Romeo threw his hands up in the air while turning around to find his chair. “Then use two different cameras from now on. One film, one digital. Use it as a backup, in case this shit happens again. You hold patches now, fucking act like it and stay out of the fucking lime light!”
Yeah, it hadn’t gone over well, but at least Romeo had stuck up for him in the end. He had no doubts, but figured his eye would get dotted or he’d be kicked out. Apollo was glad he was proven wrong. He preferred an ass chewing over an ass beating.
Romeo had a lawyer on retainer for the club, which helped as well. Problem was, everything was looking pretty grim at this rate. Sexual voyeurism, resisting arrest, assault on an officer, all felonies and he could be looking at twenty years, if not more.
That was why he was downing the coffee like it was an elixir. It might be the last good cup he’d ever have.
He met Romeo and Colt at the courthouse. Saber had a meeting with Dallas’ baseball coach and couldn’t make it, though Apollo was A-OK with that. He didn’t want to see the disappointment on his brother’s face if he was sentenced to life in prison or had to register as some bogus sexual predator.
The lawyer arrived at five minutes before eight. By then, Apollo was ready to crawl out of his skin with tension. He had paced the hall so many times that Romeo finally asked him if he was going to replace the wax that he had worn off.
Yanking at his tie for the fiftieth time, Apollo grunted as he saw the lawyer running in. “About fucking time,” he muttered under his breath, pushing up from the bench.
“Sorry, sorry. There was a traffic jam.” The young lawyer, James Snider, brushed past the three men and headed straight for the courtroom. “Judge Moore won’t take kindly to me being late if we’re not in there one minute before session starts.”
Apollo and Romeo fell in behind Snider, and made their way to the front. Apollo waited patiently as Snider laid his briefcase on the defense table while glancing back at Romeo. Apollo was worried, there was no way of playing that off, and he knew Romeo saw it the moment he gave a quick wink and nod. Taking in a deep breath, he returned the nod, then focused on moving over beside Snider at his table.
“All rise,” the bailiff called out, standing in front of the judge’s stand. “The incomparable Judge Moore will be taking the stand.”
Everyone that wasn’t presently standing rose at the verbal command. The judge emerged from his chambers and took his place behind the large wooden structure. “You may be seated.”
Snider motioned for Apollo to sit next to him as he clicked open his briefcase.
Apollo’s knee bounced restlessly as he sighed. He had a feeling that this was going to be a long, long day. Feeling a snag on his thumb nail when he ran his hands down his pants, Apollo glanced to the nail before his teeth attacked it. Nervous tic much?
“We’ll open up today with docket fifty-seven dash twenty, San Luis Obispo County versus Dalton Kilpatrick. Are all parties present?”
“Yes, sir.” Snider rose and swung his hand toward Apollo. “All present.”
Walker rose along with the district attorney, who spoke before the deputy could. “All accounted for, sir.”
Apollo tuned out the legal jargon between the two lawyers, his stomach roiling at the very idea of spending any more time in jail. He was far from a pussy; he’d go to jail to protect his brothers in colors, but as a sexual predator?
Fuck. That. Noise.
“How do you plead, Mr. Kilpatrick?”
Snapping out of his reverie, Apollo blinked once while he processed the question. Then he quickly stood and blurted out, “Not guilty, Your Honor.”
“The Prosecution would like to go to trial to prove that Mr. Kilpatrick is guilty of the aforementioned charges.”
The judge raised his brow a hair as he glanced down at the papers before him. Looking up over the rim of his glasses, he rested his weight on his forearms. “I don’t think taking this case to that level is necessary. Do you, Mr. Barnyerd?”
Barnyerd’s cough almost hid the sound of the courtroom door opening, but the noise captured Apollo’s attention. He wanted to see who was running in late and did a double-take as his jaw slackened. He was not expecting the sight before him, which suspended his breath for a moment, forcing a hiccup from his massive chest.
“Excuse me,” he muttered, trying to regain his composure at the very sight of her.
No one had seen Espina ‘Thorne” Lopez since her sister’s funeral except her partner, Saber. She kept herself locked away in her beach mansion, only allowing Saber’s mother to care for her. Apollo had heard the tales of the destruction of her home and how her snide and sarcastic side had come out since the wreck. Apollo had seen it first hand at the hospital, but he thought she would have snapped out of it by now. Apparently not, if the sour look on her face was any indication.
But none of that could hide the beauty that lay beneath the hardened visage of self-pity. Her eyes were the color of burning embers and filled with curiosity, her dark brown hair with golden highlights framed her face with soft curls. The scar that ran down the left side of her face was stark against the caramel tinted skin tone, soft pink and still raised in a few tender areas.
Thorne was tall—taller than most women—and she carried herself with pride, without one iota of shame about her height. Apollo was quick to look away when their eyes met; he couldn’t think of any plausible explanation for her being there.
“My client is a photographer, Your Honor. He takes a plethora of different types of photos, including scenery, erotic photography, portraits, and stills. He is currently employed by a nature magazine to capture stills of ocean scenery.”
Snider was quickly interrupted by Barnyerd’s scoff. “If you call hanging off the cliff at a nudist beach, taking pictures of unsuspecting women—”
“I object!” Snider barked, silencing the glowering attorney.
“Sustained.” The judge stared pointedly at Barnyerd. “That is just hearsay; there is no proof, since the evidence was destroyed.”
Seeing Apollo’s body language, Snider quietly motioned for him to sit. Apollo was starting to grow nervous, and stirred uneasily in his chair. This shit was going downhill and fast. He caught himself glancing uneasily over his shoulder at Romeo and Colt; neither showed more than poker faces. Gee, that was a real help.
As he sunk further down into his chair, his heart climbed into his throat when Barnyerd spoke next.
“He is also a flight risk and into illegal dealings as a gang member, Your Honor.”
A single brow rose as the judge looking pointedly at Snider. “Gang?”
Snider shook his head and stood back up, setting his pen down on the yellow tablet he had been scribbling on. “My client is in a motorcycle club, Your Honor. They are not into any illegal activities. In fact, they just helped the ATF capture, and testified against, gun runners.”
A surprised look crossed the judge’s face. “You’re with the Devil’s SixGun motorcycle club, son?”
All of his nervousness seized him as he rose up and nodded. “Yes—” Apollo halted at the shaking tone of his voice, and cleared it before he spoke again. “Yes sir, I am.”
“Correct me if I am wrong, but didn’t your club raise over ten thousand dollars for the local motorcycle safety department and pit bull rescue?”
“We did, sir.”
The judge nodded, interlacing his fingers before him. His voice grew stern and he kept his eyes directly on Apollo and Snider as he spoke. “I hereby sentence you to three months of house arrest, where you must check in weekly to a probation officer. After this time, it will be decided if you must register as a sexual offender, as you will also be required to attend meetings with a psychiatrist, who will present the court with a diagnosis prior to any further sentencing.”
Intense astonishment touched his paling face as Apollo stared at the judge. House fucking arrest? How the fuck was he to go to work? See his family? Get around? Have a normal fucking life?
As the unspoken questions pounded his brain like a jackhammer, Romeo leaned forward and whispered into Snider’s ear.
Catching the movement, Apollo—unable to form words—turned and stared at the two, his voice box frozen in shock at the fact that he might be going to jail after all. The reassuring smile and nod from his lawyer wasn’t helping the anxiety any.
“Your Honor, if I may?” Snider rose up, smoothing down his tie.
* * * *
Thorne wasn’t too sure why she was in a courthouse, other than to satisfy the curiosity that had been piqued by Romeo’s vague plea. She had run late trying to hide the battle wounds as much as she could. After little success, she jumped into her Tahoe and raced to the courthouse.
Walking in, she stopped short after seeing Dalton standing there so pale and nervous. She had not seen him in months. His hair was now cropped short and he sported a scruffy goatee, his ink was covered by the long sleeves of the suit that hugged his broad shoulders.
It was the withdrawn, haunted gaze of his cobalt eyes that gave her pause. He was always happy-go-lucky, never showing any worry. Dalton was one of the few glass-is-always-half-full kinda guys that sometimes got on your nerves, but in a good way.
When he looked away, she scooted onto the back bench, listening intently to what was going on. Dalton? A voyeur? Highly unlikely. The guy had as much kitty as he wanted, why would he take pictures for personal porn? It just didn’t make sense.
Hearing the temporary sentencing until his next court date, her brows shot up. Being on house arrest would not allow him to make a living. How was he to take pictures from his living room window? Or get to the bar that he managed for the club? Granted it was a strip club, but that shit brought in money for the club and made them legit.
Nothing went unnoticed by Thorne. She scrutinized Romeo as he leaned in to whisper to Dalton’s lawyer. Something was rotten in the state of Denmark. She could feel it all the way into her bones. That gnawing gut feeling that you know you have to listen to. There was a reason she was here, and Thorne knew she was about to find out what it was.
“Your Honor, if I may?”
And here it comes…
“You may.”
Snider cleared his throat, tugging at the end of his tie and giving Dalton a sidelong glance before turning his attention back to the judge.
This put Thorne on the edge of her seat.
“Mr. Kilpatrick will not be able to maintain a living if he is put on house arrest at his apartment. His work is miles away from his apartment, as is his family.”
The judge gave a slow nod, leaning back in his throne-like chair. “There are halfway houses around his work, I would assume.”
“There aren’t, sir.”
Thorne stared in amazement as Romeo stood up, decked out in a suit that gave him a darker, more mysterious appeal that most women would drop their panties for. Her eyes narrowed as Dalton’s lawyer introduced Romeo to the judge as Apollo’s employer.
“Sir, due to the mileage constraints that are on an ankle bracelet, we have a home, within the usual ten mile radius allowed for work situations. He would be able to stay with Espina Lopez, a decorated paramedic in our community.”
He. Just. Did. Not.
Oh, he did.
And Thorne nearly lost it right there in the courtroom. She raised her fine, arched eyebrows, and it took everything in her not to bellow in protest. She did not need an unwanted houseguest for three damn months.
There was an arrested expression on Dalton’s face that let her know he was not keen with the idea either.
Thorne pushed herself up and squared her shoulders, having every intention of walking out of the courthouse and not looking back. They could kiss her brown ass.
“You must be Miss Lopez?”
The judge’s inquisitive voice made her pause, and she squeezed her eyes shut at being caught trying to escape. Sighing, she opened her nutmeg-hued eyes and turned to face the judge. “Yes, Your Honor.”
* * * *
“What the fuck!” Thorne hissed at Romeo once they were outside the courtroom in the main hallway. She was furious at being cornered like this, unable to say no to the law. That was a complete dick move on Romeo’s part and she was going to let him know exactly how she felt about it.
“Chinga tu madre!” Thorne spat at the laughing Romeo as he turned to face her, his unusually pale-green eyes lit with amusement.
“Calm down, Thorne. I told you I needed help. You’ve provided it.”
Thorne felt her temples pulsating with anger as she stared in total disbelief at Romeo while ignoring Dalton and Colt, who were just inches behind them and could hear everything she said. “Un culera!”
A warning cloud settled on Romeo’s features, causing Thorne to take a step back in uncertainty. “Enough, Thorne. I’m not asking you to take in a fugitive. I’m asking you to help out your partner’s brother. That’s it.”
“I don’t want, nor need, a male in my home…or anyone for that matter, Xander James!” With hands set on her hips, she eyed him with a calculating expression. “This is ridiculous. Hawkeye lives just down the street from me, why can’t he stay with him?”
It was easy to see that Romeo was getting exasperated by her, but she didn’t care at the moment. “Didn’t you hear the conditions of the house arrest?” Romeo’s green eyes became flat and as unreadable as stone as he stepped closer to her. His voice dropped levels, taking on a near threatening tone. “He’s not allowed to wear colors, or technically even live around colors. He cannot participate in anything club while on house arrest.”
Thorne wrapped her arms about her, cocooning herself from the verbal onslaught by Romeo. “I’m the furthest thing away from club.” She swallowed the sour taste in her mouth, knowing she had been defeated in a game that she wasn’t meant to play.
“Exactly. I’m sure that you won’t even realize he’s there.”
Those were always famous last words.
IT WAS HARD TO pack for three months. What exactly was he supposed to pack? The whole apartment and give up his lease? Three months was a fucking long time to pay for an apartment he wasn’t using. Apollo was just glad that he hadn’t been placed in some halfway house, among the real degenerates.
It wasn’t like he had a ton of shit to pack up anyway. After Gabrielle left and took everything but the kitchen sink with her, he never bothered refurnishing the place. He had what he needed, that was enough.
Rubbing the back of his neck, Apollo glanced around the bleak apartment that was now empty except for a few boxes to be put into storage and the luggage that he would take to Thorne’s.
His breathing was slow and even; a heavy weight pressed on his shoulders as he stared at the front door. Tomorrow, they’d slap on his ball and chain, and he’d be tethered to Thorne’s house for ninety days. Could be worse, right? He could be in jail, praying he didn’t drop the soap.
He reached toward the counter to grab his cup of coffee, since alcohol was now forbidden—and he would have really love a fucking beer. He let out a tragic sigh, which was interrupted by a knock on his door.
Brows furrowed as he stepped over to the front door and swung it open. He let out another heavy sigh, combined with a bitter smile. The sight of the female who was standing before him made him give a slight, almost unseen, shake of his head—it took everything he had not to groan in displeasure.
“What do you want, Gabby?”
She must have taken that as her cue to come in, because she swept past him with a regal air about her. Gabrielle Velasquez was the epitome of beauty, and the daughter of the president of the TGMC. Apollo and Gabby had been high school sweethearts through all four years of school, and even into college. Unfortunately, her vanity and the fact that her father was in the rival club, were kinks in the armor of life.
She stood statuesque, despite her average height. Everything about Gabrielle spelled spoiled to the core, and Apollo hadn’t helped matters when they were together. He was
a love-sick puppy, seeing only tits and pussy, but hey, he had an excuse, he had been sixteen and was itching to get his dick wet.
Her dark-chocolate eyes were framed by lashes so thick that one would think they were fake. Café au lait skin belied her Latino heritage, though her jet-black silken waves suggested otherwise. She had been popular in school, won beauty pageants galore, was head cheerleader and, of course, president of the senior class. To top it all off, she had also won the Elks Rodeo Queen contest, which vaulted her popularity up the chain and covered up the fact that her father was an outlaw, piece-of-shit biker.
Guess it helped being raised by her mother.
“Don’t look so upset to see me, mamey.” Gabrielle flicked a sidelong glance in his general direction as she lazily dragged her finger tips along the kitchen island top. “I was just coming to check on you. I miss you.”
Apollo tried not to cringe at the term of endearment she had just tossed his way. She used him like a trophy wife and he was far from her bitch. That was the reason he had left her. She was too high maintenance, and well…a bitch. Something had changed in her when she met her father; she thought his role in club life gave her some sort of status.
Not.
But try telling her that.
It didn’t go over so well.
“You don’t miss me, Gabby. You miss the dick.” May as well be blunt about it. He wasn’t one to brag about how he was in the bed, but he knew he didn’t lack in that department. It was one thing in his life he knew he could prove was true.
She lifted one slender shoulder as she gazed longingly at him across it. Her lips puckered together in thought as she raised a single, well-manicured brow, slowly dragging her eyes over his body in obviously hunger.
Why did he suddenly feel like a piece of meat about to be devoured by a pack of ravenous dogs?
“Hmm, maybe I do, Dalton. Can’t help being addicted.”
Apollo watched her sashay over to him, swinging her hips purposefully to draw his attention to her. The low-cut blouse wasn’t helping either. Perfect C’s were pushed up and exposed to evoke drooling and offer ample space for gifted pearl necklaces.
Fractured (Devil's SixGuns MC Book 2) Page 3