Felony Ever After

by Helena Hunting

  Angie jumped off Verity’s desk, clearly expecting Mr. Lay to come out of the elevator in a rush of swinging arms and weirdness. Instead, the steel doors opened to reveal Hudson Fenn—a heart-stopping, polished bad-boy version dressed in dark, fitted jeans and a black leather jacket.

  Verity brought her hand to her chest with a thump.

  “Wow.” Angie whistled.

  Verity heard her, but her voice sounded like an echo down a long tunnel. Everything else faded as Hudson’s stare turned her into a weak-kneed mess. When he threw her a smirky grin, she grabbed hold of her desk. He strode toward her, and she swallowed hard at the sight of him: pure hot-rocker fantasy. When he leaned on her desk, she caught the scent of his leather jacket. She bit her lip and peered up at him.

  “Did you give up on me today?” He placed a bedazzled package on her desk. Someone had sealed the box with a hot glue gun and black plastic beads. “My client was running late.”

  Verity reached out to examine the cardboard craziness Hudson had delivered. She gasped when she realized the black beads were actually tiny skulls. “Your client is running a little strange too.” She dropped the box back on her desk like it might burn her.

  “Forget my client and the box. I’m taking you out. Grab your stuff and let’s go.”

  Dismissing her concerns about the mysterious Hudson and his possible mysterious girlfriend, Verity began pulling her belongings from her desk drawer as if someone else had taken control of her body. Hudson came around and took her hand in his. His touch was warm enough to make certain parts of her melt.

  “Hold on a second.” She pulled him to a stop and with her free hand dialed Mr. Lay. She brought the receiver up to her ear and waited for her boss to answer.

  “This better be about a package,” Mr. Lay whispered when he picked up. “I’ve been waiting all day, hoping you would bring it up. And place it carefully on my desk.”

  “It’s here on my desk.” She glanced at the package and shook off the creepo chills.

  “Don’t forget to tip the messenger. I don’t want anyone upset today. I’m coming down. Stay there, okay?” Mr. Lay disconnected before she could respond.

  “Freak show.” She shook her head, and Hudson laughed. “You’d call him something worse if you worked for him.”

  “I’ll stick to deliveries,” he said, pulling her to her feet. “And you.”

  Verity blushed and smiled to herself. Maybe Angie was right and Hudson did have a real thing for her. She just needed to vet him on his girlfriend status.

  Hudson pushed the elevator’s down button, and almost instantly the doors parted. A wide-eyed Mr. Lay stood before them.

  “Ms. Michaels.” Verity flinched as Mr. Lay looked her over. “What are you doing away from your desk? And where is my package?”

  “Let’s all relax,” Hudson suggested, practically yawning with indifference to her boss. “Work day’s over for me—your box delivery guy—and Ms. Michaels here.”

  Without another word, Verity followed Hudson into the empty elevator. As the doors closed, Mr. Lay gaped, speechless, while Angie cheered silently behind him. A definite first, for sure.

  Hudson brought his lips to Verity’s ear and a shiver ran through her. “He shouldn’t treat someone I care for like that.”

  Verity could only nod, her mind jumbled from his touch and words. She tried taking a deep breath, but the elevator seemed short on fresh air. All she could smell was the warm scent of Hudson’s leather jacket.

  When they arrived in the lobby, Hudson guided her across the marbled floors to the building’s exit. He held her close as they squeezed into the revolving door. Once they were outside, she wanted his protective arms again.

  “Where’s your bike?” Verity scanned the area, but didn’t see a single bike.

  “I’ve planned alternate transportation for the night.”

  Verity followed Hudson’s eyes to a black town car. A statue-like driver stood near the car’s rear door and smiled at them.

  Verity spun around to face Hudson with her hand on her hip. “Did you steal this ride too?”

  “I told an old friend I wanted to impress a girl tonight, and he lent me his vehicle.”

  Old friend, my ass. Verity didn’t believe him for one second. No one their age had cars and drivers. Something didn’t add up with Hudson. Again.

  “As flattered as I am, are you sure about that?” Verity hesitated as Hudson tried to persuade her to climb into the car. The driver chuckled beside her, and she wondered if this entire scene was part of a hidden-camera punk.

  “I promise.” Hudson pulled a pouty face and begged her with his eyes. “Please, Verity. Trust me.”

  “Yeah, right,” she huffed, but she sat down in the backseat.

  This likely spelled epic trouble, yet she couldn’t make herself resist. Verity licked her lips as Hudson folded into the car seat next to her. She knew he would get whatever he wanted from her tonight—with or without the fancy wheels.

  “Fuckity, fuck, fuck. I’m screwed,” she muttered while pulling out her iPhone. She had something to say in one hundred and forty characters or less.

  Verity Michaels @VerityPics03

  If something appears too good to be true, it probably is. #WiseSayings #SmartWomen.

  Hudson Fenn @tatwhiteknight

  Sitting next to the most beautiful woman in the world. #TooGoodToBeTrue #PinchMe

  Verity Michaels @VerityPics03

  When will men learn that flattery gets them nowhere. #EyeRolls #SweetTalker

  Hudson Fenn @tatwhiteknight

  Heading out for a “photo” perfect night. #CameraInCar #LightsCameraAction

  Chapter 7

  B&E

  S.M. Lumetta

  “So where are we going, Tattoo?”

  Hudson rolled his eyes, but flashed that panty-dropping grin. “Is Hudson really such a bad name? It was good enough for the river.”

  “There’s a good inspiration. Are you chock full of crap, too?”

  “Ha ha. That’s the East River,” he said with a wink.

  “Ahh…” Verity said. “It’s not a horrible name. I just wonder what’s wrong with traditional names. Like John or Matthew—”

  “Mark and Luke? I don’t want our kids to be named after apostles, Verity.”

  “You’re a dick.” William. No wonder he’d ditched that part of his name… if that was even him. Verity realized she still knew zip.

  “A dick you want to pound,” he countered.

  She growled and looked out the window. “Yep, you’re charming the pants right off me, Tattoo.”

  “You’re wearing a skirt,” he pointed out. “Does that mean you’re commando, Honeybee?”

  Verity struggled to keep her lips from curving. “Damn you.”

  He chuckled, and once again her entire body was aware of him. She turned to face him, almost startling when she found him watching her. The look in his eyes was the kind of predatory hunger women dream about. And as a matter of fact, she had dreamed of this exact look.

  Verity tried to clear her throat, but ended up making some awkward squeaky noise. “Um, where are we going?”

  “Surprises, woman. I got a few of them in store,” Hudson answered. “I told you, I’m trying to impress a girl tonight.”

  “Did you bring me along to answer your phone for you while you’re impressing this mystery lady?”

  Suddenly Hudson’s wet-dream-inducing eyes were mere inches from hers. She was pretty confident her ovaries exploded, and she pinched her knees together. A gasp she later realized was hers seemed to echo off the leather seats; his hand was on her knee. Her bare knee. The skin there was now happily on fire. Burn, baby, burn.

  “Verity,” he said, his tone incredibly serious. And sexier, dammit. She watched his eyes, the pull of him so overwhelming, she wished she was, in fact, commando. “Please hold all calls.”

  She rolled her eyes and shoved at his chest, but she didn’t try very hard. He smiled and coaxed her should
ers toward him once more. She was mesmerized by his gaze and his nearness. He kept glancing down at her lips, his minty breath breaking across her face. The sparks between them were nearly visible with his mouth so close to hers. She was ready to attach herself like a Hoover and suck his face off.

  “Close your eyes, Honeybee,” he said, his voice low and sweet.

  Like a child under a spell, she complied. But her expectations of smacktacular lip-nastics were dashed when the heat of his gaze and his body disappeared, and the car stopped.

  “Keep them closed,” he instructed.

  Verity huffed, more to cover her disappointment than in actual frustration with Hudson’s romantic game. His responding laugh was low. No matter what he did, he kept drawing her in. The laugh, the closeness, the surprises…

  “Come on,” he said, his hand closing around hers. The warmth of his skin sent a thrill through her as he led her out of the car.

  “This better not be some sort of Punked thing,” she told him. “I will have you killed. I know gangsters.”

  He full-out guffawed. “Every time I see you, I wonder what will come out of that mouth next.”

  After she heard the car door close, his arm and his scent wrapped around her. Following his lead, they walked together until Verity felt grass under her feet. The breeze swirled around her, carrying scents and sounds of nature.

  “Flowers!” she exclaimed. “Lots of flowers!”

  Hudson turned her to face a certain way. “Open your eyes, Honeybee.”

  The spectacle before her took her breath away. “Oh my God,” she managed. “Is this—”

  “The Conservatory Garden.”

  “At the top of Central Park, right? I’ve never been here.” Verity was stunned. The sun cast an orange glow through the trees and over the flowers. They stood a stone’s throw from the Three Dancing Maidens fountain.

  Hudson grabbed her hand and placed an extremely expensive camera in it.

  “What?!” Verity shrieked. “No way. This is a Hasselblad! I shouldn’t even touch it. My life insurance wouldn’t cover the cost of replacing this sucker.”

  He laughed and made sure she didn’t drop it. “I know what it is. It was my grandfather’s.”

  “Jesus! How could you possibly trust me with an heirloom like this? It’s practically priceless.” She handed the camera back to him and stepped away.

  He sighed, his discomfort obvious. “He would have loved to see what kind of pictures you take with his favorite camera,” he said, reverently. “I trust you.”

  Unable to resist how desperately she wanted to try it, Verity gingerly took the camera from his hands. She examined it, turning it over in her palms, her breath hitching.

  “I just—why would you do all this for me?” she asked, gesturing to the beauty around them.

  “You’re wasting time,” he answered with a smile. “Camera’s loaded. I’ve got a light meter and a reflector or two if you need them. Otherwise, get to it.”

  She grinned and nodded, kissing his cheek before scurrying off to catch the beauty before the light sank behind the horizon. Verity was so overwhelmed with options, she almost panicked. Every now and then she would pause, remembering she wasn’t here alone. Hudson would smile at her, seeming content to watch her in her element. At one point, she turned the camera on him and he turned his face away, as if embarrassed or shy. She clicked the shutter anyway. That might end up being her favorite picture of the night.

  Hudson kept handing her fresh rolls of film as she spent them, and before she knew it, there wasn’t enough light anymore.

  “Damn,” she said. “How many rolls did I use?”

  “Four,” he told her, beaming. “I have three more for you, if you’d like.”

  “But the light is gone. There’s not enough sun left.”

  Hudson pulled out his phone and tapped a few times. The overhanging tree branches, among other things, came to life with a series of subtle lights. Verity gasped. It was almost as beautiful as the sunlight over the garden. Tears filled her eyes.

  “Oh, please don’t cry, Honeybee,” he pleaded. “I—”

  She cut him off by flinging her arms around him. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “You’re welcome. Hasn’t anyone tried to woo you before?”

  She snorted, and they both laughed, hers turning to giggles before dying out when she noticed his eyes on her mouth. Her lips parted, and he closed the distance. Soft, full lips pressed gently to hers at first, parting slightly to suck on her bottom lip. Her hands seemed to work autonomously, one threading fingers into his hair while the other white-knuckled the camera behind his back. Her daydreams and nighttime fantasies swirled in her head. She tilted her head and deepened the kiss, earning a moan from Hudson. Now that tongues were involved, she was pretty sure the functioning part of her brain had signed off for the evening.

  Don’t drop the camera. Don’t derp camr. Guhhh.

  By the time the kiss ended, World War III could have erupted and concluded around them, and she wouldn’t have noticed.

  “That, beauty, was worth the price of admission,” he whispered against her mouth. “And boy, has it worked up an appetite.”

  “Excuse me?” She pushed back. Her misplaced offense was hilarious to him. “How dare you.” He laughed harder, obviously seeing she didn’t really mean it.

  “Dinner!” he exclaimed. “I’m talking about food.” Taking her face in his hands, he continued. “As much as I love dessert, I’m truly famished. Come on, I’ve got a picnic for us.”

  A short walk under the dome of trees led to a small, candlelit table covered in an array of mouth-watering food: grilled chicken, a slew of roasted veggies, wine, cheeses… A picnic might be putting it mildly. Verity didn’t know where to start.

  “How did you get all of this here?” she asked.

  “I know a guy who works on the inside.”

  “Prison?” Verity asked with wide eyes.

  “No. Wow. You really jump to the best conclusions when it comes to me. I’m friends with the gardener. Inside this place. A friend on the inside.”

  “Ohhhh… That makes sense. Anyway, I’m drooling,” she said, wiping her mouth. “Or did you slobber on me?”

  He barked a laugh. “It’s possible. You do look delicious.”

  She couldn’t help but blush. As she took a seat, she surveyed the surroundings once again. Somehow the place looked completely different than it had when she’d been wandering, taking shot after shot. And the crazy, cab-stealing deviant she’d been fantasizing over sat across from her, behind a cornucopia of appetizing food.

  “How is this all happening?” she wondered aloud. “Who are you?”

  He smiled. Not mischievously or smugly, but warmly, and maybe with a touch of sadness. “I’m exactly who you see.”

  She looked away, wanting to argue that he never answered any of her questions. But it seemed a bad time to pick a fight.

  They ate in companionable silence for a little while, exchanging plates and tapping their glasses in toast. The food was delectable, and she wondered again how he’d arranged all this. It didn’t seem entirely legal.

  When they did speak, the conversation flowed comfortably. Hudson shared that his grandfather, who’d taught him how to swear properly, had been a huge presence in his life. Verity admitted she was born just outside Ocala, Florida, but was sort of enjoying the city. She’d been raised by her dad after her mom left when she was little. Hudson had always lived here, though he’d lived with his mother in Yonkers for a while after his parents divorced.

  “How about school?” she asked. Was it MIT?

  “School was boring,” he answered. “Who cares?”

  “But you seem to have done so well with your associate bike rider degree.”

  He laughed and eyed her wine glass. “Your jokes get worse with every sip.”

  She wanted to ask what he was hiding, but he seemed determined to keep his mystery alive. And mystery or no, this was the best date of
her life, so why dispel the magic? Don’t be rude, she convinced herself. This was at least sort of a public place… she was safe, right?

  When they’d finished, Hudson stood and held out his hand to her. She took it without much hesitation and rose, pressing against him. She hadn’t meant to, but he seemed to have Verity magnets under his shirt.

  “Thank you for agreeing to come out tonight, Verity,” he said. “Ever taken a selfie with a Hasselblad?”

  “Are you kidding?”

  He picked up the camera from its bag next to the table and turned them toward the lights. He fiddled with the settings for a minute before managing to hold it out in front of them with a finger on the release button.

  “Say pussyfeathers!”

  Verity burst out laughing. When the giggles abated, she turned to glare at him. Her intent to berate him died in her throat when she saw the way he looked at her. “Did you even look at the camera?”

  “Why? I was looking at you.”

  Her heart flipped. “Why do you have to do that?” she whispered. “It’s so hard to be cautious about you when you say things like that.”

  “Why so many questions?” he asked, and laid a kiss on her.

  “What the hell are you doing in here?!” a voice shouted. “You’re trespassing!”

  Verity jumped and knocked the camera out of Hudson’s hand. Luckily, it fell only a short distance to the table next to them.

  “Shit.” Hudson picked up the camera and grabbed Verity by the arm. “Let’s go!”

  “What about your friend on the inside?” she yelled.

  “He must not have spread the word!” Hudson yelled back, practically dragging her along.

  “Tattoo,” she said, panting as they ran. “I—I can’t exactly keep this up in these shoes.”

  “Great, we’re back to Tattoo again, huh, Country Girl?”

  “Hudson, these shoes are killing me. I’m going to break an ankle.”

  She could hear the guard running after them.