The kind of fire that calls you with its warmth seconds before it burns you to a crisp.
Chapter Two
Trigger
This feels like the universe’s idea of a cruel joke.
I could almost taste the freedom as my parole was coming to an end, and then it was yanked from my grasp in the cruelest of ways. And just as I was mentally preparing myself to spend what’s left of my life in prison, they send me the most gorgeous little lawyer I’ve ever seen.
A delicious treat for a starving man.
Fuck, I’ve been out of prison for four years. Not once in those years did I come across someone half as pretty as my little attorney here, and now that I’m about to lose my freedom, here she is.
It’s a middle finger from the universe. One of many that I’ve been receiving.
She sits down, all business, and opens my file. “We’ve got twenty minutes, maybe less…”
Four years of playing by the rules. It stung not being part of some of the missions at the club, but my brothers didn’t want to risk me getting arrested and violating my parole. But all the caution in the world didn’t stop me from being framed. Again.
“…They’ll call your case this afternoon. Judge Conway. She’s sharp, not sentimental, so she won’t buy into sob stories. We’ll need something solid. Work history, family, anything that will make you look less of a flight risk.”
Where the hell would I go? I grew up in this city, and ever since I left the Marines, the Steel Rebels have been my family, but maybe I should have skipped town the second they let me out of prison. I would have been a fugitive, sure, but I wouldn’t be dealing with any of this shit now.
“You’ll be tempted to jump in and protest your guilt, but this is not about guilt. Not yet. It’s about whether you walk out today, or spend a couple months in a holding cell. I’ll argue for a release, and I need you to remain silent unless Judge Conway asks you something directly.”
I should have killed him. The man who sent me to prison ten years ago. If I’d killed the fucking cop back then, then he wouldn’t have put me in this fucking position again.
A soft touch pulls me out of my dark thoughts, and I drop my eyes to the hand that’s now resting over my fisted hands on the metal table. It’s a delicate hand with long fingers and neat, unpainted nails, and somehow it quiets the demons in my head. I stare at her hand for long seconds before lifting my eyes to her face.
Christ, she sure is a treat for the eyes.
Maeve Halloway is a vision of understated beauty. Her strawberry-blond hair is neatly styled, framing a face that’s both delicate and captivating. Her eyes, a striking shade of green, meet mine without fear, and I find myself drawn into their depths. There’s a certain innocence about her, a freshness that contrasts sharply with the harsh realities of places like this.
Every lawyer I’ve come across has a shark-like air about them. It’s shows first on their face, and then even more when they open their mouth, but with her…it’s not like that. Her features are set in a firm expression that I find strangely endearing. Like she has something to prove. But the color on her cheeks betrays a kind of nervous energy. Almost excitement.
Oh, who am I kidding?
I want her.
Of course I would be attracted to the one woman beyond my reach. Someone way out of my grasp. She’s what—twenty-three? Twenty-four? Christ, at thirty-eight, that would make me nearly fifteen years older than her. I’m a sick man for looking at her as anything other than what she is. My attorney.
But she’s still touching me. Her hand is still resting over mine and I can’t stop thinking about the warmth of her skin. A line has been crossed, and isn’t it ironic that a beast like me wasn’t the one to make the first move?
“I’ll get you out,” she says with such conviction that I can’t help but smile. Such naïve confidence. Yeah, I was that naïve once too, but that was before I was shoved into a six-by-eight cell. That was before I lost six years of my life to that fucking hellhole. “You’ll get bail, I promise you.”
She keeps her hand lightly on mine, a comforting presence. I watch her as she speaks, losing myself in the warmth of her voice, and I nearly growl at the knock on the door that interrupts our session.
“We need to head down to court, but don’t worry,” she says. “You’ll be free soon.”
I want to believe her.
As the handcuffs are snapped around my wrists again, I allow myself to imagine what would happen were I to meet Maeve outside of these walls. Someone as pretty as her would probably never glance my way. Or she’d run away screaming at the top of her lungs if she spotted me walking toward her down the street.
The women who want me are typically as much trouble as I am. Isn’t that how I ended up in this situation in the first place?
I shake off the thought as I’m escorted to the van along with a few others. The somber looks on their faces tell me that most of us know we’ll be coming back to this hellhole after our hearings. It’s a song and dance we’ve played before, and I don’t have much faith that my pretty little attorney can save me from my fate.
We arrive at the courthouse and are led to a holding area. One by one, the cases are called, and I watch the men walk out with hopeful looks on their faces but return with a mix of anger and helplessness, feelings I understand all too well. Feelings I’m almost numb to at this point.
