Chapter 31
THIRTY-ONE
JINX
It takes less than ten minutes to arrive at the Sheriff’s office, thanks to my goddamn frustrations and a tight throttle hand.
A fancy-ass Mercedes that doesn’t belong in a town like Temperance sits at the curb outside the entrance.
This can’t be good. They were supposed to arrive hours ago to consult with Crow.
If I knew they’d still be here, I wouldn’t have fucked around punishing myself before I headed out to check in.
Concern knots in my chest as I head for the main entrance—if the lawyer’s still here, maybe it won’t be as easy as we thought to get Crow’s charges reduced.
I step over the threshold to find tension thick enough to cut with a knife and an impeccably dressed woman arguing loudly with our deputy Sheriff.
“That is not how you treat detainees, Mr. Frees.” She thrusts a finger toward the cells out the back. “I don’t give a fuck what he’s done prior or what organization he belongs to; meals are a basic privilege afforded to all prisoners.”
I quietly move to the bank of seats and stand at the end, arms folded, to hear this out.
“He can’t find it in himself to show a shred of respect for my men,” Frees argues. “So cry me a river if he feels he’s been ill-treated.”
“Those same men who threw his colors on the ground in front of his cell and walked over them all night?” She scoffs.
“They may as well have defecated on it or, in the very least, had the decency to dig their own grave. You realize what level of disrespect that is to a member of a motorcycle club, right?”
“They’re not above God and the law, Miss Larson.”
“Ms. Larson,” she growls. “I’m not a child.”
“Do we have an issue here?” I take a step forward, figuring now is as good a time as any to intervene.
“Wrapping it up, thank you,” Ms. Larson snaps, eyes on the deputy.
“The sooner your boy is shipped off to the penitentiary, the better,” Keller snarls. “Takes up far too much of our time to keep you assholes in line when you’re here.”
“Sounds like Crow had a valid reason for acting out to me.”
“We don’t live by the same rules as you,” Keller says, leaning close. “If you want to visit him, you’re out of luck. His privileges have been revoked for the day.”
“You can’t do that,” Ms. Larson bites.
Keller lets himself through the locked door to the far side of the reception. “Watch me.” He slides a sign from beside Crow’s name on the board listing all the cells, then flips it over to read RESTRICTED.
Cunt. “Come on,” I jerk my head toward the exit, ushering Ms. Larson outside. “I’ll buy you coffee, and you can tell me what happened.”
“I don’t know how you tolerate their shit,” she mumbles, bashing the door open with a stiff arm.
I follow her through, stopping it from swinging back into me too hard. “We don’t.”
She reaches the sidewalk and stalls, leather slimline satchel hanging at her side, and faces the sky to growl.
“You new with the firm?” I ask, studying her delicate features. “We haven’t had you before.”
“Yeah. I am.” She huffs a laugh. “I guess this is my initiation.”
The woman’s pretty. Right up Crow’s alley with her dark hair and alabaster skin, lips painted a viciously deep shade of red.
“You’ll do better if you don’t let them get to you,” I say. “You’re in the right. They’re not. Never forget that.”
She looks at me as though I’m crazy. “Your man committed murder.”
I tilt my head. “Did he?”
She lets out another frustrated grumble and scours the street. “Which way to coffee, buster. I need caffeine before I end up in there with him.”
I extend my arm toward the cafe. “Right this way.”
Her heels clip at a fair pace along the sidewalk. I have to lengthen my strides to catch up. “Sorry that I wasn’t here to meet you earlier.”
“It’s fine.”
Sounds anything but fine. “The Sheriffs like to test new blood.”
“I see that.”
“Have you had many cases like his?”
She spares me a glance and then powers on. “I’ve had enough to know what I’m doing.” Her phone rings inside her satchel, and she stops walking with another growl. “Excuse me.”
I step to the side of the pavement and lean against a wall while she digs the device out and barks a greeting into the mouthpiece. My gaze roams the street, seeking any signs of Kyra. I have no idea what I’ll say when I see her. Or even what I should say.
I want to continue what we started. I want her close so I know she’s safe, and I want her with me when I come home to rest each night.
But it’s not fair to drag her along with me when I have no hope of being what she needs.
I’m not going to be like my father and ruin her like he ruined my mom.
“Sorry,” Ms. Larson offers, shoving her phone away. “Lead us on.”
I offer her my hand. “You’ve probably read my name badge already, but I’m Jinx.” She slides her palm against mine. “You are?”
“Rowan.” She gives a firm, professional shake and then lets go.
“Figure we may as well be on a first-name basis if you’re going to be a regular.” I head toward the cafe, ensuring she does too.
“You’re probably right.” Rowan studies me a second before asking, “Have any of your members successfully escaped major charges in this kind of scenario before?”
“Nervous about how you’ll do?”
She lifts an eyebrow. “Gauging what I’m up against with your Sheriff’s office.”
I scan the street again. Stop it. She won’t be here. Not after yesterday. “A couple of times, yeah. A couple of times, no.”
“Just how often has this happened before?”
“In the last few years? Or in the club’s history?” I ask. “Because they’re two very different answers.”
She exhales heavily. “It’s going to be like that, is it?”
“Hope you didn’t expect any different.”
I open the door for her when we reach the cafe, ushering her in first. “Head to your left. We’ll have more privacy to talk.”
“Sure.” She doesn’t spare the place a look, turning toward the annex as though she can’t wait to get this over with and be out of Temperance.
I follow her down toward our usual table, the contrast of this woman laying it out in plain black and white for me: we run things differently around here, and the way we do isn’t typical.
The Kings have held ground in Temperance for four decades, and for three of those, the community was stuck in a time loop, refusing to move with the times unless forced to. Since taking over at the table, a lot has changed, and not just within our walls.
The town started to move with the times, and with that, new blood began to flow in. Take Vanessa, for example. She traveled the country before passing through Temperance and deciding this was where she wanted to settle. How long before the flow of people like her outnumbers those already here?
How long can the Kings of Anarchy hope to maintain order around here before bigger dogs show up, ready to fight over the territory?
Considering why I sit down today with a defense lawyer, I’d say they’re already here.
We’ve simply been too blinded by our own inflated self-worth to see it.