He grips my ass tighter, kneading and spreading my cheeks. “Love your fucking ass.”
“Don’t get any ideas. My back door isn’t open for business.”
He laughs so hard he ends up shaking me off him.
He rolls out of bed and holds out his hand to me. “Come on. Let’s clean up and get some sleep. I bet Little Man will be up early. “
“He’ll be happy to see you.”
“Planning to spend most of the day with you two.”
I lean up and kiss him. “Can’t wait.”
Chapter Fifteen
Z
Murphy doesn’t screw around.
Heidi stops by to see me the next day.
“Hi, Uncle Z!” she greets me with a big smile.
“Hey, when’d you get here?” I ask, standing up to give her a hug.
“Just now.”
“You even stop to see the house yet?”
“No, Murphy said you needed something.” She nods toward the open office door.
I motion her inside. “Where’s Alexa?”
“Outside with Murphy.” She glances over her shoulder. “She’s missed him a lot.”
“I promise I won’t keep him down here longer than I need to.”
A flash of guilt crosses her face. “Sorry. I didn’t mean it that way.”
“I know you didn’t, sweetheart.”
“If he’s still here when classes are over, we’ll just move down for the summer.”
“He’d like that. But I know he’s pretty anxious to move into that big house he’s building for you.”
“I swear he added more bedrooms and I’m scared to ask why.”
I raise an eyebrow. “We both know why.”
She tosses her head back and laughs. “Yeah, probably.” Her eyes sparkle and she leans forward. “What about you and Lilly? Chance needs a little brother or sister, don’t you think?”
“Hopefully, a brother. He’s already got Alexa and Grace to look after.”
She claps her hands together and squeezes her eyes shut, something she’s done since she was about four years old whenever something made her really happy. “This is so great. They already have a big brother.” Her face sobers some. “Sorry. I’m sure it’s been rough and I don’t really know what happened. I’m just happy they’re here now.”
I shake my head, not offended at all. It’s a weird fucking situation and I’m grateful Heidi has been as welcoming to Lilly and Chance as she has. “Same.”
“So,” she says, sitting back and adopting a more business-like tone, “I talked to Bree last night.”
“Wedding stuff?”
She laughs. “Yeah, lots of that. But I asked her about school, and how on earth she and Liam find time to spend with each other with him working such long shifts.”
Damn, Heidi’s smart. Instead of placing her firmly in the “little sister” category her whole life, maybe we should’ve been grooming her to patch-in to the club.
“And she reminded me Liam actually works the afternoon shift. But he’s had a lot of overtime lately.”
“Working downtown?”
“No, covering shifts for the officers with more seniority who are working downtown, adding extra coverage near the big trial. Sounds like he’s been stationed out by the mall and near campus. I didn’t ask her directly about the trial or federal building at all.” She flashes a devious smile. “Didn’t have to.”
Perfect. There are plenty of other members of Empire PD who I might know, but it sounds more like they’ll be patrolling the surrounding area, not necessarily the courthouse itself. I’ll verify that with one or two other contacts before deciding what course to take. “Excellent. Thank you, Heidi.”
She shrugs. “Sure, no big deal. I had a coupon to Michaels to share with her anyway. I think she’s bought out all the iridescent white ribbon in every craft store from here to New Jersey for these wedding favors she’s making.”
In some alternate universe, maybe I’d feel bad about asking Heidi to exploit a friendship. But that’s not how club life works. For a truly dedicated old lady like Heidi, the club will always come before any relationship with an outsider. Even someone she’s known since she was a kid, like Bree.
Being a cop, Liam’s smart enough to know the risk of Heidi and Bree’s friendship. Had Heidi asked direct questions about the trial and Bree even casually mentioned Heidi’s interest to him, he would’ve suspected we were up to something. Then a few weeks from now, when the poor, disgraced ex-senator comes to a violent and bloody end, someone would’ve been knocking on the clubhouse door.
Bree’s newly-rekindled friendship with a biker’s old lady probably annoys the shit out of Liam. Then again, I’ve met the guy, and while Teller’s right, he’s a straight shooter—the kind of cop I’d never offer a bribe. When Charlotte was attacked by her uncle, Liam bent the rules and allowed us to straighten things out beforehand instead of tossing Charlotte in jail. Even accepted the phony excuse about why we had video cameras in Charlotte’s apartment at face value. So, while the guy’s honest, he’s also smart and practical.
Believe it or not, I have respect for honest cops. They willingly risk their lives every day for shitty pay and even less appreciation. It’s that whole shit pay versus risk of life thing that usually turns them dishonest.
Still, since I plan to murder the ex-senator soon, I don’t want even a whiff of a connection between my club and him.
Chapter Sixteen
Z
“I don’t think I would’ve volunteered for this if I’d known I would end up in a suit,” Murphy grumbles, tugging at his sleeves.
“Aren’t you going to wear one at your wedding? It’ll be good practice.”
He growls out a few curse words. “I’m not sure what you’re going for, but we look more like mafia hitmen than politicians or lawyers.” He flashes his hands, covered in lots of ink, just like mine.
“We’ll blend in a lot better than we will in jeans and cuts. Quit your bitchin’.”
Outside, we run into Hope.
“Oh my. Where are you two off to?” she asks, approaching slowly.
“Just a little side hustle,” Murphy quips.
“Oh.” Her gaze swings my way. “I thought you might be sneaking off to marry Lilly.”
Her assumption both surprises and intrigues me. “You think Lilly would want that?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know. She’s pretty adventurous.” She turns her stern mother-hen stare on Murphy. “Don’t get any ideas. Your wedding’s happening here.”
Murphy smirks. “Yes, Mom.”
She fusses with the lapels on his suit, which Murphy tolerates a lot better than when I did it a few minutes ago. I’m about to toss out an additional mom joke when she starts doing the same thing to me.
“All right. That’s enough of that.” I brush off her hands and she grins up at me.
“Well, good luck with…whatever you’re doing.” Her face turns more serious and she squeezes my arm. “Be careful.”
Something she usually tells us when she senses we’re up to no good.
“I’ll do my best.”
All my planning and worrying were really for nothing. We follow a small crowd of people under
neath the eight-foot marble eagle resting over the entrance. The heavy, leather briefcase I’m carrying is the final, and most annoying, detail of my schmuck-in-a-suit costume. The guards open it and briefly flick through the contents before passing it through the scanner.
Once Murphy and I pass through the metal detectors downstairs and flash some—fake—identifications to the already-bored guards, we’re pretty much free to roam the courthouse. It’s five stories of modern but classic styling in the shape of a rectangle with lots of marble and giant columns.
Plenty of police, marshals, or guards are stationed around the place. But we walk with purpose, don’t linger, and no one really gives us a second glance.
“Not feeling reassured about our government right now,” Murphy mutters as we push the huge, wooden doors to Courtroom B open and scan the room.
“Were you ever?”
“Nah, I guess not. Just surprised we got in so easily.”
“Why? We’re nothing more than concerned taxpayers here to watch a public trial.”
He rolls his eyes at my sarcasm and lifts his chin toward an empty row up front.
Sure, why not.
Bad idea. Because as soon as that piece of scum takes his seat at the defense table, practically right in front of us, I move to stand up. To beat him to death with my bare hands? I’m not sure. Only a thick wooden railing that looks straight out of the 1930’s stands between me and him.
Murphy grabs my arm, yanking me back down into my seat. “What the fuck, bro? Calm yourself.”
“I’m fine.”
The judge enters a few minutes later and, like dutiful citizens, we stand for his introduction to the courtroom.
The trial is boring. We sit through several long, tedious, procedural speeches for pieces of evidence the prosecutor wants to introduce.
“Starting to understand why Hope hated being a lawyer so much,” Murphy whispers to me.
What the prosecutor keeps describing, politicians diverting public funds to their friends and taking a percentage on the back-end, doesn’t sound much different from how I assumed the government works anyway. Also sounds pretty similar to some of the club’s business dealings. No big shock there either.