who?” she prodded. “Those bikers you beat up in that bar?”

  Hawk leaned forward. “Know you’re new to this. Know you’re here to help me, help all the brothers when we’re in a jam. Know it. Appreciate it. But you’ll learn... Club business, babe, ain’t a woman’s business. When you’re needed you’ll get the info we can give you an’ no more. Got me?”

  Kiki shoved her chair back with a squeal and stood. “Sorry, but no, I don’t got you. You want me to stick my neck out for you and your boys—”

  “Brothers,” he cut in.

  She ignored him and continued, “Then you need to be open and honest with me or you can hang out to dry for all I care. Got me?”

  Hawk smiled, leaned back in his chair and ran his gaze over her once more. Yep, he was going to get a piece of that. “Damn, woman, can’t wait for that appointment.”

  “We have to get you out of here first.”

  “You do that.”

  She stepped closer to the table to look down at him. “Are you going to be checking out my ass when I leave?”

  “Fuck yeah.”

  With a nod, she spun around, strutted her way to the door and pressed the buzzer.

  Hawk didn’t miss the guard checking out her ass either.

  Son of a bitch.

  Keep an eye out for Down & Dirty: Hawk here:

  http://www.jeannestjames.com/down-dirty-hawk

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