by Jordan Marie
“I don’t think I spank your ass enough.”
“You can make up for it tonight,” I tell him as we walk into the kitchen to our children.
“You can count on it, Mrs. Lucas,” he tells me, laughing. I stick my tongue out and start dishing out cheeseburger macaroni while Calder and White fall in line and Princess Maxie demands to be the center of attention.
As I watch them, I’m reminded of one of my favorite sayings and think of how true it is: I’m a woman blessed beyond measure.
And I am thankful.
The End.
Continue for a sneak peek into the next book in the series “Happy Trail” which tells Petal’s story!
Other work by Amazon Bestselling Author Jordan Marie
Savage Brothers MC
Breaking Dragon
http://amzn.to/21Q0wiC
Saving Dancer
http://amzn.to/23CWDNB
Loving Nicole
http://amzn.to/1NoGhGs
Claiming Crusher
http://amzn.to/24Hk1fd
Trusting Bull
http://amzn.to/23CWJ7N
Devil’s Blaze MC
Captured (Book 1)
http://amzn.to/1WWpaxe
Burned (Book 2)
http://amzn.to/24Hk3Uq
Released (Book 3)
http://amzn.to/29FbTKt
Other work by Baylee Rose, a pen name of Jordan Marie
Filthy Florida Alphas
Unlawful Seizure (Book 1)
http://amzn.to/23CWOZc
Unjustified Demands (Book 2)
http://amzn.to/23CWNEC
Unwritten Rules (Book 3)
Coming Soon …
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Want to read a sneak peek into the next book in the series? Do you want to read a previously released book I released under my pen name Baylee Rose? Turn the page to read both!
HAPPY TRAIL
CHAPTER ONE
PETAL
“Petal, it’s your turn!”
“I’m coming,” I tell Mom. The last thing I want to do is be here at family bowling night. I tried everything short of telling her I was dying of a dreaded disease to get out of it. Even that wouldn’t have helped. When Ida Sue wants something, you either fall in line or run away. I can’t tell you the times I’ve wanted to run away.
Don’t get me wrong. I have an amazing mother. She’s funny, talented, fiercely loyal, and a loving parent. She’s strong as hell, too; she’s had to be because she raised nine children completely on her own. I admire and love her as much as I resent her.
“What’s wrong with you, Petal?”
“Nothing, Mom! I just had other things to do tonight. Things I canceled so I could make your family night.”
“Well, if you were going to be a grouch and try and ruin the whole night for everyone, maybe you should have just not shown up.”
“It’s Black’s birthday, Mom. Of course I’m going to be here. I just wish you had given me a little advance warning, that’s all.”
“I might have if you’d been home much the last few weeks.”
“I’ve been home every night, Mom.”
“Yeah, but I’m usually in bed by the time you roll in. Honestly, Petal, little River needs more structure than what you’re giving him.”
“Mom, everything I do is for River. Don’t start.”
“Is he the reason you’ve been talking to that man again?”
“That man is River’s father and he has a name, Mom. It’s Luka.”
“You say Luka, I say Puke-a,” she says with a shrug.
“Now who’s acting like a child?” I sigh. It’s an old argument. Mom has never approved of Luka and he hates her. The friction between them is just one of the many reasons my marriage imploded. Well, that and the fact that I should have never gotten married at seventeen. I was a child playing an adult and as a result I made all the wrong choices. Hell, I’ll be twenty-one in a couple weeks and I’m still making all the wrong choices.
“If you had listened to me to begin with, you would have never had him in your life.”
“Mom, I was pregnant—”
“Big-freakin-deal! You were sixteen and pregnant. That happens to a lot of girls. It’s not a reason to get married. He should have been arrested for messing with you in the first place and yet somehow here he is, the sheriff. If that isn’t the biggest joke in years.”
“Mom, he didn’t know I was sixteen. If he had, he never would have touched me.”
“So you say. I haven’t seen one thing out of Luka Parrish that tells me it’s true.”
“I don’t want to argue about this anymore, Mom. Luka and I are working together to make sure our son is happy. That’s it. That’s all it is,” I tell her, and the pang of pain that hits me is real. I’m not lying, even though I wish I was. River has been diagnosed with ADHD and also has some other problems. We’ve been meeting in the evenings to figure out how best to tackle them. I had him in daycare and he was kicked out for biting and hitting other kids. River’s not a bad child. He’s sweet as he can be at home, but around other kids, he becomes different. We need a solution soon, not only for my child’s sake, but because I need to go back to work. I can’t keep living with my mom, I can’t. Every time she puts Luka down, I want to scream. Luka has done right by me and River, despite all the shit I’ve put him through. He tried so hard to make our marriage work. He doesn’t know why I divorced him, not really. I won’t tell him. There’s no point. He’s eight years older than me, he’s sheriff now, and the last thing he needs is the local hippy’s daughter being a stone around his neck. I figure if I say that enough times, I’ll finally believe it. The real problem is that Luka hasn’t tried to convince me that we have a future in over a year now. Even the dinners we have are purely talking about our son. Being that near to him almost every night and not being able to touch him or find out what’s going in his life—or to just talk to him like we used to, man and woman, best friends—it’s slowly and painfully destroying me. I miss him.
With a sigh, I go to get my ball and get ready for my turn. The place is loud, but only made louder because the entire Lucas clan is out and about tonight, including Gray, CC, and the two-month-old babies Violet and William.
“There’s my girl! I thought you got lost,” Black says, wrapping his arm around my back as I straighten back up, holding the ball in my hand.
“Wrong, big brother. You were hoping I got lost because with this strike you and your silly team are going down, down, down.”
“You tell him, Petal!” CC calls out.
We’re playing girls against boys tonight, and it’s usually a lot of fun. It’s just tonight I wish I was having dinner with Luka. Even though we’re just discussing River, I live for those dinners with him lately—which admittedly, is not a good thing.
“Pride goeth before the fall, ladies. Tonight, it’s all about the boys!” White answers.
“That’s what you think, sweetheart. Boys drool and girls rule!” Kayla chirps up. I can’t help but smile. In the two months that her and my brother White have been married, she’s become a different person: confident, happy, and outspoken. Not to mention the fact that she’s sporting a pretty serious baby bump these days. As if my brother knows exactly what I’m thinking, he reaches down and rubs Kayla’s stomach and whispers in her ear. I’m not sure what he said to her, but the blush that blooms on her face makes me entirely envious of the two. They’re so much in love, it’s painful to watch.
“Stand back and watch poetry in motion,” I joke, trying to shake off my thoughts. I take my favored bowling pose, draw my arm back, and aim. I slowly bring it
back, knowing I can make this strike and clench the game. It’s all mine.
Until…
“Luka!” I hear a woman cry.
My face jerks away from the lane and I search for the voice. There, standing across from me two lanes down, is Luka with the secretary in his office. He’s laughing with her, and that would be painful enough, but he’s got his arm around her as she leans over to give him a kiss.
It’s in that moment that my world ends. I don’t even realize that I dropped the ball until I turn to watch it slide down into the gutter.
Just like my life.
Coming spring of 2017!
UNLAWFUL SEIZURE
BAYLEE ROSE
1
Tess
I wake up with a migraine and feeling sick to my stomach. That is sign number one. Sign number two is my horoscope warning me I shouldn’t leave the house today. Sign number three is when I go outside to discover my old, beat up, 1990 something model Toyota, sitting on a flat. I’m stressed out already, and it’s only 7 am. I’m all set to call in sick when my boss calls me with his usual song and dance. I’m sick today Tessa. I really need to take the day off. Clear all my appointments. Make some excuse up for me. What he really means, is he and his wife are flying to Tahoe for the weekend. I know because Claire, the other secretary, let that little tidbit slip.
When I remind him that Judge Ryson appointed him as counsel in a case that was on the docket this morning, he goes silent. When I inform him it is a parole hearing and can’t be rescheduled, that sick feeling only increases. When he asks me to get Stuart to cover for him, we begin a ten-minute conversation on why Stuart is useless and will end up losing the case and destroying a man’s chance for freedom.
I’m not usually so concerned, I’m only a legal secretary after all, but his client today is Max Kincaid, and I’m more than slightly obsessed with this case. Max deserves someone who will actually try to get him free.
I shouldn’t be that concerned with this case. I should have kept my fat mouth shut because the next thing I know, Charles, my boss, has volunteered me to go before the parole hearing and present the case as his proxy. I try every way in the world to stress that I can’t do it. I point out that Mr. Kincaid was unlawfully put in jail, and he needs a real attorney looking out for him. I might as well have saved my breath. His response was that I know the case better than anyone and Mr. Kincaid would best be served, with me, by his side.
“Tess you know the law inside and out. You can do this.” Click.
That’s the only response I get from my final plea for him to do what the freaking state pays him to do. I really should have quit this job ages ago. I haven’t because I can’t afford to. I would have loved to go on to law school, but I put myself through school to get my paralegal license. Between working full time to try pay back student loans and carrying a full load of classes, there’s no way I could even contemplate law school.
I was stupid enough to think that I would get a job; just like that. Well, not completely stupid. I did get a job immediately—at McDonald’s and then later at Shoe Warehouse and Dollar Mart. I had three jobs and still could barely manage to pay rent on my apartment. It was also an apartment I barely saw unless it was to collapse on the bed to nap before my next shift started.
I was drowning in debt from school loans and so tired I could barely hold my eyes open. When I walked into Charles Barger’s, and he offered me a paralegal position, it seemed like the answer to my dreams.
It turned out to be a nightmare.
It does keep a roof over my head though and those damn collection calls down. That’s what I remind myself of again today as I put on my big girl panties and suck it up. It’s a parole hearing and on a case I do, in fact, know inside and out.
I get my tire changed and head to the office, grabbing the files and things I will need for the hearing, then head straight for the federal prison in Ormond. It takes a good hour to drive there, and the hearing is scheduled to start in forty minutes. That’s when yet another sign from the universe falls in my lap, in the form of a speeding ticket. Fuck my life!
I try to pay attention to my speedometer the rest of the trip, but it’s hard. My mind is swirling as I go over the facts I need to present to the panel. My boss wasn’t lying when he said that I knew this case better than anyone. The truth is I’ve been consumed with Max Kincaid’s case. I must have read his file a thousand times. I know it’s not healthy. I do. I just can’t seem to make myself stop. I stare at his picture, and something about those dark, inky, onyx eyes call to me. His features seem familiar, even though there’s no way that’s possible.
I’ve even memorized his information. Max Kincaid, age thirty-six, date of birth February 11, 1979. Dark black hair, black eyes, and three distinct scars. A small one above his right eyebrow, one on his side from an appendectomy he had as a teen, and one jagged scar on his chest he received in the line of duty as a soldier in the Middle East. Max is a hero, awarded the Purple Heart for heroism in battle when he saved his entire platoon from a mortar attack by driving straight into the line of fire and drawing it away from his men. He had more men offer to stand up for him during his murder trial than the judge would allow to testify. By all accounts, Max was the golden boy, the man that women loved, and men wanted to be. His downfall came from loving the wrong woman, marrying her, expecting a child with her and then brutally extracting revenge for their deaths.
I lay awake at night recounting the facts of the case, and having my heart, break for the man who lost so much because of a decision filled with revenge. Truthfully, I’m not sure I wouldn’t have tried to do the same thing as he did if I were in his shoes. A part of me cheers him. That’s why I’m doing this; but also find myself a little giddy at the chance to actually meet Max Kincaid and be close to him.
Claire, my co-worker, likes to joke that I’m halfway in love with the man. If she knew some of the dreams I’ve had, that involve Max, she’d be ready to call the men in white coats.
This is important. This could be the single most important thing I ever do. Not only will I get to meet the man, but I also get the chance to be the one to right a wrong. Yes, he killed a man, and yes, that is wrong. However, the circumstances of the case, the outstanding character witnesses that testified on his behalf and the fact that he has already served five years of his sentence without a single demerit or mark against him, all combine and tell me he should get parole. Now, if I can just convince the court of that.
I feel very strongly that he was wronged. I think I’m supposed to do this. I’m supposed to be the one to rescue him. That’s the real reason why I ignore the signs the universe keeps throwing my way. It’s also why I don’t let the fear that floods me when I drive through the prison gates, after checking in at the guardhouse, overpower me.
I go through all of the security points at the main entrance and have my files, purse and items searched. I manage only to be five minutes late and in the end that doesn’t matter since a couple members of the panel are running behind. That will give me a couple minutes to meet with Max…I mean Mr. Kincaid before the hearing and go over our battle plan.
“Could you have Mr. Kincaid brought down now? I’d like to confer with him before our hearing.”
“You’ll have to wait here until I have the prisoner brought in and settled,” the guard tells me.
“I…okay. That’s fine. I’ll just wait here, shall I?” He doesn’t reply and goes out.
My heart is beating out of my chest. I need to move past my excitement of getting to meet Max Kincaid and get my mind onto obtaining his freedom for him. It’s another ten minutes; which only serves to increase my nerves, before the guard comes back and escorts me in. For a minute, I think I stop breathing. Max is sitting at a table, and if I ignore the orange jumpsuit, he looks even better than he did in pictures. His black hair is straight and lays lazily on his head, making it look like someone has lovingly run their fingers through it. His dark eyes pin me immediately and with su
ch intensity it takes all I have not to falter when walking towards him. His large hands are lying on the table with chains around them. I know that is normal procedure, but on him it feels wrong.
I don’t know what I imagined our first words would be to each other. In my daydreams of Max, I think somewhere in the back of my mind I thought we’d meet, and I’d rescue him and he’d be the one. The man who would understand me, who would just…fit me. I thought somewhere in the deep recesses of my mind he might recognize that feeling when he saw me for the first time, too. It sounds all kinds of stupid and juvenile and normally I’m not that kind of woman. I don’t know why I am where Max is concerned.
All of those wishes and silly dreams are blown out of the water when his harsh, barking voice rings out and stops me in my tracks.
“Who the fuck are you?”
2
Max
I’ve given up on hope. Hope doesn’t exist. It hasn’t since five years ago when I heard the sound of cold metal slamming shut, and I began my stay at the Ormond County Correctional and Rehabilitation Institution. Hope left that day, and it hasn’t returned. Life took on the dull gray color of the prison itself, and I became a creature who didn’t live. I only existed.
Today is my parole hearing. My fourth to be exact. It doesn’t mean shit. They’re not going to set me free. That doesn’t happen when you kill a man. I don’t give a fuck. I find I don’t give a fuck about anything these days. I haven’t in a long time. I won’t get parole because every time a bunch of stiff-necked suits ask me if I feel remorse for my crime, I laugh.
I killed the man who murdered my wife. She was a whore. I didn’t love her, didn’t even like her. But I did love the child she was carrying. So I hunted him down, and I squeezed the life out of him with my bare hands. I watched as, bit by bit, the light drained from his eyes and just when he was about to die, I let the pressure off his neck and allowed him to gasp another breath. Then, I did it again. Rinse and repeat until finally I ended the motherfucker. I relished it. I spit on his corpse as I let him fall to the ground. I didn’t feel remorse. Shit, no. Instead, I got the first fucking hard on I’d had in months.