Page 7 of Corrupting Cinderella (Lost Kings MC 2)

“Where’s my girl?”

  Adam’s entire body jerks. “God dammit. Can you make some noise so I know you’re here? You scared the shit out of me.”

  “Christ, I’m not exactly fucking tiny. Maybe you should get your ears checked.”

  His lips quirk into a brief grin before he ducks his head back down to his computer screen. “She’s out. Said she had a client interview.”

  “Where?”

  One shrug later, Hope’s buddy is dangerously close to an ass-kicking. I’ve never liked this idea of her going to her clients’ houses. Seems awfully unsafe to me.

  I snap my fingers in front of Adam. “Where. Is. She?”

  “Dude, chill. I’ll pull up her calendar.” Adam gets busy tapping his way into her calendar. “We have access to each other’s stuff just in case,” he tells me as I wait. I guess he’s worried I’ll think it’s weird. But it makes sense, and right now, I’m thankful for it.

  He points at the screen. “Here. She’s drafting a will and is doing the client intake.”

  I fight the urge to unhinge his jaw with my fist. “I don’t care what she’s doing. Where is she doing it?”

  “749 Mason Ave,” he answers with a frown.

  Fuck me. That’s a bad area of Empire. “Jesus. You let her go down there alone?”

  Adam looks at me as if I’ve got a few screws loose. “Uh, she’s an independent girl, Rock. One does not tell Hope what to do if one wants to live to see the next day.”

  We’ll see about that.

  On my way out, I send her a quick text.

  Dropped by to take you to lunch. Where you at?

  I didn’t plan to wait for a response. Just revved up my bike and pointed it toward Mason Street.

  Mason is one of those narrow, one-way streets downtown Empire has in abundance. I find Hope’s car easily enough. But no sign of her. I park right next to her car, so there’s no way she can leave without me knowing about it.

  I scan the street and spot 749 a few doors down from the closed-down shell of the old bar we used to hang out at before we moved the MC out into the wilderness. Still no sign of Hope.

  Checking my phone, I see she hasn’t responded. A boulder of worry settles in my gut as I stride over to 749 and push open the door.

  And run smack into a very frustrated Hope.

  Thank fuck.

  “Rock! What on earth are you doing here?”

  I’m beyond pissed that I apparently drove down here for nothing. Mrs. Kohn didn’t answer her door. The neighborhood is a lot sketchier than I thought it would be, so my nerves are jangling.

  Then, bam! There’s Rock, looking almost as pissed as I feel. On closer inspection, his pulse is pounding in his neck, body tense, eyes narrowed. Definitely furious and not in a mood to joke around.

  He takes me by the elbow and leads me to my car.

  “What are you doing down here by yourself?”

  A chill settles over me, and a sliver of resentment works into my chest. I’m thirty-fucking-three years old. A professional. I don’t need to ask his permission before doing my damn job.

  “Listen, I’ve been doing things on my own for a long damn time, Rock. I’ve done more client interviews than—”

  “You’re not alone anymore. You need to interview someone, you tell me and I go with you.”

  Is he nuts? “That’s ridiculous! You have your own things to worry about—”

  “I worry about you.”

  “I don’t need to be protected like some little kid.”

  “I’m well aware you’re not a kid, Hope. Doesn’t mean I want you wandering around the ghetto by yourself.”

  For a long stretch, we stare at each other in some sort of standoff. Rock is wound tight. Chest heaving, eyes flashing. Why am I questioning him? Oh, right—independence.

  “Rock, I’m an independent person. I’m not sure how to handle—”

  His expression softens, even as he interrupts me. “Ask me for help, Hope. That’s all. Don’t put yourself in danger.”

  “How am I in danger?”

  He cocks his head, and I get the feeling he’s thinking something rather unkind.

  “Did you meet your client?”

  “No. No one was home.”

  “Did it ever occur to you that it could have been a setup? To rob you? Or worse?”

  Well, no, that never occurred to me. Stubbornly, I refuse to answer his question.

  He nods in his maddeningly knowing way that makes me want to kick him.

  Instead, I smooth my hands over the bulging biceps of the big, bad, glowering biker in front of me.

  “Okay. But can you accept that I’m a grown woman who can handle things on her own?”

  He struggles. I can tell he wants to say no. I’m touched that he manages to rein it in. He nods and traces a finger over my cheek.

  “I couldn’t stand it if something happened to you, baby.”

  That melts me, and suddenly I’m acutely aware of how close our bodies are. How much closer I’d like our bodies to be. The heat of his skin radiates through his clothes into me. Adrenaline and emotion swirl between us, lighting a spark of desire. His hand drops to my waist, and he tugs me closer. I lean up to kiss his cheek, inhaling his crisp, raw scent. As I pull back, he turns and catches my lips in a rough kiss. Pressing me against my car door, his hands shackle my wrists against my sides as he takes the kiss even deeper. He swallows every soft moan that leaves my lips.

  The blast of a car horn stops us from doing the dirty on the hood of my car. Rock growls against my lips before pulling away. He scowls at the driver, then turns back to me.

  “We done here?”

  My voice comes out as shaky as the rest of me feels. “Yes.”

  “Good. Follow me to your office. I want to take you out to lunch.”

  “Okay.”

  When we pull into the office parking lot, my stomach clenches. For once, I’m not sure what I want to say. Part of me is still pissed off about his bossy caveman act. The other is floored and not sure how to handle the depth of Rock’s emotion for me. I’m proud of my independence, but I can’t deny how it feels to have someone worry about me.

  I’ll never admit it, but his concern was valid. It was weird that the woman wasn’t home. Replaying our conversation in my head makes me realize something about the situation had been off from the beginning. What if Rock hadn’t shown up and someone else with less than honorable intentions had? Would I have warded them off with my legal pad? Frightened them with the threat of a thousand paper cuts?

  Wary of Rock’s stiff posture, I don’t bother with small talk. I grab the helmet he hands me and get on the bike. He takes us to a quiet Chinese restaurant we’ve both become fond of, and we grab a table in the back. As we settle next to each other in the curved booth, a thought that reignites my irritation enters my mind.

  “You know, it’s kind of unfair for you to be so hard on me, when you’re always out doing who knows what for the club without telling me.”

  Rock’s stiff jaw tells me maybe it would have been wise to keep that thought to myself.

  “That so?” he asks low and deadly.

  I straighten up and pin him with a stare. “Yes.”

  The way he stares right back with no hint of the usual amusement on his face tells me how serious his next words will be. “Well, baby doll, I’m a rather big guy who knows how to handle himself, and I’m rarely unarmed. Not a tiny woman with nothing but her briefcase. Besides, on club business I’m usually not alone. I have Wrath or Z for backup. Would you like me to assign one of the prospects to be with you at all times? Because I’ll be happy to arrange that.”

  See, I knew I should have kept my mouth shut.

  “Very funny.”

  “Do I look like I’m joking?”

  “I’m not tiny.”

  Finally a glimmer of a smile at the corners of his mouth. “You are compared to me.”

  I sigh. “This is hard for me, Rock. I told you how my father died when I was a te

enager?”

  His face relaxes a little more, and he squeezes my hand under the table. “Yeah.”

  “Well, my mother kind of fell apart after that. She never held a steady job to begin with, so finding work was next to impossible. We lost our house, then had to move from apartment to apartment. I’ve been basically taking care of myself since I was thirteen. So as much as I appreciate you wanting to look after me, it’s hard for me to accept.”

  “I need to, Hope.” He takes my chin between his thumb and forefinger and forces me to meet his gaze. “Understand where I’m coming from. A real man looks after his woman.”

  Oh, damn.

  The look in his eyes goes distant. “I get it. My father drowned himself in booze and whoring after my mother died. Before that, though, she was the center of his world. I always told myself when I found the right woman, I’d be the kind of man he’d been before she died. Not what he turned into later.”

  “Okay,” I whisper. Because honestly, what else can I say to that?

  “Thank you, baby doll. I’ll try not to overdo it.”

  I guess that’s as much of a concession as I’m going to get.

  Deep down, a tiny voice says maybe, just maybe, it’s nice to be looked after.

  Fuck me, but Hope makes it hard to take care of her. I love how spirited she is, but it also scares the shit out of me. I can’t deny she’s clever and smart. Book smart, which I admire. Street smart, not so much. That’s fine—I have enough street smarts for both of us. If she’ll let me take care of her.

  My knuckles glide over the warm, soft skin of her cheek. “Do you have to go back to the office?” At the touch of my hand, her eyes close.

  Her eyelids flutter open slowly as she thinks about a response to my question. I love how deeply I can affect her with only a touch.

  “No.”

  “Good.”

  Our waitress drops off soup for Hope. Watching her sexy fucking lips purse to blow on her spoon gets me in an uncomfortable state fast.

  “So, uh, is work picking up at all?” I ask, trying to distract myself.

  She shakes her head. “No, that’s why I was eager for this appointment today.”

  “Shit. Sorry, babe. It will happen.”

  She shrugs. “I’m not worried about it right now.”

  “Things going okay with Heidi’s case?”

  She arches an eyebrow at me. “You know I can’t talk about that with you.”

  Yup. My girl takes her shit seriously. Can’t pry any information out of her.

  She’s interrupted by buzzing from her purse and pulls out her cell phone. I lean back against the booth and finish my soda, signaling the waitress for another.

  Hope’s fingers fly over her phone. “Sophie,” she mutters.

  Her phone buzzes again. After reading the text, Hope tilts her head to look at me.

  “What?”

  “Um, Sophie wants to know if we’re interested in going to Jonny’s show with her this weekend?”

  Hope seems so timid as she’s asking me this, I feel like an asshole. Why is she afraid to ask me to hang with her friends?

  “Yeah, of course, doll.”

  Her lips roll into a quick grin and she makes a little “squee” noise that I find fucking adorable. She taps out a reply to Sophie, then shoves her phone back in her purse.

  “Do you mind if we pick her up?”

  “Of course not.” I want to question her more about why she’s so hesitant, but our food arrives.

  She’s silent while she arranges everything the way she wants, her pickiness as cute as ever.

  “Did Teller’s grandmother ever get a lawyer?”

  Hope glances up. “Yeah, he’s a dick too. We have a trial coming up in two months. I’m hoping we can work something out before then.”

  “Fuck—by the time the court gets around to sorting it out, she’ll be fucking eighteen and it won’t matter anyway.”

  Hope rolls her eyes. “Tell me about it.” She goes still for a minute. “Shoot. I forgot, I do need to go back to the office and make some phone calls.”

  My mouth is full, so I make a disappointed humming noise.

  “Sorry, I lose all train of thought when your hands are on me,” she says. I think she meant it in a teasing way, but it comes out so serious I’m hard as steel before she finishes speaking.

  “Don’t ever apologize for that, baby,” I manage to get out.

  Lunch with Rock left me happy, but unsettled. At some point, I’m going to need to reflect on what’s happening to me, because I don’t seem to care about much these days except spending every second with my man. It’s dangerous because that is not the type of woman I always aspired to be.

  Shaking my head, I sit down behind my desk and flip through Teller’s file. I need to call the attorney who has been assigned to represent Heidi in the custody action. I want to get a read on where she’s going to land with her recommendation to the court. Ethically, she is supposed to argue whatever her client wants her to argue—even if she disagrees with it. I know for a fact Heidi desperately wants her brother to win this fight, so I’m curious to find out what Heidi’s attorney plans to argue.

  First, though, I try to call my no-show client from this morning. I get a pre-recorded “the number you have reached has been disconnected…” and hang up.

  I stare at Teller’s file a little longer, then pull out a legal pad and write down what I want to say to Miss Clark. It’s a nervous habit I picked up in law school. I get so flustered speaking on the phone with people, I’m always afraid I’ll forget what I want to say.

  Once I have it all mapped out, I can’t delay any longer, so I dial the other attorney—half hoping I’ll just get her voicemail so I can deal with this another day. But she answers the phone herself.

  After the introductions, we get down to business.

  “Look, Ms. Kendall, I appreciate that you’re close to the family—”

  Huh?

  “What do you mean?”

  “Heidi speaks very highly of you.”

  “Oh, that’s nice to hear. She’s a good kid.”

  She blows out a breath, and I brace myself for what’s about to come. “I have my reservations about her brother being able to take care of her properly. But on the other hand, I don’t think her grandmother is suitable either.”

  “I hope you’re not planning to suggest placement for her.”

  “No, God, no. Not when she has two relatives who want her. She is a good kid. With the way things are at home, she could easily be out skipping school and doing God only knows what, but she never misses a day and her grades are pretty solid given the turmoil in her life.”

  I like this attorney. She’s clearly done her homework, and she seems to care about Heidi. Considering the pool of lazy attorneys out there that could have been assigned to Heidi, it seems she won the lawyer jackpot. I still want to know what her reservations about my client are, though.

  “How can I convince you to give my guy a solid recommendation?”

  She snorts into the phone. “You know I have to argue in favor of the brother, since that’s what she wants. Doesn’t matter what I think. But I’d feel better about it if he had a home of his own and a stable job.”

  Good point. She really has been thorough. This is something Teller and I have talked about. Repeatedly. He lives at the clubhouse full time. It’s about an hour away from Heidi’s school and most certainly not the appropriate environment for her. He promised me he was looking into finding an apartment nearby. I also know Rock has been working to get him on the books at one of the Lost Kings legitimate, non-stripper businesses.

  “Look, attorney-to-attorney, he is employed full-time, it’s just under the table. He’s working on getting that straightened out. He’s also looking for an apartment near Heidi’s school for the two of them. He wants to keep her close to her friends, school, and their grandmother.”

  “Good. Okay. I feel a lot better about the situation then.”

&

nbsp; The sound of the front door opening spooks me out of the conversation. Dammit. I forgot to lock the door after Adam left. The basement office has always felt very isolated to me, even though there is a psychiatrist’s office right upstairs. When I’m here alone, I almost always keep the front door locked.

  It’s weird that whoever entered hasn’t said anything yet.

  I’m so focused on what’s going in the waiting area that I miss the last thing Charlotte said.

  “Hope? Are you there?”

  “Sorry, Charlotte, what was that?”

  “I just said we have a pre-trial coming up, I’m hoping we can work things out with Tom, and the grandmother isn’t going to dig her heels in. I’m not in the mood for a trial.”

  That startles a laugh out of me. “Yeah, neither am I. Tom’s private pay though, so he might want to ride it all the way through.”

  She makes a sound between a snort and a chuckle. A snortle. “Yeah.”

  I hear someone still walking around in the outer office. “Hey, Charlotte, I need to go, but we’ll talk soon, okay?”

  “Sure.”

  We say our goodbyes, and I disconnect. Clutching my cell phone in my hand, I make my way out to the waiting area. There’s a tall, skinny, shifty-eyed stranger shuffling around. He keeps staring into Adam’s darkened office as if my friend might magically appear.

  “Can I help you?”

  He jumps about three feet in the air before aiming what I can only describe as crazy eyes on me. “Where’s Mr. Braydon?”

  “He’s out. Can I help you?”

  “Yeah, he’s in charge of my mother’s estate, and I need to speak to him.”

  “Do you have an appointment?”

  “Well, no. But I need to talk to him.”

  This guy has shoved my stranger-danger radar into red alert. Especially since I’m trapped down here with him by myself.

  “Let me check his calendar.”

  He follows me into Adam’s office, which makes me even more nervous. Dammit. Why hadn’t I asked Rock to come back to the office with me? He’d scare this guy away in two seconds flat. Calling up Adam’s calendar takes a few seconds. While I wait, I take a few breaths to calm myself. I have to remind myself to be polite to Adam’s client, when I really want to tell him to get the fuck out and come back later.