by Jennifer Ann
“Think carefully before you make any hard and fast decisions,” I warn without backing down from the intensity in his sharp stare. “I could be your only hope of getting out of here.”
“Hard and fast,” he repeats in a monotone voice, bobbing his head. “Got it.”
The hidden implications of his comment send a shiver through me as he’s escorted from the room, stopping to throw me a wink before he’s out of sight. With a deep exhale, I reach up to touch my military-regulation bun and realize my hands are trembling. He unnerved me in so many ways that I’m not sure my legs will cooperate when it’s time to walk away.
As I’m stuffing the file into my satchel, Officer Smith closes the distance between us. “Don’t let that smug bastard get to you. There’s a good reason guys like him are in here. They don’t know how to act appropriately in society.”
“I can take care of myself,” I promise, flashing a confident smile.
But it’s a miracle I make it out the prison and into the safety of my car without spewing the crab salad I ate on the long drive over. “Mad John” most definitely got to me, and not necessarily in a good way. He was an arrogant prick with no manners. I should’ve slapped him after the crude things he had to say. But instead of removing myself from his case, I made him a promise to “devote” myself to him. Er—his case.
Without a doubt, I’ve lost my mind.
Nearly five hours later, as I’m tipping back a shot of whiskey on Miami Beach in my favorite bar down by the water, my meeting with Harrison still occupies my predominant thoughts. With the flip of a switch he had gone from coy and playful to disconcertingly angry. Though it should’ve proved his instability, I was mostly intrigued by his determination to protect the name of whomever he claims set him up. And in addition to the warm burn of booze spreading across my belly, there’s still a lingering want that formed the moment I first looked into those beautiful green eyes.
Slamming the empty shot glass down, I motion for another.
There’s a snicker behind me before the familiar scent of designer perfume reaches my nostrils. “Rough day at the office,” my oldest friend asks, “or just building up the confidence to ask the cute bartender for a quickie out back?”
“Just because you have a hard-on for the guys in brown doesn’t mean everyone gets turned on by guys in the service industry.” Spinning around, I flash her a mocking smile.
Tatum cackles, whipping her golden mane over her shoulders and crinkling her freckle-dusted nose. “A quick romp with one guy in brown doesn’t make it a thing.”
As always she’s impeccably dressed in a trendy suit that accentuates her curves, making my outfit resemble a potato sack. Sometimes her natural beauty irritates me, even though her bubbly personality makes up for it. She works out but doesn’t watch what she eats and still manages to maintain a perfect size zero. And since her tiny body couldn’t grow a decent pair, she also has the best breasts money could buy. I, on the other hand, have a naturally large chest that sometimes gives me back aches, and in addition to hitting the gym on a regular basis, I’m forced to count every calorie to keep from becoming overweight. I quickly learned that the first year out of the Army when I gained 20 pounds.
On paper, we shouldn’t be friends. She was raised by rich, loving parents in southern Florida while I pin-balled my way through the foster care system in the Midwest. I went through hell and back before I pulled myself together and accepted a partial scholarship to play volleyball in Miami while almost literally working my ass off to pick up the rest. Tatum and I met one fateful night our freshman year, and have become inseparable since. Though she should’ve been appalled by what she saw, I guess her heart was too big to turn away. Our personalities just naturally mesh, becoming as comfortable as an old pair of sweats.
“Hey, be-otch, sorry I’m late.” She bends in to kiss my cheek. “For real, though. The new bartender is cute. You should get his number.”
“Be my guest,” I offer as she’s waving him down. “He’s not my type.”
“What exactly is your type, ‘Lex? I swear every guy I’ve tried to hook you up with since you got out of the Army has some minuscule flaw that only you can see. They’re too short, or too pretty, or can’t give you a proper orgasm. Can you maybe admit for just a second that you’re single because you’re too much of a perfectionist? I mean what kind of guy is it going to take to float that boat of yours?”
When an image of Harrison comes to mind, I break out in a full body flush. For the love of God, I can’t be having these kinds of thoughts about a man sentenced to a lifetime behind bars. Even if I’m somehow able to overturn his conviction, he lives the kind of reckless lifestyle I’ve spent years trying to avoid. I need continuity. Order. The only thing Michael Harrison has to offer is total chaos.
I wave my hand to get the bartender’s attention. “Can we get some drinks over here?”
“What’s this about?” Tatum asks, cocking her head to the side. “Are you…blushing?”
“It was hot as hell in that prison. They don’t have central air.” I pull on the neckline of my sleeveless blouse to accentuate the half-lie. “I need a frozen drink to cool off.”
“Hmmm…would it have something to do with a cute guard, perhaps? Or maybe the warden? You impossibly serious military types always seem to flock together.”
I quietly wince to myself. Like Harrison, having served in the Marines.
“It was just hot, okay?” I snap.
Relief sweeps over me when the bartender finally comes to take our order with an expression similar to that of a hopeful puppy. I give him a thorough once-over. He’s probably a few years younger than me and possibly not going any further in life than this shit-hole bar, but he is considerably cute. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt anything to have a little fun with someone like him. Innocent. Uncomplicated. Safe.
I’m done fantasizing about someone as dangerous as Michael Harrison.
2
Michael
By the time I’m back inside the dormitories, my insides are ready to explode like a shaken can of soda. I slam my fist into the short concrete wall beside my cot to let out the aggression scratching beneath my skin. My contact with this initiative organization was always with some old-sounding dude, so I had expected them to send someone with gray hair and a round stomach. I sure as shit wasn’t prepared for the hot little brunette with captivating blue eyes that was waiting in the conference room.
It’s not the fact that I’m hard-up for a taste of pussy that’s eating me alive, although her pretty little tulip-shaped mouth and perfectly sized handful of tits made me the hardest I’ve been since being locked up. And visions of sucking on her graceful neck were impossible to push out of my head. Hell, I don’t even want to know what she was hiding underneath that table. The way it is I’ll be jacking off non-stop for months to come with the memory of her.
But none of that fucking matters. It’s her relentless determination to see my appeal through that grated on every last one of my nerves. That foolish, though undeniably beautiful, girl is going to get herself killed.
Someone as wet behind the ears as Alexa Darrington has no business poking around in club business. She has this innocence about her that belongs in a sorority, not a fucking prison talking to a hardened con. And if Dryden gets word that she’s helping me, he’ll put a hit out on her. She’d disappear without a trace. It’s just another day of business for the Four Brothers. But for someone as naive as this woman who didn’t ask for it…
I’m jarred back to the present when Callisto, my only friend—if you can really call anyone in here that—enters my cubical with a crooked smile. I initially sought him out because he’s my height and the size of a grizzly bear, so no one messes with him. Turns out the guy was decent enough, and only landed in here because he was dumb enough to trust his older brother in a burglary gone wrong. Long story short, two men ended up dead and Callisto took the fall.
This isn’t my first time in prison, though I had n
ever served in a level one before. The last two times it was because of club bullshit, and Jack was able to get me out after collecting on favors owed by the governor. This time, I wasn’t so lucky. Jack has left the club, and the new Pres wants my blood. I wasn’t lying when I told the pretty attorney that no one could get me out of this mess.
“Someone piss in your oatmeal this morning, MJ?” Callisto asks, chuckling.
“Someone sent a young girl to appeal my case.” I fall down to the mattress and throw an arm over my face. “Just met with her.”
“Boo-fucking-hoo. What’s your deal, man? It’s what you want, isn’t it? To get out of this cage?”
“My shit’s complicated. I don’t need someone like her getting involved.”
“Ah,” he sings in a knowing tone. “So was this lady attorney of yours hot?”
“Hot-fucking-headed. And she looked too young to even be in law school.” She looked more like a cartoon princess…from a XXX movie.
Callisto leans back against the wall with a bent knee. “Who the fuck cares? If nothing else, at least you’ll have a sweet visual to beat your meat to. Was she a blonde or brunette?”
“It doesn’t matter,” I snap, rising from the cot. I’m not about to give him or any of the animals in here any details about her.
I have to get a message to Jack, tell them to have someone reassigned to represent me. This shit can’t happen with a woman like Alexa.
Callisto goes on and on about some old girlfriend, and what he’d do if she were allowed a conjugal visit. We shoot the shit for a while before my bunkmate Chuck returns and we’re locked down for the night.
Chuck’s an okay guy for the most part, keeps to himself and doesn’t give me any shit. As soon as his steady snores begin, I reach into my boxers and fist my aching cock. The memory of Alexa’s piercing gaze quickly eases me into a release so intense that I have to bite down on my arm so as not to wake Chuck.
Without a doubt, Alexa Darrington has to go away.
When I receive notice a few days later that my attorney has returned, I’m ready to bash in the skulls of everyone who approved her visit. I called Jack the other day and told him I didn’t want this woman involved, but I guess that did a lot of fucking good. What’s it going to take to make this stubborn woman and everyone else understand that she doesn’t belong in my business?
This time as I’m escorted into the special visitation room, it takes a shit-ton of willpower not to let out a moan with the sight of Alexa. Big, touchable curls fall over one shoulder all the way down to her fucking elbow, making her look like one of those Victoria's Secret models. Between that and the little bit of makeup she wears, drawing out the alluring blue shade of her eyes, she’s ten times sexier than her last visit. The fire behind those eyes could eat me alive.
The urge to fist a handful of her thick curls and draw her close has me rock hard even before I’m able to register her nearly see-through blouse beneath a suit jacket. The lines of a lacy black bra stand out against the ivory material, damn near begging to have a thumb swept across them.
When she bolts to her feet, my thick file held tight to her chest, those sapphire eyes the color of the deepest parts of the ocean light with amusement and her lips twist in a smirk. “It’s so nice to see you again, Mr. Harrison. Please, have a seat.” Then she motions to Smith, the CO on duty. “Gentlemen, you may wait outside the room this time. I believe that’s standard procedure when an attorney wishes to speak with their client.”
“I doubt your past clients have had his kind of record,” Smith barks back.
My chest burns with the need to make him apologize to Alexa for being disrespectful.
Alexa sets a hand on her curvy hip, staring at him in a challenging way. “If you’d prefer I speak to your superior about the laws in the state of Florida, I’d be more than happy to do so.”
Smith’s entire head turns a vibrant shade of crimson. In my time here, I’ve learned the guy doesn’t like being outranked by anyone. Apparently a gorgeous woman is no exception. I hold my cuffed hands over my mouth, pretending to scratch my cheek so he won’t catch me smirking. Can’t give that prick any reason to have it out for me. He’s known for mind fucking inmates who have shown him disrespect. I’ll die before I let him put me through that shit.
Finally Smith squares his shoulders back and replies with, “No ma’am.”
After a tilt of his head, the other two follow him from the room. As Alexa watches them intently, waiting for the click of the door to signal our privacy, I take a minute to commit every last one of her delightful curves to memory. Because if I have any say in the matter—and I sure as shit better—this will be the last time I have the pleasure of laying my eyes on her.
Her ass is every bit as juicy as I’d imagined while jacking off the past couple of nights. She’s so tall that it seems like her legs go on forever beneath a gray knee-length skirt, calves lean and tight like those of a runner. This time I take note of the fact that she’s not wearing a ring on her left hand, although it still doesn’t necessarily mean she isn’t with some lucky bastard. Either way, I’ve never felt the primal need to bend a woman over and slam my dick into her until she’s numb, even if that isn’t exactly my style. At least not with someone as poised and polished as Alexa Darrington.
“Something’s different,” I say, waiting until she looks my way to add, “Did someone fuck you since the last time you were here, baby girl?”
“As a matter of fact, they did,” she replies smartly, her lips curling with a smirk. “Nothing like a good lay to clear your head.”
Blown away by her cheeky response, I allow my jaw to drop, forgetting that I’m supposed to be exhibiting a repellant personality. She’s clearly not the type to take anyone’s shit. Jesus, I didn’t think it was possible to be more turned on by this woman.
Her heels click against the cement floor as she maneuvers around the table. When she stops at my side, dousing me in whatever floral scent she’s wearing, I lick my lips. Goddamned she smells like heaven. My fingers twitch with the overwhelming desire to hike her skirt up to her waist and make her pouty lips plead for my cock.
I scan her curvaceous body and snicker. “Is this the part where you beg me for an unforgettable goodbye, sweetheart?”
Running my tongue over my lips once more, I inwardly cringe. My momma would’ve slapped me upside the head if she caught me treating a woman with such outright disrespect. But as much as I hate it, there doesn’t seem to be any other way to go about this. There are only so many resources a man has when in prison, so I’m hoping the tongue of an asshole will do the trick.
“Enough with the bullshit womanizer act,” she warns, tossing the file down on the table. It makes a loud, jarring noise in the small room, but I’m the only one who flinches. “I had a nice little chat yesterday with Jack—you know, your former club president. He said he’s never heard you speak to a woman the way you did in my last visit. In fact, he told me that one of the assaults on your record was because you found it necessary to teach a dirt-bag a lesson for saying similar things to a female bartender. He also seems to think there’s more going on than you’re willing to share, considering how you begged him to get me off this case. He wants me to do whatever it takes to uncover the truth.” Arms crossed beneath her tits, her eyes narrow on mine. “So what do you say we move past the pathetic theatrics and get down to the real reason you’re so desperately trying to push me away?”
My cock twitches in my pants while watching her speak. I’d give my left nut to see those cherry-red lips wrapped around my dick as I shoot cum down her throat. I imagine someone as confident as Alexa is capable of all kinds of freaky shit in bed.
Jesus Christ, I really need to get the hell out of here so I can think with something other than my dick. What did she ask me again?
As I’m attempting to swallow the lump in my throat, she blurts, “Who set you up, Harrison?”
“I can’t tell you that,” I mumble, glancing down at my hand
s.
“You do understand that whatever you tell me won’t leave this room, right? As your attorney, I’m bound by an oath to keep whatever you tell me confidential.”
“A fucking oath isn’t going to protect you. They’d come after you if you knew the truth.”
“Why do all men assume that I’m fragile and in need of protection?” she asks.
Smirking, I lift my chin to look at her. “Do you own a mirror?”
“Yeah, and the reflection I see is pretty badass. I’ve been on my own all my life. If you don’t believe that I can properly defend myself, hand me an M16 so we can put this argument to bed once and for all.”
Once again my jaw lags, hanging open for a split second before I have the sense of mind to snap it back shut. “What would you know about M16s?”
“One was issued to me when I was a Major in the Army. Any other pointless questions or can we get down to business?”
“Fuckin’ hell,” I blurt, no longer worried about censoring myself. It’s like every one of my wildest fantasies has come to life in one tight little package. “Are you for real?”
When she reaches up to cup her tits in her hands and squeezes, I nearly come on the spot. I’d give anything to be the one touching her that way.
“Feels like it,” she confirms with a nasally laugh. “Seriously, Harrison, we’re wasting precious time here. Let’s agree to respect each other and move on.”
“It’s MJ,” I reply, praying to the gods of mercy that she can’t hear the desire embedded in my voice. “No one calls me Harrison. Call me MJ.”
“No thanks.” She waves a hand through the air, cringing. “That nickname reminds me of Michael Jackson, and I’d rather not associate you with a pedophile. So about this set-up…”
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I sigh. This is not how I planned for things to play out. “I’ll only tell you because they probably know you were here to see me the first time, so you’re already in danger. But you have to promise me that you won’t go digging into this shit. These guys are worse than mafia gangsters. They’ll fuck you up before sending your body parts to your family, one piece at a time.”
