Possession(Sons of Odin MC)(10)
He twisted around and grabbed her sandals off the floorboard behind the front passenger seat, holding them up. Size six? He smiled; he wore thirteens. He turned on the car alarm and walked around the corner of the clubhouse to the shop, where several Prospects were employed full time. Another profit-making enterprise. With two tow trucks and a four-stall, fully licensed auto body repair business, the garage stayed busy.
J.T. met him just inside the entrance. “Something wrong with your bike?”
“No—someone keyed my friend’s Escalade in the parking lot last night. Driver’s-side door. The taillights are smashed, too. Think you can get it fixed today? I prefer she didn’t see it.”
“Sure.”
Vincent gave him the keys. “Take some pictures of the damage. Get one of the boys to run a complete background check on a guy named Kline Barnes, has a recent assault charge. I want to know what time he takes a shit in the morning.”
“Got it,” J.T. said.
Satisfied he’d remembered everything on his morning schedule, Vincent returned to his room in the clubhouse. He found Tina dressed and waiting on the bed. She looked adorable in the faded jeans, still wearing her halter top and jacket from last night. With her hair styled in a ponytail, pink lipstick, and blush, she looked like a teenager, not a defense attorney. Perhaps he preferred her this way—no fuck-me heels and miniskirt. Just Tina, a girl he wanted to spend the day with.
“Thought you forgot about me.”
“Impossible even if I wanted to.” He placed her sandals on the floor by her feet. “Ready to go?”
She stretched out on her side and patted the open space in front of her. “Can’t we hang here for a while?”
Why did she continue to test his resolve? Because the woman didn’t know how to quit. An admirable trait under any other circumstances. “We shouldn’t waste daylight—the birds are waiting.”
On a disappointed little sigh she slipped her feet into her shoes, then grabbed the crutches leaning against the mattress. “Are we hitting Portland first?”
“Sure, should only take a few minutes.”
“What kind of business are you conducting?”
“Club business,” he rumbled, not ready to open up to her. “The kind you shouldn’t ask questions about.”
She saluted like a soldier, middle finger extended. “Yes, sir.”
She flipped him off for that? “Didn’t mean to sound like an asshole. But you know better,” he said with annoyance.
“Maybe I do.” She bounced toward the door. “But I can’t help my inquisitive nature.”
“Is that why you became an attorney?”
“Partly.” She shrugged. “I enjoy debate and believe in our judicial system; it’s by far the least prejudicial in the world.”
Vincent clicked his tongue. “Beautiful and delusional.”
“Excuse me?”
“Least prejudicial? Goddamned liberal arts schools brainwash their students. Don’t you watch the news or read the papers? Check the stats—there’s a disproportionate number of guys like me convicted and sentenced to long prison terms just because of their affiliations with clubs.”
“Wouldn’t have anything to do with illegal activities, huh?”
Vincent eyeballed her. “I knew that’s what you’d say.”
“Am I that predictable, Vincent? In case you forgot, I’m a defense attorney. So I’m on your side.”
“Maybe,” he commented, still studying her with interest. Nothing seemed to ruffle her feathers, not like most women. “I still suspect all lawyers are part of some secret society where you sacrifice helpless animals to your legal gods.”
She laughed. “Yeah, and bloodletting is still a popular medical procedure. If you’re truly interested in the ancient history of my profession, Emperor Claudius abolished the ban on legal fees in the first century. So paid advocates have been around for a long time.”
He rubbed his chin. “You don’t say.”
“And to sum it up, I’m a capitalist.”
“You mean opportunist? Like all ambulance chasers.”
“Hey.” She slapped his arm. “Not my thing.”
“Can’t blame you for wanting to make money.”
“I believe in what I do.”
Maybe. Or she’s another victim of society’s conditioning process. One of the biggest reasons he’d joined the Brotherhood, to escape suburban slavery. No one owned him. Not a corporation and definitely not the law. “I’ll keep that in mind,” he said as he followed her down the hallway and out the front door.