Chapter Five
Five Days Later
I skipped mass on Sunday.
I also decided I could go a week, maybe two, without needing to do laundry.
I hadn’t spoken with Alejandro since our fight. He called me half a dozen times, but I ignored him, and I didn’t want to risk running into him at mami’s. Neither did I want to explain to mami why her twins weren’t currently on speaking terms.
He might not have been her youngest, but Alejo was still her baby boy. She hated when we were at odds. I knew if all three of us were in the same room, she would try to get us to reconcile. But the rift between us wasn’t something that could be solved with a simple I’m sorry .
He stopped calling on Saturday. I was left to assume he was okay. I didn’t respond to Rocco’s summons, but I hadn’t received any worried messages from anyone regarding Alejo, either. The silence wasn’t exactly a comfort, but it was all I had.
I spent most of the weekend distracting myself with work. When I arrived at the firm Monday morning, I was actually looking forward to a day in the office. Admittedly, I was kind of excited at the prospect of seeing Jed again. I tried to tell myself it was because I had news—good news that would work in his favor—but I knew it was more than that.
Pathetic and inappropriate as it might have been, having someone so nice to look at sitting across from me was bound to be the highlight of my day.
I shouldn’t have, but I made sure to reapply a fresh coat of my favorite lipstick when I got back from lunch.
It was mid-afternoon, and I was expecting Jed any moment. When I sensed a presence at my door, I looked up in anticipation and was awash in disappointment when it wasn’t him I saw.
“Alexia Torres,” he said with a crooked smile.
I didn’t like the way my name sounded on Rocco’s lips.
I knew it was him. He didn’t need an introduction.
He was shorter than I imagined, but I could tell by the way he looked at me what he lacked in stature he made up for in confidence. He wasn’t in a full suit, like his scary crony who visited me last week and entered the room behind him. Rocco wore slacks and a plain button-up that fit him well enough for me to see he was no slouch at the gym. He wore his hair slicked back, culminating in a slight curl at his nape, and he had a thin layer of dark stubble on his face.
There was something undeniably slimy about him, but he wasn’t unattractive, and he knew it.
“When you didn’t show on Friday, I was a little upset. I’ll admit it. When I ask to see someone, I expect them to come to me, not the other way around. But Eddie told me I wouldn’t be disappointed if I sought you out. He’s rarely right—but damn , baby, you do not disappoint.”
After my conversation with Alejo, I was smart enough to be scared of the men who invited themselves to sit across from me, but I knew better than to show it. Ten thousand dollars was not at all insignificant, and it was obvious Rocco was determined to get his money. Unforgivable as it was that Alejo had let his mess find its way to my office—twice, now—I wasn’t about to surrender. I had a pretty decent poker face, and I fixed my features to be more annoyed than anything else.
“I didn’t show up on Friday because I don’t know you or owe you anything. Whatever business you have with my brother, I don’t want any part of it.”
“You’re right. How rude of me—Rocco Borrero,” he said, speaking through a grin as he placed his hand against his chest. “And while it might not be your fault Alejo failed to deliver the money he owes me for the supply I gave him, I don’t do debt. I intend to get paid, one way or another, and he promised me you ,” he paused and pointed at me, “would cover his deficit.”
“Unfortunately, he did not have that conversation with me before he made the promise. I don’t have the funds to cover what he owes you. You two will have to figure it out without me.”
He inched toward the edge of the chair and leaned closer, his voice conspiratorial as he replied, “The thing is, now that I’m here, I’m feeling particularly generous. I can think of a few other highly pleasurable ways you can help me forgive his debt.”
When his eyes dropped down to look at my breasts, I lost a little of my composure as I shot to my feet.
“I’m going to have to ask you to leave. Now.”
I watched as he dragged his tongue around his bottom teeth before his face lost all humor. He glared up at me and was about to say something, but we were interrupted.
“Everything alright in here?”
Jed’s massive frame filled the doorway, and I gulped down a huge breath of relief.
He didn’t look at me, his gaze directed at Rocco, who turned to peer at him from over his shoulder. I couldn’t help but notice the way his head jerked back at the sight of the formidable Wild Stallion.
Without waiting for a response, Jed said, “Pretty sure she asked you to go, and I suggest you do that.”
Rocco took his time, but he eventually got to his feet—the scary guy following his lead. Before he left, he looked me straight in the eye and warned, “This isn’t over.”
Jed stepped back to allow them to pass. It wasn’t until they were gone that I noticed the slight tremble in my hands.
“I’m guessin’ those two weren’t invited,” said Jed as he came to stand opposite my desk. The expression on his face was no-nonsense, and it was impossible to ignore the way his presence filled the room to capacity with a palpable intensity.
“No,” I breathed.
“Darlin’, I gotta ask—what business does Rocco Borrero have with you?”
“You know Rocco?”
The words fell out of my mouth, completely bypassing any mental filter.
He quirked an eyebrow at me and replied, “I know trouble follows him like a stage-five-clinger.”
“Yeah. That checks,” I murmured distractedly, still taken aback by the offer I just received.
“Gorgeous, what was he doin’ here?”
I lost my breath, his moniker spoken aloud causing my insides to defy gravity for a split second.
“Um, my brother. He’s gotten himself mixed up with the wrong people, and he’s in pretty deep.”
As soon as I answered him, I knit my eyebrows together, aware my guard had been knocked down, and I needed to put it back up. Fast.
“How deep?”
I shook my head and waved him off. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. This is not your problem at all . The last thing you need right now is to get tangled up in someone else’s mess. We have far more important things to discuss. And I’ve got some pretty big news. Sit, please,” I insisted, anxious to shift the direction of our conversation.
I lowered myself onto my chair and waited for him to do the same. It took him a moment—the look on his face showcasing his reluctance to change the subject—but when I forced a smile, he filled the seat Rocco had recently vacated. Except, even after he was seated, he continued to look at me with an expression I didn’t understand.
It was distracting, to say the least.
“I don’t want you to worry, if—if that’s what you’re doing,” I insisted.
“Not a whole lot of people who know Rocco would have the balls to stand up to him like that.”
I coughed out a laugh. “Stand up to him? I doubt he would have left if you hadn’t shown when you did.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. Either way, you looked ready to stand your ground.”
I shrugged, not sure what to say.
Jed didn’t miss a step.
“Saw a glimpse of it the other day—the way you handle yourself when you’re sure about somethin’. Someone who’s not afraid of a fight, that’s what we’re lookin’ for.”
I furrowed my brow in confusion. “Who is looking for what?”
“This custody battle, it wasn’t me testin’ you. It’s real. But the club is considerin’ finding new legal representation. If all goes well with this mediation, I’d like to introduce you to our prez.”
“What?”
He was speaking in coherent sentences, and yet I couldn't make sense of what he was saying.
“It wouldn’t exactly be a full-time gig, but as the Stallions’ General Counsel, you’d be on the payroll. Not sure what the terms and conditions are here, but you’d be free to take on other clients as you wished, barring any conflict of interest.”
“Wait, I don’t understand,” I confessed, almost positive I wasn’t hearing him correctly. “The club employs a general counsel? You don’t just have a lawyer on retainer?”
“We prefer our attorney to be tied to us, not us to whatever firm they work for.”
“Oh.”
“Just somethin’ to think about, yeah?”
Something to think about . That was an understatement.
I wondered what sort of conditions came with the title of General Counsel to the Wild Stallions Motorcycle Club. I didn’t know a whole lot about them or their organization. I knew they owned a couple businesses in town. I knew they were respected and feared in the community, but it wasn’t so much that people were afraid of them; more like they were cognizant of the mystery in which they were shrouded.
Except, Jed knew who Rocco was. It would have been foolish for me to think a bunch of bikers who looked like him never got themselves into any trouble. I’d spent the last few days looking into a few of the members of the club, and they certainly weren’t angels. They were rebels through and through. No one was so ignorant as to believe the Stallions were the kind of club that planned monthly leisurely rides and hosted charity events every quarter.
That said, they weren’t a band of felons.
If what he said was true, representing the Stallions sounded like an opportunity that might make it possible for me to go out on my own.
“Darlin’?” he spoke softly, recapturing my attention. He smirked and continued, “Didn’t say you had to think about it right now. You said you had some good news?”
“Yes. Right,” I muttered, shaking my head clear. “I did. I do .” I took a breath and willed myself to focus. “Thank you for sending over everything I asked for. It was very helpful. I’ve put together a strong case. Nicole’s attorney, Wendy Abbott? I’ve met her before. She’s a bit of a bulldog, and she rarely losses, but neither do I. Once I present our side, there’s no way she’ll want to go up against us in court. My guess is, she hasn’t gotten the full story from Nicole, or we likely wouldn’t be having this conversation at all.”
“I like the sound of that.”
“I haven’t even gotten to the good stuff yet,” I continued, unable to hold back my smile. “You were right about your guys. A few of them do have arrests on their record, but none of them are recent. The last recorded arrest was five and a half years ago. It was a misdemeanor assault charge for a fight in public. Benson Wright spent a night in jail, posted bail, and was sentenced to community service and a fine. Then, a year before that, Roger Matthews had a drunken and disorderly charge. And before that, a couple of guys were charged with possessing a concealed weapon without a permit—and they did do a little jail time, but that was ten years ago. All that to say, your kids aren’t hanging out with predators or dangerous criminals.”
“Yeah. I figured. Good to know we have proof.”
“Here’s something I bet you didn’t know.”
I didn’t often revel in people’s past mistakes. I knew all too well, everyone came with history and baggage. But in this case, it was hard not to be a little petty.
I pulled out the mugshot I printed earlier that morning and held it up for Jed to see. It was seventeen years old, and I was sure he looked different now, but I saw the recognition in Jed’s eyes right away.
“What the fuck?”
“Evan Stevens was arrested for driving under the influence when he was twenty-one and again when he was twenty-three. On the night this photo was taken, his blood alcohol level was point-one-nine. Now, that was quite a long time ago,” I said, setting the print aside. “However, one could make the case that unless he’s completely sober, it’s merely been seventeen years since he’s been caught .
“Of course, I sincerely hope he doesn’t regularly drink and drive, and I don’t mean to scare you—but I told you I wasn’t going to take this lightly. I’m prepared to show up with guns blazing. If this is what it takes to get you what you’re paying for, so be it.”
“Damn,” Jed muttered, leaning back in his seat. “I don’t even know what to say.”
“Well, there are still a few details I’d like to hammer out, and I have a couple more questions.”
“Sure. Shoot.”
We talked for another fifteen minutes, Jed filling in the gaps with which I needed help. When we were finished, we discussed timeline. Wishing to be aggressive, I proposed we try to schedule the mediation for Friday morning. He was all for it, and his confidence in our plan was as validating as it was satisfying.
He was standing to leave when I remembered his earlier offer.
While it was completely unexpected, and I wasn’t sure how concrete an option it might be, I didn’t want him to leave without knowing I was interested in learning more.
“Wait, Jed?”
“Still here,” he replied, his blue-green eyes trained down on me.
“Can I tell you something?”
“Anything, gorgeous.”
I hesitated a second, that floating sensation stirring inside of me again, making it difficult to breathe. When I felt in control of my lungs, I continued.
“Um, I—I just wanted to say, I’m happy to help you, but family law isn’t the only thing I’m capable of. I’m probably not as qualified as someone else the club might consider, but I am interested in learning more about that opportunity you mentioned earlier.”
He offered me a small smile then dipped his chin in a slow nod.
“Good.”
It was all he said, and then he was gone.
When I was alone again, I sat back in my chair and emptied my lungs. It had been a whirlwind of an hour. There was so much to think about, I didn’t know where to begin. In the end, my mind settled on Rocco.
Unfortunately, he warned me we’d be seeing each other again. I wasn’t looking forward to it. Twice, Jed’s arrival had saved me from an unwelcome audience with Alejo’s low-life acquaintances—but that was luck. I doubted he’d be around to rescue me next time; especially if all went well on Friday.
Then again, maybe I had more of a future with the Stallions than I thought.
The opportunity to step into a general counsel role seemed crazy and maybe a little too good to be true. I wasn’t going to get my hopes up.
In any case, it was still only Monday. I had the whole week ahead of me and plenty of other things to worry about. Recognizing that at present it was my responsibility to represent Williams, Pritchard, and Pratt to the best of my ability, I set aside Jed’s file and got back to my caseload.
Wrangler
He carried the plate of raw hamburger patties past the dining room table, still littered with Phase Ten cards, and exited through his sliding glass door out onto his covered patio. His Traeger was preheated, so he lifted the lid and placed the four patties inside, one by one.
Wrangler didn’t consider himself a noteworthy cook. He could get by, and his kids didn’t complain. Not much, anyway. But one thing he could do was protein. He used his smoker year-round in a variety of different ways. That night, he planned on doubling up his quarter pound, angus burgers on two sets of buns for his post-workout meal. He was extracting his phone from his gym shorts, in order to set a timer, when it started ringing in his grasp.
Kids’ House lit up his screen, and he swiped his thumb automatically, answering before bringing the device to his ear.
“Hello?”
“Dad?”
Wrangler’s eyebrows knit together, her tone enough to make him brace.
“Lowe? What’s wrong?”
It was rare to get a call from one of his kids. Occasionally, they’d ring him if they wanted something, and their mother had told them no or that she couldn’t afford it. Once or twice over the years he’d gotten a call in the middle of the night, after one of them was awakened by a bad dream.
Mostly, if they needed him, he was there—one of the benefits of having them under his roof as often as he did.
“Is it true?”
“Is what true, sunshine?”
Marlowe hesitated. “Is mom trying to take us away from you?”
The tremble he heard in her voice made him want to throw the plate he still had in his hand against the wall. He resisted the urge, closed his eyes and asked, “Where’d you hear that?”
“Just now. She was on her phone talking to someone. She said she didn’t expect you to be ready so fast, and that there was no way you were prepared, and that you always act before you think, and that you better enjoy the summer while you have us because things were about to change.”
His scowl deepened as he opened his eyes and glared at the sliding glass door in front of him.
Fuckin’ Nicole, he thought.
“She said all that in front of you?” he asked aloud.
“No. Her phone rang, and she answered it and went down the hall, but I could still hear her.”
“Sunshine—”
“Is it true? Am I right?” her voice was but a high-pitched whisper now.
“Marlowe, listen to me. No one could ever take you away from me.”
“She keeps saying everything will be different now that she and Evan are married and that we’re a family now,” she cried softly. “But I don’t want Evan to be my dad. I don’t even like him that much.”
He could tell she was scared and upset, but he knew her opinion of Evan was genuine. Both his kids told him all the time how bland they thought the man was, and how he was always trying to win them over but without much success. They tolerated him because they didn’t have much of a choice. Wrangler taught them, if Evan treated their mom well, the least they could do was respect him.
He hoped he was doing his part to raise decent human beings.
“Evan’s never gonna be your dad, sunshine. I’m not goin’ anywhere. As far as what you heard your mom say, I don’t want you to worry about that.”
“But—”
“Lowe, you let me handle it, alright? No matter what, I’ll pick you up next Sunday.”
Marlowe was silent for a moment, and he could see her in his mind’s eye, worrying her bottom lip as she tried to contemplate whether or not she was ready to surrender her concern into his care.
“Lowe? You gonna let me handle it?”
“Yeah, okay.”
“I promise you, everything’s going to be alright.”
“Okay,” she sniffled.
“I love you.”
“I love you too, dad.”
When he was sure she was okay, they said their goodbyes and he returned to the grill to flip his burgers. He thought about calling Nicole but quickly decided against it. He knew if he heard her voice, she’d ignite his temper. He didn’t want to stir shit up and start a fight. Especially not that week. From the sounds of it, she thought she had the advantage, and he wanted to keep it that way.
He was returning to the kitchen when his phone buzzed with a text alert. After discarding the plate in his hand, he extracted the device from his pocket a second time and saw a message from an unsaved number.
Hi, this is Alexia. I hope you don’t mind my text. I didn’t want the day to get away from me before I let you know we’re confirmed for Friday morning. 9am at Gillette Family Lawyers on Kendrick Avenue.
Up until that moment, they corresponded only over email or in person. He was sure her number was in her email signature, but he never bothered to save it. Now, he certainly would.
Good news , was his simple reply.
He thought about their earlier meeting and all she managed to accomplish on his behalf in less than a week. What he told his daughter was true. Everything was going to be alright. He wasn’t going to lose.
Alexia had called Nicole’s attorney a bulldog. In his opinion, that made Alexia a pit bull—just a whole lot prettier.
He remembered arriving at her office earlier that afternoon and the way she stood her ground against Rocco Borrero. She told him Borrero wouldn’t have left had he not arrived, and she was probably right—but that hadn’t stopped her from trying.
Wrangler still wasn’t quite sure what to make of their acquaintance. He knew he didn’t like it, but he didn’t have enough information to assess the threat level. If it was Alexia’s brother who was in trouble, maybe Borrero had simply been by to deliver a message.
On the plus side, Borrero had the good sense to get lost at Wrangler’s request. He had at least five inches and an easy fifty pounds on Borrero, but he knew it was the kutte on his back that got the man out the door. The cartel and the Stallions made it a point to play nice. If each stayed in their own lane and minded their own business, the fragile peace between them would remain intact.
So far, Borrero hadn’t done anything to warrant Wrangler bringing the issue to Bull—but the man was on his radar, and he certainly planned on keeping a close eye on the situation.
She didn’t know it yet, but Alexia was under the protection of the Stallions.