Fighting for Alexa

by Jennifer Ann

  “Well…are you?”

  “No.”

  Responding with a much louder hmph, Smith moves to the corner of the room just as the door reopens behind us. The second I meet Michael’s beautiful green eyes, my underwear dampens, and my legs take on the consistency of ramen noodles. His wavy, chin-length hair is gone, replaced with a near military-regulation cut. I’m finally able to get a real glimpse of Harrison the Marine rather than the carefree biker turned tortured inmate. If he wasn’t wearing the prison garb, he could be mistaken for a high fashion model in an ad for expensive cologne or luxury vehicles.

  Are you fucking kidding me? How am I expected to sit across from someone this attractive for ten minutes without giving in and climbing him like a tree to ravage that gorgeous mouth?

  Then I remember it’s not ten minutes. I’ll be alone with him for an hour. Great planning, Alexa. Why couldn’t I have invited my paralegal along? Because you want him all to yourself.

  “Good afternoon, counselor,” he greets me in a low, rumbling tone. A warm buzz strikes me right between the legs with the delicious sound. When his thick lips bend with the first genuine smile I’ve seen since we met, my heart grinds to a screeching halt.

  Knock it off, Alexa. He’s off limits.

  Clearing my throat, I motion to the other men in the room. “Thank you, officers. I can take it from here.”

  Smith hangs back a minute as the other two shuffle out. He meets my gaze with an insidious little smile that sends shivers spiraling down my back. “Let me know if you change your mind about tonight. Drinks would be on me.” Before leaving the room, he throws Michael a smug look.

  Nostrils flared, Michael meets my annoyed expression, waiting for me to explain. It’s disconcerting to see his features hardened and his muscles wound tight. All at once I get how he earned the nickname “Mad John.” If this side of him made an appearance during his trial, I don’t imagine that he would’ve had a snowball’s chance in Hell of winning.

  The laugh that slips out of me sounds like more of a squeak. “He asked me to catch a band with him tonight, and I thought I made it clear that I wasn’t interested. You really think I’d go out with that douche?”

  “I hope the fuck not,” he bites out, plopping into the chair across from me.

  “Give me some credit,” I scoff, shivering. Is he being possessive? Jealous? Either way it’s hot as shit. If he succeeds in getting me any more excited, I’ll be humping his leg like a Chihuahua. Hoping to lighten the mood, I motion to his hair. “Planning to re-enlist sometime soon?”

  “Decided it was a pain in the ass to keep it long in this place.” Lifting his cuffed hands, his gaze falls to the floor as he runs his fingers through the slightly longer stuff on top.

  “Are they treating you decent in here?” I ask quietly.

  “Yeah.” When he looks back upward, his features have softened. Another toe-curling smile spreads across his kissable lips. “I’m glad you’re here. After what you said last time, I was worried I wouldn’t see you again. You seemed determined to dig into the club’s business.”

  Oh, shit. If I tell him what I’ve been up to, his untamable anger will undoubtedly resurface. Standing, I shrug my suit coat off and set it on the back of the chair before moving over to his side of the table, just like last time. Though I know it’s dangerous to put us in a position that would once again allow for physical contact, it’s like my body is drawn to him in a way I can’t control. Like the old cliché of a moth drawn to a light.

  “I need you to tell me every last detail of what you saw in that warehouse. Did the girls look American? Did they have any markings or features that made them stand out? How many men were keeping an eye on them? Were they all armed?”

  And just like that, his nostrils resume flexing. “We already had this conversation. I’m not getting you involved in this shit.”

  “You’re right, we did have this conversation. And that’s exactly why I’m not going to go another round with you.” I raise both hands to my sides. “You can’t expect me to sit on this kind of information! Those girls are someone’s daughter! Someone’s little sister! The kind of shit they’re probably making them do—”

  “The night I was arrested I was trying to break them out of there! You don’t think I already torture myself, wondering what they’re forced to do?” He bolts to his feet, glowering over me. “Why don’t you just do your job and get me the hell outta here so I can take care of it? I won’t let you get yourself killed!”

  My God, he’s irresistible when being protective. Add in the noble bit and it’s enough to send me over the edge. Brain lost in a fog of lust, I reach up to grab his square jaw in my hands, pulling his face down to my level. For a minute we stare into each other’s eyes, our shared desire palpable. His breaths fall down on my face, warm and heavy.

  Then my lips press to his for a firm, tangling kiss. When he releases a sharp gasp, I slip my tongue inside his mouth, stroking his warm tongue until it springs to life. His fresh, clean scent surrounds me like an embrace. He tastes sinfully dark, like the danger flowing through his veins is palpable.

  Just when I’m worried that I made a mistake and somehow read his signals all wrong, he begins to kiss me back. Hard. As expected of someone who has been locked away for too long, his enthusiasm becomes rough and bruising. The mashing of tongues and lips with an occasional scrape of his teeth is almost more than I can handle. The room tilts on edge.

  I’ve never been kissed with this degree of fervor and want. Hell, I’ve never had a guy even look at me the way Michael does, like I’m the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid eyes on. Maybe it’s just due to the fact that he hasn’t seen many women in general lately. Because he’s in prison.

  What the fuck am I doing?

  I withdraw a fraction, panting against his soft lips. “We shouldn’t do this.”

  “You’re sexy as fuck,” is his garbled response.

  Then our mouths reconnect, all reasoning lost with the delightful sensations filling my core. He kisses the way I imagined someone his size would: powerful while sparing no mercy. Reason wrestles with desire as I alternate between pushing at his chest and tugging at his shirt. I know we have to stop, but I want more. I want him in every way possible. The overactive burn between my legs demands it.

  But I know this is wrong. In infinite ways.

  Eventually I manage to untangle myself from him, pulling away with a regretful sigh. “We can’t do this.”

  “Why not?” The way he looks down at me, pupils dilated, shoulders slack, lips parted, eyelids hooded, anyone who would walk in would think he was drunk. It’s a good reminder that anyone could walk in at any moment and catch us doing…whatever the hell it is we just did.

  “Because the guards could decide to walk in at any moment. And we have to talk about those women.” Before he decides to start up again, I shuffle back until I’m out of reach. “You and I may be their only hope of getting out of there.”

  He nods, regret flashing across his expression. Just like the other day when he told me about the girls, I can see the weight of his actions dragging him down. He’ll never forgive himself for not saving them, and now the burden is mine to carry.

  “Yeah, you’re right,” he mutters. Slipping back into the chair, he splays his fingers out on the table and stares down at his handcuffs while blowing out a long, unsteady breath. “I’ll tell you everything I know.”

  4

  Michael

  Willfully behaving for the remainder of Alexa’s visit is a torture worse than anything I’ve had to endure since I was brought to The Glades. Even worse than knowing I can’t kiss her again is the fact that I wasn’t able to touch her—to run my fingertips over the swells of her breasts, and cup her juicy ass in the palm of my hand. Her needy lips were heavenly soft, and her tongue tasted as sweet as candy. Her body writhed against mine, eager and ready. No woman has ever kissed me with that kind of hunger.

  There’s no denying that I was attract
ed to her the first time I walked into this room and saw her waiting. But this was something more powerful than a mere physical attraction. It wasn’t the average one-night stand type scenario that follows when meeting a hot woman in a bar. It was like a fucking gale force of nature that couldn’t be stopped. And although I know it can’t happen again, I’m confident that it will. I’d bet my life on it.

  “If it’s okay with you, I’d like to record our conversation,” she says, tapping the screen on her smart phone. She’s sitting perfectly poised across from me, but our kiss has left her lips a slightly darker shade of red than usual, and I can hear a small quiver in her voice. “It would be inadmissible in court, but at least we’d create a foundation for the authorities to start with.”

  “As long as you don’t share the recording with anyone until I give the go-ahead.”

  “Fair enough.” She offers a gentle smile. “Start from the beginning. How long had you been seeing the victim’s daughter?”

  Grunting to myself, my eyes fix on the table. I know it’s necessary to start from the beginning, but the very last thing I want to talk about with this irresistibly gorgeous woman is when I first started fucking my ex. “Kerissa and I had known each other most of our lives. We spent a big part of our childhood hanging out together at the club, but didn’t really stay in touch after I joined the Corps. Once I got out, we didn’t reconnect until the night I earned my club patch.”

  I skip over a handful of information, including the part where I took Kerissa back to my place just minutes after we were reunited to go at it like rabbits, and how I was worried that I’d break her because she was almost literally half my size.

  Alexa scribbles something onto a notepad, her mouth pressed in a tight line. Then she stops to look my way. “How long before the victim learned about your relationship?”

  Holding back a smirk, I answer, “I think it was something like a few months.” I’ll never forget the day Rambone walked in as I was buried balls-deep in his daughter. I was especially pleased to see the look of horror that nearly brought him to his knees. He was ready to kill me for touching his little girl. Nothing had ever felt so good.

  “When did you discover the girls in the warehouse?”

  “A few weeks after that.” I rub my hands together when a spike of anger fills my chest, nearly suffocating. “I wasn’t officially placed on probation, but Dryden and Rambone blackballed me from club business once they knew about me and Kerissa. I’m pretty sure they assigned me to watch over the girls as a sort of punishment. Those fuckers knew I was too much like Jack and my old man. They knew I wouldn’t agree to that kind of illegal shit.”

  Guilt clenches my stomach as I ball my hands into tight fists. Reliving that afternoon is fucking brutal, even if it’s vital to my ticket out. But why does this have to be happening with the first woman to make me feel…something?

  “Michael, it’s okay. Take your time.”

  Her voice is gentle and encouraging as she reaches across the table to take my hands in hers and rubs her thumbs over my knuckles. When her fingers twist around mine, I have all I can do not to yank her across the table and get another taste of her sweet mouth.

  I clear my throat and continue. “There was always a padlock on the door to the unfinished basement, but I figured it was because it’s where they kept valuable motorcycle parts. When I followed Rambone down there the first time, I heard them crying before I saw anything. Once my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I was able to make out crudely made bunkbeds lined up against the walls. There must’ve been dozens of them. It was the middle of the afternoon so they were empty. But there were three girls huddled together in the furthest end of the room.”

  “Can you guess their ages?”

  “I’d say sixteen, maybe seventeen. Like I said it was dark, so it’s hard to say for sure. None of them looked familiar, so I guessed they were new. But they looked like they had been down there for a while…they were wearing filthy underwear, chained to the wall by their ankles. Rambone pointed a gun at them, said if they didn’t shut up he’d quiet them another way. They were scared to death. I was ready to rush him and bust them the hell outta there when three other guys from the club joined us.”

  “So you didn’t do anything?” Alexa assumes.

  My teeth grind together. “What the fuck was I supposed to do? I was outnumbered and Rambone would’ve shot me on the spot if I had given him a reason!”

  “No judgments, Michael.” She squeezes my fingers. “I’m just trying to get the timeline straight. If we’re able to bring them down—”

  “If that was possible, don’t you think I would’ve done it already?” Yanking my hands free from hers, I lean back in my chair and scowl. “From the information I gathered, I figure they’d been trafficking for years, and no one has done a damn thing to stop it. You’re an attorney, Alexa. Not a PI, not a cop. What makes you think you can bring them down?”

  “Because I’m not stopping until I expose their operation!”

  I’d adore the fuck out of this woman’s determination if it wasn’t putting her life on the line. “How are you going to do this without getting the cops involved?”

  “I have my connections. And I won’t go to anyone in law enforcement until I’ve uncovered indisputable evidence to corroborate your story. If you come forward with everything you know before then, it’ll only give them the motive the prosecutors were missing during your trial.”

  Jesus, she’s right. But she’s going to get herself killed. Why did I let her get involved, and why do I have to be so fucking helpless to protect her? “Alexa—”

  “Michael. Enough is enough. This is happening whether you’re on board or not.”

  “Goddamn, you’re sexy as hell when you boss me around,” I finally concede, shaking my head. “Do you have any fucking idea what these visits are doing to my head? My cock?”

  Her lips part with a silent sigh. “Michael…”

  “Alexa. Enough is enough.” I chuckle when she looks annoyed by the mockery.

  Eyes fixed on mine, her tongue darts out to wet her lips. “We should probably talk about what happened.”

  “Yeah, we should. I may be physically stronger than most men, but I don’t have the kind of willpower it would take to stay away from someone like you. I know I don't have anything to offer. And I’m a fool for thinking this could actually go anywhere. But that kiss…that was something else. Look me in the eye and tell me it didn’t blow your fucking mind. Tell me you’ve felt a kiss like that with any other guy and I’ll leave you alone. I’ll make sure it won’t happen again.”

  With a breathy sigh, her fingers brush over her throat. “I…ah…”

  “You felt it too.”

  Cheeks pinched with pink, she nods.

  Warmth floods through me with her admission, and my cock practically bursts from my pants. “Good. Now that we’ve established that the kiss was one for the records, what are we going to do about it?”

  Her lashes flutter, almost making her appear shy. “I’m your attorney. I think it goes without saying that I could lose my job.”

  “Only if anyone other than the two of us were to find out, and I’m sure as shit not going to be one to kiss and tell.” I reach across the table to reclaim her hands in mine. The familiar buzz from her touch draws my balls tight. “We’ll be careful. We can block the door. If the guards ever catch us, I’ll say I forced myself on you.”

  She glances away. “I need time…to think. I can’t seem to form a clear thought when you’re touching me.”

  “You’re not the only one, baby girl.” Stretching my torso over the table, I bring her fingertips to my lips. Her mouth opens with a silent gasp, and her shoulders relax. “I’ll give you however long you need.”

  Watching her lips lift with a small smile fills me with the kind of confidence that will get me through this nightmare. She knows this is happening whether she’s ready or not.

  Alexa Darrington is all mine.

  Three d
ays drag by without a word from Alexa. As much as I try to keep myself busy, nagging thoughts that she’s gone for good and has rejected me refuse to keep quiet.

  On the fourth day, Callisto stands against the wall beside my bunk, thumbing through the worn detective novel I’ve been trying to get through for weeks. Fiction just doesn’t do it for me anymore. There’s enough excitement in my life to make it seem dull. Plus I’m pretty sure the hero of the story is about to ask his girl to marry him, and I can’t deal with that kind of shit when I can’t even take Alexa out for a fucking burger.

  “How’s that lady attorney of yours?” Callisto asks. “Rumor has it one of Sweeny’s crew saw a leggy brunette being led down the hallway toward the special visitor’s center last time you were gone. They’re saying she was a total knockout.”

  The knowledge that there’s another man who’ll be jacking off to the memory of Alexa sends a rush of uncontrollable tremors through every last one of my muscles. When the hour was up, she left me with a short, professional goodbye. Then she held my gaze just long enough to confirm what I already knew: there would undoubtedly be another kiss in the near future. So why the hell hasn’t she come back for another visit?

  “Sweeny’s crew can go fuck themselves,” I growl.

  Chuckling, Callisto tosses the paperback onto my cot. “You got it bad for her, huh?”

  “She’s my attorney. That doesn’t mean she deserves to have a bunch of animals jacking off while thinking of her.”

  “Harrison!” Smith steps into the entrance of the dormitories, his features drawn tight like he smells something rancid. “You have a visitor.”

  Thank fuck. I pop to my feet, all at once feeling rejuvenated. It’s about time she came back.

  Callisto chuckles again, swatting a paw-sized hand through the air. “Attorney, my ass,” he mutters quietly.

  Smith leads me outside of the dorm before slapping chains on my hands and feet. Then he grabs my elbow and yanks me forward before I have a chance to prepare myself. I nearly fall on top of the slimy fucker.