Kiki sat behind the table about to not only face an unhappy judge but she was being seared by the heat of the large biker sitting next to her, who just stared at her.

Well, she did tell him not to stare at the judge. So, it was all her fault.

She really should rethink her career. She should switch to real estate law like her ex. Elder law, family law. Something, anything other than defending a badass biker and his “brothers.”

She bit back a groan. If she knew this was where she would end up, she certainly wouldn’t have joined Pannebaker’s firm. Even though it was one of the best criminal defense firms in the area.

She should be wondering how a motorcycle club consisting of a bunch of derelicts could afford Pannebaker’s hourly rate. Though, they had no problem paying for the damage done to that pub in South Side. The club’s treasurer, Ace, simply scribbled out a check for six figures. He didn’t even tell the owners to hold it before cashing. No. He said it was good and could be deposited right away.

Imagine that. But all that money could come from illegal activities. Though, Pannebaker assured her she wouldn’t be representing an outlaw club, that they were on the up and up.

Kiki let out a snort. Right.

“You okay?” came the deep voice next to her.

She refused to turn her head toward him when he was this close. His heavy denim-clad thigh brushed against her stockings. No suit for this guy’s courtroom appearance. No. He insisted on wearing his whole biker get-up sans the vest with filthy patches she insisted he not wear.

She cleared her throat. “Perfect. Remember to keep your mouth shut and at least appear sorry for your actions,” she whispered.

“Not sorry.”

She ground her molars and then unlocked her jaw. “Act like it.”

Fingers brushed along her knee and then the skin at the edge of her skirt. She sucked in a sharp breath.

“Get outta here today an’ then we’ll have our appointment later.”

Oh good lord. He actually took her serious when she made that so-called appointment. She had to clear that misconception up and do it quickly.

“I was only kidding about the appointment,” she whispered fiercely. She gritted her teeth against the shiver that wanted to run through her as his fingers climbed her thigh.

She should be very afraid of this man and not for the obvious reasons.

“I wasn’t,” he said way too softly.

Apparently.

Before she could smack his hand away, the District Justice entered the room and they all stood, including the hunk of tattooed muscle next to her, who was suddenly stuck to her side. Like Gorilla glue.

Kiki swallowed hard and her nipples pebbled under her blouse. Great. That wouldn’t be too obvious.

“Ms. Clark,” Judge Powers greeted her.

She shifted an inch to the right to give herself some breathing room. “Your Honor.”

He sat and so did everyone else. Well, everyone except for Hawk.

“Sit down,” she demanded under her breath, tugging at his faded Myrtle Beach Biker Week T-shirt.

With a smile, he sat, his body visibly shaking in silent laughter.

“So, what do we have here, Ms. Clark? A,” the judge glanced down at his papers, “member of a motorcycle gang who decided to come into my district and make a mess.”

“Club, Your Honor.”

Judge Powers looked up. “What was that, Ms. Clark?”

“It’s a club, Your Honor, not a gang. They’re not engaged in any illegal activities.” Holy crap, she hoped that was true.

“A club,” he repeated like he was taste-testing the word. “You mean a club like the Boy Scouts?”

“Very similar, sir.”

The judge let out a bark of a laugh then his eyes swung to her client, then back to Hawk’s father, Ace, and his brother, Diesel, who sat in the seats directly behind them.

“What badge do they get for beating up a member of another club?”

“Your Honor, Mr. Dougherty has seen the error of—”

Powers raised his hand, palm out toward her. “Save it, Ms. Clark. I wasn’t born yesterday.”

“But—”

Powers interrupted her again. “Here’s the deal, Ms. Clark. You want to defend such upstanding gentleman? That’s fine. But maybe you should be responsible for them. Or at least,” he wagged a finger at Hawk, “this one.”

Oh shit. “Your Honor...”

“No, Ms. Clark. You can be his babysitter for the next three months.”

Oh shit. “Your Honor, please!”

“Want me to make it six?”

Oh shit. Kiki sucked in a breath. “No, Your Honor.”

And not just no. Hell no! She did not want to get stuck being responsible for a damn biker. Pannebaker couldn’t pay her enough.

For crissakes, she’d quit.

Walk right out.

Powers leaned forward. “Here’s the deal. Take it or leave it. I’m sentencing him thirty days for the reduced offense of simple assault.”

Kiki couldn’t miss Hawk’s large frame straighten and go solid next to her.

She ignored him. “Thirty days, Your Honor... That’s—”

Powers raised his palm again. “Let me finish, Ms. Clark.”

Shit. “Yes, Your Honor.”

“I’ll release him on time served which is the ten days he already did, but and this is a big but, Ms. Clark, he needs to keep his nose clean for the next three months and he needs to do some sort of community service. I’ll let you decide what that will be. But I do want a report. In addition, you’ll be responsible to make sure he serves that community service. Then you’re free of him. I suggest letting them pay you for your time.”

Kiki opened her mouth to respond, but the judge wasn’t done yet.

“Furthermore, he needs to stay out of my district. His whole club does. I don’t want to see them again. He’s lucky I’m not slapping an ankle monitor on him for the remainder of his thirty days.” Powers lifted an eyebrow in Kiki’s direction. “What do you say, Ms. Clark? Does your client want to walk free today or cuddle up with his cellmate for a few more weeks so they can read each other bedtime stories?”

She glanced at Hawk, who was looking down. Not at the table, no. But at her feet. The heels she was wearing to be more precise.

Oh good lord.

“Can we have a minute, Your Honor?”

“Sixty seconds. Go.”

Kiki sank her butt into the chair and twisted toward her client.

“Those are so fuckin’ hot,” he said in a low, deep voice.

Jesus. His voice alone could make her panties soaked.

“No time for that. Do you want to take the deal? I’m not thrilled about—”

“Why? ‘Cause you’ll be stuck to me?”

“I won’t be stuck to you. I have better things to do with my time—”

“Take it. Ain’t goin’ back to that hole. Anyhow, me an’ you got an appointment I don’t wanna miss.” His dark brown eyes stared into hers. “You ain’t missin’ that appointment, either.”

Right. “We’ll discuss that later.”

“No discussin’ to be had.”

“Times up, Ms. Clark.”

Kiki pushed to her feet. “We’ll accept that, Your Honor. He’ll be glad to do community service. He has all kinds of progressive ideas on how to serve it.”

The judge snorted then got serious. “Fine. Just see that it’s done.” Powers pointed a finger toward Hawk. “Stay out of my district.”

When Hawk opened his mouth Kiki laid a hand on his shoulder and squeezed hard. “He will, sir. No problem.”

“Right.”

Then they all scrambled to their feet as the judge got up from his bench and disappeared through a side door.

A large presence behind her made her shiver. She looked over her shoulder to see Hawk’s brother standing right behind her with their father, an older and slightly, but not by much, smaller man.

Diesel clasped hands with his brother and did a shoulder bump over the divider that separated them, then Hawk turned toward his father.

“Pop.”

“Boy, you’re lucky you ain’t doin’ more time than you did.”

“Keeks got it covered.”

Keeks. She sighed. She already hated the name that her hippie, yoga-loving parents had given her but him calling her Keeks made it so much worse. She’ll have to thank them again the next time they returned to the States from one of their “soul-cleansing” retreats.

Ace’s eyes landed on her. “I see that.”

“We gotta date later.”

Oh shit.

Ace’s eyebrows rose. “Yeah?”

Diesel let out what sounded like a combination of a grunt and a caveman chuckle before muttering, “Lucky bastard.”

As one of the sheriff’s deputies approached them, Kiki cut in to interrupt the touching family reunion. “Okay, you need to go with the officer back to the jail. And I need to do paperwork. As soon as everything is processed, they’ll release you.”

“Diesel will pick you up,” Ace said to his son.

Hawk shook his head. “No. Keeks is gonna pick me up.”

I am? She stared at Hawk.

“Go on back to church or home. Wherever. She’s got this covered.”

I do?

He curled a heavy arm around her shoulders and pulled her against his side. “Right, babe?”

Oh shit. “I... uh...”

Ace snorted and shook his head, whacking his son on the back. “Got good taste, boy.” Then he turned and walked away.

“Wait,” she started, looking desperately at Diesel. “You’re going to pick him up, right?”

“Nope.” Then he also turned and walked away.

She twisted her neck toward Hawk who still held her like a vise. “Let me go,” she whispered.

“Let’s go,” the deputy said to Hawk, who gave the uniformed officer a big smile.

“Gotta go. See you in a bit, babe.” And with that, he dropped his head and planted a big, wet kiss on her lips before pressing his mouth to her ear. “Don’t be late. Got a lot to do.”

He gave her a wink as the deputy escorted him out of the small courtroom.

Kiki sank into her chair and dropped her head into her hands.

Jesus.

Just what in the hell had she gotten herself into?

* * *

She asked herself that again when she pushed through the double glass doors of the county jail, Hawk hot on her heels.

“Babe. Wait up.”

Every time he called her babe she wanted to close her eyes and scream. But she was a woman on a mission, one she wanted to finish as quickly as possible. And closing her eyes when she was rushing down the concrete sidewalk in three-inch heels might end badly and delay getting the man out of her hair.

“Yo, babe.”

“If you’re talking to me, my name is Kiki,” she threw out over her shoulder.

“Yeah, ‘bout that...” Suddenly he caught up to her. Which was actually no surprise. He might be bulky but he was tall, too, and his long legs had eaten up the distance between them. “Babe, slow down, don’t want you breakin’ your pretty little neck in those fuckin’ shoes of yours.”

Kiki skidded to a halt and slammed her hands on her hips, her briefcase smacking hard against her thigh. When he stopped and turned to her in surprise, she stated, “Let’s get something straight right now. You don’t get to boss me around.”

The corner of his lip twitched and Kiki had to fight stomping her foot in frustration.

“’Kay, babe. Got any more rules?”

“Yes, don’t call me babe, damn it!”

He shrugged his heavy shoulders. Shoulders which were covered by a black leather vest decorated with those filthy, disgusting patches on both the front and back.

“Hate your name, babe. Sorry. It’s the name of some stuck-up bitch.”

She blinked. At least they agreed on something. “Then call me Ms. Clark.”

Now the other side of his mouth twitched. “Only gonna do that if you’re wearin’ your glasses an’ nothin’ else.”

All the oxygen left her lungs in a rush. She shook herself mentally at the image his words put into her head.

What the hell? She was not getting naked with this man. This biker who had tattoos all up and down his arms, even on his scalp. And probably the rest of his muscular body.

No, she wasn’t.

“Babe.”

She glanced up from his broad chest and met his amused gaze. Oh good lord. She was actually considering it. What was wrong with her?

“Don’t have to imagine what I look like naked. You’ll see for yourself soon enough.”

Kiki closed her eyes and sucked in air slowly, counting to ten. And when she was finished, she realized she was no longer considering it. “Fine. Let’s go.”

She was doing it.

Fuck it.

She only saw his look of shock for a split second before she strode forward, leaving him frozen in place behind her.

She smiled and headed to the visitor’s parking lot and to her car with determination.

When life hands you lemons...

And all that crap.

When she got to her car, she turned to wait for him, wondering how he was going to fold his bulk into her Corvette Z06.

“Fuck me,” Hawk muttered, stopping feet from her little red Corvette and staring at it.

“Just so you know, your club will be helping me make the payments on that.” She dug into her black leather briefcase, searching for her keyless remote.

“Then I drive.”

Without looking up she said, “No.”

As soon as her fingers snagged it, he pulled it from her fingers. “No woman drives me. Whenever me an’ you are in a cage, I’m drivin’. Not an argument. Fact.”

“Cage?”

“Yeah.” He jerked his chin toward the Vette. “That ain’t a cage to you, but one to me. But I’ll suffer through drivin’ that sweet thing, then I’ll be drivin’ into somethin’ that’s even sweeter.”

She bit back a whimper and squeezed her thighs together. What was wrong with her? There had been plenty of times where men whistled or cat-called at her or said some perverted, stomach-churning things, but she’d never reacted like this.

Not once.

And now she had to get into close quarters with him. In her tight sports car. Why the hell did she ever buy that car?

He surprised her by opening the passenger door and offering his hand. She stared at his broad palm and long fingers. His tattoos stopped abruptly at both wrists like the cuff on a sleeve.

“Not gonna bite you.”

She lifted her eyes to him.

“Okay, yeah I am. But not now.” Then he laughed, which shot lightning down her spine and it landed right in her center, heating her belly.

She’d lost her damn mind. That was the only thing she could think of when she wondered why she was reacting to him like this.

She usually preferred men who wore suits and ties, polished shoes and expensive watches. Tailored dress shirts and pinstripes.

Not worn, holey jeans, a Harley T-shirt that looked like the sleeves had been ripped off, a leather vest and—her gaze dropped—heavy biker boots with all kinds of buckles and zippers on them.

Yes, she had lost her mind. Truly. Completely.

She sighed, placed her hand in his and let him help her into the car.