by Dakota Gray
Never said I was sane. Won't even use the word normal to describe myself. Extreme deprivation is kind of a theme of my life. I don't know how to say no to work over sex. I'm sure Kennedy would list this as one of my many faults. I wouldn't argue with her on that one.
I'm my ambition. What I want more than even sex with Kennedy, is senior partner. I can do all the things I've deprived myself of after I get it.
Until then...
Proceed.
I dig for my phone and answer. “Someone better be dead,” I growl.
“Are cops allowed to execute warrants at night?”
Pro Bono Boy. My dick sort of deflates. “At least you're smartening up and calling for an attorney. Are they at your house?”
“They want my laptop and a few other things I took from my apartment. I—I haven't gone back. Trevor hasn’t either. It’s...”
I meet Kennedy's eyes and my dick tries to climb up my torso to choke me to death. “I'll be there in a bit. Give them whatever they ask for on the warrant, nothing more. Get a receipt for whatever they take. I should be there before they leave though.”
She rises from my lap and my dick flops to the side to die. Shit, I almost whimper, but Pro Bono Boy is still yapping in my ear about things that don't matter. I fix myself with the phone propped against my ear. Two minutes later, I end the call.
Kennedy couldn’t be further away from me. “Another day I guess,” she says.
Sounds like a good idea until I remember. “I have a depo tomorrow.”
“You're busy. So am I. Call me when you can give me what I want.”
She'll have to bring me paperwork at some point tomorrow and I'm going to find a very dark stairway or nook to drag her to. Shit, if I have to, I will throw an office party to get everyone drunk so no one notices what I'm doing in my office.
I'm going to make a way to be with her tomorrow.
And that's new and unsettling.
She chuckles at something she sees in my expression then shakes her head. “Go, Duke. You have to.”
“What?”
“It's just...nothing. It's nothing. Go. My kitchen is a mess and I need to clean it before bed.” Her arms are crossed over her chest.
I know I should go to her, say something soft, or at the least kiss her, but my phone buzzes again. It's Pro Bono Boy. He’s my ticket to senior partner. I just leave.
CHAPTER TEN
“You look like crap warmed over twice.” Nate announces this loudly over London-Berg gym's shit music.
At least three people in the vicinity turn to check the truth of his words. They all wear the kind of gym gear that looks good yet not used. London-Berg is that kind of place for the most part. The treadmills, mats, other contraptions of torture are always new and up-to-date. For a few months they let Nate teach an intro to stripping course. So, yeah, most of the people who come have more money than sense.
Yet I’m not surprised when the rubberneckers grimace at the sight of me then get back to their workouts. I haven't had a good night's sleep in two days. I dealt with Pro Bono Boy's warrant, reassured him this is what happens when the police build a murder case. I knocked out depos on three witnesses. I put out fires for various cases that I couldn't let smolder.
What I have not done is Kennedy.
I drift over to the mat in front of the mirror and wipe at the sweat threatening to leak into my eyes. “And you look like you shit rainbows. Robyn's turned you into a goddamn unicorn.”
He grins and the smile indents the scar on his cheek. If not for it, he'd look boyish and innocent with his dirty blond hair and almost pristine workout gear. Why is that important to note? Before marriage his idea of a good time involved talking a woman out of her underwear so he could sniff them. His wife Robyn seems to be fine with that part of her duties. Takes all kinds, and explains why Nate loves her. He’s fucked up in the head.
Beside the point. It’s been a few months since they said I do. He still looks content. I've known him since college and I don't think I've ever seen him without a restless edge. It's interesting to say the least.
I scan the room for Tarek since he was the one who called this impromptu meet at butt-fuck early in the morning. He's hard to miss being that he's tall, built like a goddamn tank, black and tatted. “Is Tarek even here?”
“Yeah. His first client for the day showed up around the same time I did. He should be done in a few.” Nate adds twenty pound weights to the bench press, one after another. “Where's the fire? You don't have to head into work for at least two hours.”
I throw my towel around my shoulders so I can tug on both ends and rest my neck. “Unlike you and Mr. Sunshine, I prefer sleep to working out.”
“Working out? What I do is maintenance. What you do is bitch for an hour.”
Can I argue with that truth? No. It makes me laugh. “I'll give you that.”
“Come spot me, or Tarek will do his own brand of bitching.”
I circle the bench press and wait for Nate to get into the right position. When he's ready, I help lower the bar as he counts off his reps. He cycles through three before taking a rest.
“While I'm thinking about it,” I say, “I might need you guys to help me with Corey.”
“That asshole? Again?”
I smile at Nate. Corey...he likes to be called Mr. Alexander. He made himself in his father's image, in my father's, too, looked in the mirror and liked what reflected back. It's my duty to fuck with him. If you want to get blue blood about it, it's my birthright. Corey's father was born after mine.
But really, he's a dick. I take pleasure in nut punching him when I can. “He's trying to elbow my mother out of the firm.”
“Whatever you need when you need it.”
That right there is why I don't see my friendship with Nate or Tarek as a weakness. We've known each other for ten years. On the face, we have nothing in common. I'm an attorney. Nate, currently, makes computers and Youtube vids. He used to be a stripper. Also, a soldier. Tarek's a personal trainer. Tarek had his eye on becoming a doctor until a drunk driver careened into his car, breaking both of his legs. He turned to physical therapy and fitness in general.
Both men have no qualms backing me no matter what I ask of them—never have. They'll likely say the same about me.
We met freshman year in college. We were all failing algebra, of all classes. We bitched about the teacher one afternoon and then created a study group so we wouldn't flunk out like many of our peers. That led to getting drunk, trolling clubs for women and lifelong male bonding.
Since then we've watched women come and go out of our lives, buried parents, invested in each other in meaningful ways. My friendship with these guys doesn't make sense to anyone on the outside looking in, but they've never treated me like an Alexander. Shit, they keep me from falling into the abyss. I'm willing to do the same.
So, yeah, I might bitch about working out or being at the gym early in the morning. I will definitely make my displeasure known when Tarek asks for a favor—that's why we're really here. Yet...I don't know. They keep me tethered. I value that.
Nate's face contorts as he tries to lift the weights. I grab the bar before it slips from his grasp.
The hairs on my nape prickle and I glance over my shoulder to see Tarek glowering at Nate.
“How many times have I told you you're going to rearrange that face of yours?”
Nate slides down the bench, beneath the bar, then sits up. “I had Duke.”
Tarek points at me in what I would call an accusing manner. “Duke was staring off into space.”
Nate's helpful by saying, “He's having girl trouble. Go easy on him.”
I scoff, though technically, he's right. “Girl trouble?”
“Kennedy?” Tarek brushes me aside to notch the bench press's bar in place.
“Kennedy who?” Nate asks, but that's not surprising. I'd bet money he'd forget his own name if it wasn't on legal documents.
I glare at them both. “You've
met her, Nate. She called me a mob boss.”
“Oh.” His gaze seems to get misty with the memory of Kennedy. “She smelled like flowers and cinnamon.”
My gut tightens at the description. There's nothing to file away and inspect later for further consideration when I have the time. The sharp stab of anger has everything to do with another man seeing, thinking of Kennedy. My wanting to grab my friend by his throat and twist his head off has everything to do with the fact I've pissed a circle around her. Cross that line if you dare.
I'm only a savage for a moment before the haze clears. Even when Nate fucked anything with a pulse, he stayed monogamous until he moved on. He’s too old-fashioned to do anything else now that he’s married.
I do my best to sound sane and non-jealous when I ask, “And why do you think my mood has anything to do with a woman?”
He shrugs. “If it was work, you would have told me in painstaking detail.” Nate gestures to Tarek. “How do you know it's this Kennedy?”
“The frown lines. She's the only woman who makes him emote.”
Nate mimics Tarek's wide-legged stance and tilts his head. They both inspect my face. “Yeah,” Nate says. “You're right. It almost looks like angst around his brows.”
Tarek drops his head but I can still hear laughter. A second later Nate joins in with his own cackle.
I flip them both off, with two hands. “Should I be bothered you guys gossip about my emotions?”
Tarek elbows Nate, a smile fighting its way out. “Get this. He hasn't investigated her.”
“No shit? Didn't he investigate his mailman once?”
I sigh, because, yeah, I did, and I was right to find him suspicious. He was fucking my neighbor while on his break. My married neighbor. “Can we get to why we're here?”
Tarek crosses his arms. The tattoos are covered with his long-sleeved shirt. “I don't know. We never get to tease you about the women you date.”
“We're not dating. We're...complicated. Don't want to get into it.”
He glances at Nate and dramatically nods. “Emoting,” Tarek faux whispers.
Teasing is one thing. This is ridiculous. “Do you want to talk about the church girl you made wear a butt plug to work?”
Nate's head whips between us. “And you call me twisted.”
“Not here.” Tarek glances around the gym. No one's in ear shot, but he feels the need to add, “I was dating her.”
I shake my head because that's not the point. “Let the record show you date women just to defile them. No judgment, that's just facts. Now can we move on?”
“Gladly,” Tarek agrees.
We both look at Nate. There’s a beat of silence then, “A small butt plug, or did it have a tail attached to it?”
Tarek just stares at our friend. “I can't take you guys anywhere.” He goes on, “Camping. Three days. I need a crew to go with me. I asked my go-tos and they can’t this trip.”
Nate groans. “Mountains or desert?”
The fucker says, “Well...it's all incline.”
“When?” I ask.
“This weekend.”
It's been two days since I last saw Kennedy. I've been putting out fires so I could take the weekend off and literally fuck her six ways until Sunday. I still have Corey to deal with. I also have an appointment with the DA deliver a smackdown on how they are handling Pro Bono Boy's case. They have a viable suspect they keep overlooking, because they have a hard on for Gabriel. There were two people who lived in the apartment, had keys and had contact with the victim. Either they need to officially file charges on my client or leave him alone.
Trekking up mountains isn't in the plans.
I hedge, “Is this why you pay for our gym memberships?”
“Yup.” He shifts his focus across the gym. A woman with a soft face and softer hips smiles at him.
“A potential girlfriend or a client?” I ask.
He winces. “You're changing the subject. Does that mean you can't come? I was counting on you.”
That good guy inside of me? The one I want to strangle so he can die? Yeah. Him. He wakes up. It's not just sex I walk away from when work calls. Nate and Tarek likely don't keep track of how many times I've had to flake on them. I'm much too aware. “I can come.”
Tarek points at me. “Don't back out last minute.”
“I'm not.”
Nate offers, “I'll make sure he comes. I can't suffer alone.”
Tarek glances down as though he needs to hide his true reaction. He laughs a second later. “You can bring Kennedy. I'd love to meet her, too.”
That's a thought. “My sadistic tendencies aren't that bad. Camping with you is brutal.”
Tarek's attention strays back to the other side of the gym where the woman with the soft hips attempts to set up a treadmill.
Nate meets my eye and there's a world of understanding. If work is my weakness, then women in need of saving are Tarek's. I've never been sure if fucking them is saving them. I don't ask.
Either way, Nate mutters, “I think we've lost him.”
Tarek scowls at us. “She looks good in tights.”
“And now you'll ask her for her hand in marriage so you can do depraved things to her.” I shrug. “I need to have lunch with Corey again. Maybe brunch.”
He nods. “Just send me a text if you need anything from me.”
The woman glances around the gym then frowns at the machine. I chuckle. A woman in distress. That's Tarek's siren's call. He throws out a see you later and goes to help. Or fuck her. Like I said, I don't ask.
I frown after him though. “I worry about him sometimes.”
“He'll be fine.” Nate pauses. “Shit, I'm turning into that guy.”
“What guy?”
“The one who gets into a permanent relationship and thinks he's a sage about every relationship.”
“Don't be that guy. That guy's a douche.”
“I solemnly swear...”
I laugh at the half-ass promise. This is why I let my friends drag me away from work. There's a...I don't feel the ever-present weight of my ambition on my shoulders for just a moment. It's nice.
My work phone buzzes, and that's the end of that.
*****
Ten the next morning, I close the case file on my desk and text Tarek and Nate that I'm headed to my favorite restaurant. And, yeah, I'm going to try to feed my cousin his tongue. You know, normal texts you send to friends.
I make my way down to Gwen’s desk answering their rapid replies. Since my concentration is fixed on my phone, Gwen has to clear her throat twice before I look up.
Kennedy's strolling down the hall, arms filled with papers. The important thing of note is that she's dressed in her uniform of novelty shirts and jeans. My body tenses in slow degrees. With or without clothes, she's—I don't know. I could watch her fold laundry and be equally aroused and fascinated by the way she moves.
What I do know is that I don't need an audience taking note of how I can't keep my eyes off her. I glance at Gwen. I can have her search for the Janson file. It's gone through at least two departments. It won't be where it should, and no one will cop to touching it last.
No. Not today. There are only so many times I can pull that trick on her before she's tempted to spit in my coffee.
“I'll be gone an hour tops,” I tell her. “If more, I'll call you. You do not call me for anything. If a client has an emergency, deal with them. If it’s something above your pay grade, or you don’t have the time since I still expect that appeal draft on my desk by the end of the day, punt them.”
Her eyes widen at the directive. “Who are you meeting for lunch?”
It's a valid question since I hate punting clients. “Family.”
Kennedy’s hip brushes me as she passes. It's a simple thing, looks innocent, but my fingers were wrapped around her bare hips days ago. I’m itching to do that again. Here. Now. People could pull out popcorn and watch. I close my eyes to rein in the sudden need eating a
t me. I’m at work. It’s uncivilized.
My gut twists because I still want to do it.
Unsettling? Fuck, yes.
“These are yours,” Kennedy says to Gwen. I open my eyes, refusing to move. The warmth of her keeps me tethered to the spot. Without looking at me, she asks, “Heading out early? Did hell freeze over?”
Gwen leans forward. “He's meeting with 'family.'”
I should have sent her to find the file. “Is it possible for you to be loyal to me?”
My paralegal takes the papers from Kennedy. “I could see the indecision on your face a second ago. You wanted to send me on a goose chase.”
I reply to a text instead of mounting a defense. She laughs at the tactic. Kennedy shifts closer to me. Today is a lavender day.
She tilts her head in my direction. “Is this about your mother?”
I can feel Gwen eating up every facial twitch. “You're welcome to come, but I have to go.”
“Okay.”
I narrow my gaze at her quick agreement. She has an equally impressive poker face. Anger at me for putting her off for so many days, or curiosity at who I am meeting can be her motivation. I'm willing to roll with the opportunity if it means I'll have a moment alone with her after the brunch. “We're taking my car then.”
I steal a glance at Gwen. Her eyes are wide and her mouth is open in shock.
Shit.
There's nothing to do but walk away. Kennedy keeps up with my stride easily as I navigate the long hallway, ignoring any curious glances from coworkers. They all kind of look the way Gwen had—shocked and ravenous for more gossip. The Sec is going to have one hell of a lunch talking about Duke Alexander leaving the building with Kennedy Mclane.
The only thing I’m concerned about is when Kennedy will start her interrogation. I count up to twenty when—
“Are there any ground rules for coming with you?”
I don’t smile. “Why would there be?”
“Because you like rules.”
I like my rules. “Don't ask too many questions and you'll be fine.”
I gesture to the stairs at the end of the hall since mid-morning tends to have more traffic than the afternoon.