by Anthology
Dane suspected she was only considering it because of Rollins’ ‘betrayal’ with Aracely. A woman scorned. Jerrae probably thought her sacrifice for him meant that she was the only one he truly loved. The truth can be truly gruesome.
“I’ll do it.”
Bria wasn’t very happy about Ethan going with Dane to take down Jax Rollins, but she knew he had to. Of course, he wouldn’t be able to bust in with the other officers, but what started as his first homicide case turned out to be so much more than he bargained for with this man.
Dane was worried. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I’ve been through a lot and I’m still here. They were going to release me tomorrow evening even though I’ll be back and forth doing PT and regular follow ups. I’ll let you know if something isn’t right. I promised B that I would.”
“Well alright then.”
They were in the surveillance van parked across from Rollins’ home in Vinings. Jerrae had been wired and prepped. Ethan hated that he was right about her being involved with the murder at the InterContinental. He had loved her once and just because that should have never happened didn’t mean he wanted her or her family to go through this hell.
Inside Jerrae wasn’t nervous at all. She knew what had to be done. Besides, if she did seem unsettled Jaxson would automatically become suspicious.
She was cleaning up his living room. “You are hardly ever here, when do you find the time to make all this mess?”
He playfully slapped her butt. “I should get you a French maid outfit. We could play for a bit and forget about work.”
“You? Forget about work? I’m waiting for that day. Jax, do you have plans on retiring or however you quit this job?”
“Job. That’s cute. I’m a hell of a businessman. It takes time to build up this reputation. I’m known in a lot of places. Why would I want to stop? This house, my investments, my collectibles…your ring; I got what I got because I do what I do.”
Jerrae looked down at the fancy sapphire and platinum ring he had given her just last week. “It is a beautiful piece of jewelry.”
“A small token of appreciation for a job well done. You getting me into Parr’s room made that job simple. Wish all my kills were that easy. That’s why I want you by my side. Your style and finesse is just what was needed for Parr to drop his guard. And even though you didn’t succeed in taking out Aragon, I was still pleased because you proved your loyalty to me. My lady, we need to get you to the range. Hitting the mark is not enough.”
“That’s it,” the lieutenant yelled over the radio. “Get in there!”
Dane and the others moved quickly. Ethan was speechless. Jerrae shot him. Jerrae almost took him away from his family. The woman who once claimed SHE wanted to be his family.
He gingerly exited the van. The pain he felt physically was suddenly intensified by this revelation, but he had to face them.
Jerrae was lead out first in cuffs. She didn’t know Ethan was going to be there and all her resolve just melted away. The officers had to hold her up for a second. As she passed him she mouthed, “I’m sorry.”
He couldn’t respond to that. He was waiting to see her man.
Jax Rollins was staring him down. Hard. The same Jax Rollins he went to deal with in that Manhattan high rise. He didn’t say a word. Ethan wasn’t sure what to make of it all.
Dane ran over to him. “Bro, you okay?”
“Man, I don’t even know. Get me home, please. I need my wife.”
Six Months Later
Bria had planned a family get together. Ethan was pretty much his old self and Warrick and Rafer were thriving in school. Lauryl, Kurt and Payton were helping her cook. Miss Celia was ill and couldn’t travel, but she and Ethan planned to go up north to see her and other relatives. They would also pay a visit to Hampton’s final resting place.
Dane was mixing drinks for everyone. He was trying to get back into the dating scene, but Aracely had really done a number on his trust levels. He needed his family. This family.
They were having a great time and enjoying the meal when Bria asked for everyone’s attention. “I have a couple of surprises for my beloved spouse.” She took his hand. “While you were in the hospital I copyrighted your music and shopped it around. There are three artists willing to buy your entire catalog for six figures! You just have to decide which one you’d like to work with.”
“Come again. Bria, you did what?” Ethan was shocked and excited. “Yo, you are truly heaven scent. Thank you!” He grabbed her and hugged her hard.
“You deserve it. But wait there’s more. You know I’ve been working on the novel and that I just finished the first draft. But before I completed it, I started pitching it to some of the television and film companies here in Metro Atlanta. There’s a company interested in making a series out of it.”
The whole family whooped and hollered. They were so ecstatic because they knew Ethan and Bria were in need of major blessings. Between his health, the trial and Bria holding the household down during and after the coma, they really had these special opportunities coming to them.
“That’s so phat. Your talent is finally being recognized. I told you one day it would be and in a major way.” He kissed her forehead, the tip of her nose and then her lips. A ritual he started when they were dating. “I have a surprise of my own. I didn’t really want to do it in front of everyone though.”
“Oh, get over yourself Mr. Producer,” Dane called out from the other end of the table.
Everyone laughed and encouraged Ethan to go on. He finally dug into his pocket. “NFL Ethan never got to propose to TV star Bria, so I’m just going to ask you to marry me all over again to make it up to her.”
Bria was stunned as Ethan opened a small velvet box which contained a white gold wedding band with tiny diamonds all around it. The ring was perfection.
“Oh, Ethan. I love you so much. You have no idea.”
“Well, you have a couple of forevers to show me. Looks like our lives are about to start over. Again.”
The End
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
MICHELLE DE LEON is a native New Yorker living in Metro Atlanta. Her first three novels were published by author Zane's Strebor Books International/Simon and Schuster. Independently, she released three Inspirational books and published a Christian stage play via JAC Publishing. Currently she is writing a diverse superhero series for Nuff Said Publishing and working on a series of crime and romance stories
WEBSITE | AMAZON
DISTURBANCE
A Gathering Storm Novella
by MARLOW KELLY
Story Edited by Corinne Demaagd
of CMD Writing and Editing
CHAPTER ONE
Mr. Squint’s hands shook as he slid a check across the desk to defense attorney Sophia Reed. She couldn’t tell if he was trembling because his son had escaped a prison sentence or if it was caused by the horror of seeing him on the stand.
She placed the payment in her briefcase for deposit later. The action gave her time to consider her next words. Then she eased back in her chair, studying the young man she had just saved from doing jail time. Jason looked like your average high school nerd. He had short mousy-brown hair and thick round glasses that did nothing to hide the grief and pain that shone in his eyes. He glared at her with open contempt, which was not a surprise.
She suspected on the night he was arrested, he had gotten high and crashed the car in a failed suicide attempt. He seemed to be holding on to his hurt and anguish over his mother’s sudden death from a heart attack, which was understandable. Unfortunately, his sorrow had morphed into a drinking and drug habit that would not only destroy him, but had the potential to kill innocent bystanders.
In her experience, young angry men didn’t listen to reason so she switched her attention to his father, hoping there was some way to get through to them and help them recover. Harlan wasn’t coping well with his wife’s death either. He was probably in his forties but l
ooked much older. His clothes, much like his skin, hung off his bones, symptoms of a sudden weight loss. Everything about him seemed wrinkled, his posture, his suit, and even his thinning fair hair looked as though they had been crumpled into a big ball that had yet to unfurl.
She took a deep breath and then said, “Harlan, Jason needs help.”
Jason’s lips curled into a sneer. “Who are you to tell me what I need?”
“Be quiet,” Harlan snapped.
Harlan’s reaction caught Sophia by surprise. This was the first time he’d censured his son. One glance at Jason’s face told her he was equally astonished.
She seized the moment to say her piece. “Jason, you were too drunk to drive, and you admitted as much to the police. It was only an act of God”—or incompetence—“that has given you a second chance.”
“What do you mean?” The youngster’s voice still held a hint of bravado, but he wasn’t as confident or aggressive.
“Detective Needham mixed up his cases when he testified. I was fully expecting to have to argue against your admission and your refusal to agree to alcohol testing. I was also planning to bring up your mother’s recent demise and convince the judge to suspend imprisonment, in favor of you completing a court-ordered chemical dependency program.”
“They couldn’t prove I was drunk. I was just tired from studying, and I fell asleep.”
In Sophia’s opinion, that wasn’t much better, but she wasn’t going there. Instead, she opened the police report and pointed to the paragraph that proved his guilt. “Quote, ‘I’ve been drinking. Thank God, I didn’t kill anyone.’ End quote. Jason, try and see this for what it is…a second chance.”
“She’s right.” Harlan seemed to be struggling with his son. She had seen it before. It wasn’t that he didn’t care, but he was dealing with his own torment and had no idea how to help Jason.
Sophia couldn’t say she had an answer on how to cope with such a profound loss. Her parents were alive and well and living out their dream of self-sufficiency on ten acres of land west of Missoula. “Harlan, as your attorney, I should stick to legal matters but, in this case, I’m going to make an exception. Get therapy—both of you.” She slid a business card across the desk. “Here’s the number of a counselor who comes highly recommended.”
Jason shook his head.
She wasn’t ready to admit defeat. “What would your mom say if you killed someone?”
The teen looked at his hands as his chin wobbled.
“You both need to talk to a therapist. I suggest you look at this as an opportunity to get your life on track.”
Ten minutes later, Sophia watched them from her office window. Jason’s head hung as his father urged him into their new model Mercedes. All the money in the world couldn’t stop an eighteen year old from missing his mother.
Given their situation, she would’ve taken the case for free, but the Squints were wealthy people and could easily afford her services. Their check would go into her pro bono fund, which was the heart and soul of her work as a defense lawyer. To make a real difference, she wanted to represent people who wouldn’t be able to afford an attorney of her ability. The money would help pay for scientific testing, specialized experts, or hiring a private investigator. Every extra penny she earned went into an account to help the wrongly accused.
“You took advantage.” Detective Mateo Ramirez of the Granite City-Elkhead County police department stood in the doorway of her office. He was dressed in a crisp white shirt and a gray tie that matched his gray dress pants. His short-cropped black hair was, as always, perfectly combed. He was the sexiest man she had ever encountered. She wished he were an idiot, the type of man who was pretty but had the brain of a gnat. Unfortunately, he was also the most intelligent detective in the department. The man was a stud with a capitol S.
She fluttered her eyelashes, playing dumb just to annoy him, as she relaxed into her office chair. “I did?”
“You knew Detective Needham mixed up the cases, and you said nothing.” He slammed her office door shut and then marched to her desk, his movement’s fluid and smooth. It was like watching Michelangelo's David in motion. She itched to touch his warm skin and feel the rush of desire when his clever hands reciprocated but contained her response. They had ended their relationship twelve years ago because of irreconcilable differences, and nothing in their recent history suggested they could get along.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He was obviously referring to Jason Squint, but baiting him was too much fun to resist.
He stalked around her desk, his steps stiff and controlled as though he was forcing himself to slow down. He stopped and placed his hands on either side of her office chair, trapping her.
She should be scared, but instead she was exhilarated. This was Mateo. As much as she worked to irritate him, she knew he would never hurt her. He just didn’t like her. Any affection he’d had for her had disappeared, replaced by obvious disapproval.
That was fine with her. She felt nothing but disdain and resentment for him, so she figured they were even on that score. It gave her unending joy to defeat him on the stand or beat him at their little game of who could antagonize whom the most.
And yet a small traitorous part of her still yearned for him. Especially when she saw fire in his dark eyes, smelt his musky aftershave, or watched him move with a grace and economy that took her breath away.
Heat coursed through Mateo’s veins as it always did whenever she was around. Her large, luminous green eyes, her upturned nose, and her smooth skin always disturbed him, throwing him off balance. He reined in his physical reaction. She was one of the most gifted lawyers he had ever encountered and could have had a career with any prosecuting attorney’s office. But no, she had to practice as a defense attorney. It wasn’t logical, but it felt like she had betrayed him. It was as though she had gone out of her way to hurt him.
“You should’ve told Needham he’d mixed up the cases.”
She stared at him as though he’d lost his mind. “That’s crazy. It’s not my job to do his thinking for him.” She rocked back in her chair.
He either had to release his hold on the armrests or end up in her lap. He chose to stand.
She placed her feet on her desk. The action made her skirt slip up her thighs, revealing the top of her stockings.
He imagined running his hand over her pale, silky flesh. Back in the day, she’d had the sexiest underwear collection, and from the look of things, that hadn’t changed. Blood surged to his penis. He thumped the desk, burying his unwelcome attraction. “Bullshit. You have a responsibility—”
“No. I have a responsibility to my client.” Her smug look told him she felt no remorse for letting a dangerous kid back onto the streets.
“You should at least have—”
“If you cared that much about the case, you should have gone to court yourself.” She crossed her ankles. Was it an intentional attempt to distract him? Maybe make him remember what it felt like to have her long, luscious legs wrapped around his waist.
She gave him a knowing smile. She was playing with him. She knew he had a physical weakness for her and was using it to confuse him.
He shook his head, denying not only her charge, but also his own emotional turmoil. “It wasn’t my—”
“Bull.” She sat up straighter in her chair. Her skirt hitched farther up her legs. “You were off duty when you came upon the scene.”
“We stopped to help a fellow officer.” He glanced at her breasts. Her nipples pressed against a plain white blouse that wasn’t sexy or revealing in any way, yet was somehow more enticing than her lace stockings. He licked his dry lips. He had to keep his mind on the case. “There’s nothing wrong with that?”
“Right, but why is your partner testifying in a case that clearly belongs to the patrolling officer?”
He bent over her, closing the short distance between them so they were inches apart. “The kid was drunk.”
She li
fted her chin, meeting his gaze, not backing down. “He’d just lost his mother. Where’s your compassion?”
His nose was almost touching hers. “Where’s your compassion for the woman whose house he wrecked when he swerved off the road and drove into it?”
“She has house insurance and she can sue. No one was hurt.”
“What about next time?” He was very aware of her scent, honey mixed with apples. God, he wanted to taste her.
“There won’t be a next time.” She snapped out the words like a volley from a rifle.
“You have an answer for everything. If I had any sense, I would shut you up,” he replied in the same tone. Her body, her mouth, even his own anger, were getting to him. He should back away, but he couldn’t.
“I dare you,” she whispered, her lips almost touching his.
He kissed her. She was the most frustrating, dangerous, sexy woman he had ever met. And she was kissing him back. Her hands wrapped around his neck, tugging him down, deepening the kiss as her tongue dipped into his mouth. How had he lived without her, without this, for so long?
He placed his hands around her waist and hoisted her out of the chair, aligning their bodies, pressing his erect penis against the apex of her thighs.
She moaned and wrapped her legs around him as she rotated her pelvis, driving him out of control. He explored her mouth with his tongue. He ran his hands over the soft flesh of her upper thighs, then her butt, and up to her breasts, frantic to touch every inch of her. Everything was familiar, but at the same time new and exciting. He sat her on the desk and broke the kiss.
When she looked up at him, her eyes were glazed with passion. He was lost. It was as if all their resentment and anger about their past had coalesced into this one charged moment. And their sexual desire that they had both buried would no longer stay hidden.
