Chapter Five
Maeve
No woman ever wants to hear about the sex life of the man she’s attracted to, even if it happened ten years ago, so I push down Maeve the woman, and summon Ms. Halloway the attorney.
The lawyer version of me can handle listening to the man talk about his attraction to someone else.
She can bear the thought of another woman touching and feeling this man in ways she never has. In ways she might never experience.
“I met her at a bar in Logan Square,” he starts.
“It happened by chance. I’d been honorably discharged a couple months prior and was trying to find a community.
The Rebels were welcoming, and when they invited me out for drinks, I was more than happy to join them.
The evening was coming to an end when a group of women approached our table, said they wanted to join a bunch of handsome men for drinks. ”
“Sounds reasonable.”
He laughs. “I thought so too. I mean, what’s the harm in sharing a few drinks, right?
” The amusement in his eyes dies and when he looks at me, I can tell he’s lost in his memories of that night ten years ago.
“We had one too many drinks and I ended up sharing a hotel room with one of the women. She claimed to have left a terrible marriage and wanted to have a fun night now that her divorce was finalized. Turns out she wasn’t lying, but she failed to mention that she had just divorced a vengeful cop. ”
“Is he the same cop who was part of the team that arrested you?”
“Yeah, showed up at my place a couple of weeks later with a search warrant that claimed I was in possession of an unregistered gun. It was all fucking stupid. All my guns were well secured and registered, but they claimed to find a gun that wasn’t.”
“Claim? Do you think they planted it there?”
“I know they planted it there,” he says, his voice bitter. “I doubt someone broke in and hid it in my place, so my guess is one of the cops walked into my apartment with the gun and claimed to have found it.”
“Then they arrested you for possession of an unregistered firearm.”
“Yeah. Later, they tried to increase the charges because they ‘discovered’ that the gun had been used to commission a robbery,” he scoffs.
“I was charged as an accessory to the crime, but since they couldn’t prove that I’d actually taken part in the robbery, I received ten years for the gun charge.
I served six and was released to parole the last four. ”
Trigger runs a hand through his hair, the first sign of distress I’ve seen from the moment I met the man.
He drops his hand to his lap and I watch his fingers clench into a fist as he speaks, eyes hard and cold.
“I was stripped of my Medal of Honor and all the other awards I earned in the Marines. My name was dragged through the fucking mud over some drunken night.”
“How do you think he found out?” I ask, moving my hand tentatively to his fisted one, the woman seeking to comfort the man even as the lawyer digs for the truth. “How did he know about you and his ex?”
“One of her friends from the bar could have told him,” he says, eyes empty of mirth. “Or maybe she taunted him with it. Who the fuck knows? Suddenly, this cop is coming after me over a night I barely even remember.”
My heart leaps to my throat and I grab his hand, excitement fluttering in my chest. “He came after you? Before the anonymous tip and the gun charge?”
“A couple times, yes.” He nods, oblivious to the gleam in my eyes.
“Enough that I even learned his name. Fucking Officer Jones couldn’t get over the fact that his ex-wife had moved on,” he hisses.
“The first time, he showed up drunk at the clubhouse, cursing me out and threatening to get revenge before his buddies came to pick him up. Another time, he stopped me for a traffic violation but all he could snag on me was a stupid speeding ticket. He planted that gun in my house, I just know it. Fucker cost me my reputation and my medals. My freedom.”
I sit up, buzzing with energy. “He came after you!”
His brow furrows and I don’t realize I’ve moved and I’m practically on his lap until he lays his hands on my shoulders, seemingly confused by my reaction. “What do you mean?”
“I mean…okay, so you sleep with a cop’s wife—”
“Ex-wife,” he says bitterly.
“Yeah, sure. Listen.” I cup his jaw, professionalism out the window but who the hell cares anymore? “You sleep with a cop’s ex-wife and he comes after you, causing trouble. Did you file a report the first time he showed up at the clubhouse?”
“To who? His fellow cops? They would have taken his side—”
“It doesn’t matter,” I say, waving my hand. I can’t get rid of the smile on my face. “All we have to do is prove that this cop has had it out for you from the beginning.”
I’ll find holes in the case. Holes that the first lawyer didn’t bother to look into, costing Trigger six years of his life.
“It’s been ten years, but I’m sure we can find people who will testify.
People who witnessed him harassing you. Once is a coincidence, and maybe even the second time could pass off as a coincidence, but what are the chances that in a city of thousands of cops, you keep running into the same one whose ex-wife you were involved with? ”
And to think I ever considered turning down a case as exciting as this one. I’m just itching to start reading through the reports and picking out the holes in the case, finding some answers.
I turn to Trigger to find him studying me, the bitterness in his face replaced by humor. He smirks. “You seem awfully excited about this.”
Shit. “Do I?” I ease back, but his hands stay firmly on my shoulders, stopping me in my tracks. “I mean, this could mean your freedom, but more than that, it could mean restoring your reputation. I’ve requested your case files and they should get here sometime today…”
He’s close. Much closer than he was a few seconds ago.
“Maeve,” he rasps, that deep voice sending my heart in a quick race. I hold my breath as he moves closer until I can almost taste his lips. Until we’re sharing the same air and it’s so intimate—so arousing. “You are the most fascinating woman I have ever met.”
I swallow hard. I mean, I can see his mouth move and hear the words come out but my brain is too fried to make out what it is he’s saying. And when he lifts his hand to stroke my cheek and runs a rough fingertip over my skin, I lose what little brain function I had left.
For a moment there, the woman was forgotten, but now the lawyer slowly retreats so she can start to feel. And feel, she does.
Everything hurts, I realize.
My nipples ache in my bra, and the spot between my thighs pulses with need, flooding with moisture every second he keeps his eyes on me. Keeps his rough, calloused hands on me.
Long beats of silence pass as we stare into each other. As I try to gather the shreds of my senses and remind myself that I am a lawyer and this is my client. A client whose hands should not be on me. Whose lips should not be so close to mine that I’m practically vibrating to feel them on me.
I want this man.
A Steel Rebel. A convict. A client.
I want them all, I realize. I want this man with a desperation unlike anything I have felt my entire life. Want him more than I ever wanted my father’s approval. More than any case I’ve ever wanted to win.
And from the fiercely aroused look in his eyes, I can tell he wants me too.
“Trigger,” I whisper, his name like a prayer on my lips. A plea for him to do something. He moves closer and the kiss hovers a breath away. In the end, I move first.
With my heart pounding in my chest and my body reeling with the desperate need to feel him, I push forward and lock my mouth to his, sighing against the firmness of his lips. His hand wraps around my waist and I’m dragged onto his lap as his lips start moving over mine, urging me to open under him.
His tongue sweeps in and I whimper when he slides it over mine until I can taste him. I never… I didn’t think a press of lips could feel this way, but it sends heat gathering in my stomach and before I know it, I’m writhing over him, rocking forward against the hard press of his erection.
It feels good.
Perhaps a little too good for it to be right. I’m an attorney, for Christ’s sake, and he’s my client. I could lose my license over this. I could…
“Stop,” he breathes, pushing back to look at me. “You’re thinking too much.”
“Trigger—”
“Just stop and feel,” he says, running his hands up and down my back before tugging my blouse from my skirt.
I hiss when his warm hands slide under the blouse and touch my skin, their warmth spreading through my body.
Those calloused fingers leave a trail of heat with every caress. “Let me make you feel good.”
His mouth is soft when it meets mine. Persuasive as he urges me to open up for him again and this time, I empty my mind of all guilt and fear.
Heat gathers like a fireball when his hand moves up to undo my bra, but before he can, the doorbell chimes, startling me into straightening up.
The insecurities come flooding back as the sound echoes through the room and I stare at Trigger in horror.
I’m on his lap, my lips tingling from my first kiss.
At the second ring, I scramble off his lap, my heart racing as I work to straighten my blouse. “I…I’ll go see who it is.” I nearly bump into the coffee table as I rush off.
Taking a deep breath and patting my hair into place, I open the door. I blink at the man, boy really, standing on the other side.
“Delivery for Halloway,” he says, holding up a plastic bag.
Right, shit. I forgot I ordered lunch.
“Yeah, that’s me,” I say, grabbing my wallet to tip the delivery guy before taking the food. I close the door behind me and lean against it, uncertain of how I’m going to react when I walk back into the living room, to Trigger.