Chapter 16 Nick
Nick
I spent half the morning driving back to my office in Gulf View. I hated to leave the farm and I’m ashamed that it’s taken me so long to visit. I stopped in to see mama before I left.
I’ve got to go back to work now, Mama.” I lean over to kiss the top of her wrinkled head.
My heart constricts seeing the strongest woman I know age into fragility.
“Please come back soon, I miss my son.” She peers up at me and grasps my hand in hers.
Her watery blue eyes threaten to drown my soul. Only a bastard would leave her like I have. I built my entire adult life in Gulf View, I could always move my practice to Louisiana, but I know Mama wouldn’t want that. She needs the version of me she gets when I escape that life.
She wasn’t having a good day. Her memory was ok, she just didn’t want me to leave so soon. I tried—once again, to convince her to come back to the beach house, and once again she declined.
“This is my home. You have to live your life, and I want to live the rest of mine here. Just come visit every now and then,” she said in her soft, fragile voice.
She raised me to be independent—to find my own way. She also raised me to make better choices for myself than I have. She would never approve of me trafficking weapons, but I always wanted to be my own made man.
Vade and I met Diaz during spring break our senior year of college, and the rest spawned from there.
We started with a few weapons exchanges, acting as a middleman for him and some of his family in Houston after their ports got taken down, then eventually exploded after we started working side by side with Alex.
Going to law school helped me learn laws, the gray areas, and how to break them. You also have more cooperation from law enforcement with the buddy system.
My parents were both honest, hardworking people. Even after Mama passes, I’ve vowed to keep the farm running in honor of their legacy.
“Sasha…” I call into the reception speaker, “bring my schedule for this week.” It’s a good thing I have reliable full time workers on the farm, because I have enough work here to keep me busy for six months. I can’t be there to oversee it.
It’s going to be worse here without Ethan around. He won’t be able to keep up with all my cybersecurity and hacking needs when he’s on babysitting duty. Vade agreed to have one of his surveillance guys from the casino help, but they never do as good of a job as Ethan.
She struts in, her too-short mini skirt hugging the curves of her luscious thighs. “What else can I assist you with?” She makes it a point to lean over so I can see down her top as she places the planner on my desk.
I ignore her and she doesn’t take the hint. “How about I come sit on your lap?”
“How ’bout no.” I glare at her, refusing to look down her shirt.
Sasha isn’t used to being told no, and irritation is oozing from her—body language and all. “How about I sit on your face?” she tries to tease but can’t hide the seriousness in her voice.
“The last thing I need right now is to have to hire a new secretary, but trust if you don’t drop the crap and just focus on doing your job, I will.” I stare at her with as much intensity as I can. She can’t seem to take the hint that I’m not interested in her anymore.
My eyes close and I rub my temples as she turns to leave the room. Ever since I saved that girl from the river, my life—and sex life—has not been the same.
The girl isn’t ugly, but she’s not my usual type. First of all, she’s too much on the thin side. She needs at least twenty to thirty more pounds on her. I’d break her in half if I fucked her right now.
It’s got to be her attitude drawing me in. The way she stands her ground with me is cute. It’s assertion, not attraction. My urge to control everything—her included—is manifesting into sexual thoughts.
Sexual dominance is a way to assert yourself over someone else. She mouths off to me, and my primal need as an alpha male is to dominate her—That must be it.
That’s why I imagined bending her over my knee and spanking her bare ass.
Because I’m a freak and a control freak.
My fingers grip my pen, angrily, snapping it in half.
I keep my eyes shut and mentally try to block out the thought of how her moans would sound beneath me as I pushed harder to make her come.
Get out of my head. I mentally scold myself. The last two times I jacked off, I couldn’t get off without her crossing my mind.
Fucking stress is ruining my life. I miss cigarettes. They at least helped take the edge off with no strings attached. Sex used to, but now I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me. Sasha doesn’t do it for me.
The last person on earth I should be messing with is the only one on my mind. I escape to my ensuite bathroom to splash some cold water on my face.
When I get back, Sasha is sitting on the edge of my desk, waiting for me to acknowledge her. “Nick, I’m sorry for whatever I did to make you not want to touch me anymore.”
Ignoring her comment, I look at my schedule. “Call Kaleb Cherry and cancel his Wednesday appointment. Tell him to be here at nine in the morning or I’m not taking the case. That’ll be all for now.”
“Yessir.” Tension is in her voice, and she huffs out of the room. Not sure what that was about. She’s never had problem with being dismissed. Maybe it’s PMS.
I look at my phone and send the girl another text—if she doesn’t answer this third time, there’ll be hell to pay. It shows read and I don’t see the three dots showing she’s typing so I send another, letting her know I can see she’s left me on read.
Finally, a minute later—
12:14 p.m. - I understood the first time. I will call you tonight, sir.
Annoyance flares, canceling out on what little relief I just got. I need a drink. Sasha keeps my office well stocked with my favorite whiskeys. I pour two fingers of Weller’s and knock it back, then repeat it again—twice. Mmm, my favorite liquid lunch.
My phone rings, Vade’s name flashing on the screen. “Tell me something good.”
“A new shipment of guns arrived at the dock, and Alex just placed a new order for double his usual amount for next month.” There’s a lot of background noise suggesting it’s being unloaded now.
“I knew there was a reason I liked you.” I smile.
“Yeah, well, before you get your dick hard for me, you should know Marcus and his brother Lucas went to Waffle House this morning and two of the other patrons were boasting to each other about how much money they were about to be paid for delivering twin sisters to Madam LaBell last week.”
“Anything else? Bragging about money doesn’t give a starting location.” I sip more whiskey.
“No shit, dickhead. They followed them to The Lucky Rabbit but lost them once inside. I’m telling you, we need to get on the ball, these girls can’t afford to wait.” His voice is etched with worry.
“Were they able to get a tag number?”
“Yes, and I had the numbers ran. They’re ghost tags. The vin numbers had also been removed.”
“Send me a description of the vehicles and men and I’ll have Ethan see what he can pull from the cameras in both locations later.
” I finish my glass and pour another. “It’ll take time to set up our own surveillance in there.
For now, send out extra boats and we will try to monitor everything going in and out of the casino. ”
“I’ll get right on it.” He hangs up the phone.
It’s possible if we play our cards right, we can shut this operation down before we have to send the girl inside. I pull my phone back out and click on the surveillance feed in her room.
She’s spread out on the bed, not moving. I watch the slow, but steady, rise and fall of her chest while she naps. She looks so frail and defenseless, not like someone who blew up a house with a blood relative inside.
Everyone has a breaking point, and she didn’t show any remorse when talking about him last night. She’s already stronger than she gives herself credit for. I can’t wait to see who she becomes with some therapy and training.
I’m going to push every single limit she has until she’s unstoppable in any situation. Hopefully, she doesn’t blow me up, too.
“Mr. Ryker, Karen Smith is here to see you.” Sasha’s voice comes over the intercom.
Geezus fucking dammit. Can this day get any better? I take another long swig of whiskey.
“Tell her to fuck off, I’m at lunch,” I yell back in the intercom, but it’s too late, Karen, in all her ginger glory, is already seeing herself in.
“Nicholas…” She fake smiles.
“It’s Sir Nicholas to you, Skarin.” I grab the bottle of whiskey and sit back in my chair, my feet propped on my desk. I’ve got a good buzz going.
“Skarin?” She rolls her eyes and flips her hair back. “How old are you? Five?”
“Actually, I’m six. I just had a birthday last week. Did you come to bring me a present?” I give her the biggest, cheesiest grin I can muster.
“No, I’m here to talk to you about the boy you let go to prison last week.
How convenient that he ended up being immediately released into gen pop and getting beat within an inch of his life.
His mother was found the next day so drugged out of her mind, she couldn’t even remember her own son, let alone her own name.
” Her arms cross and her eyes burn into me.
“Your point? I can’t control what happens in prison or what people do in the streets.” Did she seriously come here thinking I would admit to my crimes?
“I’m the captain of the ship around here, Nicholas. I know he was working for you.”
Captain Cunt… Has a nice ring to it. “Can you do me a favor, Captain Cunt, and row, row, row your boat the fuck away from me? I’m trying to drink my lunch.”
She looks at me with disgust as I take a long swig straight from the bottle and slams her palms down on my desk, leaning closer to me.
“If you think for one minute that I don’t know about your illegal weapons trading off the coast, you’re dead wrong.
Everything that comes through these ports comes through me.
I won’t have you messing up Gulf View’s integrity.
My agents are the eyes and ears of the water. You’re going down, asshole.”
“Going down on what? You? No thanks, but…” I lean over my desk looking down at her. “I would like to know if the curtains match the drapes.” I hiccup.
“Are you drunk?” She stands up straight and eyes me with disgust.
I might be.
“I…am…amazing.” I take another swig and hiccup again, “You know…if you removed the rule book from your ass, you…” I point at her, “could be amazing, too.”
Her pale face boils with rage. “You are such an arrogant bastard.”
“I know that.” I wave the bottle around. “Want some?”
“Keep your fucking men off my coastline.” She slams her hand down on my desk again, trying to reinforce her seriousness. It’s kinda cute.
“Or what? You’ll prosecute me? You have to catch me first.”
Her face is as red as her hair and burning with rage. “If you’re lucky—yes. Otherwise, try me and see.” She turns on her heels and storms out the door.
“Make sure you look both ways before you go fuck yourself!” I call after her. Stupid cunt.
She’s had it in for me ever since I moved to Gulf View. I’ve never met anyone who is so strict about following the rules. I guess that’s why she’s the prosecutor and I’m a criminal defense attorney.
I like to think of laws as more of guidelines with decorative gray areas than rules. Rules schmules.
It’s dark when I wake up with my head pounding and face plastered to my desk. Shit! It has to be after seven if it’s dark. I look at my phone, my eyes strain to focus. Sure enough, I have a missed call from the girl and Ethan.
The empty bottle of Weller’s sits on top of my planner. It was over half full when I started drinking on an empty stomach, like an idiot. I need to call the girl and follow up with her about her first therapy appointment, and I can’t even think straight with my head spinning the way it is.
I can’t preach to her about staying in control and taking responsibility when I let myself get drunk in my own office on a Monday when I’m buried in cases. But I’m going to anyway.
That was stupid and reckless, and I can never let it happen again. I will have to wait before calling, to give my head time to stop spinning, be able to focus, and I don’t feel like something that’s been run over by a truck. I send her a text to let her know when to be expecting my call.
8:06 p.m. - I’m running late at the office. I’ll call you in an hour.
It’s not a total lie. I’m still at the office and it’s late. I pop two ibuprofen and down a bottle of water. Emma will have left some food for me at the beach house. I’ll head back there and make my calls after I’ve eaten.
Forty-five minutes later, I’m watching the clock on my phone like an idiot waiting for the correct time. I’ve checked the cameras in her room and she wasn’t there or anywhere else in the house that I could see.
Where the hell is she? Her location shows her still on the property so unless she left and didn’t take her phone, she’s there somewhere. I couldn’t find her on any of the barn cameras either. Screw it, I’m calling early.