“The fuck you did!” Saint starts pacing around the office, growing more agitated by the second. “You spent nearly ten years serving this country in the Marines. That fucking cop was the reason you were stripped of your Medal of Honor and everything else you worked hard for.”
Following his words, a tension sets in the office into which no one dares speak. I knew Maddox had served in the military; it was in his file. I knew he’d been stripped of all his medals after his first conviction, but I hadn’t paid much attention to that as my main focus was to get him out.
Now, staring at the man towering over me, I find myself growing more curious about him. About the life he led before it all fell apart at his feet.
“Is he telling the truth?” My mouth moves before my brain can process the words, and I turn to Trigger. “Are you being framed?”
Would it matter?
Should it?
Trigger’s eyes are calm, his expression blank. There’s no rage, like on his president’s face. No indignation for what he’s been through. “I spent a night with a cop’s ex-wife,” he says, those steel-blue eyes firmly on mine. “Biggest mistake of my life. Is ita coincidence that the same cop showed up at my house with his buddies with a search warrant claiming they’d received an anonymous tip that I was in possession of an unregistered gun? A gun they claimed was used in a robbery.” His lips stretch in a smirk. “How much are you willing to bet it wasn’t a coincidence that the same cop would arrest me for drug possession ten years later? And all this because I fucked his ex-wife. Pardon my language, Miss Halloway.”
No, he’s not as unaffected as he wants everyone to think. I almost would have believed that all this doesn’t bother him, if I weren’t staring right into the man’s eyes.
I believe him. Christ, I don’t know if it’s because Iwanthim to be innocent, but somehow, I believe him.
I was raised to have respect for the system. To believe in it. But I know the system has cracks. I’ve seen people who deserved to be locked up get away scot-free, and I’ve seen innocent people locked up.
“Hmm, okay,” I say, making a note to request the case files and police reports from his first conviction, and the report and police dash cam footage from Trigger being pulled over this time. If someone is going to jail for this case, then it sure as hell will not be Trigger. “Alright, I’m going to do my very best to keep you from going back to prison, I promise you that.”
“Just like that, you believe me?”
“You’re telling the truth, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Then I believe you.”
His brow furrows, and the blank stare slips to reveal something underneath. Something…heated. Something so magnetic it pulls at me. And in the moment, I almost forget that we’re not alone.I want to touch him, run my fingers through his beard, kiss the scar on his throat. I want to bury my face in his neck and breathe him in, close my eyes and just sink deeper into his scent.
Then I’ll kiss him. My first kiss. I’ll give him everything.
The sound of someone clearing their throat is the one thing that stops me from closing the distance between us and doing something as crazy as kissing my client.
Christ, what’s wrong with me?
Maybe I’m just tired. It’s been a heck of a day, and all this has been a lot to take in. That coupled with the turmoil happening in my heart, a raging war between what my body craves and what my mind knows is right.
“Let’s shelve this for another day.” It’s the ever-quiet Hawk who breaks the tense silence. “You did a great job in court today.” I offer him a small smile, surprised that his praise doesn’t affect me the same way Trigger’s did. “Can I offer you a ride home?”
I start to speak, to say that I’ll simply grab a taxi, when Trigger cuts in. “I’ll give her a ride,” he says, his voice leaving no room for argument.
“Well then, have a great evening, Miss Halloway.”
I nod at the men and follow Trigger out. We don’t speak as he leads me to a bank of elevators, or even when we’re inside. I’m too mortified by my reaction back at the office to even look him in the eye. It’s not until the elevator doors open to an underground lot that I allow myself to look up from the floor.
“Oh, wow.”
My mouth opens in surprise at the scene in front of me. Rows and rows of neatly parked bikes are gleaming seductively under the fluorescent light. Trigger leads me down the rows and stops next to a large motorcycle, all black and bronze. There’s nochrome or frills like Hawk’s bike. The Rebels’ insignia etched on the tank is the only thing that connects the man to the club. It’s a beast. And it hums like one.
I smile despite myself when I settle behind the large man and wrap my arms around him. I bite my lip when his T-shirt slips slightly and my fingers connect with his bare skin. My heart jumps in my throat when I touch his abs. He’s strong, solid. And warm. Christ, he’s so warm.
He doesn’t make a move to straighten his shirt and I make none to withdraw my hands, keeping them on his bare skin as he turns his head to ask for my address. I call it out before settling in for the ride.
“Are you ready?” he asks in a low murmur.
“Yeah,” I say, laying my head on his back as he tears from the lot.
