Absolute Power (Southern Justice #1

by Cayce Poponea

“Miss Audrey, if I were to offer you the position, there would need to be an understanding between us.”

  She cocked her head in confusion, yet remained silent awaiting my clarification.

  “You may or may not have heard of my family.” She shook her head in the negative, her expression unchanged. “Well, then you will soon enough.” I tossed at her, the implication enough to make me crazy. “I have a Momma who is beautiful, gracious, loving…” Audrey still looked confused and maybe a bit irritated. “And can be a complete pain in your ass. If you don’t want her knowing something about you, forget how you were raised and tell her to butt out.” Her eyes widened in shock, and I knew Momma would be all over her.

  “Second, I have a girlfriend. I’m very happy with her and even though it is new, it’s permanent.” I was firm on this and I realized it was the first time I labeled what Claire and I had, but it didn’t matter. You could smear icing on a pile of shit, but it was still shit.

  “Third, from your résumé, you say you work for a cleaning service on the weekends.” She nodded her head in confirmation. “How much are they paying you an hour?”

  She looked at her fingers for a split second, then back to me. “Nine dollars.” She was embarrassed and I didn’t blame her, nine dollars was shit.

  “All right, if I offer you this position, I will hire you as a salaried employee, at forty-five thousand a year. I will need you every Saturday and maybe a Sunday here and there. While you work for me, you will have access to the company car.” Her eyes were gleaming and I could see how hopeful she was. Being with Claire was softening me. Before her, I would have made this poor girl wait a day or two before I offered her the job.

  “Do you have any problems with anything I have said?”

  It was late, after ten before I’d finished showing Audrey around the office, calling my insurance to put her on the policy and having her sign all the paperwork. She tried to argue that she didn’t need the car, but I told her it was only taking up space in the back. It was something the old owner used for part runs. I had checked it over the same day I did Claire’s car. It wasn’t much, but it was safe and reliable.

  I couldn’t remember being so fucking tired, but I wanted to talk with Claire before she went to bed. I knew deep down she was having fun and that was the reason she hadn’t called me today. I sat back on the couch, popping the top off a bottle of cold beer. Just as I was feeling the relaxing sensation the beer provided, the alarm in the front went off.

  I jumped to my feet, thinking it had to be Claire, and hurried to the front door. What waited for me on the opposite side wasn’t the beautiful girl who had stripped the calluses from my nearly dead heart.

  Smiling like a prom queen, her teeth taking up so much space on her face they needed their own zip code, was the one person I wanted to avoid. “Hey, Dylan,” Portia said, eyes sparkling under her dark-haired wig.

  I recalled a time where I would have found this a turn on, a new tail with a built in memory of what I liked. Now I found it ridiculous, a play for my attention.

  “Portia, what the fuck do you need?” I asked. I felt really pissed off, hoping she could take the hint from the tone in my voice

  “Oh, baby, don’t be like that.” She reached out to touch my chest, using her skills to get past my front door. “It’s what you need.” Her face was inches from mine, pink tongue licking her front teeth, bright red lips glistening in the lights from behind me. She ran her nails down my chest, circling around my left nipple. “What I can give you.” She tried to be seductive.

  I swallowed hard as my body reacted to her touch. It had been a long time since I had partaken in a good, hard fuck. Since I’d had anything besides my hand wrapped around my cock.

  “Don’t worry, baby. Your little girlfriend will never know.”

  Words meant to green light her intentions, only helped to clear the fog from my hormone filled brain. From God’s lips to my ears, taking a detour through Portia’s mouth. I pulled back; I had given my word to Claire, to myself.

  “Oh, yes she will.” I warned her, leaving no room for argument. The look on her face told me she couldn’t believe this wasn’t going down like she had hoped.

  “You can’t tell me you’re seriously happy with vanilla sex.” She wrinkled her nose as she pointed her neon green fingernails in the vicinity of my dick.

  I’d heard enough. This was the part of my life I wanted to leave behind, so that I could have something real with a genuine person.

  “I can tell you, my happiness is no longer your motherfucking concern.” Her mouth dropped wide open. Whether it was an invitation to stick my cock in or to start an argument, I wasn’t sure, but I wasn’t interested either way.

  “Men don’t turn me down, Dylan, it doesn’t happen,” she screeched.

  “Well, you crazy bitch, this man just did.” I shut the door in her face and hopefully out of my world for the last time.

  I had the overwhelming need to see Claire, so I picked up the phone to call. Her phone rang several times and went to voicemail. Ignoring all reason, I dialed her number again, only the voice that answered wasn’t my Claire’s, not even close.

  “Hey, Dylan. Claire isn’t here.”

  Lainie sounded as though she was a combination of drunk and tired. “Where is she, Lainie?”

  “Letting her back water roots come out.”

  Her tone told me she was absolutely serious, and I was clueless as to what she meant. “Fucking English, Lainie.” I spat, more than likely a bit too harsh. She told me about the great day they’d been having, only to be sidelined by the verbal diarrhea of an old fucking biddy.

  “Goddamn, old fucking, hag!”

  “Stay where you are and call me if she gets home before I speak with her.”

  Lainie agreed and I headed out to get my girl.

  I pulled up to the hospital and found Claire’s car parked haphazardly in a space. It was clear she was on a mission when she pulled up. I smiled, as I would have to give her a little ribbing for her failed attempt at a NASCAR finish.

  Just as I went to open my car door, Claire came huffing out of the automatic doors. It was evident she was still madder than a wet hen, not to mention, cute as fuck. I couldn’t wait to wrap her up in my arms and confess to her the bullshit Portia just pulled.

  I caught a flash of movement from the side of the building, a shadow of what appeared to be a man moving toward her. He was trying to remain in the shadows, keeping his identity hidden from her. Just as he passed the edge of the building, I got a clear view of him—it was Cash. I grabbed my gun and handcuffs and got out of my car. I was going to kill the fat motherfucker for even thinking about her.

  I’d taken less than two steps when she saw him and stopped in her tracks, processing what was in front of her.

  “Claire!” I shout, more to get Cash’s attention than hers.

  Cash stopped his slithering as he saw me. Claire, however, had a fire in her and she was obviously still very riled up from confronting Notre Dame. I ran toward her as she began to swing at Cash with her purse and fists, finally kicking him in the groin.

  As I reached her, Cash managed to get away from her and was pulling his arm back to punch her. He would regret even having the thought of hurting her. I grasped her around the waist, avoiding her flailing arms as she fought me, and pulled her back behind me. I reared back and connected with his face several times, blood spraying from his nose, which was unquestionably broken. Cash fell to the ground, grasping his face with one hand and his balls with the other.

  I turned back to her and grasped her face in my hands. “Claire, get in your car, go home and don’t answer the door for anyone but me.” My eyes searched hers, praying she understood what I needed her to do. She nodded her head in agreement, turned and walked to her car. She suddenly stopped, walked back over and kicked Cash square in the chin, rendering him unconscious.

  After Claire did as I asked, I dragged Cash to the back of my car and slammed him into the back
seat, face down.

  I hit the speed dial on my phone, waited while it rang four times and went to voicemail.

  “Chase, remember when you said if I figured out a way to stop the criminals, to let you know? Well, I figured it out.”

  Love is what we are born with. Fear is something we learn while we are here.

  ~Marianne Williamson

  I’d never been this pissed off in my entire life. Angry, fat tears dove down my face, leaving evidence of the cluster fuck I’d managed to create. I faced off with O’Leary; inadvertently letting his new wife know exactly the kind of man she’d just bound her life to. Not that it was much of a shock for her, as continuous loops of giggles were followed by words in Gaelic.

  Megan didn’t have much else to say, which in all honesty, didn’t surprise me. One could speculate, perhaps she was using him, and his family, as much as he was apparently using her.

  She was able to earn money in the family business, while he visited any young lady he chose. She would play the little wife at home, while he stuck his dick in anyone who would let him. My theory was just that…a theory. How else would you explain her lack of interest when she was told her husband was a cheating bastard?

  I left the hospital with tongues wagging, having purposely told key people about O’Leary and his womanizing ways. They all now knew he spread vicious rumors of how I was out to break up his marriage and that was impossible.

  Running into Greyson gave me the opportunity to relieve the aggression and rage, which were at dangerous levels. Hitting him over and again felt better than any meditation technique I had ever used.

  Granted, I should have walked away, especially once Dylan had him on the ground. All I could do now was wait for Dylan to come and arrest me, charging me with assault.

  Lainie was passed out by the time I got home, a small miracle in my favor. I really didn’t want her to witness him placing me under arrest. I also didn’t want her to know the man who once haunted her dreams was once again roaming the streets.

  The longer I sat there; the more my anxiety level increased. Gone was the wild temper I’d set out with earlier; in its place was trepidation. Worry if I would lose my nursing license once the board got wind of my street fight. Especially considering he was once my patient.

  I nearly jumped off the couch when the buzzer sounded, alerting me to my date with destiny. My nerves reacted with a scream and I slapped my hand across my face, completely covering my big mouth.

  I walked toward my door, feeling as if this were my own version of the green mile. I had no one to blame but myself, so I would do everything they asked of me. I would stand in front of the jury and confess how I kicked the shit out of Greyson and, though he might have deserved it, I should have left the fighting to the police.

  I didn’t bother asking who it was; I pressed the security code and opened the door. I stood just inside, trying hard to keep the tears away, my stomach in knots. I could feel my heart pounding and hear the sounds as the blood pressed against the walls of my veins.

  I adjusted my shoulders back, my eyes on the approaching form of Detective Morgan. His face showed signs of a struggle, anger induced wrinkles imprinted his manly brow. He was pissed and disappointed, and it was all on my shoulders. I’d betrayed him and there was nothing I could do to make it better.

  All the running I did from the actions of the women in my family, and it was the reactions of the men that I fell to.

  His footsteps quickened, his training kicking in, he must’ve had his handcuffs somewhere I couldn’t see them. “Please don’t let him hurt me.” I thought silently. I’d seen him take down several men, even Greyson a few times. I knew, all too well, what he was capable of.

  “Baby, why didn’t you ask who I was?” His voice was angry, but not for the reason I assumed. His eyes searching not only mine but my arms and chest, as well. “Don’t scare me like that again.” His voice was barely above a whisper, as he pulled me into his thick arms. I couldn’t help myself as I breathed a sigh of relief, taking in an even bigger gulp of air, deliciously enhanced with the manly scent of Dylan.

  “Dylan?” My voice cracked from the emotions bubbling in my gut. “I know you have a job to d…” Hoarseness took away my ability to get out the final word.

  I pulled back and watched his Adam’s apple bob in my direct line of vision. With my face downcast, I tried desperately to find any courage I had left. It was slight, but my desire to do the right thing was overcoming the family trait of running and hiding.

  “Claire, you don’t have to worry about him anymore.” He assured me before I could continue. “I know I’ve said this before, but this time I know he won’t be running the streets tonight.” His words were covered in hate, spoken with sincerity and cries of forgiveness.

  Dylan’s muscles, firm and protective, were vibrating. He was angry, pissed perhaps. I wondered, if he was female, would he have those miserable, unavoidable tears I did?

  “I made certain his paperwork would be held up for a while.” He snickered, shaking his head with the pseudo humor. “He won’t be seeing the light of day for a while.”

  Something about the way he said this, caused me to pull completely away from him, taking inventory of not only what he said, but the truth behind it.

  “So you’re not here to arrest me?” Color me confused, striped with shock and topped with gratitude.

  “Baby, why would I arrest you?”

  I dropped my hands to my sides, leaving behind the comfort and security his warm body provided. I wanted to return the second the first chill ran up my arm, reminding me of the harshness of the situation.

  “Because, I hit a man! Assaulted him as he lay on the street.” I wiped at the angry tears as they broke the barrier of my eyelids. Emotions too welled up to swallow back any longer; I was no better than the street thug I inflicted pain to.

  “And it was hot as fuck.” He growled, sounding primitive and raw. “I wish I had taped that shit, better than fucking porn, if you ask me.”

  His eyes told me he was completely serious. Dark pits of wanton fields, waiting to invite me in, salivating at the very thought of what he kept there.

  “Dylan,” I admonished, moving farther away, needing the distance for clarity, on both of our parts. “Please be serious. What I did was wrong and against everything I believe in. I only wish…”

  Dylan pulled me to my couch, settling himself first, then snuggling me in beside him. “First and foremost, I came here to make sure you were safe and not sitting in a corner rocking back and forth.” His right arm was wrapped completely around me, while his left played with my hair by my collarbone.

  “Second, no cop in this city would have ever arrested you tonight. Maybe told you to step back when you showed your Bruce Lee impression.” He teased, pulling me closer and growling into the back of my neck, sending thousands of prickly vibes to my core.

  “Frances Greyson, aka Cash, will never bother you, or Lainie, again.” He said with his head still in the hairs on the back of my neck, his hot breath doing wondrous things to my slowly erecting nipples.

  “Cash?” I snorted. Regretting my rudeness instantly.

  “As in lack of, I’m sure,” Dylan added, his humor welcomed. “By the amount of crack he had on him, his dealer is going to be pissed.”

  I shivered, unable to control it and pressed myself farther into Dylan’s side. Cash was a bigger douche than I originally gave him credit for.

  “He also hasn’t checked in with his parole officer since his release.”

  I pulled away, his admission reminding me of something I thought about on my way home.

  “Dylan, why didn’t I know he was released, don’t they call people?”

  Dylan pulled me back into his embrace, sheltering me from the answer he was about to give, or maybe he didn’t have one. “Sweet girl, the city cannot afford to pay someone to call every victim and witness.”

  I felt foolish when he reminded me of this. Charleston wasn’t a hug
e city by any means; budget cuts were in the newspaper just last month. “You’re right, I’m sorry.” Fatigue was beginning to show in the shortness of my verbalized thoughts.

  “Claire, he had two handguns, a bag of dope and a knife in the front pocket of his jeans.” Guns had never scared me, by the time I was ten, hunting was a regular part of my day. Meat was something we shot, not found in the supermarket. Drugs, at least the type Cash had on him, made me extremely nervous.

  “How much dope?”

  “Enough to put him away in Federal prison.”

  “You want to know what pisses me off?” I asked, shrugging him off of me, standing in a heated furry. “Men like Cash, use so much energy doing illegal things; cooking dope and stealing from those around them.” I glared in Dylan’s direction, ticking off each point on my fingers.

  “If only they would use their skills for good instead of polluting the minds and bodies of the people in our community.” I stomped my foot hard against the rug on my floor. “Makes me want to chop off his balls, toss them over the side of a bridge, and make him watch as they fell to the murky water below.”

  With my fire now more of a smolder than a roar, I turned to look at Dylan, expecting him to have hold of his midsection, laughing to the point of making himself ill. Instead, he seemed to be lost, his eyes calculating, as if he were running a scenario in his mind. “Hey, I’m just spouting off words, pay me no mind.” I flipped my hand in his direction.

  “I had a visitor earlier this evening,” he said with a sigh.

  The interviews; I had completely forgotten about them. “Your meetings, how did they go?” I questioned as I sat down beside him, taking his left hand in mine, while his right rested along the back of the couch. His corded bracelet was peeking out from his sleeve.

  “Shitty.” His head bobbing as he told me his opinion. “Until the last girl showed up.”

  Dylan spent the next twenty minutes telling me about the shy, young girl who had fought hard to get to his shop. He might have this incredibly strong exterior, but the more I was around him and the more I learned about his bottomless soul, the closer I wanted to be to him. To somehow find a way to crawl into his skin and stay there.