Meow Or Never: BBW SEAL Shifter Surprise Pregnancy Romance (Chicago Catastrophe)

by Anya Nowlan

The life of a Crimson Claws mobster was no picnic.

  The cab pulled up to the curb, pulling him out if his ruminations. He paid the fare and got out, lips pursing as he took in the casino’s façade. He had been here many times before, but always for business, never to gamble. Though the gambling he was planning today didn’t exactly fit in with the traditional sense of it.

  First time for everything.

  The building wasn’t particularly big or otherwise noteworthy, but it looked respectable enough. The flashing signs were kept to a minimum and both the exterior and interior were well-maintained.

  A ‘closed for maintenance’ sign hung on the window, meaning a new shipment had come in. Troy had to bang on the doors for a bit before one of Dempsy’s guys let him in.

  “Morning,” he muttered to Daily, the guy who let him in.

  All he received was a quiet nod, strain evident on his face.

  So Dempsy’s having one of his days, Troy mused, shoving his hands in his pockets.

  Nothing got a bunch of big, scary Crimson Claws guys on edge like Dempsy on one of his crusades. He made his way to his boss’ office, feet falling softly on the red carpet under his shoes. The walls were shiny marble, with matching columns spaced out between the slot machines and card tables.

  Reaching the back, he noticed Dempsy had added two more men to guard his door, in addition to Lucky and Grit.

  Paranoid or just adequately concerned?

  The casino business had flourished under Dempsy’s management, but there were whispers he had a problem with discretion. What that exactly meant, Troy didn’t know. He only got to know what he was told and asking around too much was never a good idea when dealing with the likes of Dempsy and the rest of the Crimson Claws upper echelon. Not after what had been going on lately.

  Dempsy was a lieutenant in the shifter organization practically controlling Chicago from the bottom up. He was in charge of the Bridgeport area, making sure the local business owners knew their place and that the drug trade was flourishing.

  Troy’s face scrunched up in distaste when he thought of how many lives Dempsy was ruining by flooding the streets with cheap cocaine and heroin. Even though he himself had no contact with that part of the business, he still felt dirty by association.

  But he had known what he was getting into when he accepted this job. All he could do now was to grin and bear it while hoping he could leave it all behind sooner rather than later.

  The Crimson Claws had similar setups all across Chicago, collecting protection money and running less than legal businesses. Everyone knew of them, including law enforcement, but were careful not to step on their toes.

  The organization had strict procedures in place, making sure evidence of their actions was tough to find. That also meant that people who talked too loud or wanted to know too much often became… hard to find.

  Which was where Troy came in. Making people disappear was something he was unbeatable at, and the Claws knew it.

  He hadn’t worked for the organization for that long, only about a year, but he knew things were rapidly getting shakier within the upper ranks, which meant more work for him. The mysterious big boss, known to the lower members only as River, was cleaning house and no one was safe.

  The Claws had been steadily taking over the criminal enterprise in Chicago, growing in both influence and numbers. But some of the lieutenants, Parker and Holland in particular, had really screwed things up as of late. Their bad decisions had left the organization vulnerable, and River needed to regain control.

  If Troy was being summoned, that meant River was going the extreme route.

  Troy nodded to the men at the door of his boss’ office and let himself in. Dempsy Selleck was seated behind his large mahogany desk, tapping his fingers on the armrest of his leather chair. Beside him stood Culliver, Dempsy’s right hand man and trusted ally.

  While Dempsy was short and average-looking for a tiger shifter in general, Culliver definitely stood out. He was a tall, broad man with harsh features and black, slicked back hair.

  “We’ve been waiting,” Dempsy commented, clearly annoyed.

  “I’m here now,” Troy replied, sinking into one of the chairs facing his boss.

  Dempsy gave an exasperated sigh as Culliver’s eyes narrowed. Troy just smiled at them, unaffected. They needed him for something, so this was just them showing off, the peacocks that they were.

  What are they going to do? Send me to the principal’s office?

  Dempsy crossed his arms, considering Troy. It must have been killing him to deal with a lion. Historically, the two races had never gotten along that well, but Troy was damn good at what he did and even tigers couldn’t ignore his usefulness.

  Hell, he was far better than they knew, but that was something the Crimson Claws didn’t have to become privy of quite yet.

  “You’re lucky you’re so good at what you do.”

  Troy grinned. Case and point.

  “Luck has nothing to do with it. Now, can we get down to business or are you going to lecture me about my manners?”

  Dempsy wasn’t someone he really wanted to spend time with on the best of days. Right now, tired, slightly hungover, in need of a shower and with Hailey still on his mind, his patience was wearing especially thin.

  Dempsy leaned back in his chair, looking defeated.

  “As you know, River is not happy with the way thing are going. In fact, he’s so unhappy, he wants to make sure past fiascos don’t have a chance to repeat themselves. He’s overhauling the whole organization right now, seeing who might turn out to be a liability. And those people need to be taken care of. River asked for you personally.”

  “So I can expect some names coming my way soon, is that what you’re saying?” Troy inquired.

  If River wanted Troy to take on this job, it must have meant the man really trusted him. The conclusion pleased Troy, seeing as he started out as just a gun for hire before being accepted into the ranks. And now, the big boss himself was calling on him specifically to carry out decisions affecting the Crimson Claws’ future.

  Troy smiled internally, suppressing an accompanying growl.

  “Yes, that’s what I’m saying. Someone will be in contact, just sit still until that time.”

  Dempsy pressed his fingers together as he explained while Culliver kept a quiet eye on Troy.

  “Alright, then. I won’t keep you any longer,” Troy said cheerfully, standing from his seat.

  His attitude obviously irked Dempsy, which was why he adopted it in the first place. Seeing that guy boil with annoyance made Troy’s day every time.

  “We are in the middle of a total shitstorm. You need to take this seriously. How are you so calm??”

  “Easy,” Troy shrugged. “River wouldn’t task me with killing myself, and whoever he deems to be the weakest link, I’ll have no problem taking out. Less dead weight for the rest of us to carry around. Sounds to me like things are moving in the right direction.”

  Foster is going to have a field day when I tell him about this. The organization is practically ripping itself apart.

  Dempsy arched a brow at that. Troy couldn’t tell if he was satisfied with the answer or not. Whatever the case, he didn’t really care. Dempsy was his boss, which meant he had to do what Dempsy told him to. It didn’t mean he had to act like an obedient lapdog while doing so.

  Dempsy finally waved him away with a muffled snarl, attention focusing on some papers on his desk instead of Troy. He let himself out, taking a deep breath as he got outside. Hailey’s scent still clung to his skin, but inside the casino, it was masked by the smell of cigarettes, spilled alcohol, nervous sweat and tigers.

  Too many tigers.

  Yet despite his best efforts, he couldn’t get the woman out of his mind. She was like a breath of fresh air when all he’d been breathing was the stink of the underworld for too long. Even if he could ignore the thought of her for a while, his lion seemed completely smitten.

  That never ha
ppened.

  If she figures out who you are and what you do, she’ll want nothing to do with you, his thoughts warned.

  Troy forced his concerns away.

  Things were finally moving in the right direction. Maybe he could take some time to have some more fun after all? Hailey was too damn special to let slip through his fingers.

  Troy stopped for a moment in the hallway. He glanced up at the ceiling, contemplating his options.

  Fuck it.

  Time to find the woman that gave him the greatest night of his life and convince her to give him the time of day.

  Four

  Hailey

  Hailey made it to court just on time, with her two defendants already present. Sisco Jones and Wade Ivers, both tiger shifters. The men sat on chairs facing the judge’s bench, looking serious but not worried.

  Time to face the music.

  Hailey had brushed her teeth twice and showered thoroughly, giving her hope that the smell of last night’s rum and Cokes weren’t still oozing out of her pores. Or the scent of Troy, for that matter. Last thing she needed was her defendants sniffing at her the entire time of the trial.

  If the two men she was there to defend didn’t exactly give the impression of upstanding citizens, it was because they weren’t. They were part of the Crimson Claws, a ruthless crime organization, with fingers in all the pies. They were a curse on Chicago, shaking down businesses and threatening the owners, at least on the days they were playing nice.

  The two thugs seated in the courtroom were guilty of exactly that – extorting some small diner for a cut of their monthly income. In Hailey’s eyes they were guilty as could be. In the eyes of the law, they were still innocent, and it was Hailey’s job to keep it that way.

  How much she hated that job didn’t unfortunately matter.

  Her father’s bloody face popped into her mind, reminding her of what the Claws were capable of and what was at stake for her with this case. Fighting a shiver, she pushed the image aside and focused on retrieving her notes from the briefcase in front of her.

  The public prosecutor, an older man named Thomas Allen, with tired eyes and stiff posture, looked at her with some surprise.

  “Miss Molloy, didn’t expect to see you here. I got the impression you were pickier with the cases you took?” he asked, his tone incredulous.

  You and me both, Allen.

  Hailey got the impression the question wasn’t completely benign.

  “Have to play the bills somehow,” she shrugged with a fake smile, the lie she had conditioned herself to say rolling smoothly off her lips. “Gentlemen,” she continued, nodding at Sisco and Wade.

  The judge chose that moment to appear from a side door, saving Hailey from answering any more questions or making small-talk. She didn’t actually care about the money. It was the furthest thing from her mind.

  But the Crimson Claws were very good at figuring out what made a person tick and then using it against them in the most ruthless way they could think of. In Hailey’s case, it was her elderly parents that worked as her trigger point.

  If she wanted to keep them safe, she would defend the two goons to the best of her abilities and hope it would be the last she heard of either Jones or Ivers.

  She braced herself, squaring her shoulders so she at least looked confident and in charge. It didn’t matter how dirty she felt inside.

  “Please rise! Judge Davis presiding,” the bailiff called.

  Everyone rose as Judge Davis walked to her seat. She was a polished-looking woman in her early fifties, dark hair pulled back in a sleek bun. Hailey looked around the mostly empty room as Judge Davis settled in her seat. These kinds of cases didn’t usually draw a crowd and this one was no different.

  She was glad for the lack of audience, seeing as this wasn’t exactly her crowning moment.

  “Please take your seats.”

  The door suddenly swung open then, and a tall man with black, greased-up hair strode in. His eyes fixed on Hailey immediately as she looked over her shoulder at the disturbance.

  She knew who the guy was all too well. He had been there when the Crimson Claws intimidated her into taking this case. Bile rose in her throat at the memory of him. His name was Culliver, if she recalled correctly, and he gave her the creeps. Above all the others, he’d seemed to take real joy in breaking her spirit with what they were telling her to do.

  She turned away, determined to stay focused on the arraignment. Screw that guy. She’d do this and then she’d be free, as would be her parents.

  They went through the initial formalities with Judge Davis flipping through the file before her. Hailey took the time to focus and to drown out the background, doing what she did best – winning difficult cases.

  “So the charges are both for aggravated intimidation, with a sentence of four to fifteen years?” Davis specified.

  “Yes, your honor,” Allen answered with a stern nod.

  “Excuse me, how is it aggravated?” Hailey interjected.

  Just because she hated this case didn’t mean she didn’t do her homework. She was still going to adhere to professional ethics.

  “Both defendants committed the crimes for the sake of a gang, the Crimson Claws. That makes it aggravated. Or did they not teach you that in whatever law school you went to?” Allen scoffed.

  “And I assume you have proof that these men are in said gang?” Hailey countered, sweeping a hand across the two burly guys sitting on her left side. “Evidence including but not limited to the signs, symbols, beliefs and practices, territories and rivalries related to this gang you mentioned?

  “And you can of course bring up previous cases where known members of this gang were convicted of committing similar crimes, setting up precedences for it?” quirking a brow at Allen.

  Allen opened his mouth, clearly indignant, but was interrupted.

  “Save it for the preliminary hearing, Miss Malloy,” Judge Davis remarked, not looking up from the paperwork.

  Allen plastered a look of smug confidence on his face after that comment, but he was obviously rattled. She wasn’t going to make it easy for him. She couldn’t.

  “What do the people suggest for bail?” the judge continued, looking up this time.

  “The people suggest denying bail,” Allen replied.

  Davis looked straight at Hailey, her gaze making her shrink a little. She respected Judge Davis. This was not the case she wanted to argue in front of her.

  “Any objections?”

  “Yes, Your Honor. These men have lived in Chicago all their lives. Their parents still live here, they have jobs here, ties to the community. They have no connections to any foreign countries and don’t even own passports,” Hailey argued.

  “They do not pose a flight risk. Both men have been actively involved in the community and there are people willing to attest to that, to their philanthropy and on the matter of their characters.”

  People who were forced into it at gunpoint, no less. Hailey’s hand rolled into a fist as she rattled through her arguments. Never had she felt so slimy.

  “Bail is set at fifty thousand dollars for each defendant,” Davis said before diving back into the documentation in front of her. “Next!” she bellowed out as bailiffs came to take Hailey’s clients back to holding.

  Hailey nodded to Jones and Ivers as they were carted off, remaining standing until they were ought of sight. She looked at Allen. The man looked a bit sullen, but still managed a crooked smile.

  “See you at the hearing,” he said, packing up his briefcase.

  Can’t wait.

  Hailey gathered her things, her head starting to pound. She suspected it wasn’t just because of the mild hangover. This wasn’t why she became a lawyer, to be a puppet to a bunch of scumbags.

  As she turned to leave, she found Culliver still there, standing by the door as if waiting for her.

  Oh, hell no!

  Hailey squared her shoulders, ready to storm past the unpleasant beast of a man. He
smiled and stepped in front of the exit just as she was about to walk through the doors. She stopped abruptly, almost knocking into him.

  “Good job in there,” Culliver commented, voice sounding cold despite the smile on his face.

  “Thanks,” Hailey responded with a grim smile, not at all flattered.

  They day I seek approval from criminals will be a cold day in hell.

  Why did he even bother to stick around? He had already seen the show and she didn’t need any more convincing. It was hard to misunderstand a gun being held to her mother’s head.

  More threats to make sure I keep in line?

  “Can I help you?” she asked, looking pointedly at his large frame blocking the door.

  “Just wanted you to know we appreciate your work,” Culliver answered, turning sideways to let her pass.

  His gaze roamed over her, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. He was the definition of a sleazy, creepy mobster and she couldn’t put enough distance between the two of them fast enough.

  “Great. That’s all I’ve ever wanted,” Hailey remarked, squeezing past the man.

  Not the satisfaction of helping good people, not the respect of my peers, not even the money… The appreciation of gangsters has always been most important to me! she thought grimly, clutching her briefcase so hard her knuckles were turning white.

  Hailey couldn’t get out of the courthouse fast enough. She wanted to put the whole morning behind her.

  Well, not the whole morning, her thoughts interjected.

  Waking up to a hot guy in her bed hadn’t been the worst thing in the world. She could still vividly remember his hands on her body, how he instinctively reacted to her every silent desire. The way those tattoos he had seemed to be absolutely perfect for him…

  Unfortunately, she had other things to do than fantasize about Troy.

  If that was actually his name. It could have been Roy and I just misheard.

  She got in her car, weaving through traffic to get to her office. The whole drive was tinted with a very tangible aftertaste of the hearing she’d sat through. When her office building came into view, she let out a small sigh of relief.