She tore the check and handed it to me. I placed it in a drawer and quickly locked it. My eyes wandered back to hers, and I nodded for her to continue.
“Well, why don’t you begin, Ms. Kerrigan? Remember, I’m your advocate; I’m here to protect you and keep you safe. Nothing you say to me is going to change that.”
Eve sipped from her tea again. “Yes, I know. It’s hard to know where I should begin. I suppose I’ll tell you what’s pertinent to the situation now, and if you need more information, we can cross that bridge when we get to it.”
“All right,” I replied soothingly. “Why don’t you begin wherever you’re most comfortable?”
“Well…I don’t live in the state anymore but I spent the vast majority of my adult life here in Northern Nevada. My children were raised here and we had a very good life. I was…happy…and quite pleased.” Eve abruptly stopped talking and placed her tea on a coaster at the edge of my desk near her.
“Continue,” I urged softly.
“Everything didn’t go according to plan. My husband and I—we had two wonderful children who turned out very well but our other son, he was another matter entirely. He was brilliant and had a very bright future in front of him but he threw it all away to become a nobody in one of the local motorcycle gangs in the area.”
Here we go, I thought, annoyed by her casual dismissal. I tried to keep my face neutral, to stop myself from scowling at such a label. The people she spoke so discouraging about were the same individuals I’d grown up around my whole life. They’d watched over me, kept me secure, safe, and assured I’d had a happy, normal adolescence.
“Oh? Motorcycle gang?” I picked up my Montblanc pen and squeezed it hard. “Do you mean he joined one the clubs here? Perhaps the Demon’s Bastards or the Lucifer’s Saints?”
“Yes, he did, and they aren’t clubs—they’re gangs. You call them a club because your father is Jonesy Hughes and you grew up in the life but I can assure you they’re rife with criminal activity, money laundering, prostitution, drugs, guns—you name it, they participate in it,” Eve explained in a steady voice.
“Okay…so this son of yours? How does he fit into the picture?”
“Well, I would like you to set up a meeting between the two of us. I don’t have much time and soon, I will move on to different part of the world. I would like it to be pre-arranged and you would have to speak to him because I need this to go as smoothly as possible, is that understood?”
“Of course, Ms. Kerrigan.” I plastered on a smile as I dropped the Montblanc on my desk. “Now, if you could just give me the name of your son, the biker? No need to worry, I’ll be able to locate him fairly quickly if he’s a Bastard or a Saint.”
“How reassuring.” Eve’s content expression suddenly disappeared and her hazel-green eyes hardened. “If I get a whiff you’ve informed your father’s club or the Saints’ President, everything will go very bad, very quickly for you, Ms. Hughes. I will have the Feds down here so fast it’ll make your head spin. Are we clear?”
Her sudden change gave me much-needed food for thought. Who the hell was this woman that she could threaten me so easily and have chills run down my back? Somehow, I knew she meant every word she said.
“You have my assurance nothing of the sort will happen, Ms. Kerrigan.”
“Good.” Eve’s easy expression returned as she handed over a cream colored envelope—extremely expensive, elegant stationary, calligraphy handwriting on the back with my full name spelled out. I was thoroughly impressed.
“Please don’t open this until I leave your office. Though you may think there is nothing to trace this letter, there is. Please don’t allow me to lose faith in you. I trust you to do the right thing—if not for my sake, then my son’s. He deserves to be happy and if I can give him that much then I will deal with everything else. Are we clear?”
I nodded my head, afraid to speak. “I won’t open this until you leave but I do have one last question for you. What if I’m not able to reach your son? What happens then?”
My client stood and glared at me, her eyes determined. “You don’t have much of a choice but to find my son. From what I’ve heard, it shouldn’t be too hard to locate him. You know the world, so I expect some results. I’m not paying you for my damned health. I will call you tomorrow to see how everything has progressed.”
I watched as she turned around and flounced out of my office.
The envelope felt heavy and weighted in my hand but I still pulled back the flap and slid out the singular page. It was thick, heavy stock paper folded into thirds. I opened it fully and used a couple paperweights to hold it down.
There was nothing on the paper except a simple name: Trey Lennon.
What. The. Fuck.
Trey’s parents, younger brother, and his brother’s fiancée died in an automobile accident under suspicious circumstances almost a year ago. They were supposed to be taking dirt naps over at the local Pine Bluff Cemetery. The whole club had buried Trey’s family in a funeral befitting royalty or heads of state.
Recognition kicked into overdrive and, of course, I recognized her. The hair was different and she’d lost the softness she had before. Now she was svelte, obviously exercised, quiet and composed.
Eve Kerrigan—née Antoinette Lennon—knew exactly what she was doing when she walked into my office. I didn’t know whether to be pissed or excited.
Trey’s presence definitely brought out an animal magnetism with me and I thought he was the sexiest biker on two legs. Next thing I knew, he’d hauled ass out of town shortly after the news broke that my father would have to relinquish him as a member of the Demon’s Bastards.
Certain allegiances existed to align himself with the Saints; and though I had no idea what they were, I knew Trey hurt. How could he not when he was torn from his brothers and given a new, ready-made family?
I tried to calm down as I lifted my smart phone and placed the call to Trey’s phone. I could only hope he had the same number if nothing else.
“Hello?” Trey answered after a few rings.
“Hey, stranger. It’s Kyra. How’re you doin’?”
How could I take on some of the most complicated cases yet be a complete and utter dolt when it came to addressing this man in simple conversation?
“Nothing much, babe. Just working on a Harley down at the garage. What’s up? You never call me outta the blue. Did somethin’ happen? Brooklyn change his motherfuckin’ mind and decide I’m the one who shot him?” he asked as I heard him light a cigarette and drag from it. “No, it’s nothing like that but I do have to meet with you,” I responded, keeping my tone calm and even. It was the exact opposite of what my heart was doing to my chest, thundering against my ribcage like it was looking for a means of escape.
“I’m busy, Kyra. If it doesn’t have to do with my case then why do you wanna see me? I’m tired of the motherfuckin’ games women play. I had a good a woman and now, she’s dead. So, tell me what you need to say.”
“I can’t, not over the phone.” I paused, trying to slow my heartbeat. “Can I come to the compound ASAP? I should be there in about a half an hour.”
Trey was silent on his end for a moment before he said, “Yeah, sure. Just let one of the boys know when you’re here and I can meet you near the playground. Sound okay?”
“Yes. Thank you.” I smiled again before I put everything away, tidied my desk and strode out of the office.
My day had, officially, just gone from weird to worse.
I arrived at the Saints clubhouse with time to spare.
Two prospects guarded the formidable looking gate and allowed me to pass as soon as I pulled out my identification.
After parking my car, I walked toward the garage bays but made sure I stayed clear of them due to OSHA regulations.
I second-guessed my attire, which consisted of a coral wool shift dress, black knee-length leather boots with four-inch heels, and black scarf. It was professional enough but the dress was plain
and didn’t show off any of my assets.
Not that I was sure I should even care what I looked like. I wasn’t there on a social call. I had specific information to unleash on Trey that could possibly leave him feeling devastated beyond belief.
Trey walked toward me, cleaning dirt and grime from under his fingernails with a clean rag. After he finished, he stuffed the rag into his back pocket and stared at me with deep, penetrating eyes.
He looked hot and sexy as hell as always. His bright hazel-green eyes, the same color as his mother’s, lightly tanned skin, and masculine beautiful face was enough to make my heart beat faster. I could admit how attractive he was, but it’d come in the form of heart palpitations and my fair skin infused with color as opposed to moisture pooling in intimate places. Fortunately, I stopped suffering from that panty-wetting habit in my mid-twenties.
“Fancy seeing you again so soon. What do you want from me, Kyra? Does this have anything to do with Jonesy?”
I shook my head, unable to speak as my mouth filled with cotton balls, and my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. I suddenly felt like that silly, awkward teenager with long, stringy carrot-red hair and braces. Yeah, Trey had a way of making most women feel like putty in his hands, me included.
“It’s something personal. Is there somewhere private we can speak freely?”
Trey laughed coldly as he shook his head. “We’re safe here. Surely you’re not suggesting I hide anything from my brothers?”
Kink laughed as he continued to work on a Harley.
“It’s not like that,” I replied icily. “I’m not trying to get you into bed. You do realize I’m an attorney? That means if I say it’s personal, I mean I could be disbarred for not adhering to client-attorney privilege. Is it sinking in now?”
Cillian stopped working on a custom design and strode over to us. “Trey, why don’t you take Ms. Hughes inside and use your room to talk to her. If it’s as important as she says, go ahead and take a break. Hell, take all the time you need.”
His blue eyes stared at me intently before he walked away.
Trey glared my way before turning on his heel and walking toward the clubhouse. I caught up with him quickly until we were side-by-side. He didn’t say anything as he directed me up a set of stairs and down the hall. The place had been recently remodeled and it looked clean, sterile, and roomy enough to withstand a long-term lockdown should it happen.
Finally, he stopped at a door, pulled out a set of keys and opened it. Looking back at me, he walked inside but held it open so I could follow him in before he shut the door behind us.
Trey’s private quarters were clean and orderly to the point of obsession. His bed was made with classic military precision and there weren’t any clothes or shoes thrown about the room. He simply had a king-sized bed, fancy desk with a comfortable leather office chair, and a fifteen-inch MacBook Pro. I turned around and also viewed an oak drawer set with a thirty-six inch flat screen television, Blu-ray player, and speakers to amp the sound.
“Why don’t you sit on the bed and tell me what this is about?” he demanded loudly, snapping me out of my thoughts.
I’d judged this man all wrong. From the way he worked on motorcycles to his brilliance as a computer hacker, I assumed he’d be like most men I’d known my whole life. Grown up boys who were dirty, bathed when they remembered to, and weren’t great with housekeeping. This guy was the complete opposite - it made him an utter enigma.
I cleared my throat as I sat down on his perfect bed. I felt bad about rumpling the down comforter but he didn’t seem to mind as he sat next to me, completely calm and quiet. He crossed his arms against firm pecs that were clearly visible through his tight, white t-shirt. His stance, obviously defensive, almost hostile, bothered me more than I cared to admit.
Why was he being so dismissive toward me? Had I done something wrong? I’d always assumed we were friendly, and although he was part of the Saints MC, I didn’t resent him for leaving the Bastards. I assumed it was something personal and never asked my father about it; not that he would have told me anyway. He’d have merely grunted, “Club business—nothing for you to worry your pretty little head about.”
As if I wasn’t an attorney who served both clubs—just like my partner—and like we were civvies, completely unaware with what the clubs were doing. Hell, we’d use the law firm as a money-laundering front, setting up accounts everywhere from Switzerland to the Cayman Islands for the clubs, the Mafia, and the cartel. They certainly weren’t sending clean money to any of those places when large-scale transfers were involved.
I felt like we were still looked upon as children or old ladies—nothing was our business until someone got into legal trouble and then it was our business to get them out of it. The contradictory sons of bitches were all alike. Women weren’t good for anything but screwing and having babies until they really needed us; then we were supposed to go above and beyond the call of duty to make them happy.
Fucking bikers.
Fuck the motherfucking MC, and all their stupid fucking codes and rules, and club motherfucking business.
“I know Killer told us to take all the time we needed but seriously, I gotta get back to work and if we take too much time, everyone’ll assume we’re fuckin’ so can we move this show along?” Trey questioned, his voice softening.
I glared at him with cold eyes. “And why would it be so bad for everyone to assume we were fuckin’? Am I not good enough for you, Trey Lennon?”
He smirked, shaking his head. “That don’t have nothin’ to do with it, Kyra. You’re Jonesy’s daughter and you know the rules. You were forbidden when I was in the Demon’s Bastards MC. Now that I’m a part of the Lucifer’s Saints MC, you think your father is gonna be hunky-dory with his daughter and me bein’ somethin’ other than acquaintances?”
“Well, he didn’t say much when Cricket and I had a thing goin’ on—”
“Jonesy didn’t say nothin’ ’cause he knew it wouldn’t last. That’s not the same as you and me. We always had something between us but neither of us ever wanted to pursue it and, baby, if I did pursue something with you, it’d be for keeps. I’m not gonna romance ya or fuck ya and lie about how you don’t mean nothin’ to me because you would.
“You’ve always been someone special but I realized it too late and…after Keri, I don’t want nothin’ like that. No more unnecessary heartbreak. I’m not takin’ any more chances. Love is too motherfuckin’ risky. In the end, it ain’t worth it.”
I breathed deeply, my heart thundering in my chest. I’d never had a man tell me anything like that before. Yeah, I knew he’d liked me like I liked him but it had always been unspoken, unsaid, and unwritten. Now he’d said it and couldn’t take it back - where did that leave us, and would he ever try to pursue anything with me?
My right hand clutched the pearls around my neck as I sighed. “Yeah, I guess I’m not worth taking that kind of risk. I gotcha. I never have been, sweetie, have I?”
“That’s not what I said but if that’s how you wanna play it, that’s fine with me, Kyra. What did you wanna tell me?” he asked again, more forceful this time.
“I had a visitor come to my office today. Eve Kerrigan. Do you know her?” I finally asked, trying to stop the tears that wanted to fall.
“Never heard of her,” Trey said and sighed in exasperation.
“Well…maybe that’s because she’s…an alias…your mother has in Witsec.”
His hazel-green eyes stared into mine and I could see him holding back his own tears as he blinked rapidly. “My mother?”
“Yes, your mother, Trey. It was her—she’s changed and not easily recognizable, but I don’t forget a face. She wants to see you and I’m supposed to set up the meet. It’s probably going to be somewhere far from here, Vegas most likely, if not L.A. Is there any reason you can think of to get away?” I continued in a whisper.
“I need to know where the meet is first and then, yeah, I can get away. I don’t do many ru
ns, mainly ’cause I’m always needed for jobs here, but I can go on one if I have to,” he replied, in voice so deep and inadvertently sexual it had my nipples standing at attention.
“I don’t have a way of contacting her but she said she would call me tomorrow,” I replied in a quick, hushed tone. “Chances are she’s already left town, and if the rest of your supposedly dead family is with her, they’re using smart technology to keep them off the grid. It would be almost impossible to trace her. I am begging you not to tell Dizzy about this. He was about to put a hit out on your parents before their ‘accident’ happened. The Koslakov Mafia would complete the job this time—I shit you not.”
“Nah…this is for my ears only. I have a feeling Trista and Linx already know. They never said nothin’ but…it was the way my sister acted when I was threatened in Northern Ireland. It’s like she knew our parents and brother were alive but they’d never be a part of her life again. She couldn’t lose me too. She’s brilliant but I could smell her desperation from Belfast,” he explained solemnly. “If she does know then I can’t put her life in further danger. She’s compromised being so close to you now and…with what Linx went through to make sure you returned home safe, she’s too deeply involved.”
Trey stood and began to pace after he shook a cigarette out of his pack and lit it. “I can’t fuckin’ believe she contacted you. Does she have a motherfuckin’ death wish? Why now? I’m with the Saints and the situation is worse than it was before I left. I don’t know what Dizzy would do. Yeah, he loved her once but he’d probably still send her to ground just to piss my dad off and leave him heartbroken—”
“That’s why it’s imperative this stays between us. If the club asks, you needed to talk to me about the arrangements made for Keri. I assured you the body was sent back to Nel Decker and the White Knights, okay?” I stood and moved closer to him.
He stopped pacing and dragged from his cigarette. “Is that gonna fly?”
“I don’t see why not. Keri’s body was flown back after what happened in Northern Ireland and Nel Decker buried her—albeit privately. There were only a few people at the funeral, mainly Nel, Jake and Keri’s cousin, Marian. The only reason I know is because I drew up Keri’s Will. Her estate was small but she did have some money, which she left to Marian.” I turned away from Trey and walked toward the front door.
Naked Dirty Love Page 4
