Lessons in Corruption (The Fallen Men 1)

I blinked at him and guessed, “But you won’t tell them that.”

He blinked at me, too, then shot a look at my attorney. “Listen, Miss Irons, the whole town knows your story. Sad little woman moves to town after leaving her negligent husband, poor and alone in that crumbling wreck of a cottage out on Back Bay Road. People here like you, they think you’re a damn fine teacher and a good woman. I’m inclined to agree with the good citizens of Entrance. Despite your obviously poor choice in men, you seem like a good woman. No reason to drag this out for you.”

“Thank you,” I said, so surprised that my voice was hoarse with it. “You’re the kind of man who could make anyone rethink hating men in blue.”

His face didn’t move but his eyes, which were an extraordinary jade color, twinkled at me. “Appreciate it. You should also know that most of the evidence against Mr. Irons came from two spectacularly terrified informants, his secretary and one of his small fry criminal clients. The latter was badly beaten but both claimed that a crisis of conscience was their only reason for rolling on Mr. Irons after so many years. Funny that, isn’t it?”

Oh my God.

My mind flashed back to Nova telling me casually that King and Zeus were ‘fixin’’ my problem with William.

My instinct was to ignore my intuition and chalk it up to the ‘crisis of conscience’ bullshit that they’d told the police. That was what the naïve Cressida B.K. (before King) would have done.

I was not she.

I knew that my new biker family had taken care of the problem for me and instead of fear or horror, I felt giddy with vengeful glee and darkly proud of my men. William had been haunting me since I was a girl, waiting in the wings, grooming me into his perfect doll. He deserved whatever the hell was coming to him, especially if he’d done what the police were saying he had done.

It said more about me, I knew, that I could understand more of the poetic justice of illegally threatening and assaulting someone the way The Fallen had to protect a loved one, than I could why William would use people just to get more money when he already had more than most people ever would.

I smiled politely at Officer Danner and agreed, “Funny indeed. Sometimes the world works in mysterious ways.”

“More often, they are not so mysterious.” But he dropped it. “Due to the circumstances, you should be able to push through the divorce without his participation. But I would be careful, because your husband is a desperate man involved with dangerous people.”

“I think I’ll be safe,” I said, totally unconcerned.

No one would dare to fuck with The Fallen.

Something ominous turned in my gut as I remembered that someone had dared, and that the Nightstalkers MC were still afoot.

I zoned out thinking about this as Danner finished up talking to Mr. White and only tuned back into real life when we walked out into the parking lot. Zeus was there, leaning against his bike the way King would have been. Of course, the biggest difference between the two was that men and women both would have approached King, drawn by his bike and good looks maybe, but more by his charisma, which emanated from him like a halo. No one approached Zeus. He stood in a deep circle of solitude; his rough cut face cast in shadows from the waving mass of hair that fell to his shoulders. With his massive, tattooed arms crossed over the impossible expanse of his chest and his big, booted feet crossed at the ankles, but he didn’t look like the poster child of a modern day bad boy the way King might have.

No, if Zeus belonged on a poster, it was as a Wanted man.

I broke into an enormous smile when I saw him and skipped directly to him. He watched me with narrowed eyes as I jumped up to press a kiss on his cheek.

“Thank you,” I said quietly, aware that Danner was watching from the doorway and Mr. White was following closely behind to deliver his update.

A spark of surprise, quickly followed by tenderness, lit his silver gaze. “Got your back, Queenie.”

It was the first time he’d called me by the nickname the other biker’s had bestowed upon me.

I beamed at him. “You totally like me.

His surprised laugh erupted from him like a bark. “Sure, teach.”

“Not a teacher anymore,” I reminded him.

“It’s stuck,” he told me with dancing eyes. “King should be back at the clubhouse in an hour. Follow me back in your cage, yeah?”

I rolled my eyes because I thought it was stupid that bikers thought all cars were ‘cages’, but I was too excited to see King again to give him any sass.