He didn’t have time for that shit.
She dropped her gaze to the folder. “So, I went over your charges—”
“Read my last name without your glasses.”
Her head rose and those deep blue eyes blinked at him. “What?”
“Read my name without your glasses, now you need ‘em?”
She stared at him. “I forget to put them on sometimes since they’re just for reading. Your name was a bit blurry, but I could make it out. Does it matter if I’m wearing my glasses or not?”
Fuck yeah it does. Especially if you’re naked.
And in my bed.
“Gotta name?”
Her mouth opened and closed once before she said, “Sorry, I should’ve introduced myself. I’m Kiki Clark.”
His brows shot up his forehead. “Kiki?”
“Yes, sir,” she said on a dramatic sigh.
Hawk muttered, “What the fuck.”
She shrugged. “Ask my parents.”
“So, you ain’t lyin’.”
“I never lie.”
His brows shot up once again. He had a hard time believing that coming from an attorney.
“Okay, maybe sometimes. But only when it’s important. Like when someone’s freedom hangs in the balance.”
Well, damn. “You lie to judges,” he stated.
Without even the slightest hesitation and a fleeting smile, she answered, “I plead the fifth.”
Hawk leaned back in his chair and barked out a laugh. “Yeah, you’re just like a real super hero rightin’ wrongs.” He shook his head. “Damn, wanna get in your skirt.”
“I’ll dry clean it for you first if you would like to wear it. Might be a bit tight on you, though.” She lifted a shoulder slightly. “No loss for me, since I’ve never been fond of it anyway.”
“Fuckin’ goddamn,” he whispered.
She arched a brow. “Does that mean good?”
“Fuck yes. For me, anyhow. But I’ll make sure it’s good for you, too.”
“I’m relieved,” she said, sarcasm dripping from her voice. “I’ve already had too many selfish pricks in my bed.”
“I’m not a selfish prick.”
“So you say.”
He studied her, wondering how many notches she had on her bed post. “How many is ‘too many?’”
“You first, Mr. Dougherty. How many women have you had in your bed? I’ve heard rumors about those biker parties.”
“If you’re talkin’ about at the same time... then a few. Wanna be one?”
She adjusted herself in her chair, then pushed her glasses higher on her nose. “How about we just agree to keep our relationship on a professional level. Me as the lawyer and you as the defendant.”
Hawk gave her a half-assed grin. “Doubt that’s gonna happen.”
She made a noise. “It’ll happen.”
“You say so, babe.”
Now she gave him a Do-I-really-have-to-tolerate-this-asshole? smile. “I certainly do, pumpkin.”
Hawk snorted and his grin widened. He liked a challenge. And she was pushing all his buttons. In the right way.
She again arched a perfectly shaped eyebrow at him. “Now, can we get down to business?”
He wasn’t ready to get down to business. Or at least the business she was here for. He liked playing with her. And she didn’t seem to mind it, either. He liked that. No, he fucking loved that. “Right here on the table?”
She shook her head and sighed, then ran her gaze over his head before switching gears without a warning. “Did it hurt to get your head tattooed?”
It hurt like a bitch. “Tickled.”
Now both of her brows rose. “You’re ticklish?”
“Wanna find out?”
“Another time, but thanks. The guards might frown upon it if we get into a tickle fight.”
Hawk’s grin widened. They’d probably be jealous, if anything. “Not scared of bikers, are you?”
“Should I be?”
“Depends how bad they wanna fuck you.”
“You want to fuck me...” She glanced down at her file. “Hawk? Is that your real name?”
“Yeah. On both accounts.”
“Ah. Okay. I’ll take your uncontrollable desire into consideration before I step into a dark room alone with you.”
Once again, Hawk sat back in his chair, crossed his arms over his chest, and smiled. She was a feisty one. Classy. Curvy. A lot of hair to pull. Smart and a smart ass mouth, as well.
Right up his alley.
Yeah, he liked a good challenge.
He might have to taste her between her legs to see if she was sweet as well as spicy.
“Gotta get outta here. Got a bar to run.”
“Right.” She peeked back at her paperwork before meeting his gaze directly. Head on. Nope. No fear at all in those eyes. “The Iron Horse Roadhouse. Maybe you should have thought about that before you kicked that biker’s ass.”
“Just defendin’ myself.”
She leaned forward, giving Hawk a better view of her tits. “So, let me get this straight, the man that you knocked out and badly injured put his hands on you first?”
Shit.
“He put his paws on DAMC property.”
When she noticed where his eyes had focused, she sat back. “Him specifically? Or someone in his club?”
Hawk shrugged, then stretched his neck out toward the left and then toward the right, cracking his spine, before answering, “Don’t matter. All the same.”
“Not in the eyes of the law.”
“Justice is blind,” Hawk grumbled, thinking about the ten years the former club president, Zak, spent in prison for a crime the Shadow Warriors set him up for.
Fuckers. They deserved everything they got and then some.
“I can’t disagree with you on that. That’s why I got into criminal defense.”
Speaking of defense... “Where’s my brother?”
“The other Mr. Dougherty has been released.”
What the fuck? “How’d he get sprung an’ my ass is still sittin’ in here?”
Kiki lifted a shoulder, one he wanted to sink his teeth into as he was making her come. “He didn’t waste my time trying to get down my pants. Or up my skirt.”
Right. He was sure Diesel would take a shot at that if given half the chance. “Doubt that’s the reason.”
“And you would be correct. Though this can’t be proven, I have a feeling your brother’s size alone intimidated the witnesses. No one saw him do anything but hold the front door open to the pub to let the rest of your crew in.”
Lucky fucking bastard.
“What did these so-called witnesses see me do?”
“They saw enough that you would be held responsible for the damage.”
“So, has nothin’ to do with crackin’ some Shadow Warriors’ heads. Just the damage to that bar?”
“Sort of, but not exactly.”
“That’s clear as fuckin’ piss.”
“I agree.”
Hawk grunted. “Club’ll pay for the damage.”
“Already done.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “So what’s the hold up?”
“I have to go before the District Justice and plea for leniency. He seems determined to make an example of at least one of you. You came into his jurisdiction and wreaked havoc, Mr... Hawk. Judges tend to frown upon that. They tend not to like motorcycle gangs—”
“Club,” he corrected her.
“What?”
“Club,” he barked. “DAMC’s a fuckin’ club, a brotherhood, not a gang.”
“Okay, well,” she pushed her glasses up her nose once more. “Club, then. Judges tend not to like clubs going to war in their area. Can you see where he’s coming from?”
“You know this DJ?”
“Yes.”
He narrowed his eyes as he watched her face carefully. “Good?”
“Very well, yes.”
Hawk leaned forward over the table until t
hey were almost face to face. “You fuck ‘im?”
He couldn’t miss the uncomfortable swallow and the flash of shock that crossed her expression. Finally, he got a reaction from her. But it quickly disappeared as a blank mask slipped over her face.
“I’m not going to answer that. That’s simply ridiculous.”
“You gonna wear a skirt like that when you plead my innocence?”
When she sighed with impatience, Hawk’s gaze became glued to the rise and fall of her chest.
“I’m not pleading your innocence. I’m shooting for a reduced sentence.”
“Then you plan on fuckin’ me an’ not in a good way.”
“I’m going to do my best to get you out of here and back to your club and your brotherhood as an ‘upstanding business owner who made an unwise decision that won’t be repeated.’”
“An unwise decision.” Hawk snorted. “In self-defense.”
“No. I’m not going to insult the judge that way. You’ve learned from your time here and you’ve learned from your mistake. You’re taking this as a life lesson and will be a better citizen because of it.”
Damn, she was good. She almost convinced him with that bullshit. “Sure, babe. Sounds like a plan. Long as it works.”
“It’ll work if you keep your mouth shut in the courtroom and you don’t stare down the judge in defiance. You let me do all the talking, while you’re as quiet as a church mouse and looking as harmless as one, too.”
“Mice can do a lotta fuckin’ damage.”
Hawk bit back a laugh when she slapped a hand to her forehead and her eyes bugged out behind those sexy little glasses. “Fuck my life,” she said under her breath.
Damn, that was hot. “Love a classy lady with a dirty fuckin’ mouth. Wanna wrap my fist in all that hair when you’re suckin’ my cock with it.”
She opened her mouth, blinked, sucked in a deep breath and then sighed loudly before saying, “You really know how to sweet talk a lady.”
“Don’t want you to be a lady. Want you to be a hellcat. Not prissy. Sweatin’, screamin’, bitin’, scratchin’, fuckin’. Comin’ so hard you see spots.”
“Well, all righty then. Let me pull up my calendar so we can schedule that.” She held up a finger as she tapped an app on her computer/tablet/electronic thingy. “Date?”
“First night I’m outta this joint.”
“Location?”
“On the floor, against the wall, on a table, in my bed.”
“Well, that’s a lot of typing.” Tap, tap, tap. “Okay, let me make sure I got this down correctly... Suckin’, scratchin’, bitin’, sweatin’, fuckin’, and...” She glanced up from her tablet.
“Screamin’. Forgot screamin’.”
“Ah.” She nodded, tapping the screen. “Screamin’.” She lifted a brow his direction. “Anything in particular?”
“My name.”
“Got it. Screaming H-A-W-K. All that against the wall, on the bed, the floor and hanging from a ceiling fan. Right?”
He smirked. “That’ll do for starters.”
“Right. I can’t wait.”
“Me neither.” She might be taking all of this like a big joke, but she was going to find out just how serious he was.
She focused her pretty blues on him. “Can you promise me one thing?”
“What’s that, babe?”
“It’s going to be the best fuck I’ve ever had?”
Fucking goddamn. “Have a feelin’ it’s gonna be the best fuck I ever had.”
She tapped her finger against her bottom lip—which he had the urge to bite—then tilted her head. “Okay, I lied. I need another promise.”
His lips twitched. “Shoot.”
“If I get you out of here, you’re not going to punch anyone else.”
He studied her a couple beats. “Can’t promise that, babe.”
“Why?”
“Got enemies.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Who?”
He zipped his lips shut.
“Who?” she prodded. “Those bikers you beat up in that bar?”
Hawk leaned forward, no longer amused at the direction the conversation was going. “Know you’re new to this. Know you’re here to help me, help all the brothers when we’re in a jam. Know it. Appreciate it. But you’ll learn... Club business, babe, ain’t a woman’s business. When you’re needed, you’ll get the info we can give you an’ no more. Got me?”
Kiki abruptly shoved her chair back with a squeal and stood. “Sorry, but no, I don’t got you. You want me to stick my neck out for you and your boys—”
“Brothers,” he cut in.
She ignored him and continued, “Then you need to be open and honest with me or you can hang out to dry for all I care. Got me?”
Hawk smiled, leaned back in his chair and ran his gaze over her once more. Yep, he was going to get a piece of that hellcat. “Damn, woman, can’t wait for that appointment.”
“We have to get you out of here first.”
“You do that.”
She stepped closer to the table to look down at him. “Are you going to be checking out my ass when I leave?”
“Fuck yeah.”
With a nod, she spun around, strutted her way to the door and pressed the buzzer.
Hawk didn’t miss the guard checking out her ass, either.
Son of a bitch.
Chapter Two
Kiki sat behind the table about to not only face an unhappy judge but she was being seared by the heat of the large biker sitting next to her, who just stared at her.
Well, she did tell him not to stare at the judge. So, it was all her fault.
She really should rethink her career. She should switch to real estate law like her ex. Elder law, family law. Something, anything other than defending a badass biker and his “brothers.”
She bit back a groan. If she knew this was where she would end up, she certainly wouldn’t have joined Pannebaker’s firm. Even though it was one of the best criminal defense firms in the area.
She should be wondering how a motorcycle club consisting of a bunch of derelicts could afford Pannebaker’s hourly rate. Though, they had no problem paying for the damage done to that pub in South Side. The club’s treasurer, Ace, simply scribbled out a check for six figures. He didn’t even tell the owners to hold it before cashing. No. He said it was good and could be deposited right away.
Imagine that. But all that money could come from illegal activities. Though, Pannebaker assured her she wouldn’t be representing an outlaw club, that they were on the up and up.
Kiki let out a snort. Right.
“You okay?” came the deep voice next to her.
She refused to turn her head toward him when he was this close. His heavy denim-clad thigh brushed against her stockings. No suit for this guy’s courtroom appearance. No. He insisted on wearing his whole biker get-up sans the vest with filthy patches she insisted he not wear.
She cleared her throat. “Perfect. Remember to keep your mouth shut and at least appear sorry for your actions,” she whispered.
“Not sorry.”
She ground her molars and then unlocked her jaw. “Act like it.”
Fingers brushed along her knee and then the skin at the edge of her skirt. She sucked in a sharp breath.
“Get outta here today an’ then we’ll have our appointment later.”
Oh good lord. He actually took her serious when she made that so-called appointment. She had to clear that misconception up and do it quickly.
“I was only kidding about the appointment,” she whispered fiercely. She gritted her teeth against the shiver that wanted to run through her as his fingers climbed her thigh.
She should be very afraid of this man and not for the obvious reasons.
“I wasn’t,” he said way too softly.
Apparently.
Before she could smack his hand away, the District Justice entered the room and they all stood, including the hunk of tattooed muscle next to her,
who was suddenly stuck to her side. Like Gorilla glue.
Kiki swallowed hard and her nipples pebbled under her blouse. Great. That wouldn’t be too obvious.
“Ms. Clark,” Judge Powers greeted her.
She shifted an inch to the right to give herself some breathing room. “Your Honor.”
He sat and so did everyone else. Well, everyone except for Hawk.
“Sit down,” she demanded under her breath, tugging at his faded Myrtle Beach Biker Week T-shirt.
With a smile, he sat, his body visibly shaking in silent laughter.
“So, what do we have here, Ms. Clark? A,” the judge glanced down at his papers, “member of a motorcycle gang who decided to come into my district and make a mess.”
“Club, Your Honor.”
Judge Powers looked up. “What was that, Ms. Clark?”
“It’s a club, Your Honor, not a gang. They’re not engaged in any illegal activities.” Holy crap, she hoped that was true.
“A club,” he repeated like he was taste-testing the word. “You mean a club like the Boy Scouts?”
“Very similar, sir.”
The judge let out a bark of a laugh then his eyes swung to her client, then back to Hawk’s father, Ace, and his brother, Diesel, who sat in the seats directly behind them.
“What badge do they get for beating up a member of another club?”
“Your Honor, Mr. Dougherty has seen the error of—”
Powers raised his hand, palm out toward her. “Save it, Ms. Clark. I wasn’t born yesterday.”
“But—”
Powers interrupted her again. “Here’s the deal, Ms. Clark. You want to defend such upstanding gentleman? That’s fine. But maybe you should be responsible for them. Or at least,” he wagged a finger at Hawk, “this one.”
Oh shit. “Your Honor...”
“No, Ms. Clark. You can be his babysitter for the next three months.”
Oh shit. “Your Honor, please!”
“Want me to make it six?”
Oh shit. Kiki sucked in a breath. “No, Your Honor.”
And not just no. Hell no! She did not want to get stuck being responsible for a damn biker. Pannebaker couldn’t pay her enough.
Down & Dirty: Books 1-3: Dirty Angels MC Series Box Set Page 40