Chapter 16
Harlow
“Hey, Dad!”
“Come here, princess.”
I wrapped my arms around my father and gave him a massive hug. It was so nice to see him after my first full week back at work. I was on cloud nine after my encounter with Fox, I was waiting excitedly for his phone call, and I was about to be treated to a nice lunch by my father.
Life couldn’t get any better than this.
“So, how’s the apartment treating you?” my father asked.
“It’s good. Took the week to get it decorated. No more boxes are lying around, and everything has a place.”
“Sounds exactly like the home I thought my girl would have. Any new additions to furniture?”
“Not yet. I’m looking at desks and bookshelves right now, but I want them to be just right. Sturdy and functional. I want them to be able to go with me, not just cheap furniture I’ll throw out once I move again.”
“Only been in the apartment a week and you’re already thinking about moving? You could always move back home. We’ve got plenty of shelf space there now that your mother has dropped her insane crocheting hobby.”
“Is it really a hobby if she doesn’t actually learn it?” I asked.
“She learned a bit. Enough to make me that lopsided scarf for Christmas.”
“That was three years ago, Dad.”
“Okay, so it wasn’t really a hobby. She liked the yarn, and I wanted to see her smile. So sue me.”
“You set that bar high, Dad. Buying Mom stuff just to see her smile? Men can’t compete with that.”
“Don’t tell me you’re bringing men back to that apartment, young lady,” he said.
“Dad. I’m twenty-three years old. I’m going to date.”
“And dating means he takes you out somewhere. That doesn’t require him coming into the apartment.”
“Okay, Dad. Whatever you say,” I said with a grin. “So, how goes work? Any fun cases lately?” Even though I knew law wasn’t my real passion, I always loved hearing about my father’s cases. When I was younger, he would try and keep me out of it, but now that I was older he would talk to me about them as much as he was allowed to.
“Just the one I’ve been working on.”
“That one still? Haven’t you had that same case for, like, months now?”
“Almost five months, yes. But it’s a big one, and it requires the bulk of my attention.”
“What’s it about?” I asked. “Other than defending the undefendable.”
“Just dealing with some guys in a motorcycle gang.”
“Oh, sounds serious. Real bad boys, huh?” I asked.
“I don’t like that look in your eye.”
“I’m just teasing, Dad. Come on. What’s going on with them? What injustice is happening now?”
“We think another motorcycle club has tried to pin something on them. But we can’t prove it.”
“Ah, rival gangs. Sounds very modern Western-ish.”
“I don’t know what that means, but okay,” he said with a chuckle.
“Come on, tell me more. Is this rival gang full of a bunch of rabid beasts that are trying to overrun this poor little biker club you’re defending?”
“Not necessarily. It’s intricate and involved, but right now we’re trying to find proof that the rival club was involved in a particular situation.”
“So you’re trying to prove that this rival club tried to set your gang up,” I said.
“Not in so many words, but that’s the jist of it.”
“What do you mean? Isn’t that what you do? Defend the guys taking the fall for everything and find a way to root the real guys out?”
“It’s a bit more complicated than that. That’s essentially what we’re doing, but it’s taking a bit of side-stepping to get there.”
“Well, talk to me about it. Maybe I can help,” I said.
“Sweetheart, as much as I love your enthusiasm, I’ve got this. This is my job. I’ve been doing it for almost three decades. Now, let’s enjoy some nice lunch and leave all that talk behind us.”
There was something about the conversation that wasn’t sitting right with me. Usually, when I asked my father about cases, he knew the exact injustice that was taking place. Like the last case, he wrapped up. A gang member was poised to take the fall for a murder the head of the gang completed. That was it. And my father wasn’t hesitant in telling me what was happening. They were trying to pin a murder on a man that was innocent. Or the very first case I remember him telling me about. A man accused of abusing his daughter came to him and asked him for help. The man wasn’t innocent by any means. A drug dealer. Wrapped up in some gang wars. But he wasn’t guilty of abusing his daughter, and he proved that in court. The mother was trying to pin things on him to get full custody, and my father wasn’t having it.
My father was never shady when it came to the injustices he was trying to right.
But with this one, he was. And I didn’t know why.
“What are you ordering?” my father asked.
“Why won’t you tell me about the case?” I asked.
“Sweetheart, it’s complicated. It’s my longest-running case, and it’s still not over yet.”
“Never stopped you before,” I said.
“I told you. A motorcycle club is being framed for something they didn’t do.”
“What is it they didn’t do?” I asked.
“Harlow-”
“Me moving out doesn’t change our relationship, Dad. You can still be open with me. I can still be here for you.”
My father reached out and took my hand, swirling his thumb on top of my skin.
“I know, princess. I know I can be. You moving out has been a change for all of us. And when you were under our roof, I had no problems talking with you about these things. Because I could watch you and protect you in case things went haywire. But things aren’t going well for my case, and I have to look into avenues I haven’t had to before. And with you living away from home, I don’t want to take the chance that you could get wrapped up in this.”
“Can you at least tell me your game plan?” I asked. “How will you prove their innocence? Will they be okay?”
“Such a big heart,” my father said with a smile. “They’ll be fine. A little bit of smoke and mirrors, some circumstantial evidence, a few rumors tossed about to throw everyone off their scent. It’ll be okay. They’ll be okay. I promise.”
My father let go of my hand, but I couldn’t let go of what he was saying. Smoke and mirrors? Circumstantial evidence? That didn’t sound like my father at all. He worked with cold, hard facts. Concrete evidence. It was what made him so good. Defending the undefendable meant proving without a shadow of a doubt that they were not the ones involved.
But that didn’t sound like what my father was doing here. I couldn’t help but stare at him and wonder who it was sitting in front of me.
My phone vibrated in my purse while my father ordered us some lunch. I took it out and saw Fox’s number flash with a message on my phone. I smiled and muted the phone, my mind wafting back to him. How his body had felt against mine that morning. How his cock had filled me to the brim. How his body had taken control of mine and brought me to heights, I wanted to experience again.
Then, my mind wandered to his tattoos. The colors that covered his neck and his left arm. My mind ran back to the leather jacket I had slid off his shoulders. How worn and weathered it felt underneath my grasp as I tried to get him out of his clothes. Was it possible he was in a motorcycle club? He looked like a bad boy. He talked like a bad boy. Hell, I’d met him in a dive bar and taken a ride on his motorcycle.
Could his leather jacket have been one of those ones with a logo on it?
I hadn’t been paying attention to it, and now I wished I had. I had been more interested in the man that was wearing it instead of what that interesting man was wearing. The more I thought about Fox, the more panicked I became. I mean, how many motorcycle clubs could exist in one town?
Was it possible Fox was involved in this somehow?
My mind was running away from me. Of course, it wasn’t possible. He was a mechanic. He told me so. His bike was beat up and rusted over some. Probably the first and only bike he’d ever owned. If he was in a gang, wouldn’t he take more pride in something like that? A big, shiny bike that made lots of noise or something?
There was something that didn’t sit right with this lunch any longer, and I found my appetite disappearing.
“Enough about my work. How’s work going for you, princess?”
My father’s voice ripped me back to reality. I studied him closely, setting aside my emotions and reading him like I would most of my clients. His smile wasn’t quite reaching his eyes, and his body was very closed off. His shoulders were hunched, and his hands were in his lap. His leg was crossed over his knee, and his eyes were very alert. Even though this was supposed to be a relaxing lunch between a father and a daughter, my father was on his guard.
Panicked.
Worried.
Unsettled.
What the hell had my father gotten himself into? What in the world was he involved in?
And why did I still have the feeling that Fox was involved?