Yale…

I checked my phone after court, and there was a text message from Ally…

Mr. Parnell, I have to move this weekend, would it be all right if I came Wednesday or Thursday rather than Friday?

I sighed and felt my shoulders drop. She didn’t know how appealing it was that she asked permission for just about everything, even things I had already told her time and again. I felt my return text was a little short to her when I said, at your convenience still applies, Ms. Blaylock.

I put my phone away and moved through the courthouse lobby, across the marble mosaic compass set into the floor, and a little bit of something ‒ guilt, maybe? crept in. I stopped just inside the doors and pulled out my phone.

My apologies for the abrupt reply. I have been very busy. Not much time to spare today.

My phone buzzed in my hand near immediately, and I read the message, I’m sorry to bother you, the good news is that the only part of my address to change will be the apartment number. Mr. Comey, the super, found me a studio.

I wasn’t sure what she wanted from me, and I realized that perhaps it was some kind of approval, which made me want her with a savage ache. There wasn’t much more alluring than the sense of power that gave me. I let out a breath and rolled my shoulders and neck to rid myself of the sudden tension there.

That’s good, very good.

She’d been working for me, officially, for two weeks now. I received text alerts on my phone every time she disabled the alarm, and the first night, when I had come home, the entire apartment had felt lighter, the air fresh and clean. I had stood in my entryway, eyes closed, breathing in deeply, trying to catch the subtle scent of her perfume among the disinfectant scent of cleaner.

I had gone from room to room inspecting her work, pleased beyond measure that she had executed all of my demands, some pithy, some not, to absolute perfection. I’d sat sipping whiskey for an hour or two, imagining her moving through my space, soaking in the ghost of her presence and fighting my so-called perverted urges. You can’t always stop your imagination from taking you places, and resistance had definitely been futile that first night.

Back at my office, I checked my phone once more to see her last text message…

Thanks, it may take me all weekend, but I’ll get it figured out!

She’d meant the message to be upbeat and plucky, it was who she was, after all, but I read it as something else entirely… I read I’m alone, I’m a little scared, I don’t know how I am going to move it all by myself.

I pursed my lips and didn’t reply. Tonight was the club meeting at the 10-13, and I ‒ maybe‒ had a solution.

* * *

“I have something,” I said when we were all seated around the table. The ride here had definitely helped, and I realized I was in need of some real wind therapy, a much longer ride, very soon.

“Oh yeah?” Skids asked. “What’s up?”

“The girl I hired, she’s moving this weekend.” I frowned. “I am under the impression that she has little to no help.”

“What girl?” Oz demanded, scowling at me.

Youngblood was grinning, “You totally hired the coffee shop girl, didn’t you?”

“I did; she needed the help, and I felt I was in a position to pay some kindness forward.” My remarks were cool, and he grinned.

“Where she moving from, to?” Oz asked.

“A two-bedroom in the Point Side project building to a studio in the same building.”

“Hoo, Point Side? That’s not a good place for anybody.”

“She grew up there,” Skids remarked. “Kind of amazing she’s stayed out of trouble.”

“She’s tenacious,” I agreed.

“So, boys, who’s up for some community outreach this weekend?” Skids asked.

“There’s a slight problem,” I said, shifting uncomfortably. “As her boss, I don’t feel it would be appropriate that I go.”

“Aw, hell, didn’t expect you to,” Reflash chimed in. “That would just be… weird.”

“Reflash is right,” Skids said. “If it were one of our employees,” he looked out of the glassed-in box over the busy floor of his restaurant and bar outside, “I’d do the same thing. Ask for help, but stay the fuck out of it. Some lines shouldn’t be crossed.”

I was relieved to have allies on the matter in the president and vice-president but didn’t expect to escape the reminder that I would owe the brothers who went to help. Youngblood killed two birds with one stone for me.

“Call us even for all your help with Chrissy and I’m in.” He winked at me and I gave him a stiff nod.

“Shoot, I ain’t got nothing planned,” Oz chipped in.

“Wish I could, but I’m on shift,” Golden griped, and Angel, his twin, echoed the sentiment.

“I don’t think she needs all of us,” Skids said. “I’ll go, the bar is pretty dead during the day on a Saturday. As long as I’m back in time for the evening rush, I’m good.”

“It’s a girl and an old lady’s two bedroom apartment. Where is the rest of her shit supposed to go?” Oz asked.

I shook my head and shrugged, glancing at Backdraft, who had a sour look on his face. “What’s the matter with you?” I demanded.

“Is it bad I’d rather move a strange girl’s shit rather than do what I’m supposed to be doing on Saturday?”

“Depends on what you’re supposed to be doing,” Blaze said.

Backdraft sighed. “Torrid and I are trying to sort our shit out. We’re supposed to go for a ride and maybe hit up one of the local farmers’ markets or something.”

“Eugh,” Oz made a noise and visibly cringed. Backdraft scowled and opened his mouth to say something but Skids cut him off.

“I think Youngblood, Oz, and myself will be plenty. Don’t want to overwhelm her.”

“Thank you,” I said, and we moved on to the next order of business.

The meeting felt like it dragged, and by the time it was over, despite how grateful I was to my brothers for their help, I just couldn’t wait to get back out to my bike and ride home. Youngblood came around and knocked his shoulder into mine.

“You good, Yale?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

He chuckled, “Liar, what’s going on, brother?”

“Between you and me? Definitely can’t get back to Chrissy.”

Youngblood frowned and searched my face. Finally, he nodded slowly. I sighed and stated bluntly, “I want her.”

“Chrissy?” he asked scowling.

“No, dumbass! Ally.”

He looked surprised for a second and then his brow crushed down. I huffed a little bit of a laugh and said to him, “Exactly.”

“That’s on you, brother… you're part of the system, hell, your whole world – it’s not like ours. You don’t have the same kind of luxuries that we’re afforded.”

“Tell me about it,” I said, and he shook his head.

“Be careful,” he admonished, and I nodded.

“Always am.”

I knew precisely what he meant. I wasn’t just a prosecuting attorney for Indigo City; I was also one of the wealthy set. We were under a microscope, not only for corruption of any kind but also any image of sexual impropriety. I was a fucking deviant on the inside, never felt freer than when I had a beautiful woman under my control. The sweeter, and more innocent, the better… but I was Ally’s boss, her employer, and that fell under current sexual harassment laws. But by some older laws, it could, given the circumstances ‒ me being in a position of power over her ‒ be considered a statutory rape charge. If the wrong people with the right kind of hard-on for me got wind of it, there would be a lot more than just my job at stake. My reputation, my entire livelihood as a prosecutor, could and, most likely, would go up in smoke.

If I went anywhere with Ally, I had better ensure she was trustworthy ‒ implicitly so. Which is precisely why I shouldn’t go there. Why I wouldn’t be going anywhere near that girl, no matter how much she lit a fire inside me when she looked at me with those hallowed green eyes.