I strongly suspect heroes don’t lie awake at night hearing screams in the silence.
My chest aches. I press the heel of my hand against my sternum, as if I can push the feeling back down where it belongs.
I force myself to shake off Maria’s ghost, and grab my keys. Stoneheart was supposed to be my fresh start. Small-town law, filled with property disputes and parking tickets. Nothing that could get anyone killed.
Then the Stoneheart MC walked through my door with a cartel problem, and suddenly I was right back in it—the danger, the stakes, the adrenaline rush of fighting for something bigger than myself.
At least the work makes sense. The work I can handle.
It’s the rest of it—the way Stone’s voice drops when he says my name, the heat in his eyes when he thinks I’m not looking, the goddamnwe can’tthat shouldn’t hurt as much as it does—that I can’t seem to get a grip on.
You came here for boring, remember? Small-town law. Zoning disputes. Not falling for a motorcycle club president. Get it together, Bright.
I tuck my papers into my brief case and lock up.
Tomorrow. I’ll get over him tomorrow.
Pity I’ve been telling myself that for months.
The night air is warm, carrying the last breath of summer and the faint smell of cut grass. Crickets chirp somewhere nearby as I lock the office door, checking it twice out of habit, and head for my car—a sensible silver Honda that has seen better days but still gets me from point A to point B without complaint.
My phone buzzes. Not a text this time—a call. The name on the screen makes my stomach flip.
Stone
I consider letting it go to voicemail, but he’s still a client. And I’m still his lawyer.
I answer. “Stone.”
“Josie.” His voice is rough, urgent in a way that makes my chest tighten. “Where are you?”
“Just leaving the office. Why?”
“I have a problem. One of the prospects got into a tangle over at Ole Killa. He’s been arrested.”
My heart rate kicks up. “What are they charging him with?”
“Aggravated assault. He was protecting a woman who was being harassed and only hit when the other guy took a swing. Pity for him, the guy went down hard and happens to be rich.”
I curse softly, clicking the lock on my car door. My whole body aches with exhaustion. I was looking forward to ripping off my bra and finishing my briefs in front of the TV, but I’m already mentally reshuffling my night. The paperwork can wait, that kid can’t. “Okay, I’ll head over and?—”
“I’m coming to get you.”
I slide into the car, tossing my briefcase on the passenger seat. “That’s not necessary. I can meet you at?—”
“I’ll be at your place in fifteen minutes.”
“Stone.” I pinch the bridge of my nose, irritation flaring. This is so typical—him making decisions without consulting anyone, assuming everyone will just fall in line. “I’m perfectly capable of driving myself.”
“Josie.” The way he says my name—low and serious—sends a shiver down my spine that I absolutely refuse to acknowledge. “It’s after ten. I’m gonna assume you’re running on caffeine and fumes. Let me come get you.”
The man isn’t wrong. My eyes are gritty, my shoulders are screaming, and I can’t remember if I ate lunch or just thought about eating lunch. I’d love to ignore this, but there’s a kid sitting in a cell right now, scared and alone, and I’ve never been able to turn my back on someone who needs help. It’s a flaw, honestly. The inability to say no when someone’s in trouble. It’s going to kill me one of these days.
I blow out a sigh. “Anyone ever tell you, you’re a bossy bastard?”
He chuckles. “You’re the only one brave enough to bust my balls, honey.”
I close my eyes, hating how my body reacts to his endearment.
