chapter 7
Jaxon
VALENTINA SULLIVAN?” I ASK the woman as she walks to her car. She pushes back her hood, exposing a mane of red curls. Her green eyes narrow on me.
“Who’s asking?” she replies, arching a brow and cocking her hip. She gives me a once-over, then crosses her arms over her chest.
“Jaxon Bentley,” I say, offering my hand, which she ignores.
“What do you want, Jaxon Bentley?” she asks, glancing around the parking lot. “I can tell you’re not a cop, so who are you?”
“I’m a lawyer,” I tell her, handing her my card. “And how do you know I’m not a cop?”
She points to my shoes. “Cops don’t wear fancy designer shit. Those are Armani. And what does a lawyer want with me? Perhaps you should speak to my lawyer, instead of following me like a creep.”
“It’s about Darren, your ex-boyfriend,” I tell her, noticing her grimace. Yeah, that seems to be the reaction I get whenever his name is mentioned. The man sounds like a bucketful of sunshine.
“What about him?” she asks, keeping her expression deceptively neutral. “I saw the news, his body was found and they have a suspect. What does that have to do with me?”
“You don’t have anything to say about the fact that he was married for all those years when you two were together? Or that Darren’s wife is going to do time for a crime we both know she didn’t commit?”
I’m bluffing here.
I don’t know if she knew or not, and I don’t know if Scarlett did it or not, and I don’t know if she knows who might have killed Darren if Scarlett didn’t.
Basically I don’t know much, but I do know how to get information out of people, and I know body language. I also clearly know how to talk myself in and out of a lot of shit.
She looks down, avoiding my gaze. Yeah, she knows something.
“Valentina?” a woman calls out, exiting the store with bags in her hands. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she calls out, then turns back to me. “I didn’t know he was married, no. But Darren, and my time with him, feels like a lifetime ago. I don’t have anything to do with what’s going on now, all right? So yeah, it sucks for his wife, but that’s not my problem. If you need to talk to me again, contact Faye Black.” She turns to her friend and says, “Come on, Shayla, let’s get out of here.”
“Valentina—”
She opens her door, climbs in, and slams it behind her. She can’t get out of the parking lot fast enough. All I can do is hope that my words stick with her, play in her mind, and that maybe she’ll be willing to cooperate in time.
I’m not giving up just yet.
OVER THE NEXT FEW days I try to talk to Valentina again, but she’s never alone. The MC club has clearly gone into protection mode, but I have to wonder why. I’m no threat to her, and I didn’t harm or threaten her in anyway, so why are they acting like I’m the enemy? What are they trying to hide? The whole thing is quite puzzling. Do they think I’m trying to pin the murder on Valentina? When talking in person doesn’t work, I attempt to reach them on the phone. I leave a message. I leave three. I want to try to do this without Faye Black in my face, but if that’s the only option, then I’ll have to take it.
Faye Black is a force to be reckoned with. I’ve never met her personally, but every time I ask someone about her, they visibly cringe. Apparently she’s a pain in the ass, and not someone one would want as an enemy. Not only is she a lawyer, she has ties to the feds and is married to the former Wind Dragons president before he stepped down.
I wish Valentina would just talk to me though, so I can ask her more about Darren. I have nothing. Scarlett never reported the abuse to the police, and with Darren being one of them, I can understand why. The hospital didn’t have any records to help, either. Quite frankly, I don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing. If I were to prove Scarlett was an abused woman, the prosecution could then argue that she killed him as revenge. It gives her a motive and could actually play against her. The only thing that’ll save her now will be finding out who actually did kill Darren.
When she told me about the abuse, she couldn’t even look at me. That hit me, hard. It explains the coldness that comes off her, and also why she recoils to touch, something someone else might not think anything of. It killed me to see her flinch when I led her out with my hand on her back. I didn’t mean anything by it, but I won’t do it again. I don’t want her to feel uncomfortable in any way. It’s clear she’s been through a lot. So far, everything she’s said has been the truth. Demon confirmed that Darren was abusive and corrupt, so even though I’m still working on proving it, I know that to be the truth. The way Scarlett behaves is a huge indicator. She’s very standoffish, and clearly isn’t comfortable with certain things that wouldn’t phase others. And now with the way Valentina and the Wind Dragons are acting . . . Something isn’t right.
I believe Scarlett, and in my gut I truly don’t think she did this.
Now I just have to prove it.
I LIFT MY HEAD as someone knocks on my door. “Come in.”
“Hey,” Hunter says, closing the door behind him and taking a seat. My gaze goes straight to the artwork on his forearm, since his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows. He’s the only lawyer I’ve ever met who is covered in tattoos. I’ve seen him cover them up before when he’s meeting with a client or in court, but most days they’re on display. No one in the firm cares, but I know other places that would. All I care is that he’s one of the best family lawyers I’ve come across. It’s why Tristan and I enticed him to join our firm. We needed a good family-law attorney to round out our practice, and he was our first choice.
“I’ve been looking into this property stuff for you. It looks like Darren forged Scarlett’s signature, or he might have even brought someone in with him to pretend to be Scarlett, and gotten her to sign,” he explains.
My jaw goes tight. “What can we do?”
“Well, we can prove it wasn’t her signature by doing a comparison between the real and the fake, and then we can start working to get everything back into her name. But because they were married, everything he owns will revert back to her anyway. He didn’t have a will; I looked into it. Apparently he thought he was so untouchable even death wouldn’t come after him. So I’ll just file the paperwork with the court to get everything put back in her name.”
“Thank you, Hunter. What did I do before you joined the firm?” I ask him, stretching my neck from side to side.
“Your own work?” he jokes, blue eyes full of amusement.
My lip twitches. “How are you liking it here so far?”
He tilts his head to the side, considering. “I love it here, to be honest. I have the freedom to work on my own time and schedule, and the receptionist wears stripper heels.”
I chuckle at his description of Yvonne. “Be careful. She won’t hesitate to stab you in the eye with one if you piss her off.”
“Oh, I know.” He smirks, then sighs. “Anyway, I’ll let you know if I have any updates on the case.”
“Thanks. This one just keeps getting deeper and deeper, doesn’t it?”
“Looks like it,” he murmurs, then smirks at me. “But at least you get to look at Scarlett Reyes all day while you’re working on it.”
He sees the look on my face, which I’m sure is extremely unimpressed, and laughs. “What? You have to concentrate on the pros. Anyway, leave this with me; I’ll handle it. It looks like your plate is full right now.”
“Thanks, man,” I tell him, meaning it. We have a support system here, and help is always available when needed. “I appreciate it. I promise to be your lawyer when a woman finally sues you for sexual harassment and you’re looking at doing time.”
“I’ll hold you to that,” he replies, not missing a beat. He glances at his watch. “Want to head out for lunch? There’s this new place that just opened around the corner I want to check out.”
My stomach rumbles just as he says that. “Sounds good actually.”
I pack up my things on my desk, placing the paperwork and file neatly on the right-hand corner, then stand and walk out of the building with Hunter. When we stop at a bar called Riley’s, I come to a standstill. “This is a bar.”
“I know.” Hunter grins, opening the door and stepping inside. I follow him, glancing around. “When you said new spot, I assumed you meant a lunch spot. I’m not on the same liquid diet you are, Hunter.”
“I’m sure they have pub food here.” He shrugs, then sits down at the bar. He grabs a menu and hands it to me. “See? They have food. And beer. Lots of beer.”
“How did I hire a functioning alcoholic?” I ask myself, glancing over the menu.
A pretty brunette walks out from the back, a red bandanna wrapped around her hair. “What can I get for you?” she asks, while Hunter’s head snaps up at the sound of her voice.
“Hello there,” he says to her with a smile. “Knew I wanted to check this place out for a reason.”
“That reason better be a beer and a meal,” she tells him, brow arched. “Because that’s all that’s on offer. For you, anyway.”
I can’t help the laughter that spills out of me. “Could I please order the steak?”
“Sure,” she says, pulling out a mini notepad from her pocket. “How would you like it?”
“Medium rare, please, and with pepper mushroom sauce.”
“Perfect. Fries or mashed potatoes?”
“Fries,” I tell her, then glance at Hunter. “What do you want?”
“Just a beer, please, darlin’,” he says to her, not at all phased by her recent rejection. In fact, he seems to enjoy the sassier, bolder women. It’s like they amuse him to no end, no matter how mean they are.
“Gotcha,” she says, then disappears into the back once more.
“Fuck, she’s hot,” Hunter exclaims, running his hand down his beard. “She wants me.”
“Seriously?” I repeat, shaking my head at him. “Something’s wrong with you, you know that?”
“Yes,” he states, pointing to where the woman disappeared to. “And that something is that she isn’t mine yet.”
“Hunter—”
“This place is going to be our new local,” he declares, rubbing his hands together with glee.
“If this place is our new local, you’re going to have to stick to your ‘don’t shit where you eat’ motto,” I point out.
“That motto isn’t compulsory. Come on, it’s a pretty sweet setup. It has a pool table, the menu looks good, and lots of alcoholic beverages to try.” He grins. “And the waitress is a fucking babe.”
“Actually, I’m the owner,” the woman says as she moves back in front of us. She looks to me and says, “I’m Riley.”
Riley’s.
This really is her place.
“Jaxon,” I say, offering her my hand. She takes it and gives it a quick shake.
Hunter’s eyes widen. I can tell he’s liking her more and more with each second that passes. “I’m Hunter,” he says, kissing her hand. “We work down the road, at the Bentley and Channing law firm.”
“Appropriate name,” she replies, rolling her eyes and pulling her hand away. She pours him his beer and slides it over to him. “Never seen a lawyer covered in tattoos before.”
“I’m one of a kind,” he smoothly replies.
“Probably a good thing,” Riley tells him with a smirk, then disappears again.
“Probably is a good thing,” I agree, grabbing his untouched beer and taking a sip. “Changed my mind. Maybe I will have a beer.”
Hunter sighs and looks for Riley to order a replacement.
A man suddenly comes into the bar and glances around. “Is the owner here? I’m late for work and she’s a she-devil.”
I nod. “She’s in the back.”
“Fuck me dead,” he groans, slowly walking out the back, accepting his fate.
Riley walks out again and almost bumps into him. “Preston, you’re late.”
“I know,” he tells her. “It’s a long story. One I’m sure you don’t have time for, so I won’t bother explaining.”
She sighs, her hand on her hip. “How the fuck are you the best bartender in town?”
“I have skills,” Preston replies with a smirk. “In the bar and in the bedroom. And I’m a mixologist, not a bartender. Don’t make me sound average.”
“Don’t be late again, Preston. Fancy bar skills or not, I’ll fire you without hesitation,” Riley tells him, ignoring his rant.
“Noted,” Preston grumbles.
She leaves, and he turns to us. “See? She-devil.”
“I can hear you, asshole!” Riley calls out from the back.
Hunter and I share a glance and then start laughing.
“If you can hear from back there, can you get me another beer?” Hunter calls out to her.
And that’s how Riley’s became our new place.