Possession(Sons of Odin MC)(37)
“I want you to come home.”
“I-I can’t do that.”
“Why?”
Vincent looked at J.T., who was strategically stationed a couple of feet behind Crash. If anything happened, they’d wrestle him to the ground.
“I don’t love you anymore, Crash. Haven’t for a long time. I’m tired of feeling like a piece of shit every day of my life. Don’t you want something better? A chance to find someone who cares?”
Crash gripped his beer bottle so tight his knuckles turned white. “Show me your ankle.”
Saline shook her head. “No.”
“Show me, goddamnit. I have a right to see it.”
She eyeballed Vincent.
“Let him see it.”
Saline stood up and raised her pant leg in slow motion. Thor’s hammer surrounded by barbed wire, and crowned with the Sons of Odin insignia, decorated a seven-inch radius of her leg.
“Fuck!” A demonic force seemed to take over Crash’s body as he flung himself backward and knocked J.T. off his feet.
Saline screamed as Vincent launched across the table and scrambled to reach Crash. In one fluent motion he lifted Crash off the ground by his throat. Vincent landed a cartilage-destroying blow to his nose and Crash went limp.
“Fuck.” Vincent let go and Crash dropped to the ground in a motionless heap. He shook his hand out. “Get him out of here, J.T. Saline, you okay?”
“Yes.”
Vincent had seen Crash’s inner struggle as he talked to Saline, but hadn’t anticipated his reaction. He blamed himself. “Get one of the Brothers to park his bike in the shop—we’re claiming it for damages. Then grab John and drive this asshole back to Robstown.”
It had been a long time since the Sons of Odin had delivered live cargo to the Man-o-Wars. Now the situation called for immediate action. The meeting needed to happen tomorrow.
Chapter 17
After spending most of the afternoon completing two discovery requests for upcoming trials, Tina slid the file containing unfinished correspondences across her desk. Focusing on details seemed impossible after what happened last night. She scrubbed her hands over her face. Concentrate. Her clients deserved her full attention. But so did her personal life. She spent more time preparing witness depositions, prepping witnesses for questioning, creating trial exhibits, and writing pretrial statements than she did on herself.
Not that she didn’t always look well groomed and dressed impeccably for court. She neglected the smaller enjoyments: reading a favorite book, watching a sunset, or just sitting still and thinking. Vincent reminded her how important those things were. It started with the trip to Sunset Lake.
And now they were lovers. Or friends with benefits. Either way, she’d gotten what she wanted all those months ago when he danced with her on the patio during Lang and Lily’s wedding reception. Where it went from here depended on several factors. Could she look him in the eyes again after sitting on his face? She laughed out loud, warmth pooling between her legs. Hell yes. In fact, she wanted to do it again. And again…
The more she thought about it, the less attractive that file of letters looked. She’d already logged thirty hours for the week, often filling free time at home with work-related tasks. Ultimately the price she paid for unmitigated ambition—she wanted that junior associate label removed from her office nameplate.
She picked up her handset and dialed her legal secretary’s extension. “Madeline, please clear my schedule for the rest of the day.”
“Anything wrong?”
“No, just need a break.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Madeline said. “In fact, why don’t you take tomorrow off, too? Mr. James stopped by earlier and suggested everyone deserved an extra personal day. He’s still in party mode after the Livingston case.”
James and Bronte had provided a million-dollar defense for Justin Livingston, an NFL quarterback accused of assaulting his ex-wife and stabbing her fiancé. The jury deliberated for only three hours, finding their VIP client not guilty on all charges. Every associate in the office had contributed to the case, and a celebration was planned for next month.
“Okay.” No reason for Madeline to ask twice.
“Perfect,” the assistant said. “Now what about having a drink with me tonight at Ropers?”
“Ropers?” Tina repeated. Country and western had never been her thing really. Oh, she appreciated the way Wranglers hugged some random cowboy’s ass and the occasional Keith Urban tune. “Okay, what time?”
“Eight?”
“It’s a date,” Tina confirmed.
She gathered her files and stashed them in her briefcase, checked her lipstick in the mirror hanging on the wall near her desk, then grabbed her purse. A couple more free days to do whatever she wanted before her parents arrived for Thanksgiving would help her relax. She scanned email on her iPhone as she walked down the hallway to the elevator.