Tiny’s Law (Desert Outlaws MC)

Chapter 1

Kourtney

T hat no good, scumbag, small-dick mother fucker.

I slam the glass door to my office shut and let out a huff of frustration, causing the wisps of hair lining my face to fan out around me like a halo from the force of my breath.

That meeting was pointless. It should have been a fucking email update like every other useless email chain they send out every stupid fucking Monday.

Dropping down on the leather chair behind my desk, I reach for my iced macchiato and hollow my cheeks on a long, satisfying pull from the straw letting the strong shot of espresso coat my veins and calm my anger.

Rolling the chair forward so I can reach my keyboard, I once again pull up the document that holds my resignation letter for at least the hundredth time.

Taking a deep breath, I guide my cursor to the top and select the date marked three weeks ago, erase it, and replace it with today’s date. Before I chicken out, I attach it to an open email with the three partners of the large law firm I work for, minus one specific pig-headed, needle-dicked motherfucker.

Today was supposed to be the day when I got my promotion that has been mine for months now, a promotion that I have worked my ass off for. But what happened instead? I learned this morning that the promotion that was meant to be mine went to none other than Robby Redman. Robby, who has only been out of law school for eight months. Eight months!

When Stan stood at the head of the conference table and announced the promotion, all eyes, including Robby’s, went wide as saucers. After the initial shock wore off, a dozen sets of pitied eyes fell on me. It was the most embarrassing moment of my life.

How the fuck did Robby earn the promotion, you ask? Good fucking question. I’m asking the same goddamn thing.

When Matthew Needle-Dick Watson, a.k.a my boss, a.k.a my ex’s older brother, approached me about the promotion, I was ecstatic. I took on every single project and all the extra hours of overtime without argument or complaint to show that I deserved it.

What did I get in return?

A promotion offering in the form of a one night trip to naked-town with my boss.

No fucking thank you, Mr. Saggy balls.

My boss, who up until this event I actually liked and respected , was a good, easy guy to work for. And I love sex as much as the next 30-year-old woman, but that doesn’t mean I’m willing to sleep with ol’ Matty-boy just for a promotion, even if I wanted that promotion more than anything in the entire goddamn world.

I do hold some morals.

But I didn’t think turning Matthew down would turn into this. I could have never even imagined I would be passed over for a dude whose ink is still wet on his fucking bar exam results.

I bet he didn’t have to sleep with anyone to get the job. Fucking boys’ club.

Right after the loud whoosh of the email sending pings through my office, a soft knock raps on my office door. I don’t mean to glare at the interruption of my sulking, but that just seems to be how my mood is going to go today.

I turn my attention back to my computer screen, attaching necessary documents to different shared files with some other coworkers here in hopes that some of them will be taken over so I can get the fuck out of dodge.

Emma, my assistant who’s so young she practically still wears a training bra, peeks through the small opening she made in the doorway. “Kourt?”

“Yeah?” I bark while spitefully sharing the more intense cases on my roster with Robby.

“Are you okay?” Her meek voice pulls my concentrated gaze from the screen up to her solemn expression.

I take a breath and lean back against the back of my chair. “Word of advice, Em?”

Looking up at me through her lashes, she nods.

“Get the fuck out of this line of work. It’s trash.”

Her eyes widen, and her hand trembles against the cashmere cardigan her parents no doubt paid a pretty penny for.

“W-what are you going to do?”

The thought of never returning to this place actually isn’t as bad as I’d imagined. I should’ve sent off this email weeks ago when Matthew propositioned me. I feel the side of my lips lift in a smirk, and I shrug. “I may not be leaving the line of work, but I am sure as shit leaving here.”

“You’re quitting?” Though it doesn’t seem possible, her eyes widen even further, and her bottom lip trembles. Oh fuck. She better not start crying on me. “Y-you can’t quit.”

“I am, and I did.”

“What am I going to do?”

I chuckle. “They’ll assign you to someone else, I’m sure.”

She remains stoic, looking like someone kicked her puppy. I turn my attention back to the screen where I attach the last remaining case documents and send them to Robby.

“Can I go with you?”

“You don’t even know where I’m going, kid. Hell, I don’t even know where I’m going.”

She nods, pinching the pendant on her gold necklace, sliding it along the chain like she does every time I give her a task that I know she’s uncomfortable with. It’s her tell.

That’s the thing about me; I’m pretty damn good at reading people. Emma has so many tells she’s practically translucent. She shifts from foot to foot, the dainty gold daisy at her neck sliding back and forth, back and forth.

“Nevertheless, wherever you go, I’ll go.” Her intake of breath echoes throughout my office, and like the brave girl she is, she brings her eyes back to mine. “If you’ll have me, that is. I enjoy working for you. I don’t like any of these other jerks here.”

The very elementary insult coming from her mouth makes my lips tip up in amusement. If there is one thing Emma doesn’t do, it’s curse or be mean to anyone in general.

This field is going to eat her alive.

“Between you and me, Em, I have no fucking clue where I’ll go. But, yes.” I nod, and the way her eyes light up has an unfamiliar pang pulling at my chest, “I will let you know. You’re a pretty damn good assistant yourself.”

“Thank you, Kourtney. That means a lot.” She looks around my office at the many items I have lining the bookshelves on the far wall. Things like old court journals, textbooks from law school, and my degree in the silver frame my parents gifted me at graduation. “Do you need help packing some of your things?”

I shake my head and wave her off. The movement causes me to catch sight of my thumbnail, where I absolutely ruined my fresh manicure by biting it to shit. “I’m going to get out of here. Maybe get my nails fixed, drink way too much wine, and veg on my couch while I think about what the hell I’m going to do next.”

Emma giggles and nods. “I think I should go talk to HR myself, give them my two weeks.”

I eye her suspiciously. “You sure that’s a good idea?”

“I hate being this person and admitting it out loud, but my dad takes care of me. I don’t have to work if I don’t want to. I just do it for fun.”

“You do this shit for fun?” Emma has been my assistant for the last year and a half and doesn't talk about her home life much. Yeah, I had some ideas and suspicions, but I never brought anything up.

Her cheeks redden, and she nods. “Gets me out of the house.”

“Shit. Well, go home. Fuck this place. Don’t even give them two weeks.”

“Isn’t that rude? Won’t that look bad?”

“If you’re planning on following me, does it matter?” I smirk.

“I guess you’re right.” Tucking her jet-black, silky hair behind her ear, she turns on her plaid Burberry heel and leaves me alone in my office once again.

I look around my office again before shutting down my computer and packing the few things I need right now in my bags.

Rosinda, the receptionist, eyes me oddly as I pass by her desk and give her a small wave.

Rosinda isn’t the only one eyeing me curiously, and I assume it’s because I’m not just carrying my small briefcase as if I were heading to court but the three large bags I carry in and out with me every day. It’s only ten in the morning, and I shouldn’t have all this shit with me until five, like normal. Or more like nine p.m. as of the last few weeks.

Driving away from the office is a blur, and I don’t even realize I’m pulling into the Total Wine parking lot until my Range Rover is parked in the closest spot to the door. I curse myself for not paying attention when opening the car door as my $800, black leather Louboutin lands directly in a fucking puddle.

“Fuck,” I hiss as the disgustingly warm liquid seeps down into the sole of my shoe. “Ugh. Just great. These are brand fucking new!” I know I probably sound like a psychopath cursing to myself in the middle of a parking lot at ten in the morning, where I plan on going inside and spending entirely too much money on wine so I can go home and drink my frustrations away by myself. Still, when in Rome or whatever they say.

I make a pit stop to the bathroom and dry my foot off as best as I can. Unfortunately, I don’t think my shoe will make it, which pisses me off even more.

Heading for the white wine section, I grab my trusty Gewurztraminer off the shelf and head for the checkout. I slow as I pass the glass cases holding the more expensive stuff. My gaze flicks between the $20 white in my hand and the $110 Pinot that my dad favors.

Fuck it . I grab the red off the shelf and tuck it in the crease of my elbow.

The older woman manning the register gives me a warm smile as I place both bottles on the belt.

“Do you need me to wrap these?”

“No, thanks. They’re for me.”

“Celebrating?”

I smile at her while pulling my wallet from my bag. “You could say that.”

“Something exciting?” Her eyes lighten as she hones in on my choices.

“Quit my job.”

Her eyes bulge, and she coughs after sputtering, “Congratulations?”

Pulling my card out of the chip reader and shoving it back in my bag, I take the bottles from her. “Most definitely. You have a good day.”

“You too, miss.”

The trip back to my truck is uneventful, thank God, and I carefully secure my purchases in the front seat.

As soon as I push through the front door of my condo, I kick off my ruined shoes and set my lunch and dinner on the counter. Who needs food? I’ll have the Pinot for lunch and follow it up with the Gewurztraminer for dinner.

“Meatball, you fucking lard-ass, get the hell out of my laundry basket!” I yell at my twenty-pound Maine coon, who seems to have made himself comfy in my freshly washed sheets.

He’s so big I can’t even see my white sheets underneath him. His belly fluffs out to stretch the width of the basket. Lifting his ass in the air and stretching his upper body out, he makes biscuits on the silk sheet before plopping back down, completely ignoring me.

On my way to the master bedroom to change out of my skirt suit, I heft his heavy ass out of the basket and drop him on the floor where he damn near reaches my knees. “Stay out of the clean laundry,” I scold him as if he could understand me.

As soon as I change into my ASU Law sweatshirt from college and a pair of leggings, I hear my phone ping from where I left it in my purse on the counter.

Matthew ‘Saggy Balls’ Watson: Stan forwarded me your email. You need to come into my office. Now.

Me: No can do, Matty. I will stop by tomorrow to pack my office.

Matthew ‘Saggy Balls’ Watson: You will regret this.

Nah. I don’t think I will.

I toss my phone back on the counter, fling open my utensil drawer in search of a corkscrew, and go to work opening the delicious wine waiting for me.

After pouring an obnoxiously overfilled glass, I plop myself down on my white cloud couch, fire up the ol’ trusty Amazon, and click on Twilight: New Moon . Meatball sidles up next to me, flops his fat ass down practically on top of me, and starts to purr in satisfaction.

Within minutes, the heavy cat is sleeping, causing my leg to go numb. I try my best to enjoy the wine I just spent a pretty penny on, but between Bella’s Edward-induced depression and my own depression from quitting my job setting in, I chug the oaky wine a little too quickly. If my dad were here, I’d be getting an earful on how this wine is supposed to be savored, not devoured.

My glass is long empty by the time I need to switch to the third movie, so before starting the next one, I grab the entire bottle and take it back to the couch with me.

By the start of Breaking Dawn: Part II, I’m entirely sloshed and yelling at my TV. I’m team Jacob, and Bella’s behavior is just atrocious.

I don’t recall the ending of the movie, and as I drift off to sleep, my only worry is the inevitable red wine stain that will be on my white couch when I awake.