by Becky McGraw
TROUBLE
WITH
THE LAW
BECKY McGRAW
Acknowledgements
I’d like to take a moment to thank my cover model for Trouble With the Law, the handsome and talented Mr. Steffen Hughes (www.steffenhughes.com and www.facebook.com/steffenhughes.music). I’d also like to thank the artist behind the golden lens who captured the amazing cover image for this book, Mr. Golden Czermak of FuriousFotog (www.onefuriousfotog.com and www.facebook.com/FuriousFotog. Thank you both for making this the best book cover in the Texas Trouble series!
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
TROUBLE WITH THE LAW, Copyright © December, 2013 by Becky McGraw.
ISBN: 9781310672477
All rights reserved under International and Pan American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the author.
Be sure to check out all of the books in the
Texas Trouble Series by Becky McGraw:
Be sure to check out all of the books in the
Texas Trouble Series by Becky McGraw:
Book #1 - My Kind of Trouble (Cassie & Luke)
Book #2 - The Trouble With Love (Sabrina & Cole)
Book #3 - Double the Trouble (Karlie & Gabe)
Book #4 - Looking for Trouble (Jess & Wade)
Book #5 - Trouble in Dixie (Katie & Tommy)
Book #6 - Asking for Trouble (Jazzie & Beau)
Book #7 - Chasing Trouble (Jenny & Chase)
Book #8 - Here Comes Trouble (Terri & Joel)
Book #9 - Worth the Trouble (Roxanne & Ethan)
Book #10 - Royal Trouble (Leigh Ann & Wes)
Book #11 - Trouble With the Law (Veronica & Trace)
Coming Soon! New Series - The Cowboy Way
Hope for Christmas (Cord’s Story – novella included in Santa Wore Spurs)
Just Shoot Me (#1, Cowboy Way, Dean’s story) Est. Release Date 3/14
CHAPTER ONE
Trace Rooks had sworn he would never see the inside of a jail again. But here he was again, not six months after being released. How the fuck did a cop, a man who never wanted to do anything other than protect and serve, always wind up in so much trouble?
Rotten luck, the sexy redhead walking toward him in her red power suit, and his own damned father. That's how. Trace almost felt like he had been appointed his own personal black cloud, one that definitely didn’t have a silver lining.
The last time he was in jail though, he hadn't known that Veronica Winters was a devil in red high heels. A woman who would embed her five-inch stiletto in his heart without blinking. He definitely knew that now, and he also knew not to trust her. Or his father. It's not looking good, Trace, you need to cop a plea. I think the judge will give you probation.
What the judge had given him was three years in the state penitentiary.
Trace was a much smarter man now. Too smart to listen to any damned thing this woman had to say to him. She must not have taken his threat the last time he’d seen her at the sentencing seriously, or she wouldn’t be showing up here today. He'd told Veronica Winters she had better not come within twenty feet of him again, or he would be going up for murder.
But The Shark Lady felt safe here. Every man in the place was afraid of her. This was her territory, and she knew if Trace stepped out of line the burly guard who let her in would be on his back like scales on a fish. His hands were also cuffed in front of him, his ankles shackled, so what damage could he do?
She was safe, unless she pissed him off.
Ronnie stopped at the table to stare at him for a moment, then sat her briefcase down, as she eased into the chair across from him and crossed her long legs.
"Well, you don't look any worse for wear," she said with a snort.
Trace’s numb fingers curled into his palms, wanting nothing more than to feel the smooth skin of her long neck under them. He lifted his shackled wrists to run a finger along the scar on his left cheek, then dropped his hands back to his lap. "Most of the damage is on the inside. Come a little closer and find out, sugar," he invited, more than a little serious.
"Makes you look dangerous, pretty boy," she purred, with a sarcastic tilt of her red lips. "I need to ask you some questions about Leigh Ann Baker."
"Who?" Trace asked with a short laugh, as he leaned back in his chair negligently. He definitely knew who Leigh Ann Baker was. A damned meddling beauty queen who stumbled out to the Diamond Bar Ranch and almost got herself killed. He also knew where she was, but he wasn't telling Ronnie Winters a damned thing. She had wasted her time coming here.
Ronnie batted her big brown eyes at him, and anger shot through him. "C'mon handsome, don't play games with me,” she purred.
"I'd never play games with you again, Ronnie," Trace replied shortly. “You’re too good at them. Last time we played, I lost big time."
Was that guilt he saw in her eyes? Nah, couldn’t be. But she wouldn’t look him in the eye when she said, "That wasn't my fault…"
His muscles tensed as he waited for her to elaborate, but she didn’t. Trace had waited nearly three years to hear an explanation from her. To confirm his suspicions that she had been in bed, literally or figuratively, with his daddy, Senator Leland Rooks, like half of Texas was.
"If you don't cooperate, they'll send you up for murder," she warned, crossing her arms over her chest.
Trace snorted. "They'll have to prove it first this time. There’s no body, or smoking gun. And I'll be sure to have a better attorney this go round." He tried to run a hand through his hair, but his hands were cuffed, so he dropped them in his lap. His fingers curled into his palms instead, as a thought occurred to him. "What the fuck do you have to do with it anyway?"
"I was asked by a friend to get involved and come talk to you."
"Leland?" he guessed, narrowing his eyes. His daddy was a silent partner in the Double Bar Ranch. That could mean he sent Ronnie here to dig around to find out if Leigh Ann Baker was actually dead, so he and his partners could decide whether Trace would stay alive when he was released.
Her showing up here asking questions was just too coincidental for him.
Saving Leigh Ann Baker had been a big risk for him. But if Trace hadn't offered to take care of Miss Texas for the ranch manager, Ray Brown, she really would be dead. He’d seen her tied up and unconscious in the tack room, then overhead Ray talking to the ranch hand who brought here there. Ray was giving the order for that man to take Leigh Ann out to the brush and put a bullet in her head.
"No, your father and I don't speak,” Ronnie said. “It's not important who asked."
"I think it's damned important." Trace wanted to know who was behind her being here, because if it wasn’t Leland, there could be other players involved who could throw a monkey wrench into the operation out at the ranch. He didn't need anymore wrenches, and neither did the monkeys the feds had on assignment there.
They were too close now.
"Why is it important?" She leaned forward, pinning him with those intelligent brown eyes, and Trace knew he needed to shut up.
"Guard!" Trace yelled loudly, the sound echoing off of the concrete block wa
lls of the visiting room. Keys jangled, then the door opened. Ronnie stood and turned toward the man. "It's fine, Casper. Mr. Rooks is just a little agitated. I'm not finished questioning him."
"Well, I'm finished with her questions," Trace grated, pushing the chair back with his legs. The chair scraped against the floor as he stood. The guard rushed inside toward him to grab his arm to roughly shove him into the wall. His teeth rattled, and he saw stars as his head hit the concrete.
"Fucking take it easy, man. I'm not doing anything," Trace said holding perfectly still, as he tasted blood on his tongue where he'd bitten it.
These guys loved to be rough with him. All of them knew he was an ex-cop, thought he was a dirty cop, so he got it from both sides of the bars here. That's why Trace had worked out so much to bulk up while he was in prison. He had to protect himself from everyone. It was a fucking miracle he had made it out alive.
"You sit there and answer her questions, or keep your mouth shut. Got it? You're not leaving this room, until she's finished with you," the guard growled near his ear.
"When's breakfast?" Trace asked sarcastically.
The guard backed off and pulled him toward the chair lying on its side on the floor. He righted it then shoved Trace down into it.
"Just give me a reason, asshole," the big guard threatened with a heated glare as he walked back toward the door. "Let me know if you need me, Miss Winters."
"Wait!" she said and the guard stopped. "Take his handcuffs and shackles off. If we're going to be here a while, he needs to get comfortable," she said with a pointed look at Trace. The guard grumbled, but he walked over and removed his shackles, then the handcuffs. Trace rubbed his wrists to get some circulation going.
The guard left, and Trace looked at her. "That wasn't very smart, Ronnie."
"I think it was," she said smoothly, as she sat back down at the table. "Now tell me what you did with Leigh Ann Baker, Trace."
Trace crossed his arms over his broad, heavily muscled chest, then leaned back in his chair. He just stared at her in a battle of wills. When she'd had enough, Veronica huffed a frustrated sigh. "I'm trying to help you here, Trace. Just give me the answers, so I can do that."
"You want answers, Veronica?" Trace ground out, his eyes hard and dark. His arm shot across the table, and she flinched. He laughed and grabbed her pen then leaned back and dropped it under the table. Lowering his voice, he leaned forward again to growl, "Let me tell you what I want, then you decide if you still want those answers.” He drummed his fingers on the table.
Tingles of alarm coursed through Veronica traveling with the excitement already buzzing along her nerve endings. Something wasn't right here. Trace Rooks wasn't right. Three years in prison had warped him, changed him into a man she didn't know. One who scared her a little. And that was saying a lot. Because men didn't scare her—ever. She was the one who scared them.
Veronica stiffened her shoulders, and her spine to sit up straighter in her chair. She was The Shark Lady, the best damned criminal lawyer in Amarillo, and he better damn well remember who he was talking to.
Trace shoved his chair up under the table, and the sound grated through her. He slouched in the chair, and drummed his fingers on the table again. "What I want, Red, is for you to get under that table, and pick up that pen," he drawled, his eyes glittering with purpose. The scar on his cheek deepened when his mouth twisted into a travesty of a smile. "While you're under there, I want you to unzip my pants and suck my dick. If you do a good enough job of it, I'll give you your answers."
Ronnie snorted, and leaned back in her chair crossing her arms over her chest. "Dream on, big boy."
He was out of his mind if he thought she was going to do that. Her eyes involuntarily traveled to the camera mounted in the corner. Not that the camera mattered, there was no way she was going to do what he wanted even if there wasn't a camera. But the thought of it made her wet. The possibility of getting caught, the probability of getting away with something so daring.
"I'm not dreaming," he said smoothly. "You're the one who came here to get answers from me. That's the only way you're going to get them, Veronica. I haven't had sex in three years because of you. You owe it to me. Bet mine doesn't taste any different than Leland's did."
Three years? Trace Rooks had only served two years, and had been out of prison for six months. Before he went to prison, Trace Rooks didn't have trouble finding a willing woman. She couldn’t believe getting laid wasn’t near the top of his priority list when he got out of prison. While she worked on his case, Veronica knew of at least two women he was with when he was out of jail pending court hearings. One of them had even been in the courtroom, bawling hysterically when he was sentenced.
Either one of those women would probably do just what he asked. Veronica wasn't those women. And she absolutely was not getting under that table to suck Trace Rooks off.
His eyes narrowed and a smug smile kicked up the corner of his firm mouth. "You asked me back then why Leland wanted me in jail. What if I told you?" he asked with a lifted brow. "Would you suck my dick for that information? How far would you go, Veronica? Would you swallow when I come in your mouth too?" Trace sucked a breath in through his teeth and moved one of his hands under the table. "God, I'm hard just thinking about it."
Her eyes focused on his mouth. Firm, full lips that spewed his venom, issued his dirty challenges. "Stop being vulgar, Trace. You're just trying to shock me. Just talk to me. I'm trying to help you here."
"Help me, help you. Isn't that what you told me when you said I should accept that bogus plea deal, Red?"
"I was trying to help. Taking that deal was in your best interest," she said leaning back in her chair again. She glanced under the table and the pen taunted her.
Trace laughed harshly. "You helped me right into three years in prison. Now I'm going to help you get your answers, right after you give me a blow job."
She snorted, and lifted a brow. "Keep screwing with me and I'll get under that table and bite your dick off," she threatened.
He leaned forward on his elbows, and met her eyes directly. "You bite me and when I get out, I'll tie you up and spank your ass until you beg me to fuck you." Trace wasn't kidding. His dark eyes were focused on her, and he didn't blink, not once. A dull throb started at the apex of her thighs, and she uncrossed her legs to press her knees together.
This was ridiculous. Ronnie didn't like kinky sex, had never had a partner who was into it either. Why was she getting so turned on then by his naughty suggestions?
She shook her head to clear it. This wasn’t getting her anywhere. She also realized she wasn't getting anywhere with Trace Rooks, and considering his mood, she wasn't going to. Veronica scraped her chair back, then reached down for her briefcase.
The black pen near his foot taunted her again. He used the toe of his boot to slowly shove it to one side, then the other, and she felt his gaze hot on the side of her face. Back and forth, he moved it, teasing her. But he said nothing.
There was no way she could leave that pen there. It was a very expensive Mont Blanc. A pen she had been given by her attorney father when she graduated from law school. A momento of the only time in her life he'd ever told her he was proud of her. So what if he'd only said it on the card that came with the pen, and he was a thousand miles away in Northern California handling a big case at the time. He had finally said it.
"Do it, Red," Trace urged in a low growl, as he edged the pen with his toe again. She dropped to her knees beside her briefcase and crawled under the table. She saw Trace's hand resting on his crotch. He stroked himself, and she saw the hard ridge of his large penis outlined under his jeans. Her mouth watered, as she contemplated doing what he asked.
She had always been curious what the big draw was with him. Why women were always after him. Policewomen and attorneys alike, even the female criminals fell prey to his charms. Hell, she'd even heard he'd done a judge and a female senator, while he was a detective. He must be one hell of a
lover is all she could come up with. Curiosity about him is what had her so hot and bothered when she was representing him.
Trace unzipped his jeans, and she saw his thick erection straining at the top of his tight white underwear. She bit back a groan, as her hand closed around the ink pen. His foot landed on top of her hand to trap it.
"You know you want to do it, Veronica. You've wanted to do it for years. Since you first met me," he suggested softly. "Now's your chance, Red. To get your answers and satisfy your curiosity." His sexy, tempting voice sent a chill down her spine.
How the hell did he know that? Ronnie had been super careful never to let him know how he affected her. She had to be careful, he was her client and it would have been unethical for her to do otherwise. He’s not your client now, her inner slut whispered.
"There are cameras," she replied in a voice she didn't recognize as her own, weak and pliable. After she said it, Veronica also realized she'd just told him without telling him that she was considering it.
"They can't see," he coerced, his voice deeper and gruffer, his dick even harder. "You're getting your pen. Just put those beautiful red lips around my cock and suck me, until I come." Trace shoved his underwear down and his very impressive erection sprang free. He fisted it and stroked himself. "Do it, Veronica."
She tugged her hand from under his boot, and clutched the pen in her fist. She looked down at it, looked back at him, then back at the pen. Her fist tightened, as she fought her inner slut that wanted to do exactly what he asked her to do.
Nobody told Veronica Winters what to do, she reminded herself. Nobody else would dare suggest something like this to her. She would bite off their balls if they even thought it. Yet, here she was under this table considering sucking Trace Rooks' dick. Because he wanted her to do it. And the thought of it both thrilled and disgusted her at the same time.
Yeah, she wanted answers for Joel and the rest of the people at the R & R about Leigh Ann Baker's whereabouts, but this was way above the call of duty. That brought to mind the former beauty queen, and this man's association with her. Why she was here in the first place.
