by Jennifer Ann
“Too bad for them, I don’t have a family.” She rolls her eyes. “I can handle whatever comes at me. I even have a conceal-and-carry license.”
I lean my head back to look at the ceiling. She’s stubborn alright. She won’t stop prodding until I tell her what she wants to know. “Does it mention in my file that I was sleeping with the vice president’s daughter?”
“You mean the victim’s daughter.”
My extremities twitch with the twisted truth behind my history with Rambone. He was no victim. “That’s where all this shit started.”
With a shake of her head, she laughs mockingly. “You’re telling me you were set up because you couldn’t keep your dick in your pants?”
As I glare back at her, my insides harden. “There was more to it than that.”
“I’m sorry,” she blurts. “I didn’t mean to—”
“Forget it. I’m a biker in prison for a violent murder. I have a good idea what you must think of me.”
“I don’t assume to know anything about you, except that you earned a silver star while in Afghanistan. By definition that makes you a hero.”
Closing my eyes, I grunt. I’m no fucking hero.
When I feel her hand on my shoulder, I gape down at her slim fingers. They’re exceptionally smooth, and her nails are painted a shiny black. Has she lost her damn mind? How can she not know what a woman’s touch does to a man after being locked up behind bars for months on end? I can’t remember the last time anyone touched me, let alone a drop-dead gorgeous brunette with killer blue eyes.
The contact of her skin sends a bolt of pure adrenaline shooting through my cock. Imagining those dark nails wrapped around my dick gets me hard enough to dent iron.
I drag my eyes back up to meet hers, finding her completely motionless. The way she’s looking at me is probably just a combination of my overactive imagination and the blood rushing from my head, but it’s almost as if she wants me to kiss her. The air around us crackles with electricity as I imagine what it would be like to pull her into my lap and taste her sweet little lips while she rode my painfully hard cock.
Suddenly she’s clearing her throat and withdrawing her hand to touch the back of her head. Well I’ll be damned. She’s flustered too. Maybe what just happened between us wasn’t my imagination after all.
“So…ah…you’re saying you pissed off the victim by getting involved with his daughter? That’s it?”
“It was a bit more complicated, but that’s the reason him and his brother Dryden started to hate me. They were like my uncles. You probably already know my old man and Jack were the other half of the Four Brothers. They all served together in Desert Storm and started the club once they got out.”
As she crosses her arms, I try to ignore how it pushes her tits together, but prison life has made that kind of chivalry impossible. “Just like you joined the club after you got out,” she says.
“Yeah, except I changed my mind about being there after some of the shit I saw go down.”
“What exactly did you see?”
I stop to swallow the lump in my throat. “Young women being…held…against their will.”
Alexa’s expression remains cool and steady, but something dark flickers through her eyes.
Hit with a rush of shame, I snap my eyes to the other side of the room. I did nothing to help them that day. They were chained to the wall like animals. Crying. Dirty. Terrified. And the way they looked at me…fuck! I couldn’t sleep for weeks after. My stomach churns with the memory.
“They were locked in the basement of the club’s warehouse,” I continue. “The Four Brothers run a strip club down on St. Pete’s Beach. I’d heard rumors that some of the girls dancing there are minors, but when I once asked the Pres about it, he said they had legit IDs. There was also talk that for the right amount of money, you could sleep with them. I poked around, tried to dig further into the truth without making it obvious to the Pres or let anyone else know what I was doing. It was only a couple of days after I was caught breaking into the lock on the warehouse that I was arrested for Rambone’s murder. And from what I know of the arresting officer, he’s in the Four Brothers’s back pocket.” I press a cuffed hand against my forehead. “I should’ve tried harder, been more careful.”
Alexa lets out a long, slow breath. Once I’m quiet and I’ve successfully calmed the dark thoughts racing through my mind, she squeezes my shoulder. “Harrison, look at me. I want to make sure we’re on the same page here. Are we talking about sex trafficking?”
Drawing my hand away from my face, I meet her blue stare and nod repeatedly. “I think so. Everyone in the criminal world knows that shit has become more lucrative than dealing.”
“So I’ve heard.” The nervous shake of her voice doesn’t match the steady calm of her expression. As her eyes flick up to the ceiling, she starts withdrawing her hand, but I grab it. Slightly chilled from the stream of air conditioning over our heads, her fingers quiver inside mine. The connection of skin-to-skin reminds me of the time as a kid when I stuck my hand inside a bonfire on a dare. Sizzling hot. An electrical surge sweeps through my gut.
“None of this information was in your file,” she says, her breath tight. “Didn’t you tell your trial lawyer?”
“No way. The Pres would put a hit on me if that information had come out.”
“Why are you telling me this now?”
I drop my chin, sneering. “Because I’ve had time to realize just how badly I royally fucked things up. I didn’t say anything to anyone, which means those girls are probably still there. They need someone to save them.”
“I’ll look into it. I’ll—”
“No. Not you.”
“Why not?” Her voice comes out breathy as if she’s equally entranced by the connection of our hands.
The words because I can’t fucking stand to see you get hurt in this fucked-up mess stick to my throat as I hold her gaze. It’s a ridiculous thing to say when we don’t know each other, but someone like her doesn’t deserve to get sucked into my dark world.
“Harrison, if that’s what’s really happening, I can’t simply stand around with my thumbs up my ass while it continues.”
Gently squeezing her hand, I shake my head a little harder. “I told you, the cop that arrested me was dirty. He’s paid to protect the club. Hell, the entire police department is probably on their payroll. The Brothers are known to get by with a lot of illegal shit. Once I dug around, I found some evidence that suggested the club was working with an ICE agent too. Any way you look at it, it’s too dangerous.”
Shock flickers across Alexa’s expression. Then a sudden pounding on the door breaks us apart. Cheeks turning a pretty shade of crimson, she hustles over to her side of the table.
“Time’s up,” Smith grunts as he steps into the room. “Let’s go, Harrison.”
I rise to my feet, unable to look away from Alexa. Though she appears perfectly composed, her pupils are dilated. Her chest rises and falls with short, stuttered breaths.
“I meant what I said,” I warn.
Eyes hard, she nods. “So did I.”
3
Alexa
My gut’s a mess as I start the long drive back to Miami with an overwhelming desire for a cigarette—something I haven’t craved since basic training when smoking wasn’t an option. If I had a therapist, they’d be working overtime to work out the complicated mess of emotions going through my head. No matter how many miles come between me and the prison, I can’t stop thinking about those girls locked in that basement. They probably think no one cares enough to save them from their hell.
If Harrison knew of his club’s involvement in the heinous crime and he didn’t approve, it would add a whole new layer of complexity to his case. Before taking the case, I did extensive research on the Four Brothers MC. On paper, it’s a noble organization, dedicated to serving their community and charities. Ninety percent of their members are veterans, and they almost all hold respectable day-job
s. Harrison had worked his way up to becoming a construction manager for a reputable company in Tampa that specialized in high-end retirement communities. When I called his supervisor, the man offered nothing but praise, saying he couldn’t conceive of someone like Michael Harrison committing a crime quite so violent.
My insides twist into knots as I maneuver my rusty Honda Civic through downtown Miami traffic. There’s no denying something monumental happened between me and Harrison today. When he touched my hand, it was like being struck by a bolt of lightning. The charge of energy traveled all the way down to my toes. For a fucked up moment, I forgot that he was in chains or that I was there on a professional basis. The severe yearning to have his large hands and wide lips all over my body made me feel faint. And since there was no hiding the enormous hard-on pushed against his pants, I’m positive he felt it too.
Part of me knows it would be wise to withdraw as his attorney before everything goes to shit. Before I lose my head and fall for the whole tortured inmate bit. Not only would it be morally wrong for us to mess around, but it would be asinine to get involved with someone serving a life sentence. No matter how irresistibly hot he may be. And I would undoubtedly lose my job if we were caught. It’s not my dream career by any means, but it pays the bills and gets my foot in the proverbial door of my career. The mere idea of being blackballed from practicing law after I worked my ass off to get to where I am is terrifying.
But I’ve come too far to turn back now. I can’t back out now.
By the time Tatum joins me, I’ve bummed three cigarettes off the friendly, albeit unattractive, middle-aged man sitting uncomfortably close. In addition to being a little tipsy from $30 worth of mojitos, I’m also sporting a serious nicotine buzz.
She slips into the open stool saved with my bulky handbag, nose scrunched like she smells fish guts. “I’m sorry, is that a cancer stick in your hand? I thought you decided that you despise that shit. Did someone forget to inform me that hell has frozen over?”
“Tatum, this is Ricky,” I say, motioning to my enabler.
When Ricky’s eyebrows lift with blatant appreciation, Tatum raises her hand. “Forget it, Tarantino. I don’t mess around with guys who smell like ass.”
“Ignore her,” I tell Ricky, shaking my head. “She’s just bitter because the last guy that dumped her was a smoker.”
Ricky mutters, “Smart guy,” before turning away to talk with the guy on his other side.
Tatum rolls her eyes and grabs my arm. “Seriously, ‘Lex. What’s with the dragon lady bit?”
“I went back to the prison today,” I admit, blowing smoke out my nose. The sharp crackle through my lungs is almost soothing, as if it’s a reminder that I’m not the one in prison, or being forced to do things against my will like those poor girls.
I’m free as a bird. I’m the only one who can do something.
“Hmmm, you have it bad for someone there,” Tatum decides. “I can hear your vagina quiver every time you say prison.”
“You must need your hearing checked.” Snuffing the cigarette into the ashtray between me and Ricky, I push it away while absent-mindedly motioning for the bartender. “My client told me some shit that forced me to walk a fine line between the attorney-client privilege, and the oath I took to protect my country from domestic enemies.”
Tatum snickers. “Well one pays your salary while the other could get you thrown in jail since you’re no longer on active duty. The decision seems pretty clear to me.”
Eric, the cute bartender I made out with the other night, appears with my beckoning. He plops his elbows on the bar top right in front of us, two deep dimples popping into his cheeks. The way he smiles directly at me, I fear he thinks we’re going to hook up again. Even though he’s cute in an obnoxious, boy-band kind of way, I only messed around with him because I was trying to convince myself that I could be attracted to someone other than Michael.
“Another mojito, Alex?” he asks.
Annoyed that he doesn’t even remember my name after his fingers had ventured between my legs, I close my eyes and shake my head. “Stop looking at me like you think we’re going to get it on, because that’s not happening again. We’ll take two shots of Patrón, please.”
By the time I open my eyes, Eric’s walking away, grumbling to himself.
“So you did give the cute bartender a try,” Tatum says with a snicker. “You know, even if it wasn’t everything you had hoped for, you could’ve let the poor kid down a little easier.” Then she nudges me with her bony elbow. “This really must be something serious if it calls for tequila.”
Leaning close to her, I whisper, “My client thinks someone from your agency has their hands in something dirty.”
Tatum cradles her head in her hands. “Fuck me, Alexa. You can’t simply tell a federal employee that kind of thing. You know I’m bound to investigate any foul play.”
“Well shit. Guess that means we’re in this together.”
“You sneaky little bitch,” she mutters, draping her arm over my shoulders. “Just for that, I’ll let you pick up the bill while you tell me everything you know.”
“Not here,” I say quietly. “This is the kind of conversation that can’t be overheard. We’ll go to your place.”
“I knew you were trouble the day I found you.” She lets out a deep sigh in a way just mocking enough that I know she still loves me, as if I would ever have any doubt.
At least someone does, I think to myself as I catch Eric casting a poisonous look my way.
After two days of investigating the Four Brothers through courthouse records, newspaper articles, and neighboring businesses, I’ve hit enough brick walls to give myself a concussion. Everything I’ve uncovered shows the biker club runs both a legitimate repair shop and a gentlemen’s bar. But considering the handful of luxury cars parked outside their clubhouse the one afternoon I took a road trip over there, it’s a guarantee that something illegal is making them serious dough. The kind of lowlifes that frequent Spinner’s Row don’t have the money to spare in order to make the seedy strip a financial success. And as Tatum said, these days a human can be sold for up to $50,000…over and over again.
I was cautious about giving my friend an overabundance of details, knowing I’m putting her position on the line as an ICE agent, but still wanting to get her advice on how to proceed. It honestly felt good to let someone else feel the burden of those girls’ fate along with me. As many times as I’ve contemplated confiding in my boss, Harrison’s warning has made me overly paranoid. What if the Four Brothers caught word that I’m representing him, and had our office bugged? And my boss has a close relationship with several law enforcement agencies. It’s not worth the risk. For the same reason, I’ve asked Tatum not to say anything to her supervisor until we know more, even though she was ready to go over his head to report foul play. I convinced her that at this point, it’s all here-say.
Soon I’m on the phone with the warden, arranging a longer meeting with Harrison. At first he bucks me on the extension of time until I throw out a bogus statute, inviting him to look further into my client’s rights. When he doesn’t call my bluff, I quickly thank the powers that be before preparing myself for the visit.
I’ll be the first to admit that I spend a little too much time perfecting my hair and makeup, but during out last visit, the added effort seemed to encourage Harrison to open up. From my time in the military, I know that I’m less intimidating when my hair isn’t pulled back. And I’ll do whatever it takes to hear every last detail of what he saw in that warehouse, and gather more information on what he was able to uncover before he was arrested. I won’t be able to rest until I’ve done everything I can to help those girls.
Although the clock on Harrison’s post-conviction motion is already ticking, there are still months to go. I’m confident that if I can find a thread holding the Four Brothers’ illegal empire together, it will prove his innocence once it’s unraveled. Besides, I wouldn’t have left my paralegal i
n charge if I didn’t have the upmost confidence in her ability to keep things in order.
Once again, as I’m being patted down by a female officer at the visitor’s entrance, I’m met by Officer Smith. He touches his fingertips to my lower back, motioning for me to lead the way. The chilling smile pressed to his thin lips gives me the willies, especially when I notice he’s not wearing a wedding band.
“You’re becoming a regular here, Miss Darrington. Harrison’s lucky he found himself an attorney willing to come down here so often.”
Convinced he only made that comment because I’m a woman, I let his comment go unrequited. As we near the visitor’s room, it occurs to me that I’m more nervous than I was the first time I came here.
I’ll be alone with my client for an entire hour. I was hardly able to last a mere fifteen minutes before. And now that my traitorous body seems to want him, it’s going to be impossible not to worry about whether or not I’m sending him mixed signals with every move I make.
“You really think this dirtbag has a chance of getting released?” Smith asks as we step into the room.
“Everyone has a right to a fair trial,” I snap, irritated by his crude nickname for Harrison. Taking my place behind the table, I slap the file down in front of me. “As far as Mr. Harrison is concerned, I’m not convinced that was the case.”
Smith crosses his arms with a hmph. Then his demeanor changes with a smirk and a flicker of mischief lighting his eyes. “Ever heard of Stormbringer? They’re a seriously kickass cover band, sound just like the originals. They’re playing over at Jimmy B’s tonight. If you’re not busy, you and I could grab dinner and a few drinks, maybe share a dance or two.”
“So you’re assuming that a, I’m single, and b, I’m interested in dating,” I reply in a sharp tone, raising my eyebrows.
