by Avelyn Paige
I feign ignorance. “Who?”
He leans in closer. “Randall McDade. He was the legal guardian of those kids. But lo-and-behold, he’s missing.”
“Aaron,” Grace chides from behind him, but he ignores her.
“How did you get involved in this, Grant? How did you come into possession of two teenage kids with a dead addict for a mother, and an uncle who’s suddenly MIA?”
I glare at him, but I don’t answer.
“Aaron, let me talk to him.”
Fuckface’s jaw hardens, but he doesn’t look her way. Instead, he attempts to stare holes into my head with his eyeballs. But, since that’s not possible, he basically just sits there, looking like an asshole.
“Where’s my lawyer?”
“On his way,” Grace answers, having to lean around Aaron for me to see her face. “Your buddy… what’s his name? Mom? He said to let you know he called the lawyer, and he’s on his way.”
I watch her, surprised she told me that at all, considering the situation at the moment.
“I want to talk to Miss Halfpenny, alone,” I tell Officer Douchebag.
“Over my dead body, Grant. This is an investigation.”
“Into what?” I growl. “I don’t even know what the fuck you’re talking about. You showed up on club property, threatening to shoot us all, and not once did you explain yourself. So, tell me, Nipple Dick, what the fuck are you investigating?”
His nostrils flare. “We have a report of a missing person, and we believe you know something about that.”
“Are you charging me with something?”
He’s got nothing, and he fucking knows it.
“I want to talk to Miss Halfpenny,” I repeat.
Officer Cockstroker leans in real close, his nose nearly touching mine. “Not happening.”
I roll my eyes. I could snap this asshole like a twig if I weren’t in handcuffs. “Nice little pet ya got here, Halfpenny. Do you get him to arrest all loving parents that care for the kids you’re looking into?”
Grace blinks, her pouty lips parting in surprise.
“I don’t,” she says after a moment, and then pushes a paper toward me to read. “I’ve been in contact with a man who claims to be Natalie and Kevin’s biological father. A paternity test needs to be done to confirm, but if he is who he says he is, those children cannot stay with you, Mr. Grant.”
She may as well have sucker punched me right in the heart. “Father? But they don’t have a father.”
She shrugs, looking almost apologetic. “I’m looking into it, but you aren’t making it easy for me to do my job.”
“Fuck your job,” I snap. “Your job is to take those kids out of a happy home and stuff ’em in with some stranger they don’t even know.”
“Not a stranger,” she clarifies. “Their father.”
“He’s a fucking stranger to them. They don’t even know his damn name.”
Grace purses her lips, and for the first time, I think I see her waver. She does everything so by the book, always carrying herself with an air of professionalism rarely seen nowadays, but her demeanor is slipping. She looks unsure.
There’s a knock at the door before it cracks open. “Mr. Grant’s lawyer is here,” the officer announces.
Fuckface sighs, but my eyes remain locked with Grace’s. “Let him in.”
Walking into the room, Earl Jenkins informs Grace and Fuckface, “I’ll need thirty minutes with my client.” God love Earl. He’s been the lawyer for this club for years now, always running to our rescue when one of us finds ourselves on the wrong side of the law. And he’s got Fuckface stuck between a rock and a hard place with nowhere to go.
Fuckboy glares at me before finally shoving away from the table and moving toward the door. Grace bows her head in disappointment, but also gets up and follows him out of the room.
I look up at Earl. “Please tell me the guys found my kids.”
Earl claps a hand on my shoulder. “They’re good,” he assures me. “Hashtag found them at his place with his kid.”
Of course he did. Kevin wouldn’t go anywhere without Hashtag’s daughter, Hayden. The anxiety that had been brimming over the surface disappears almost entirely at this news.
“Good,” I reply. “Now, how the fuck are you gonna get me outta here?”
Grace
After the last few days, a quiet evening at home in my favorite yoga pants is just the thing I need to clear my head. And a glass of wine. A big one. Maybe the entire bottle.
I have never been this conflicted about a case at any point in my professional career. I’ve been forced to sit back and watch as the justice system pulls families apart, one right after another. But in this case, I just don’t know what to do with it. It’s all piling on top of me, pulling me in opposite directions. Now with the kids missing, it’s all imploding.
Tyson Jackson.
Eugene Grant.
The Tucker kids.
My boss.
Aaron.
Well, for the latter, that’s done. But Eugene Grant? I don’t even know how to unpack all the baggage with him. He’s a dangerous man with dangerous friends, but his care of Natalie and Kevin is out of left field from what little I know about him. His eyes never strayed from mine as Aaron attempted to grill him about the kids and their missing uncle. Aaron was so focused on his club affiliation, he never noticed the softness in his eyes when he talked about the kids. He loves them, I’m sure of that, but their father is out there.
Legally, the father has the stronger case. Though, if it weren’t my case, I don’t think I’d agree with the courts after seeing his background check. He’s been to jail. I’d have made the case that he had been rehabilitated, but the pending assault charge at the bottom of the report tells me otherwise. Putting those kids into his custody would only ensure they would spend the rest of their lives in a broken, unsettled home. I can’t let that happen. But how can I stand in front of a judge and demand that someone with no blood ties is the better match than a blood relative?
What am I going to do?
My head falls onto my hand when a knock sounds at the door. Shifting off of my couch, I grab my wallet from the kitchen bar top when I pass before opening the door.
“Must be a slow night. I didn’t expect you so soon,” I mumble, shuffling through my wallet for a couple of tens. When I look up, a pair of dark eyes stare down at me. My jaw drops in shock. Eugene Grant is here. At my house.
“We need to talk.”
“How did you find out where I live?” My voice shakes, but somehow, I don’t think it’s from fear. He smirks when he notices.
“I know a guy. Can I come in?”
“You’re here alone?”
“My club doesn’t follow me like lost sheep, Grace.” The way he says my name sends a shiver down my spine. Half excitement, half confusion. “I want to talk to you about Kevin and Natalie. In private.”
“Do you know where they are?”
“We’ll get to that.” If he’s here, he has to know where they are. If they were still missing, there’s not a doubt in my mind he’d be out there looking for them.
I step back and wave him inside. His boots thump heavily on the floor while I close the door behind us. Alone. In my house. Please, don’t let this be a mistake.
He turns in a circle. “Nice place. Suits you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“The style of the place. It’s a little rough around the edges, but a classic beauty.” I blink. Is he hitting on me? He steps closer, nearly pinning me between the door and his body, the smell of his woodsy cologne filling the surrounding air. “I like your hair when it’s down.”
“You said you wanted to talk about Kevin and Natalie.” I force down the lump in my throat. His closeness sets me on edge. His compliments even more so. In a good way, I think. Too good.
“I do.”
I try to deflect. “Why don’t we sit down, then?” Sliding out from between the door and
his body, I walk over to the couch. Eugene follows me closely, and when he sits down, the springs creak under his frame. He shifts a few times before finally settling.
“Sorry. My furniture isn’t really built for a big guy like you.”
He laughs. “Most aren’t.”
I reach for a notebook on the coffee table, but his large hand reaches out to stop me, the roughness of his skin caressing mine.
“This has to be off the record.”
“Okay,” I respond, pulling away from his touch.
He takes a deep breath. “My club saved Kevin and Natalie from a sex trafficking ring a few months ago.”
The world around me stills as his words sink in.
“One of my guys found out a local trafficking ring had taken his daughter, and we traced her kidnapping back to Kevin.”
“Kevin… he did that?” How could a boy his age be involved in such a thing? He’s barely a teenager. It can’t be true.
“He didn’t have a choice. It was the uncle, the one reported missing. The one your little cop friend grilled me about yesterday? He took in the kids when their mom died. Turns out, he was a sex trafficker, and saw a prime new candidate in Natalie. Randall made Kevin a deal, that if he brought him new girls, he wouldn’t sell her.”
My hand flies to my mouth. “Oh my God!”
“He did it, and his last target was the daughter of one of my men. We tracked them down and rescued her and the kids.”
“What about their uncle, Randall? You told the police you didn’t know anything about him.”
“He won’t be bothering the kids anymore.”
“You mean, you…”
“He’s not a threat.”
He killed him. There’s not a doubt in my mind. The Black Hoods rescued the kids and took him out like yesterday’s trash on dumpster day. Justifiable as it was, it’s still murder. There’s a murderer on my couch. A flipping killer. Aaron was right.
“That’s why they’re with you.”
“Yes. They needed a safe place to recover, and I had an empty house with no one in it.”
“I don’t understand. Why would you want to take on two kids in, well, your line of work, I guess you could call it?”
“I was a dad for just a short while before I lost my son. I’ve been alone for a long time, and Kevin and Natalie need someone who will protect them. I want to give them a good life, a happy life. One where they don’t have to worry that someone is going to rip them away again.” His honesty shines through his dark eyes, like he’s giving me a piece of his soul.
Why is he telling me this now? Why tell me about his club’s dealings with the trafficking ring? I’m an outsider to their world. An outsider who has the authority to take those kids away from him.
“Why didn’t you call the police?”
His eyes narrow. “I think you know why. All I care about is that they’re safe, and they were until DFPS got involved.”
“You mean, me.”
“Yes. I know you’re just doing your job, but these kids are fine with me. They’re happy. I can give them the life they deserve with a big family that loves them.”
“By family, you mean your club. A group of violent vigilantes.”
His body stiffens before I get the last word out.
“If that’s what you want to call my club, sure. But we do what the police won’t. We protect our own, and those who can’t protect themselves. So, if you want to label us vigilantes, have at it. It doesn’t change a fucking thing.” His voice is almost a growl.
“It’s illegal.”
“There’s a lot of illegal things that happen every single day, but you don’t see those people trying to clean up the streets or save three innocent kids from a life of abuse, do you? Surely you can understand that.”
“I do, and I don’t. I’m bound by the law to protect children. You’re lawless. You do as you please without consequences.”
“There are plenty of consequences, Grace. It’s just not us who has to pay the ferryman.”
“So what happens to Kevin and Natalie when your club gets mixed up in something, putting them in the crosshairs?”
His face changes. “It’ll never happen,” he states matter-of-factly. “Those kids will never be in harm’s way.”
“You can’t guarantee that. You know you can’t. I know you think you can provide a great life for those kids, but there’s always going to be someone out there who wants revenge for something your club did. They’ll be the ones who are hurt in the end.”
“They won’t. When you love two people as much as I love those kids, I’d put myself in the line of fire to protect them, and so would my club. They’re a part of us now. If you’d give me a chance, you’d see that too.”
“I can’t just give chances away like that. The courts decide the cases, and I just investigate them. I have no power.”
“You have more power than you think.”
If he only knew the truth. I’m powerless. I always have been. Helping kids is all I’ve wanted to do, but I’m not a judge. I’m not an attorney. I’m the bad guy who rips families apart, along with my own heart.
“Do you trust me?” he asks.
I blink, unsure of how to answer. Finally, I decide that in this case, honesty is the best policy. “I don’t know how I could.”
“Just try. I need you to come with me.”
“You want me to come with you, right now? At this hour?”
“Yes. I need you to understand what I’m trying to tell you. The only way you can do that is to come with me.”
I consider his proposal. Riding off into the night with this man isn’t smart, but there’s something about his honesty that makes a part of me feel safe around him. I’ve always been on the hunt for the answers in my cases and going with him may be my only shot at finding Natalie and Kevin. With a deep sigh, I send up a silent prayer.
“I’ll get my jacket.”
Judge
“I’m not getting on that,” she says as I hand her my helmet. “I’ll just take my car and follow you.”
Laughing, I place it on her head. “You’ll love it. Might even loosen you up a little.”
The helmet sits on top of her bun, making it look uncomfortable. Lifting it off, she holds it under one arm and uses the other to pull out one hairpin after another, letting it fall around her shoulders in long, loose curls.
As I watch her run her fingers through them, I have to force myself to remain cool. Her hair smells fruity and fresh. Though I wouldn’t normally think of fruity as a sexy scent, coming from her, it most definitely is. Grace is a looker, even with that tight ass bun. But her hair curling around her shoulders makes her look like a fucking angel.
“There.” With a self-conscious smirk, she puts the helmet back on. I still can’t move. All I can do is watch her fingers work at the strap beneath her chin and wonder how I never noticed before just how good she smells.
Shifting on her feet, she arches her brow. “Is something wrong?”
I blink, clearing my mind of wanting to press my nose into her neck and breathing in her scent. “Nah, we’re good,” I say as I climb onto my motorcycle. I start it up, bringing the roaring engine to life before turning to Grace. “Hop on!”
Sinking her teeth into her bottom lip, she looks at the seat behind me. Her lips move, as if she’s mumbling to herself. Then finally, she nods and places her hands on my shoulders as she swings her leg over the seat.
It’s been a long fucking time since I’ve had a woman on the seat behind me, and none of them had ever molded to me as perfectly as Grace’s tiny form does. Her breasts press against my back as her thighs settle along either side of my hips, allowing me to feel her heat.
Jesus, Judge. You need to get laid. And fast.
The ride to the clubhouse takes about fifteen minutes. Kevin and Natalie are outside with GP’s old lady, Blair, and their dog, Walter. They all pause in their game of fetch and watch as I back my motorcycle at the front of the line, thei
r faces frozen in shock.
Kevin’s face twists in confusion. And maybe even betrayal. “What’s she doing here?” he asks.
Taking Grace’s hand, I help her off the seat. Her cheeks are pink from the ride, and her hair is wild beneath the helmet.
Once she’s on her feet, I take her hand, completely ignoring how soft her skin is, and lead her toward the kids.
Walter, likely sensing the tension in the air, presses against Blair’s leg and growls. Walter was a rescue from a dog fighting ring last year, and his looks are the scariest part of him. He doesn’t trust easily, but he’ll defend who he loves to the death.
“Why is she here?” Kevin asks again.
I hold up a hand to stop him. “Relax, bud. I brought her here to talk. To talk to all of us. Thought maybe we could tell her our story.”
Kevin glares at us both. “No. I’m not telling this bitch anything. Come on, Nat.” Grabbing his sister’s hand, he goes to drag her away.
“Kevin,” I bark out, stopping him in his tracks. “I know you’re trying to protect your sister, but you gotta trust me on this. Let me protect the both of you.”
“Kevin?” Grace calls. “I promise you, whatever you tell me tonight will stay between us.”
“Bullshit.”
“Hey!” I know he’s feeling betrayed, but I don’t like the way he’s talking to Grace.
“It’s okay,” Grace says, placing her soft hand on my arm as she focuses on Kevin. “I was an orphan too,” she tells him. “I’ve been through a lot. I could tell you stories that would keep you up at night. And when I became a social worker, it was to help kids like me—kids like the both of you—and make sure none of them had to go through any of the stuff I did.”
None of us speak. All of us—even Walter—are staring at Grace. As prim and proper as she might seem, I’d never once stopped to consider how she’d gotten to be that way. I’d never thought about her past or her history, or what made her hide herself behind a pencil skirt and an old-school marm hairdo.
