by Lauren Dane
“I got the information from her assistant. They had a meeting some time back and your father was two hours late and she left. He went to make amends.” Marcus’s lips twitched a bit.
“She fed me, we argued, we made a plan to meet again in my office and I left.”
“She’s a beautiful woman.” Marcus shrugged.
Yes. Magnificent. And not for him. “I’ll return as soon as I can. Marcus, keep your comm with you at all times so I can contact you. Unless you’d like to come now? That way we can all go together to the lockup.”
Marcus stood. “Good idea. Let’s go.”
The light, slowly brightening, spread over the rooftops and sides of buildings as Abbie watched from her window. The petition to have her license to practice revoked sat on the table. Her boss had been so angry when he received it, Abbie had worried he would pass out.
He’d then given her a promotion, making her one of the most senior barristers in the agency. A nice rise in her pay came with it, but more than anything else, it was a very open way of saying the agency supported her totally. In fact, her old mentor, a Ranked barrister held in very high esteem, had come out of retirement to defend her.
It was nice to know you had friends, and in high places even. It wasn’t so much that she worried about the petition succeeding; she hadn’t done anything wrong, and it really only made the Kerrigans and, in some part, the Lyonses look bad. But having people out to harm her bothered her. This was more than professional competition, she dealt with that every day. More than people not liking her. That was a fact of life doing what she did and also it came with being outspoken. But someone wanting to destroy her? All for defending a little old lady like Gretel Mortan? It got under her skin.
The knock at her door surprised her, pulled her from her thoughts, and she put her plate down to go see who it was.
Looking through the viewer, she got a very pleasant sort of tingle when she saw who it was. But it subsided just as quickly when she noted Marcus was with him and both men looked extremely upset.
She opened the door and stood aside. “This is unexpected. Come in, please.”
“We need your help, Abbie.” Marcus’s voice was thready, unstable, and she recognized it, had heard it over and over when families came to her office or she met them at lockup.
“Sit down. Let me get something to take notes with. Roman, there’s freshly boiled water for tea if you like, or kava. If you’re hungry, bread and fruit are at my table.”
She left the room to get her case and also to comm the office to let them know she’d be in late.
When she returned, they’d settled in at the table, the sun lighting Roman, softening him even as he remained a mysterious and unreachable thing. Gah! Enough with that.
“Okay.” She settled at the table. “Tell me.”
“My son, he’s been arrested for murder. But they won’t tell me anything. They won’t let me see him. I didn’t know what to do. Roman suggested coming to you. Will you help?”
She put her hand over Marcus’s. “Of course, I will. When did they take him in?”
Marcus looked at the timepiece on his wrist. “Four standard hours now. Abbie, my son would not hurt anyone. He’s a very gentle person. He just finished his military service. He fixed things, helped people. He wants to be a medic.” His voice cracked and Roman reached over, squeezing his shoulder.
She nodded and hoped he was right. Lockup was filled with people who acted out of character, even just once. “Okay then. I’ll go down to lockup right now, all right? They’ll have the charging papers by this point. I can’t imagine why they didn’t let you see him before but we’ll get it all straight. We’ll get your answers, Marcus.”
“Can I come too?” Marcus asked.
“Sure. If I can get you in to see him I’ll need you to be calm and steady. And then, well, would you like me to take his case if that’s the next step? There are people in my office who can do the job as well.”
“What’s your experience?”
“I defended high crimes for four standard years before I came to the lesser charges unit two years ago. My friend Logan is in the high crimes unit if you’d rather. He’s very good.”
“No. I know you. I trust you. Let’s go. I promise to be strong for him if they let me in to see him.” Marcus visibly pulled himself together.
She stood. “All right. Let’s go. Roman, well, you might come in handy if you have the time.”
“Handy?”
“You’re the big name here. I’m not above getting doors opened faster with your help.” She shrugged.
“Be useful then, Roman. I’m sure Jaron would like to see you.” Marcus looked so vulnerable Abbie had to resist the urge not to hug him.
Roman chuckled in a humorless way. “All right, have your way with me.” But then his eyes cut to her and they both felt the pull of his words.
Roman stood back and watched, impressed, as Abigail Haws, barrister, went to work. Even as they hurried to the majestic and imposing lockup complex, she spoke on her personal comm, put her hair up on the lift out of her building, gave concise orders to those around her and commanded everything in her path.
He’d learned with a bit of surprise that she’d been promoted in the wake of his brother’s attempt to have her license revoked, and she wielded her power with a clever hand.
“Just you. No others.” The guard at the door sneered at Marcus and Roman.
“Is this a new policy?” Abbie asked, almost bored.
“It’s what I think. I hear you’re in some trouble, Haws. That’s what happens to little girls who reach above themselves. They get smacked. But you’d know about that, wouldn’t you?”
Abbie’s eyes narrowed and she took a step closer, bringing her very close to the guard. Roman ground his teeth together, only holding back from speaking to save Marcus. Jaron needed him to be calm. But this guard would be finding out just who had overheard his comments very soon. And Roman wanted to know exactly what the slovenly fool meant about Abbie getting smacked.
“Haerv, the rules, Ravena Code 4.2.30 subsection b, state a senior, level A barrister may bring up to three interested parties into the lockup facility on related business during regular hours. And here it is, business hours. And here I am, a newly promoted, senior, level A barrister. You will stand out of the way and you will let me in and bring prisoner Jaron Mach to a holding room along with any related charging paperwork.”
This Haerv looked as if he considered disobeying until Abbie reached out, grabbed the door and opened it. The guard grunted and took the handle, ushering them inside.
“You reach above yourself, Abbie.”
“Most things are above your situation, Haerv. We’ll be waiting in interview room three. Do be sure all cameras are off.” She sailed past the guard and headed to the lift.
The halls smelled of strong cleaning compounds and fear. The place made him edgy. He rarely visited lockup. In fact, this was probably only the third time in his life he’d been here, and he was glad for that as the echoes of their footsteps pinged back at them as they headed into the lift.
Once the doors closed, the scent of machine oil, most likely from the internal workings of the lift, edged out the cleansers.
He wanted to comfort Abbie. Wanted to pull her into his arms and stroke his hand over her hair. Tension vibrated from her, taut, and he wondered how she’d release it. Wondered what made her that way. Wondered what exactly that brute at the doors below had meant.
But he couldn’t reach out to her. Partly because he sensed she needed to forget about whatever it was and partly because it wasn’t his place. No matter how much he wanted it to be.
“Abbie, that man downstairs . . .” Marcus took her hand. “Are you all right?”
Roman noted how pale she’d gotten but watched her pull it together as they rose higher.
“Thank you, Marcus. I’m fine. It’s an old issue.” She leaned in and let the scanner read her retina. The doors opened for them an
d two guards nodded at them far more friendlier than the one below.
“We’ll be in room three. I need to see the paperwork on Jaron Mach, please. Along with Mr. Mach.”
One of the guards nodded and then started once he caught sight of Roman. “Oh, Mr. Lyons. Yes, we’ll get right on that.”
Once they’d arrived in the appointed room, Abbie turned an amused smile his way. “See, those pretty eyes are useful. I told you.”
A stack of papers was delivered and Abbie began to read. Just a few minutes later, Jaron was brought in, looking haggard and terrified. A bright bruise bloomed over his cheek.
Abbie held her hand up to stay Marcus. She addressed the guard, “Please unshackle the prisoner before you leave.”
“Ms. Haws, this one’s been charged with murder.”
“Yes, I know. You can have a guard stand outside the room but there’s no reason to keep him shackled.” She lowered her voice. “You know that, James.”
The guard, James apparently, nodded and removed the bonds from Jaron’s wrists and waist.
Once the guard left, Marcus rushed to hug his son, and then Roman did as well. Jaron felt insubstantial in Roman’s arms. So unlike his own sons, who were so hale and braw.
He wanted to use his power to walk out of the building with Jaron right then. Considered it. He was Roman Lyons, after all. Not abusing his power had never been so hard.
As if Abbie sensed it, she touched Jaron’s shoulder. “Sit down, Jaron. I’m Abbie and I’m here to help you. Let’s start at the beginning. Tell me everything so I can get you out of here.”
Jaron took a deep breath and began to speak.
Chapter 9
After leaving the lockup, Abbie headed back to her office and worked for the rest of the day and into the evening. When she finally got home, she slumped into the shower and stumbled over to lay on her couch while she considered if she had the energy to get up and prepare herself something to eat.
A soft tapping at her door pulled her from near sleep. She knew it was him before she looked out the viewer.
He stepped inside and closed the door, locking it before looking back at her. “I can’t stay away.” When he touched her, she arched into his hold. He drew a fingertip down from the hollow of her throat, slowly over the curve of her breast bone, between her breasts, until he reached the tie of her robe. “Are you naked under there?”
“I can’t remember.” She couldn’t even remember her address right then. The heat blasted from the front of him, he was so close each time he breathed in, the barest brush of his body against hers brought gooseflesh over her skin.
He laughed and she gave in, sliding her palms up his sides. He felt good, substantial, and it pleased her more than it should that he was there.
“You shouldn’t be here,” she murmured as she kissed the spot on his neck she uncovered when she unbuttoned his shirt. “But I’m glad you are.”
“I love the way you feel against me, Abbie. So small but so strong. I’m going to unbind your hair.”
“It’s probably still a bit wet. I braid it so . . . ohhh.” Rough shivers went through her when he tugged on it. Not to the point of pain but he got her attention, bringing her nerves to life.
“Did you like that? Mmm, you smell good. You have such beautiful hair, Abbie. Why do you keep it up in that knot instead of letting it free?”
“Yes, I liked it. I can’t very well have it loose at work, it would be in my face all day. And no one takes me seriously when I leave it down. You’re very tall and I’m getting a pain in my neck looking at you. Come and sit or lay or something.”
He grinned momentarily and sat, bringing her down atop him. She straddled his body and went back for a kiss.
“I can feel how hot your cunt is through my pants. Take off the robe for me, Abbie.”
She shrugged off the robe, letting it slide from her skin like a whispered caress. Her nipples hardened into dark points under his gaze and she realized they’d never been totally naked with each other.
“You’re beautiful. Sexy.” He brought his hands up to take the weight of her breasts, thumbs sliding lazily back and forth over her nipples until she began to squirm.
“I want to see you.”
“Soon enough, Abbie. Right now, it’s about you. You and your pretty thighs, your bare cunt, glistening with juice just for me.” He looked up into her face a moment and she looked back—without judgment; in fact, rather with pleasure at his words.
They stayed like that, locked together for long moments, until he seemed to make some sort of decision and surged to his feet. She held on, surprised and amused that he held her so easily.
“Do you have a mirror in your bedroom?”
She nodded, speechless at whatever he might have in mind.
Still wrapped around him, she kissed and licked the outer shell of his ear as he took the quick trip into her bedroom. Which was currently a total mess, with clothes everywhere.
“Ah, right at the foot of your bed. Well, that’s handy then.” He sat. “Get up for a moment, please.”
She scrambled off, quickly lighting some candles she’d had in votive holders on her walls but hadn’t used in a very long time. A golden glow licked over the walls.
When she turned back to him, he’d gotten naked. “Hey! I wanted to do that.”
“Next time I’ll let you undress me. For now, I have plans and I’m impatient.”
She walked around him, taking in his body from hard, well-defined calves, up muscled thighs, the very impressive cock jutting out proudly, the flat belly, the lightly furred chest, and up to that face. She wanted to sigh wistfully but just barely held back.
“If you’re done looking me over like a prized bull, sit on my lap. Facing the mirror.”
He’d scooted back enough so she could straddle him, her knees on the bed. He was much taller than she, so she could easily see his face in their reflection in the mirror.
She smiled.
“I do like the placement of that mirror.”
“Do you like to watch, Roman? Watch yourself fucking a woman?”
“Yes. Does that bother you?”
“No. Why should it?” She slid her hands up her body to hold her breasts, pinching her nipples, liking the way his eyes widened and then went half-lidded. “Your desires are nothing to be ashamed of.”
He leaned in to kiss her shoulder and then hesitated. When his eyes met hers in the mirror she moved one hand to her pussy, spreading herself open before she touched her clit, just a small pat, before pressing two fingers inside.
As she’d thought, he forgot about her scars, the three lines, faint by now, from the lower part of her shoulder blade up to the top of her shoulder near her neck. Instead, his gaze homed in on her hand. “Are you hot and wet?” He spoke into her ear, sending shivers down her spine.
She nodded, an urgency building within her. She liked to come. A lot. But at the same time, she wanted to let it roll through her, lure him in, seduce him as he’d done her.
“You make me hungry for your cunt. I don’t want to share it with anyone. Not even you.” He leaned forward and reached around, sliding two fingers into her.
She was very full but didn’t remove her own fingers just yet. She left them there as he slid his own in and out. Her inner walls clutched at the invasion, slickening in response.
“You’re so slick. Slick and snug and perfect inside.”
His wife had been a lucky woman to have had this in her bed all those years. He was forty now, but Abbie was pretty sure he’d been just as hot ten and fifteen years before. She envied that. Wondered what such a bond would be like.
“Don’t close your eyes, Abbie. I want to see your face when you come all over my hand.”
An unwilling moan broke from her lips as a rush of pleasure flooded through her.
“You want to move, don’t you? Do it. Fuck my hand.”
She had to move. Had to come. He’d made it inevitable. Freeing her fingers, she braced her h
ands on his knees and rose and fell, grinding herself against him to get more.
“That’s it. Take it, Abbie.”
She struggled to keep her eyes open and her head up, but he wouldn’t give on that. His gaze held hers implacably. A man used to being obeyed.
He watched as she took her pleasure without apology. Her honey rained over his hand, the scent of her making him hard, making him want her even more.
He’d tried to stay away but couldn’t. Just watching her that morning with Jaron had been too much. Her mixture of strength and tenderness went straight to his cock. And his heart. Abigail Haws got under his skin and being with her seemed as necessary as breathing. Touching her, the need to feel her against him, was a deep craving.
Her cry as she came, the way her body clutched his fingers, the way a flush worked up her pretty, pale skin, it all made him nearly mad with the need to be inside her.
But she scrambled up and out of his reach before he could angle himself to fuck her. That shower of hair, dark and lush, hanging nearly to her ass, shimmered around her like a cloak.
“I want to suck your cock, Roman.”
How could he refuse such an offer? He’d only imagined her mouth on him just about every waking moment since he met her.
He scooted up her bed and she climbed up between his thighs. Her hair, cool and soft, trailed over his legs as she kissed her way from his knee to his cock, just barely breathing a kiss over it, and then back down to the other knee.
He groaned, wanting to tell her what he liked but also worried he’d scare her off. She’d been with him so far, something he’d never really thought he’d have.
The heat of her mouth sent little shocks of sensation skittering through him. She moved up high enough to firmly grab the base of his cock in one hand and, while watching his face, slowly licked over the head.
She did something to him. Uncoiled the things in his gut he never gave voice to. It was disarming as well as frightening. No one should be able to get to him that way. He was a controlled man, because losing control in his position could be disastrous.