by Alexa Davis
"Would you care for some dessert?" the served asked as he cleared our dinner plates and swept the crumbs off the table into his hand. "Coffee? Espresso?"
I looked at Brooke and she nodded, so I said, "Yes, please, tell us what you have for dessert tonight."
The server went over the substantial dessert menu and Brooke ordered an exotic fruit tart with layers of whipped cream while I chose the rich, dark red velvet cake. I smiled at her as I ordered it, and although I couldn't see the exact color of her face, I knew she was blushing when she smiled and turned away.
"So, what about you? What about your firm? You have a law firm, don't you?" I asked.
"Oh yeah, we do. There are three of us, we all went to school together and decided to make a go of it after we realized that we hated working for the big firms," she said with a sigh. "It's hard to run your own firm, probably a lot like running your own club."
"So you aren't doing well?" I asked and immediately felt the air between us chill. I'd hit a sore spot and she was either going to let me in or freeze me out.
"We're doing okay, not great, but okay," she replied as she fiddled with the napkin in her lap. There was something she wasn't telling me, but since she'd given me a pass on my brother, I'd let this one go.
"It must be difficult running a law firm," I tried to sympathize.
"It's a lot harder than most people think," she agreed. "What's most difficult is drumming up consistent business. We're not a tax firm or a corporate mergers firm that can count on repeated business year after year. We're criminal lawyers who rely on word of mouth and reputation, you know?"
I nodded as an idea began to take shape in my brain. It was too soon to be thinking this, but it was still there. I needed to run it by Riza before I decided anything. She'd tell me what was insane about the idea of hiring Brooke Raines to replace Lydia.
"I mean, it's not like we can count on our clients to keep getting in trouble," she said with a rueful smile. "It's awful to think of it that way, but that's what we do. We get people out of all kinds of terrible trouble, and we deal with things that most people would rather not have to deal with."
"It's got to be rough," I said. "I mean, dealing with people in trouble."
"That's not so bad," she said. "The hard part is knowing how many people there are in trouble on any given day and not being able to reach them. We're good lawyers and we know how to manage problems, but we're not like the big firms who can take out tons of radio ads and put big billboards all over town so that their firms' names are in people's brains."
"I see," I said as my phone went off again. I looked down and saw that it was Kesha. I shot Brooke an apologetic look and got up to take the call away from the table. "What is going on over there that you can't handle the club for one night?" I hissed.
"Boss, something is weird about the shipment in the basement, there are four new boxes down here that weren't here when I checked in the inventory for this week," she said, then added, "And they're not part of the backup stock either."
"Alright, well, take some pictures and send them to me. Maybe I'll recognize the boxes," I said. "And for God's sake, do not call me again unless the club is burning down or you yourself are on fire!" Kesha laughed in my ear as she hung up.
I returned to the table and apologized for the interruption.
"No, I'm sorry," Brooke said shaking her head and laughing weakly. "This is a date, not a session with my shrink or my business coach."
"No, it's okay," I said as the server placed our desserts in front of us and then went to get our coffee. "Sometimes it's good to just talk about what's bothering you. Just get it out and then find a way to formulate a solution that solves the problem."
"Is that what you do?" she asked as she looked across the table at me. The intensity of her gaze almost caused me to look away, but I knew better than to show any weakness right now, so I stared back and simply nodded. Then she murmured, "I thought so."
"What did you think, Brooke?" I asked as I reached across the table and laid my hand on hers. She stared at it for a moment and then looked up at me.
"Latte for the lady and an espresso for the gentleman," the server announced as he placed the steaming hot drinks in front of us. I pulled my hand back to give him room, and Brooke looked up and chirped, "Thank you!" before digging into her dessert.
The moment had passed and I was left wondering what she thought I did.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Brooke
"So, tell me about the last really fun thing you did," I said in a voice that was a little too bright. There had been a moment where we'd almost connected, but the waiter had interrupted before I could tell Dax that I'd thought he was a thinking man whose thoughts ran deeper than just an urban club in a large city. Now that the moment had passed, it seemed awkward to go back and try to reconstruct it, so I kept moving forward.
"The last really fun thing I did, eh?" Dax said as he sipped his espresso and picked at his cake. "Let's see, I think it was taking my boat out and doing some deep sea fishing."
"How long ago was that?" I asked.
"Last summer," he said as he slid his fork into the dark red layers and cut off a healthy bite of the cake. It looked so rich and decadent, and when he slipped the fork between his lips I felt a little lightheaded. There was something so deeply sensual and raw about Dax Malone, and it had been a very long time since I'd felt a man's hands on my body.
I looked down at my tart as I avoided his eyes. Without thinking, I swiped my forefinger through the fresh whipped cream that topped my tart and lifted it to my lips. I looked up and caught Dax staring, open-mouthed, at me as I sucked the cream off my finger. The moment I realized what I'd done, I felt the heat creeping up into my cheeks, and I looked down unwilling to meet his gaze again. Was I after business or sex? I needed to get my act straight or I'd screw everything up.
"I'm sorry," I said quietly. "I didn't think..."
"Brooke, it's okay," he said as he reached over and slipped his hand under my chin and tipped my face up so that I was looking at him. "It's all okay. I promise."
I nodded, still feeling self-conscious as he handed the waiter his credit card and then signed the bill. "It sounds like they've got a club in the next room!" he laughed. "Let's check it out, shall we? Just for comparison, you know?"
"Alright, as long as it's business," I smiled uncomfortably.
"All business, all the time," he grinned as he reached down, took my hand and led me into the next room. The music was loud, but it was a throbbing electronic beat that seemed to invite couples to grind on the dance floor. Dax looked at me and raised an eyebrow, then looked at the dance floor. I followed his glance, then looked back at him and nodded.
We moved onto the dance floor and Dax took my hand as he rested his other hand on my lower back. I reached up and draped my arm over his shoulder as he pulled me close. I could feel his hard body pressed against mine and I felt the waves of desire begin their slow torturous roll through my body. He pulled me closer and I rested my cheek against his chest as he rested his against the side of my head. We swayed to the seductive beat of the house EDM, and I felt perilously close to the edge as I felt Dax's breath in my ear.
I knew that if I tipped my head even slightly, he'd read the sign correctly and kiss me. And I knew that once that happened, there would be no stopping the rest of what I desperately wanted to happen. But I also knew that I had a job to do and that if I screwed this up, I'd not only screw up my life, but Jordie's and Roger's as well. And what would happen to poor Alma? No, I had to stay on track and not get swept up in how badly I wanted to take Dax Malone home and explore his obviously incredibly fit body.
I sighed deeply and Dax read it as his sign. He lifted my hair off my neck and bent his head just as I stepped back and put both palms on his chest.
"I...I...I can't, I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry," I said as I backed away. "I want to, believe me. Oh God, please believe me, but I just can't. I'm so sorry, Dax."
/> The confusion flooded across his face as I looked back at him over my shoulder and took off for the front door. On the street, I hailed a cab and hopped in as I heard him yelling from the doorway of Beso, "Brooke! I don't understand! Wait, let me take you home!"
"Drive!" I yelled at the cabbie who demanded to know where he was taking me. I gave him my address and when he reminded me that it was a good half hour down the 101, I told him I didn't care, and threw a handful of cash at him. He drove and I sat in the back seat, breathing deeply and hoping that I hadn't just screwed both of my chances with Dax Malone.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Dax
Standing at the front door of Beso, with a raging hard on, yelling at Brooke to wait so I could take her home was one of the more humiliating moments of my life. I had no idea what had happened on the dance floor or why she had pushed me away before rushing out and hailing a cab.
I drove back to the club, both worried about Brooke and pissed as hell that she'd rejected me. The long drive home did nothing to solve the problem in my pants, so when I walked into the club, I motioned for Diamond to follow me upstairs and once she entered the room, I asked, "You up for a little rough play tonight?"
"With you, baby? Always," she grinned as I grabbed her wrists and pinned them to the wall above her head. I kissed her hard and deep, the way I'd wanted to kiss Brooke when we had been pressed against each other on the Beso dance floor. Diamond didn't argue or struggle; she kissed me back just as hard and took a deep breath as she thrust her large breasts against my chest.
I quickly pulled off the flimsy top she'd worn for dancing and roughly pinched her nipples before bending my head and sucking hard. She moaned as I bit down on one and then moved to the other, and gasped, "Oh God, yes, more, more!" I rolled her nipple under my tongue and then bit down again causing her to cry out as she pushed her hips forward. With one hand, I yanked her panties down around her knees and she let them drop to the floor. Still sucking on her nipples, I lifted her off the floor and pinned her back to the wall as I unzipped my pants with one hand and yanked my swollen cock out.
I held out my finger and growled, "Get 'em good and wet, or you'll be sorry." She quickly went to work coating my fingers in a thick layer of saliva before I pulled them away and shoved three up into her already wet hole. She rocked on my hand as she moaned and I could feel her tensing and releasing.
"Put on your jacket," she gasped. "No jacket, no pussy, baby. You know the rules."
I yanked my fingers out, grabbed a condom from the bowl next to the door and quickly rolled it down my erect shaft. I slipped my fingers between her legs then coated the condom with her wetness as I positioned her so that I could slam my cock up into her hard and fast.
"Oh yes! Oh yes! Fuck me," she cried as she tried to slam herself down harder and drive me deeper inside of her. I could feel her building to a strong orgasm, so I pulled out and rammed my cock back in over and over until she cried out, and I felt her inner muscles spasm around my cock. I kept slamming into her again and again as she milked my cock until I came hard. I groaned as I buried my cock in her one last time and let go.
She wrapped her arms and legs around me and pulsed as she waited for me to come back to earth and join her. As I looked up, dazed and sweating, she wiped my brow with her hand and then kissed it gently, "Thank you, baby, you always know just what I need to keep me going all night long!"
"Diamond, I..." I began.
"Baby, don't even start that ‘I'm’ sorry shit with me," she smiled. "We know what we do, and it's all good. I don't care why you do it and you shouldn't care why I do it either. Now, pull out and let me down, I gotta get back to the dance floor and make some cash!"
I set her down and she quickly pulled on her clothes, then she looked at me and said, "Better tuck that thing in or all the girls will be wanting a shot at it, you know?" She smiled and winked, then disappeared into the club.
I quickly pulled myself together and then walked over to the two-way window to take a look at the dance floor. The club was packed tonight as a local DJ played thumping beats and young dancers disappeared into the back room to get their fix before returning to the dance floor and grinding against one another. They made it look so easy. And it made me wonder what I was missing.
What I did know was that I was now hooked on Brooke Raines and I needed to see her again. I just didn't know how I was going to convince her to see me.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Brooke
The next morning, I woke up with Dax on my mind. I'd dreamed about him all night, but it wasn't a good dream, it was one in which he was chasing me around the city calling my name. I tried not to hear him, but I couldn't help it. He was loud and there was an ache in his voice that always caused me to turn around and look. I woke up feeling exhausted.
As I brewed a pot of strong coffee, the phone rang. I picked it up and saw that it was my dad, so I answered. "Hey, Dad, what's up?"
"Morning, Brookie. How you doing?" he said in the cheerful tone of someone who was already fully caffeinated.
"I'm tired, but okay," I said as I tried to unsuccessfully stifle a yawn.
"What were you doing last night?" my father asked with a hint of concern in his voice.
"Nothing illegal or immoral, I assure you," I laughed. "I was just out late and had strange dreams."
"I hope that they're not related," my dad said.
"Eh, not really," I replied as I pulled a mug from the cabinet and filled it with the dark hot brew. I sipped and then pulled back and blew on the cup hoping to cool it down enough to drink it. Before I could stop myself, I blurted, “Dad, what do you know about the Apex Club over on 6th and Harlem?"
"Not much other than the local gossip," he said. "Why, what's up?"
"I'm just curious," I said. "Jordie and Roger put the guy who owns it on a list of potential new clients and I'm trying to figure out why."
"Oh, that?" my dad said. "That's probably because his lawyer was recently fished out of the drink."
"No, I know that," I said. "I'm trying to figure out why a guy like that wouldn't have a huge firm behind him. Why would he be in need of a new lawyer? Who was Lydia Banks anyway?"
"Why do you suddenly want to know all of this, kiddo?" my dad asked in a concerned voice.
"I'm supposed to meet with him and convince him that he should hire our firm to represent him, but I can't get a handle on how best to do that when I don't know his history," I conveniently left out the fact that I'd been on a date with the guy the night before and that I found myself fantasizing about doing some very intimate things with him in the privacy of my own home. My dad didn't need to know everything.
"I don't know what his story is, kiddo," my dad said. "I know the rumors, but you know how much stock I put in rumors."
"What are the rumors?" I asked.
"The usual, you know, illegal gambling, drugs and prostitution happening in and out of the club," my dad rattled off the list of standard accusations that every club owner in LA seemed to have hanging over their head. Most were at least partially true, but to what extent was anyone's guess. Unless the owners were arrested, the accusations were deemed unfounded by the paper, so my dad took everything with a grain of salt. His motto was: Give me evidence of the proof and I'll believe you.
"Oh, okay, got it," I said. "Will you let me know if you hear anything about the Banks case?"
"If there's any evidence of the proof," Dad said. I laughed out loud as he reminded me that I was due at the house for dinner over the weekend and that my mother was anxiously awaiting notice as to when she could deliver my individually prepared and wrapped meals.
"Tell her she can drop by any time she likes," I said. "But it'll probably be easier to find me at the office. I'm headed over there as soon as I mainline this coffee."
"Ah, you're truly your father's daughter," Dad laughed.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Dax
The next morning, I woke up and lay in bed d
ebating whether or not I was going to call Brooke and find out why she'd bolted. Part of me was pissed as hell that she'd left me standing in the door of a well-known restaurant with all those people looking on and wondering what I'd done. The other part of me was worried about what had happened and I wanted to find out if she was okay. The part that was pissed and embarrassed was winning, until after I took a hot shower and got dressed.
Once I had a hot cup of coffee in one hand and the television remote in the other, I felt a little differently. I switched on the news and saw a reporter standing in front of the club holding a microphone with a caption that read: Club's Lawyer Dies Under Suspicious Circumstances.
"Well, duh, lady," I said to the television as I turned up the volume and listened to the reporter.
"Last night, sources close to the investigation into the murder of LA lawyer, Lydia Banks, said that police were closing the circle of suspicion and were looking at Banks’ client list for potential suspects. The murder appears to be an execution and the body thrown into the Marina del Rey Yacht dock as a means of disposing of it. Police are now looking at those who own boats that were docked at Marian del Rey and will be pulling those people in for questioning this later this week. One of those under suspicion is the owner of this club, Dax Malone. Malone was not only a client of Banks’, but he also owns a boat that has been docked at Marina del Rey for the past several years. Sources close to Malone say that there's no way he could have killed Banks, but police are exploring all possible avenues. Live from the front of Malone's club, Apex, this is Action News Reporter, Karen Findlay."
"Dammit!" I yelled into the empty living room just as my phone started buzzing. I looked down and saw half a dozen calls coming in, I took the one from Riza knowing that it would be the one with the most information. "What's up?"
"Boss, we have trouble," she said. "Beck's gone missing and so has the boat. And there are a hoard of reporters and photographers here in front of the club."