by Emilia Finn
“Go that way.” Accepting my knife, I nod to my right. The opposite direction to where my work will take me in a minute and a half. “Don’t stop until you hit Main. Call your people. Never come back here again.”
Shock finally sets in. Her eyes water.
She’s not as badass as she thinks she is.
Without another word, she turns on her sexy heels and runs. Skidding to a stop, she collects her bag and its spilled contents, and with them clutched to her heaving chest, her eyes meet mine for the last time.
“Go. Never come back. This place isn’t for girls like you. Don’t step over to this side of town again.”
As soon as she rounds the corner, I spin Lance to face me.
“Bishop, I didn’t know she was–”
In shock, his eyes lock onto mine as my blade slides along his throat and opens his jugular. With his pants around his ankles, Lance brings his hands to his throat to stop the wave of pulsing blood that rains over my boots. “She won’t be able to sleep properly until you’re dead. I’m choosing her life over yours. You won’t hurt another woman again, Lance. I fuckin’ warned you.”
2
Jess
A Masked Avenger
Unable to sleep, unable to eat, unable to stop shaking, I pace my office and pretend I’m not on the verge of a mental breakdown.
I was almost raped.
I was almost killed.
And my hero is none other than Kane Bishop; the very man I went to Infernos in search of.
I know his name. I’ve seen it a million times on the files littering my desk over the last six months. I’ve stared, I’ve studied, I’ve run searches, but it wasn’t until our eyes met in a dark alleyway that he became real to me.
I just wanted to see his face in real life. Not a grainy image. Not a license on a computer. Not a report filled with opinion, fear, and assumption.
I wanted to hear the cadence in his voice. I wanted to see him in the flesh, to get a first-hand account of the dangerous man that is Kane Bishop; hired hitman, hired muscle, illegal fighter, drug runner, gun seller.
Dark and dangerous… savior.
Everything I’ve read about him says cold-blooded killer.
Dangerous. Stay away.
But I went, anyway.
I did my hair, put on a dress I’d never in a million years let my brother see me in, donned heels that I bought a year ago with absolutely nowhere to wear them, and I purposely went in search of a dangerous man.
“Jess?” I jump half a foot off the ground when Juliette Turner, my boss and sort-of sister-in-law, crashes through my office door. I’ve been somewhat… tense since my run in with the Inferno crew late last night.
Lips twitching, Jules rubs a perfectly manicured hand over her barely-there pregnant belly. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you. You doing something illegal?”
Yes.
No.
I don’t know.
I should know, seeing as I’m a few short months away from sitting the bar exam. “No. I’m working on the Hayes stuff. He’s got me jittery.” Not even a lie.
Her bright eyes narrow with suspicion. “Slimy bastard. Did you lock him up yet?”
I let out a nervous laugh and hope she doesn’t use her pregnancy nose to sniff the guilt in my sweat. “No. I’ve just been staring at the reports for an hour.” I definitely don’t tell her I was there last night. I don’t tell her I had a one-on-one run in with Hayes’ right-hand man. I don’t tell her of my grand plan to blend in with the other girls, to get inside and see that world with my own eyes.
Not only didn’t I blend in; I didn’t even get inside the damn club.
“I’ve got nothing to report. Just a papercut from flicking his pages too fast.”
Snickering, she stops beside my desk with a grunt like she’s nine months pregnant, rather than three. Good luck to her when she is nine months pregnant with our local chief of police’s baby.
Something tells me my sort-of-brother, one of the many extra brothers I grew up with, wouldn’t dare create a tiny baby.
“Just a papercut?” She watches me move across my office. “What’s with the limp? Did you mess up skating?”
“Ha.” I work to lessen my limp. I’ve got a twisted ankle, aching ribs, and a phantom ache between my legs that could have been there had Kane not stepped in. “Yeah. I was skating with the girls yesterday afternoon. Fell on my ass.”
Rolling her eyes, Jules sits back and flicks through none other than Kane Bishop’s file. “I don’t know why you do that, you aren’t twelve anymore, Jess. It’s time to do grown-up things.”
“Grown-up things?” I stop and watch her study Kane’s image. “Like what?”
“Like unprotected sex and drugs. Ya know, all the fun stuff.”
I slam the filing cabinet closed with a fake laugh and pretend my ribs aren’t killing me. “What do you think the chief will say about that? I’m practically his little sister, Jules. Do you wanna be the one who tells him I’m out snorting pot and selling my body?”
Her beautiful eyes shoot up. “I didn’t say to tell him. Jesus, Lenaghan. Are you insane? It’s our job as women, the clearly smarter gender, to protect the menfolk from the truth. We live on a need-to-know basis, and Alex doesn’t need to know about you whoring around. And just FYI, so you don’t look like a total newb with your new whore friends, you don’t snort pot. That’ll just give you a sinus infection.”
Biting my bottom lip to hide my smile, I shake my head and try to push the images of Lance – my would-be attacker – out of my head. “Alex is gonna be a daddy soon. Is he mellowing? Maybe he needs to snort something.”
She scrunches her perky nose in a way I wish I could. She looks petite and adorable. I look like Pumba from the Lion King. “I swear, he’s getting worse. Pretty sure he’s more hormonal than me. It’s weird.”
“But we were totally expecting that, right?”
Snickering, she snaps the file closed. “Right. We knew this was coming. Alright.” With another grunt, she stands from my cluttered desk and tosses the file down. It’s annoying that Kane’s image slides out to watch my every move. “I’m going home. You should leave, too. It’s after five. Time for wine and a sedative.”
“Wine?” I move to my desk and stop in front of my chair. “You’re pregnant, Jules. You can’t have wine.”
“For Alex, silly girl. I need to tranquilize him every night, or he tosses me over his shoulder and goes to town until I pass out.”
“Ew!” I block my ears like a true twelve-year-old. “He’s practically my brother! I don’t want to hear about his–”
“How caveman he gets now that he put his seed in my belly?”
“Ew! Stop!”
“How he screws my brains out every single night because he wants twins?”
“Jules!”
“How he’s good for another round by the time I come back from the bathroom, then again at midnight, then again while the coffee pot fills in the mornings?”
“Juliette! Stop– Wait.” I step back like she hit me. “How’s he going morning and night? Is there anybody actually guarding our town anymore? Alex is off making triplets. Oz is married and stupid. Does anybody actually work and watch the dispatch phones?”
“Oh, sure.” She waves me off. “Riley’s a superstar and rarely gets laid, which is a damn shame considering how pretty he is. Plus, Alex is still a workaholic. The station’s only three and a half minutes from home. Seven-minute round trip. Five when he comes in hot.” She thrusts her hips and makes me vomit a little. “That leaves twenty-three minutes per break for the twin-making.”
“So gross, Jules.” I can’t look her in the eye. “You’re my boss and he’s basically my brother. Now I have no appetite. I hope you’re happy with yourself.”
She flashes a beautiful grin and steps to my office door. “I’m seriously so pleased. And it just so happens my pregnancy hormones run just as fast as his.” She ducks into the hall before I brain her with my stap
ler. “He has staying power, Jess. And I’m just saying, I’m not complaining.”
“Ugh!” I storm around my desk and slam the door. It’s just her and I her left in the building. Everyone else runs out the door at four-fifty-nine. “You owe me new shoes, Juliette! Listening about your sexcapades was not part of my contract!”
Cackling, she pops my door open again. “I wasn’t with Alex yet when you signed contracts. Bet your ass the next evaluation we do will include an Alex clause.”
“No! I won’t do an evaluation.”
“Oh, but you will.” She flashes a trouble filled grin. “You aren’t gonna bust your ass to sit the bar, then not ask me for partnership.”
“Partnership?” My heart hammers now with as much force as it did last night with a knife in my hand. “I… partnership… huh?”
She rolls her eyes. “As if you weren’t thinking it.”
“But I’m…” floundering. “I’m not even thirty. I’ve never… I don’t… I can’t,” stop stammering.
She shrugs a dainty shoulder. “I was your age when I bought in and began phasing Arthur out. He comes in once a week these days. Barely. We’ll have a spare office soon. Are you going to jump the way people jump seats at the dinner table when someone goes to the bathroom, or are you going to stay in here–” she looks around my tiny office like it’s a dungeon of despair and germs “–and let someone else take your seat?”
“But…”
“If I can do it, then so can you.”
“You had the money to buy in. I… share an apartment with my sister. I drive a Ford Focus.”
“I drive a truck!”
“But–”
She rolls her eyes. “This isn’t a job offer, Jess. I’m just saying… we need an Alex clause.”
“Ugh!” I push her face out my door and slam it a second time. “No Alex clause!”
Alone again, I drop my tough act and limp back to my desk. I’ve been pretending all day, silently sobbing at the pain radiating along the length of my body. But now that I’m alone, holding an arm tight to my ribs, my shaking hands make themselves known.
Only eighteen hours ago, I was flat on my back in a dark alleyway with my legs held around a man’s hips and a knife pressed to my ribs.
I haven’t slept since. I haven’t eaten.
My hands shake from both shock and fatigue. Each time I closed my eyes last night, I cursed myself for handing Kane’s knife back.
There’s no way I can kill a man, not even a man who was seconds earlier going to kill me, but Kane knew what would happen as soon as I was home alone; I want you to do whatever helps you sleep at night. Tomorrow, when you’re all alone in your bed, I want you to feel safe and not wonder if he’s coming back for another go.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Lance. I saw the promise in his eyes, his intention to use me, to dispose of me. I saw the lack of license in my purse – it’s gone – which means Lance knows where I live. I can’t even run away to a hotel and hide, because my sister lives with me; I can’t run and leave her alone.
Even having my brother in our apartment more often than not is not enough to slow my pulse.
Luc and Kari are always holed up in their room making kissy noises. Laine’s so flighty, in and out with her boyfriend.
Everyone does their own thing, but their inconsistent coming and going means I can’t run away, I can’t protect them.
Picking up Kane’s file one last time, I study his dark eyes. Dark brown, almost black.
Deadly… or dead?
I’m supposed to be scared of him. He’s supposed to be the embodiment of my worst nightmares, but in one single evening, one single stilted conversation, he became my unlikely hero.
Lance Donner was just another face, another name that passed through my reports, but he didn’t raise my flags the way Kane did – until the tables were turned and my choices were let Kane save me, or let Lance hurt me.
I’m not a damsel. I’ve taken self-defense classes at the local Rollin On Gym. I’m not an idiot.
But if Kane wasn’t there last night…
Slamming the plain manila folder closed, I drop it on top of a stack of others and grab my purse. I need to get a new license. But more importantly, I need to get my old one back.
Somehow.
Or move to Australia and hope none of my nosy family ask why.
Picking up my things, I swing my bag over my shoulder and palm my keys. Pressing one through each finger like a set of brass knuckles with a side of stabby, I flip the light switch as I pass through my office door and try to swallow down the panic that rushes through my veins.
Jules already left. Her office light is out.
Security won’t pass through until closer to midnight.
Moving down the lonely hallway, I flip switches and practically sprint to reception to outrun the shadows.
Stopping at the front desk, I check to make sure the phones are set to answering machine, then heft my things and stop at the alarm system.
Jules gets a text to say the alarms have been activated, and more than a few times, she’s called around eight or nine in the evening when she never received the text to ask why the hell I was still working.
Because I’m a workaholic with no social life outside dinner with my brothers.
Closing the door and watching through the glass for the red light to turn green, I turn and scream until my throat aches. Arms flailing, files falling, legs kicking, I attempt to fight off my attacker – but in reality, I’m an uncoordinated mess as I cower against the door.
“Jesus, calm down!” Kane’s hand slams down over my screeching lips to silence me.
He’s back.
Fuck Lance; Kane’s back in my most feared category. “Stop screaming,” he bites out between clenched teeth. Looking down the deserted street – the joys of living small-town; everyone’s already home in their recliners – he watches to make sure no SWAT teams are coming to my rescue. “Stop screaming. I’m not here to hurt you.”
Tears fill my eyes – tears of exhaustion, emotion, fright – as everything comes together in an overwhelming wave as I stare into the bottomless eyes that I’ve spent the better part of six months studying via a grainy image tucked into the file by my feet.
I turn my face away to dislodge his hand and to avoid meeting his eyes. “Please don’t touch me.”
He slowly inclines his chin. “Okay. Don’t scream.”
I nod and breathe through the pain in my ribs. Don’t cry. Don’t be a wimp. “Are you here to hurt me?”
“Why would I hurt you?”
I look up and study the six billion tattoos littering his skin; his arms, his chest, his neck. From his fingers, right up to his ears. Then I study the bruising. So much bruising that wasn’t there last night.
“I don’t know,” I whisper like a wimp. “You’re standing on the street in the dark, waiting for me.” Realization hits me, and with renewed energy, my eyes dart around the street. “Where’s Jules?”
“The blonde boss?” When I nod, he steps back and allows me another half foot of space – only to take it up again with beefy arms that he crosses over his chest. “She left already. She’s got a sexy truck.”
Finally meeting his eyes, even with tears in my lashes, mine narrow. “You leave her alone, Bishop. Leave her be. Your business is with me.”
I humor him. I’m a joke to him.
With a smile, he brings a hand up to roll his bottom lip. Can black eyes sparkle? They can. I’ve seen it. “You’re an odd package, Jessica Ann Lenaghan. You’re brave, you’re naïve, you’re innocent. I don’t know which lane to put you in.”
I swallow at his easy familiarity and ignore the warmth sliding along my ribs. “How’d you know my name?”
“How do you know mine?” He volleys his question back so easily, so fast, I know he already had it on stand-by. My eyes flip to the file on the ground for half a beat. Unlike on my desk, his image remains inside.
“I know your face,
” I admit shakily. “I know your name. I know the man from last night.”
“Lance…” He rolls the name over his tongue like it tastes of rotten lemons. “Fuckin’ asshole. Are you still in pain?”
Yes. I’m about three seconds from spewing on your boots. “No.”
“Did you sleep last night?”
Not a single wink. “Yes.”
My pulse skitters when he grins. “For an almost lawyer, you can’t lie for shit.”
“How do you know my job? How do you know my name? How do you know where my office is?”
“That’s a lot of questions, Blondie.” He steps forward, crowding me against the glass door. “Maybe we should set up a payment system. I’m a busy man. I don’t have time to spar with a lawyer.”
“A payment system?” My eyes narrow. “What do you mean?”
“How about first question is free. The rest, you owe me a favor per answer.”
“I’m not in the business of owing guys like you favors.”
His grin notches higher. “Guys like me. I saved your life. You owe me a life in return. I’ll call in that favor when it suits me. Now pick the question you want answered for free. Choose wisely.”
I’m playing with fire. Simply talking to him, the man who could kill me at any moment – but hasn’t yet – is dangerous. What does he want from me? He knows my name. He knows my workplace. It’s not such a stretch that he knows my family. Does he know about my relationship with the chief?
That’s a lot of questions.
I stop and take a deep breath.
His lips twitch. “You’ve decided.”
“How do you know my name? You knew it last night. How’d you know?”
Quick as a flash, he produces my license as easily as he produced a knife last night. “You dropped this. I found it.”
With still shaking hands, I reach out the way I might be reaching for a snack from a growling dog’s teeth. “You found this? Lance doesn’t have it?”