A fugitive. Hell, wouldn’t her mama be proud of her baby girl. Her rap sheet would be longer than Victor’s before she was done. Starting toward the bathroom, she decided a hot shower would help clear her head and then maybe she’d be able to come up with a bright idea to get out of this jam.
She had her t-shirt half over her head when a loud bang exploded in the room. Screaming, she turned toward the sound. Flipping her hair out of her face, she stared at the man in the doorway. Sean stood there as big as life and looking angry enough to chew nails and spit tacks. She’d heard that Texas phrase often, now she knew what it meant. Speechless, her eyes flicked over his shoulder to where Dex Russell and Jonas Mitchell stood.
Jonas shoved past the bigger man blocking the doorway. “Move, man. It’s pouring down rain. I’m getting soaked.”
As if he hadn’t heard, Sean stood motionless his unwavering stare fixed intently on her.
Dex pushed by Sean as well, moving him bodily when he didn’t budge. He had to turn sideways to fit his broad shoulders through the small space that the leaner Jonas had no trouble fitting through. Once inside, he was able to move him enough to shut the door against the driving rain.
“Might want to put your shirt back on, Mara,” Jonas suggested softly. “The Feds are five minutes behind us at most.”
Trembling like a leaf in one of the trees outside the dirty window, she tried and failed to get her shaky hand back through the inside out sleeve. A small sob of frustration escaped as she gave up, attempting the other one instead. No go. She brushed her tangled hair out of her face as she took a breath and tried again.
“Help her, Jonas,” she heard Dex say, sympathy in his low rumble.
“Why me?” Jonas shot back.
“Sean should be the one, but he’s obviously shut down.”
“Kiss my ass, Dex,” Sean swore as he moved forward.
Seeing her angry husband stalking toward her, fight or flight kicked in and her brain screamed what it usually did, run like hell. Where, she had no idea. All the same, she turned, but she hadn’t taken more than two steps when his hand caught in the waistband of her jeans and he lifted her. Squealing and kicking, she fought uselessly against his hold.
“Be still,” he growled in her ear. “I’m this close to snapping. If I do, your ass will be bare and I don’t care if Jonas, Dex, the Feds, the DEA or the goddamn governor himself is in the room, your ass will feel the business end of my belt. Do you understand me?”
She froze, so did her tongue and she couldn’t manage a word. Her compliance would have to speak for her.
Grunting, and surely taking her non-response as compliance, he set her down. He easily threaded her arms through her sleeves and yanked it down. Hands on his hips, he stared down at her.
“What’s next?”
He was asking her?
When Jonas answered, she figured not.
“Muñoz and Robinson will take her into custody and we head back to San Antonio.”
Custody. Her heart skipped a beat and tears blurred her vision. She blinked them back. Crying would accomplish nothing. Pleadingly, her gaze went to Jonas who was watching her grimly, then to Dex who wore the same bleak expression. Lastly, she looked up at Sean. In his face she not only read anger, but also frustration, and if she wasn’t mistaken, helplessness. A knock sounded on the door.
“That was sooner than I expected,” Jonas muttered as he crossed the room. With his hand on the knob, he glanced over at Sean. “You ready for this, bud?”
“As if I have a choice,” was Sean’s resigned reply, his eyes never leaving Mara. “I’ll do what I can to get you out of this. Your cooperation will make it easier.”
With a nod from Sean, Jonas opened the door.
* * * * *
“Handcuffs?” Barely containing his anger, Sean stalked down the hallway toward Muñoz. “Was that necessary? She weighs next to nothing, has an injured leg, can barely walk let alone stand straight and you put handcuffs and manacles on her? What the fuck?”
“Calm down, O’Brien. It’s protocol for a fugitive especially one that makes the national news for shooting a cop and cameras are filming our every move. We took them off as soon as we got her in holding.”
“Yeah, two hours later.” Sean felt like he could bend steel and punch his way through the cinder block wall into her cell he was so angry. “I want to see her.”
“She’s in with her lawyer,” Robinson replied as he came up behind Sean. “She’s going to testify in exchange for immunity.”
“Immunity from what?” Cap inquired, standing at Sean’s back. “The bullet in Victor matched my man T’s weapon and the other didn’t come from Jonas’ Sig Sauer, so it wasn’t Mara. Other than grainy video, you have no evidence she discharged her weapon. You’ve got nothing.”
Muñoz swung Cap’s way. “You wouldn’t know anything about four missing shells would you, Cap? Eyewitnesses state she unloaded four, at least.”
“So what? Are you going to charge her for discharging a firearm in public? Please. It won’t stand up in court, you know that. The scene was chaos. A five-alarm blaze, police, EMS all responding, looting of two shops, multiple shots fired from who knows where including T returning fire through glass from that lobby. Good luck figuring out who shot what. No one is going to believe what witnesses think they saw during that cluster-fuck. And, bottom line, you don’t have a weapon.” He paused, his intelligent gaze shifting from Sean, through Muñoz the asshole, then landing on Robinson.
“We need her to testify, Cap,” Robinson urged. He was no fool and knew their hold on Mara was shaky. “It will put them away for good.”
“She will,” Sean promised. Although he hated that she’d have to go through the media circus, as eyewitness to their plot to blow up downtown, Mara had all the key information to lock up Victor, the old man and all of their henchmen for a very long time. Unfortunately, it also put her in serious danger until they were convicted, which could take a very long time. “She testifies, but until she does, we’re taking her into custody and providing her protection.”
“Says who?” challenged Muñoz.
“Says me.” A new voice entered the fray as General Peter Davis walked in, the double doors closing with an ominous metal clang behind him.
For the first time in days, since Mara had gone OFP and run again, Sean felt a lifting of the fear that had encompassed him. With Cap at his back, the full support of Rossi Security behind him and the general’s power and authority on his side, they might be able to finagle getting Mara out of this mess.
“I just got off the phone with the Bureau Chief, she’s being offered a deal: immunity in exchange for her testimony. As soon as she signs, she’ll be released into her husband’s custody with Rossi providing security pending the trial.” His eyes shot to Sean’s then Cap. “We’re on the home stretch, men. After two long painful years, at last we’re going to see Esteban and Victor Mendoza shut down.”
“They found Victor?” Robinson queried.
“No, I was speaking optimistically. He remains at large. Which reminds me, how the hell does a gut shot man escape from a hospital room with two armed guards at the fuckin’ door?” Pete’s frustration overflowed, an unusual occurrence but it did happen. No one answered his question. They were all of one thought, having suspected it for months. The only way Victor had eluded them so long, had set up the fake slave auction as a decoy, knew they would meet for a pre-mission rundown at their office and be sitting ducks for his bombs and now, escaped under guard was self-explanatory. He had help, and all fingers pointed to someone in the SAPD.
Cap offered the additional intel he had to share. “Last word I got from San Antonio is they have a strong lead on a Mendoza safe house location. The Feds are taking lead rather than the local fuckups, so I’m hopeful he’ll be back in custody by the end of the day.”
* * * * *
Tired, scared and in desperate need of a long soak in a hot tub, Mara curled her arms around her waist and
lay her cheek on the cold metal table. Where was the officer with the coffee he’d promised an hour ago?
The door creaked open suddenly and she sat up. A tall, thin man, mid-forties or so, in a tweed suit with a nerdy bowtie and glasses entered. Without saying a word, he walked—no, he swaggered—to the table.
A swaggering nerd? Mara gazed up at him in surprise.
Sliding his engraved leather briefcase onto the table, he pulled out the chair opposite her, and sat down. With his elbows on the table, he folded his hands and eyed her over the top of his round wire-rimmed glasses.
“It seems I have a very naughty girl on my hands.”
Her head reared back as she gasped.
“Joseph R. Hooks,” he announced as he passed a gold embossed business card to her across the table.
As she scanned the scripted lettering—Hooks, Jeffers, and Mahoney, Attorneys-at-law—she noticed his address was in Austin.
“I’ll be representing you at Sean’s request.” He paused, as if giving her a moment to let that sink in.
If he was a friend of Sean’s, that explained a lot. Most, if not all of Sean’s friends were Doms. This man wasn’t like any of the Rossi men who were all large, muscular, gorgeous men who oozed masculinity from every pore. The only thing he had in common with them was that he reeked of authority.
He reminded her a little of Indiana Jones. Not the rugged, whip-wielding adventuring Indie, more like Professor Jones, Jr., the pointer tapping, bow tie wearing, handsome nerd. In fact, Mr. Hooks wore the same round glasses. As she returned his gaze, an image came to mind of him standing over an ill-disciplined student—a naughty client more aptly the case—as they bent over his imposing desk, bare ass cheeks quivering while he prepared to administer swift and sure correction with his pointer. When she added his bold words and the confident glimmer in his green eyes, she had to revise her initial impression of Mr. Joseph R. Hooks.
“Our paths have crossed before, although I’m certain you wouldn’t remember. It was a while back, not long after Club Decadence opened. At the time, your Master had you bound over a bench. I thoroughly enjoyed watching him apply a tawse quite expertly to your bratty behind. Something about spiking the subs Halloween punch with vodka. You had a beautiful, rosy red bottom when he was done. I quite enjoyed the show, I must say.”
Her mouth fell open. To speak of such things outside the club was unseemly and risked violation of their confidentiality agreements. Not to mention bringing up such an incident now, one she remembered vividly, under these circumstances and when they’d only just met was downright rude. His smile stated he knew it and didn’t care. He was her attorney, however, and unless she wanted to go with an overworked, underpaid, wet behind the ears public defender, she’d have to deal with the man’s boldness. Therefore, she said nothing.
“I’m sorry to have shocked you, my dear. As you can see from my appearance, I do not inspire Perry Mason like confidence in most people, until they get to know me better, that is or see me handle a whip. Sean thought it best to show all my cards up front in order to obtain your full cooperation. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.” She didn’t dare answer any other way.
“Splendid. Do you have any questions or concerns about me defending you before we begin?”
“I—um.” She swallowed. “Only one, sir. Who’s Perry Mason? Another partner?”
He stared at her a moment, then his mouth turned up into a surprisingly attractive smile and he laughed, a deep resonant sound, unlike the reedy thin tenor of his voice. Joseph Hooks was indeed an enigma. Surprisingly, her anxiety eased the tiniest bit, maybe because this nerd and his brash approach had started to grow on her, or because in the short time they’d been together he had inspired confidence, after all.
Folding his hands atop the scratched and battered table, he leveled his shrewd lawyerly gaze on her and began, “Here’s what’s going to happen next…”
* * * * *
As the female officer unlocked the cell, she took hold of Mara’s upper arm, her fingers less than gentle as she escorted her through the set of steel doors at the end of the cellblock. From there, she walked her down a long dingy corridor to another set of locked doors. These were buzzed opened and they exited into a small lobby with a high counter and a dozen or more chairs of molded plastic. To her right was a set of glass doors. Through them, she saw her attorney standing with a group of men who she was beginning to know very well. Cap Rossi, General Davis, and the last man whose achingly familiar face started her already thumping heart to racing.
Sean’s head turned her way as she walked in, his serious gaze locking onto her and not letting go. The hard stare he aimed her way sparked a wave of unease, especially after their last few volatile encounters. As he moved toward the doors, the other men turned to watch having noticed her too.
The guard had her stop at the counter where another officer handed her a clunky brown envelope. She felt Sean’s disquieting presence through the glass and glanced his way.
“Miss Lewis.” The guard wrapped on the desk sharply with her knuckles.
Snapping to attention, Mara turned back. That wasn’t right.
“Your personal affects, Miss Lewis. I need you to sign that you have received what you came in with.”
“Mrs.,” she murmured vaguely as she peered into the envelope.
“Pardon?”
“It’s Mrs. O’Brien. I’m married.” Her gaze wandered to where Sean waited, shifting his weight and crossing his arms in obvious impatience.
“Sign here, please.”
Vaguely, she picked up her wallet and keys, and signed on the line the woman indicated.
“You’re free to go.”
A buzzing sounded as the door locks clicked. Her feet suddenly felt like she was wearing leaden shoes. When she didn’t move, Sean pushed the door open, holding it wide for her. She willed herself to move, but nothing happened, at least not with her feet. Instead, her head started to swim and her knees became weak.
“Are you ill,” the guard asked, her fingers once again curling around her arm as she started to crumple. It was unnecessary because strong arms were already sliding around her.
“Mara?”
Everything went off kilter before she was lifted and held against his chest.
“Does she need the nurse, sir?”
“She’ll be fine, as soon as she gets the hell out of here.” His tone was far from cordial to the guard making Mara want to cheer. If her head hadn’t been spinning, she might have done exactly that, or at least given a fist pump or a high five, something, because not only hadn’t the woman been particularly kind, she’d been unnecessarily rough. She could feel her fingers digging into her arm and was sure to have bruises.
Sean carried her out the door, with Cap and the general closing ranks around them. When he got to the front door, they paused while Cap spoke with someone right outside the door.
“I don’t know how they found out, but there’s media everywhere,” the someone outside and out of sight stated. “The car is waiting, but I suggest you move fast.”
Cap looked at Mara, a glower darkened his face as he warned, “Media and paparazzi. This won’t be pleasant.”
She felt, more than saw Sean nod, then they were moving once more. Jostled and bounced as he descended the stairs, he curled her against him. His hand came up to press her face against his chest, hiding her from the dozens of rapidly clicking and whirring cameras. He couldn’t keep the crowd from calling out to her.
“There she is!”
“Ms. O’Brien, will you answer some questions?”
“Why did you shoot Victor Mendoza? Was it a lover’s quarrel?”
“Mara, over here.”
“It’s rumored you were the old man’s lover too, is it true?”
“How did you get released? Did you agree to a plea?”
Of all the awful things they shouted, one lone accusation rose clearly over the jumble of the others. “Cop Killer!”
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Too numb to react to the awful scene before now, her head came up at those words. Eyes on Sean, she asked sharply, “He’s dead?”
The cameras went crazy before he pushed her head firmly back down. “No, Tomas Diaz is very much alive. Keep your head down. We’re almost there.”
She couldn’t see more than the collar of his shirt. Abruptly he stopped and she was quite literally tossed into the back seat of a black SUV. Briefly, she caught a glimpse of the shouting, clamoring reporters pushing forward and the line of police and Rossi men holding them back. It was blocked out by Sean’s big body as he followed her inside. Doors slammed shut.
“Get us the hell out of here, Dex.” This came from Cap as he climbed in the front seat. The demand was unnecessary because the vehicle was already moving.
Sean’s hand at her cheek combed back her hair. “How are you doing, baby?”
The vehicle took a sharp turn and her stomach rolled. “I’m gonna be sick.”
“Shit,” came from up front.
Sean had a more action-oriented response. “Turn on the air, Dex. We can’t open the windows and for Christ’s sake try to keep it on four wheels. Cap, find me a puke bag or something.” Cool air hit her in the face as he pulled her towards the middle where the vent could reach her. “Deep breaths, Mara,” he urged.
“I’m sorry I made you hate me, Sean.” Miserable, she wanted to cry, but as she so often did, she choked back the tears.
“I don’t hate you, Mara,” he whispered as he pulled her against his chest.
“Everyone else does,” she whined, sounding pathetic to her own ears. “Why should you be any different?” Lost in self-pity and misery, she fell silent after that and with Sean beside her, cradling her in his arms, and Dex and Cap murmuring quietly in the front seat, she drifted off to sleep. The first she’d had in days.
Chapter Twenty-one
Second Time Lucky (Club Decadence Book 5) Page 24
