“I bet Nessa has done it. She could give you some tips.”
“Do not tell anyone, especially her. No offense but that girl is anything but subtle.”
We laugh again. Joking about it has lightened my mood somewhat. It helps to have someone to talk to, even if her advice isn’t helping solve the problem.
“I need to get home and go to bed, and pray that my body works when I wake up. I also need to find a gym nearer to home.”
“You’d cheat on me?” Wave asks sternly.
“Not my fault you built this place miles away.”
“What, ten minutes from where I live? Howdiabolicalof me.”
We both get up, she gathers her things and we walk out to our cars. I’m not surprised to see one of the prospects waiting in the lot. Wave sighs at the sight of him.
“Working late means an escort,” she explains.
She doesn’t acknowledge him as we go to our cars, used to Hudson’s ways by now. She might not like it, but she won’t tell him to stop. He has good reasons to make sure she’s safe when he can’t be there.
As much as bikers hate ‘cages’ as they call them, Hudson made sure the car Waverley drives is a tank, practically impenetrable once she’s locked inside. My Mercedes is dwarfed beside it.
We say goodnight and I make another long journey home. By the time I crawl into bed, I can already feel my muscles seizing up. That is another pain I’m going to have to endure tomorrow.
Nothing is as bad as figuring out what the hell I’m supposed to do about Eli and Mace.
Somehow, I manage to convince Harry to let me work from home today, the alternative was a PTO day, of which I’m owed a lot because I never take time off. He agreed it was best I’m at least still working, and available if required.
He doesn’t need to know it takes me an age to move every time I try to stand up. Another thing I can blame on Eli and Mace, not even in a fun way.
It’s given me time to look over the court filings from the Dempsey case. I refuse to refer to it by his name anymore. Reading the complaints only makes me hate him more. None of these, as horrible as it sounds, are as bad as what Cara suffered. The stalking and terrorizing, theallegedSA, as it’s continually referred to, on their first date.
The more I read about it, the more depressed I get. Moving away from my desk, I sit by the window and draw my legs up on the sofa, flipping through Cara’s statement again. An idea is forming. It’s wrong, and I shouldn’t do it, but I want to talk to her. Woman to woman. It would be a huge mistake, Cara won’t want to talk to me, she sees me as the enemy, rightly so.
Reading her words reminds me of the night I hit the SOS app when I was with him. It started out with dinner, she was excited that a man like him was interested in her. That’s where we differ, but maybe that’s because I’m a cold bitch when it comes to men.
Eli’s face flashes behind my eyes and I push him out with a curse. There is no way I can think of him being sweet and kind and telling me he is walking away because I can’t be what he wants. Or the man holding my head in place while another fucks my throat.
“Shit,” I put down the papers.
Cara deserves my full attention. Not me thinking about my problems while reading her terrible story. I call the investigator and run through what he’s found out about the new complainants, he’s discredited one of them but two others he can’t find anything to refute their story, or their characters.
This guy has got my company on some kind of leash, he has a relative here but there has to be more to it than that, surely they can all see what kind of man he is. My brain starts to focus more on the strategy her attorney is using.
The wording in their court documents is left open to interpretation and rebuttal in parts. It’s like they’re inexperienced and don’t realize any defense attorney worth their salt can jump all over, never mind through the holes in different areas.
I’m not saying that affordable attorney’s don’t know what they’re doing but she really needs someone else behind her, someone bigger who can take us on.
How am I even thinking this? What’s worse, I’m already thinking two steps ahead. And how I can help her, without technically helping her. A while ago, an investigative journalist helped out the club with a problem they were having, somewhat similar to this.
She had no clue she was helping the MC. I’m not sure how War got in touch with her but it shouldn’t be too hard to find out. Putting this case on her radar might help. I tap my bottom lip and stare at the wall.
I could be disbarred for this.
It’s not just my job I’d lose, I’d be no use to the Devil’s Chaos. Jeopardizing that isn’t an option.
But… If there is one thing the MC can be, it’s discrete, at times so secretive that only a select few people are aware of what is going on, even within the club.
The police report Cara made after her assault is lying on top of the pile. Her accusation is plain as day, yet no criminal offenses were brought, because Roderick has the money to buy anyone off.
