chapter 11
Jaxon
THE LOOK ON HER face.
Fuck.
It was like no one has ever given her flowers before, or even remembered her birthday.
Twenty-seven years old today, but has seen and experienced more than people twice her age. I’m glad to have put a smile on her face, and to have seen her on her birthday, even if it was just for a little bit. If I was being honest, I’d love to take her out for dinner or something, but that’s not a good idea. I need to concentrate on the case, and I need to forget about how I felt when I saw her face light up.
When it was lit up because of me, because I made her happy.
Consider that shit forgotten.
I was going to tell her more information I dug up but decided against it. If something goes wrong, the less information she knows the better. Working with my private investigator, I’ve managed to get the Wind Dragons MC lines tapped. I know it can backfire if they find out, but it had to be done. It’s not legal, and probably won’t hold up in court, but I need to know if they’re involved in this or if they’re a dead end. Valentina was never going to talk to me. Her boyfriend, or whatever they call male biker partners these days, is as protective over her as I’d be over my woman.
I’m going to win this case. Regardless of who I have to turn against.
HUNTER WALKS INTO MY office and hands me some paperwork. I haven’t known Hunter nearly as long as I have Tristan, but the man has definitely grown on me over the last few years. He brings with him a light-hearted energy that the firm needs, because if you get too caught up in everything here, it can start to suck the life out of you.
“Some guy named Peterson is trying to get a hold of you,” he lets me know.
I take the papers and thank him. “You playing receptionist now?”
He grins and runs his hand down his long dark beard. “Kat and Yvonne are on their lunch break, so I’m holding down the fort. Who says men can’t multitask?”
“Women,” I reply with a smirk, then nod at his forearm. “New tattoo?”
“Yeah,” he says, glancing down at it. “It’s still healing.”
I’m about to reply when Kat sticks her head in. “I’m back. You can go have lunch now, Hunter.”
“I’ll be back,” he announces, then disappears.
When Kat lingers, I know she has something to say.
“Is my office the new lunchroom hangout?” I tease, beckoning for her to come in. “What’s up, Kat?”
She sits opposite me, an odd look on her face. “Where are my flowers?”
“What?” I ask. “What flowers? You pregnant or something?”
“No,” she says, smirking. “Scarlett Reyes got flowers. I saw them. So where are mine?”
I lean back in my chair, my expression now blank. “Is it your birthday today?”
“No,” she says, dragging the word out.
“Then you don’t get flowers,” I say, wondering why she’s giving me shit about this.
“Was it her birthday?” she probes, which is when I’ve had enough. Kat and I have a good friendship, and we’ve had a few deep chats in our time, but this is crossing a line. I don’t have to explain my actions to anyone. “You like her!”
“Tristan!” I call out, knowing he can hear me from his office next door. He comes in a rush, probably thinking that something is wrong.
“What is it?” he asks, eyes scanning Kat, making sure she’s okay.
“Kat’s crossing lines,” I say, narrowing my eyes on the little she-devil. “Don’t you have any work to do, associate?”
“I’m on top of everything, actually,” she says, lifting her chin and staring me down.
“What are you harassing him about?” Tristan asks, sounding curious instead of angry or annoyed on my behalf.
“I’ve never seen Jaxon buy anyone flowers before,” she says, glancing back at her man. “And he bought some for Scarlett Reyes.”
“It was her birthday,” I say, jaw going tight. “I don’t have to explain myself.”
“Yet you just did,” she muses, making me want to strangle her.
I glance up at Tristan, who has the nerve to chuckle before grabbing Kat and escorting her out of the room. Just as he shuts my office door the bastard says, “For the record, I think you like her, too.”
Fucking hell.
“Is no one going to point out that it’s a fucking ethical violation instead of giving me shit over it?” I ask.
So much for this place being a professional environment.
The door opens again and Tristan’s head pokes in. “You’re a grown man, Jaxon. You’ll figure it out.”
I CALL PETERSON BACK, hoping he has some good news for me. He’s my PI, and the one I have keeping an eye on the MC phone lines.
“Hey, it’s Jaxon,” I say into the line. “What have you got for me?”
“More than you could have hoped for,” he says, excitement hitting me. I stand up and grab my keys. “Where are you?”
“At my office.”
“I’m on my way,” I tell him, hanging up, practically sprinting through the office.
Please let this be what I’ve been waiting for.
“THE LAWYER IS TRYING to contact Valentina over Darren’s death,” an accented male voice says. It sounds Irish, or maybe Scottish. It’s the voice I heard when I tried to call Valentina myself.
“They probably want her to testify,” a woman replies. “Scarlett Reyes has been charged with Darren’s death; it’s been all over the news.”
“What proof do they have for that?” the man asks. “We all know she didn’t do it.”
“The gun was planted at her house, and she was his wife. She left the country pretty quickly, and the cops need to pin it on someone. Some of them were there that night, remember? They won’t want anyone to know that. If they tried to drag us down, we’d bring them with us.”
“So the cops planted the gun?” the man asks, sounding surprised. “Fuck, Faye. I feel like shit knowing this woman is going to go to prison for a crime I committed. As if being that dickhead’s wife wouldn’t have been bad enough.”
“I know,” the woman, Faye Black, says. “But what else can we do? You doing time is not an option, and we don’t have anything to do with her being a suspect. That’s on the cops.”
They chat some more, but I already have all I need.
Valentina’s boyfriend is the one who killed Darren.
And the cops knew about it.
And to save everyone’s asses, they pinned it on the sweetest, most gentle woman I’ve ever met.
There was one variable they weren’t counting on though, and that was me.
And I’m going to bring them all down.
I ASK TO MEET with the man named Irish, who arrives with his attorney. It’s nice to finally meet Faye Black, but it’s a shame it’s under these circumstances. The only way I got her to agree to this meeting was by saying that I have some damaging evidence she’s going to want to hear before I take it public.
More bluffing.
I’m not dumb enough to release this recording and have every Wind Dragon member, including Demon, breathing down my neck. But she doesn’t have to know that.
“Have a seat, Mrs. Black,” I tell her, then look to the large, dark-haired man next to her. “You too, Mr. Irish.”
Faye smirks at that, but doesn’t give anything else away. She’s an attractive woman, with long auburn hair and sharp hazel eyes. She doesn’t look like an old lady. In fact she’s dressed in business attire I’d expect from any female lawyer—black pants with a black blazer, a white shirt underneath. Irish looks like I’d expect a murderer to, covered in what looks like a knife scar along his neck, the darkest of eyes narrowed on me.
“I’m not going to beat around the bush here,” I tell the two of them. “My client Scarlett Reyes is innocent, and we all know it. However it’s my job to prove it.”
I hit PLAY and let them listen to the recorded conversation.
“How did you get that?” Faye growls, her nice demeanor gone.
“I don’t believe that’s the biggest issue here,” I say, staying calm and focused. “Now I might not be able to use that in court, but now I know the truth of it. We all know the type of man Darren was, and that it’s no loss he’s gone. However, a woman who was victimized by him should not be doing time for something she didn’t do. I understand, Irish, that you were probably protecting Valentina, but tell me, what other outcome is there than you doing the time for a crime you did commit, whether it was justified or not? How can you go to sleep at night knowing an innocent woman who was abused by Darren is going to be sitting in a prison cell, wondering what the fuck she did to deserve the sentence she’ll get?”
“Fucking hell,” Irish snarls, looking to Faye. The next move is obviously her call—she’s the lawyer. I slide her some papers. “There’s lots more information about Darren that has come out, from his meth lab to his cop buddies covering up all his illegal activities and abuse. We can try to get your client a reduced sentence if he pleads guilty to involuntary manslaughter. It’s the only way.”
“Don’t try to do my job for me, Mr. Bentley. I’m very aware of the situation we have before us,” she says, lifting her chin and looking me in the eye.
“How much time will I be looking at?” Irish asks Faye, a muscle working in his jaw.
“I have to take it to the prosecutor to exonerate my client,” I tell the man. “It’s nothing personal, but Scarlett deserves to go free, and you know it. You said so in the audio.”
“Best outcome would be two to three years,” Faye guesses, which would’ve been my guess too. “Worse case, maybe up to seven.”
“Fuck, I need to see Valentina,” he mutters, gripping the table, knuckles white.
Faye says one thing, and with that word, I know she knows I’m right, and that there’s no other way around it. “Fuck.”