by Amy Law
“I’d have to tell him. Is that likely to happen?”
“Probably not.”
Jackson thought. “Maybe you should give me your cell number now.”
“Will you use it to let me know if the DA asks where Maryette is?”
“I couldn’t do that, Hendricks. But I told you there was something I wanted to talk over with you.”
Hendricks held his gaze. Jackson went on, “Maybe I’d call in the next couple of days.”
Hendricks nodded, “Before the hearing?”
“Or maybe it could wait until after.”
Hendricks nodded. “You could be taking a chance.”
“I hope not.”
“Good enough. You want to see Maryette before you go?”
Jackson look down at Wiley. “Would I be taking a chance?”
From the ground, Wiley said, “Nah. You’re good.”
Hendricks told Jackson, “You should probably hand him back his trinkets before you leave, though.”
In the other square room, Maryette sat on the cot by the window. Jackson was immediately relieved. She’s obviously not being held captive, he thought, Hendricks would never leave her alone in a room with a window if she was.
Her smoky voice curled into his head, almost too quiet to hear. “Have you come to save me?” His heart thumped.
“Do you need saving?”
“No.” She looked up at him, “I might like it though.”
“Are you being held here against your will?”
“What will you do if I say, ‘yes’?”
“Don’t play games with me, Maryette.”
“You’re no fun.”
“I just wanted to make sure you were safe. And I can see that you are.”
She stood and slowly crossed the floor to him. “Is that all you wanted,” she said, close, looking up at him. The warmth of her body was unsettling. His throat was dry, “Are you sure that’s all, Jack?” she lifted an eyebrow as her teeth teased her red lip.
A strong surge of sensation cascaded through his chest and his stomach. His blood pumped so hard he heard it beat. His cock stiffened so fast it jammed, still pointed downwards and his pants tightened awkwardly around the top of his leg. He had to get out of there. Even if he were to follow the throb of his physical instinct, a cabin with Hendricks and Wiley in the next room wasn’t going to be the place.
Chapter 10
They were all back in Judge Hooper’s courtroom, Bishop included, for the hearing on McGhee’s arson and trafficking charges. The evidence was compelling and plentiful, and McGhee had offered Jackson nothing of any use in the way of mitigation.
Turned out Gracey hadn’t cared too much about losing the original charge. When McGhee had been languishing in the state pen awaiting trial for the later indictments, Gracey had offered him a plea bargain on the Treacher case. DA Bishop was none too pleased about it though.
Treacher then made a sudden and miraculous recovery from his injuries and said that he was unwilling to testify. It was shortly after that when he had an equally sudden setback leaving the hospital. He emerged out of a seventh-floor window.
No amount of energetic defense on Jackson’s part was going to make a difference and Judge Hooper was relaxed and businesslike handing McGhee five for the arson and two to ten for trafficking.
All of the easy money and the good money in criminal law was in defending. Jackson knew that. The prosecution has to get more or less everything right. One hole and they’re sunk.
Effective use of the presumption of innocence meant that for most of the time a competent defender only had to get enough right for reasonable doubt. He also knew that he wasn’t entirely comfortable with the easy money, nor with its sources.
Not when it meant defending the McGhees of this world. Those thoughts led him again into thoughts about his father and that left him torn. Jackson wanted to believe that the connection between he and Karl was purely biological. That it was finished nine months before he was born.
He’d like to have thought that he and Karl had nothing in common. That they didn’t share anything more significant than markers on a chain of DNA.
‘A man’s entitled to a fair trial and a good defense,’ Karl would say. Jackson’s response would be, ‘Sure, but when he’s guilty, he ought to be a man and say so, not hide behind lies, technicalities and confusion.’
Jackson’s way of solving the contradiction was, for now, to hone his legal skills while he worked defense and keep his options open to crossing the floor later on.
Chapter 11
Late on a hot Thursday evening, Jackson was in the office grinding through a brief with a bottle of bourbon and Foo Fighters for company. He was pretty sure everyone had left, he’d already had the evening’s banter with Ella Mae, the cleaner.
Even over the guitar grind on the Zeppelin speaker, he heard her heels from the first click at the far end of the corridor. His heart banged in his chest and he stopped moving. He couldn’t think how she could have even got into the building.
He tried imagining that it wasn’t her. It was someone else. Or something else. It could have been someone pulling a flight bag with a clicking wheel. It could have. But he knew that it wasn’t.
Her hazy silhouette filled the frosted glass of Jackson’s office door and as she reached out for the handle he said, “What is it, Maryette? Why are you here and how did you get in?”
Her scent drifted in ahead of her. The light was behind her as she opened the door and stepped inside. Then she leaned back with her hands behind against the door her to close it.
“Good to see you, too, Jackson.” She looked at his hand on the tumbler. “Thanks, don’t mind if I do.”
“I didn’t offer you a drink, Maryette.”
“I’m minding your manners for you, as it seems you misplaced them.” With her hips tilted forwards and her feet apart, she looked down at Jackson.
“Why are you here, Maryette?”
“You mean apart from the atmosphere and the welcome?”
He scraped his chair as he stood. It rattled behind him. He opened the file drawer and reached in for another glass.
He splashed bourbon into the tumbler and pushed it across his desk. “Yeah, apart from those. And the view, of course.”
She moved to the desk to pick up the glass. His stomach hardened and his mouth dried. His blood beat in his chest. Jackson realized that the effect of her scent, the effect of her, was showing at the front of his pants.
He could think of no way to hide it that wouldn’t be a dumb and obvious attempt to do exactly that, which would defeat the point. If there was a point.
“I’m not going to wait ten years for McGee, Jackson. I’ve told him.”
“That must have brightened his day in Clark County Detention.”
“He didn’t send a card.”
“Oh, how did you tell him? By text?”
“Jackson, do you want to talk about McGhee some more?”
“Okay, no. What do you want me to do about it?”
“We both know the answer to that, Jackson.”
Jackson’s toes clenched as he chewed his lip. She tapped one foot as she took a bite of the whiskey.
“What is it about you, Jackson Sage? Why am I constantly running into you?”
“Maryette, I think you want to run into me.”
“I do, Jackson. I wasn’t saying I don’t But, why? I’m a congenital outlaw and you’re a goddamned lawyer.”
The chair scraped on the floor as he stood. “Maryette, it’s impossible. Frank Gracey has made it so there would always be a doubt about whether I had an interest in McGhee going to jail.”
“Jackson, do you really think anyone cares about that? He didn’t have a chance and nothing you could have said or done would have made the slightest difference.”
He bit the inside of his cheek as he looked at her. Her eyes flashed, “That isn’t what this is about, Jackson.” She looked hard at him and her green eyes made his heart race
.
His chest was hammering. She said, “I know what I want, Jackson. Do you know what you want?”
When he didn’t move, Maryette began slowly to unbutton her shirt. “Stop that!” Jackson crossed the floor in a stride and he was on her.
“Jackson, I thought you weren’t interested.” Her buttons were open, all the way down. “Why do you care if my shirt’s done up or not?” She wasn’t wearing a bra. He watched her breasts rise and swell.
She turned and looked over her shoulder as she lifted the hem of her skirt, “Can you see if my seams are straight, Jack? I think it looks so slutty when your seams are all in a mess.”
He grabbed her shoulder and spun her back around. Her eyes were down and she said, “Oh,” as her body crashed into his. Her leather skirt pressed against his swelling cock.
When she looked up his eyes were blazing. She whispered, “Is it time for you to tell me how bad I am, Jack? Are you going to punish me now?”
He seized her hair and yanked her head back as he planted his lips on hers. Her thighs spread wider as her pelvis rubbed against his. Her mouth was open and her breath filled him. Her soft breasts pushed against his shirt and her hardening nipples rubbed his chest.
He held his thumb along her long, soft throat. Her hands grabbed his tight buttocks as they clenched. His veins thrummed. His hands were in her shirt. He cupped and squeezed her breasts, big, soft and heaving. She moaned as he pulled on her nipples.
Her hands slid up and down his strong back, clawing lightly at his shirt. Her mound pushed up and down on the length of his cock. He grabbed her tightened buttocks and lifted her.
He spun around and carried her with a single step to the desk. Her arms waved behind her. The law books and his laptop scattered and fell to the floor. With a sweep of his arm he cleared the desk.
As he laid her across the surface his mouth fell onto her breasts. She clawed his hair as he sucked on her nipples. His hands dragged her leather skirt up to her waist. On the heels of her hands and her ass she crawled backwards on the table-top.
When he crawled above her, her hands found his belt and pulled it loose. Before she opened his pants, her fingers explored his length and his girth, testing his hardness. After she opened his fly and found him, hot and hard, she slid down between his legs.
With his fingers grasping her hair her lips opened wide and slid wet and warm over his throbbing cock. Her tongue slipped along his underside and she looked up at him. Her mouth sucked as she took him all the way to the back.
She made a gurgling little growl as she slid him into the gripping wet muscles of her throat. Pulses rose through his stomach and his chest and his thighs tightened as Maryette’s mouth suckled lasciviously on his rigid cock.
All of his muscles twitched and sang and he dragged her off him by the hair. The sweet agony as her lips dragged his swollen shaft made his neck redden and his veins bulged.
She crawled back along the desk beneath him, looking up into his face. “Come on, Jackson. Come on, get it done.” His cock felt the wet buzz of her sheer black panties as her hips rocked under him. “Fuck me, Jackson.”
He ripped her knickers. Her mouth sagged open and the lips of her hot puss rubbed either side along his twitching cock. She gasped as she pushed her clit against him. As he lifted her buttocks, her thighs parted still wider.
His head swam in the scents of her. Her soft labia licked along him, pressing harder. His stomach muscles tensed and buzzed. Her hips rolled and pushed with a rising urgency.
He dragged his cock down, between her thighs. Her mouth opened as he slid it under her, along her channel. As he dragged it slowly back and forth her mouth fastened on his neck. Her hands clutched his clenching buttocks and she sighed as she pulled him harder against her. Her lips and mound slid wet along his ridged column.
His breath was hot on her neck and in her ear as he moved to drag the bulb into her soft opening. Her legs fell wider and her breath caught in her throat.
As his hard girth entered her, her legs clamped around him. Her arms fell over his shoulders and her breasts squeezed and rubbed against his chest. Her teeth bit into the side of his neck.
As he slid deeper into her, her breath fluttered and halted. Her chest shook and her stomach vibrated as her pelvis pressed to take him farther inside.
He reared up and his back stretched. Her eyes pleaded up at him. The heels of her shoes scratched his back as her ankles knotted behind him. Her hands grabbed his hair, stroked his face, clawed his back as her spine arced upwards.
Beads of sweat dropped onto her from his forehead and his chest. He felt a rising, swelling pulse and her ass tipped higher. The small ‘o’ of her mouth shook and he slammed between her hungry walls.
Pulling on his shoulders, Maryette’s mouth fastened on Jack’s neck as she slid her sex on his in rhythm. The tide rose. The pace quickened. The rhythm beat faster and she moaned as he held her by the hair.
Her stomach fluttered and pulsated. Her breasts swelled and heaved. His cock pulsed and vibrated. He filled her and they came. Together their moans cracked into grating shouts. Their throats roared. She soaked him as his bolts of jizz cannoned into her well.
Twisting, straining, trying to find every angle, their savage hips attacked each other, every way they could. Her eyes arched in triumph and total loss. Her wet breath growled.
He gasped and panted, momentarily exhausted. She looked up and he saw her. She was his. He had to keep her now.
Epilogue
Epilogue
Jackson and Maryette had two daughters. From the very start, Tiffany and Jesska were quite different. Tiffany was always happy, open and smiling. She wanted to play, to learn and whatever was going on, she wanted to join in and help.
With Jesska, it was always like she had a cloud following her around, something dark that nobody else could see.
When Jesska’s cloud did finally show itself, it was all too late. Jesska changed everything.
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Prologue
“Those are not your Momma’s bikers.”
Jesska raised an eyebrow at the barista. A big, good-looking boy, Carter had been one of the football stars in school, which was one reason Jess didn’t get to know him back then. Now he served in a coffee shop, which was one reason she didn’t get to know him now.
“I saw you were looking at the Blades outside.” He gave her his big thousand-watt smile. Jess was glad of her shades.
“Yeah, what do you mean, Carter?”
“They aren’t the kind of bikers that pretty students and housewives have exciting affairs with. The Blades are the kind that deal in drugs and guns. They’re the kind that keep brothels, that do serious crime and hard time.” Carter wanted to put her off, obviously.
If he believed that was the kind of talk to do it, then he was even stupider than Jesska thought.