“Yes.” This time it’s Hawk who speaks, getting up as well. “He was arrested last night and held briefly at the eighteenth district station, but they transferred him to Cook County Jail early this morning. You’ll likely only get a few minutes to talk to him before the hearing this afternoon.”
“Right.” I nod, packing my things into my bag and slinging it onto my shoulder. I don’t bother telling them that I don’t need much time to talk to the client. A few minutes with Cole Maddox is all I need.
“Do you have a ride, Miss Halloway?” Hawk offers as we step out of the office.
“I can just take the L,” I respond, distracted, my thoughts already on the case. “I’m fine, thanks.”
“Hey, I don’t mind giving you a ride to the county jail. I can get you there faster on my motorcycle than any car could.”
That gives me pause. “Motorcycle?”
He grins. “Yes, I promise you it’s safer than most people think.”
I’ve never been on a motorcycle before, and the thought scares me as much as it excites me. “Um, sure. If you don’t mind.”
“It’s not a problem.”
Few words are exchanged between me and the men as I lock up my office and follow them to the elevator. When we arrive at the two motorcycles parked on the curb in front of the building, Hawk passes me a helmet and climbs onto one of the large bikes, nodding for me to climb on behind him. I clutch my bag to my chest and—grateful that I wore dress pants today rather than a skirt—I manage to get on behind him. I keep the bag between us as we ride, and as the city flies past us, I realize for the first time why anyone would choose this over a car.
There’s a sense of incredible freedom, like driving in a convertible but faster.
Hawk was right, and we arrive at the county jail in less than ten minutes. It would have taken me at least half an hour on public transportation. I thank him as I climb off and briskly walk away, my mind already turning from the exhilarating ride to the case I’ve just taken and the client I’m about to meet.
A Steel Rebel.
Christ, the Rebels are scary enough on their own. I can’t imagine meeting and dealing with one who’s served time. If he’s anything like Saint with his glaring eyes, then I’ll need to get through this part real fast. There are only so many angry men I can deal with in a single day.
There’s a slight tremor in my body as I sign in with security and a few minutes later, I’m led to a meeting room. I try to envision the man I’m about to meet. Large, angry, dark eyes, a scowl on his face, and a little disdain for the law. Will he be okay with the attorney his friends picked for him? Or like my father, will he think I’m not tough enough just because I’m a woman?
Focus, Maeve.
The fluorescent lights hum overhead as I sit at a metal table bolted to the floor. I start tapping my feet restlessly, eager to get this part of the process over with, but then realize I’m doing it and quickly stifle the anxious habit. Visiting clients in jail never made me as nervous as it did some of my colleagues during my internship, but something about this case has me feeling jittery.
“Inmate Maddox, your attorney’s here.”
I bolt up from my seat as the door opens, and I hold my breath as I wait to see the man I’m going to spend the next couple of minutes with.
Then he steps in, and I find myself momentarily breathless. Speechless.
My pulse quickens as I focus on him and take in every detail of my client.
He’s tall, imposing, just like I imagined. His frame fills the doorway and commands attention. The sleeves of his beige uniform are rolled up, revealing arms sculpted with muscles and covered in a tapestry of tattoos, but instead of the nerves and fear I experienced with the other Rebels, I feel a flutter in my stomach as my eyes drift to his face.
His hair is black with just the slightest bits of silver starting to show, neatly styled with a closely trimmed beard that’s also starting to turn salt-and-pepper. A scar on his neck catches the dim light as it disappears into his shirt.
I watch him as his eyes scan the room, and I don’t realize that I’m holding my breath until those eyes move to me and I swear I forget how to breathe. His eyes are a striking shade of dark blue, and when they run over my body in a careless and curious study, my heart leaps in my chest.
Those eyes stay locked on mine for what feels like eternity, and I watch with surprise as a slow smile spreads across his face, making a dimple appear. A small indentation that sends a rush of warmth through me.
“Well.” He chuckles as he starts walking toward me, and I instinctively take a step back. “Looks like they sent me a pretty one this time.”
“Mr. Maddox—”
“Trigger,” he says with a smile, extending his hand for me to shake. “If we’re going to spend time together, I prefer you call me Trigger.”
I swallow hard and stare at the hand—that massive, veined hand—before slowly sliding mine to his. I’m not overly surprised by the shiver that rolls through my body, or the heat that settles in my core at the contact. His eyes are deeply amused, almost like he can tell the effect his closeness has on me.
“I’m Maeve Halloway, your lawyer.” As I take in the expression on his face, forcing myself to meet those stormy blue eyes, I note that underneath the easy smile is the kind of danger my father warned me about.
