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CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Declan

After a long, sleepless night in the jail cell, I’m in no mood for anyone’s bullshit. I need coffee and to find my woman.

The sound of heels clicking on the floor and the wolf whistles that follow have me sitting up. A tall, blonde woman in a red power suit and black high heels makes her way to my cell. She looks familiar, but I can’t seem to place her.

“Declan O’Malley?”

“That’s me,” I answer, standing and walking over to her.

“My name is Allyson Archer, and I’m your attorney,” she says smoothly. “Kayce Eaton sent me.”

Shit.

“You are being let go, Mr. O’Malley. The charges against you have been dropped. The doctor no longer wishes to press charges.” Her blue eyes sparkle with a cunningness I’ve only ever seen in men during combat. “Guard, please release my client.”

“What about Violet?” I ask.

“I’m not her lawyer. I’m afraid I can’t answer that question for you.” I don’t believe her, but I’m not going to start an argument that could change her mind about helping me get out of here.

The guard unlocks the cell, and I step out, following my attorney down the hallway. “You’ll need to sign some forms and then we will grab your belongings before you can be fully released. After which, I will take you home.”

“The guys aren’t waiting for me?” I’m not surprised they aren’t all waiting in the lobby, but maybe a little shocked Pres didn’t send someone down to pick me up at least.

“Your brothers,” she says the word brothers as if she’s just tasted something sour in her mouth. “Are at the clubhouse meeting with Kayce. I’m sure they will fill you in on anything you need to know when you get there. In the meantime, I’ll be your ride.”

“All right.”

We go through the motions of signing everything and picking up my belongings. We get to the parking lot and my chin nearly hits the pavement when she stops in front of a citrus green 1970 Chevrolet Chevelle SS with a black vinyl top in mint fucking condition.

“Holy shit.”

“Shocked to see I own such a pristine car?” The smile on her face is the only indication this woman has shown that she’s not a stone cold hard-ass since she got here. I half expected her to have a driver or own a BMW. She definitely comes from class and makes good money. How the hell she knows Kayce, I don’t know.

“No. Just wasn’t expecting you to own a car like this,” I admit. “Don’t lawyers usually drive Porches, or have drivers who take them around?”

“Being a biker, one would’ve thought you’d be against stereotypes,” she teases, opening her door and getting in.

I open mine and follow suit. “You’re right. I guess it just goes to show to never judge a book by its well put together cover.”

She starts the car and smiles over her shoulder as she backs us out.

“I’ve always loved old cars. This one was a gift. When I first got it, it was a piece of shit. When I won my first case, I got it fixed up and have been adding little things to it here and there,” she says. “I haven’t been able to drive her much lately, but when Kayce called and asked me to come here as a favor, I thought it was the perfect opportunity to stretch her legs a little.”

“Where did you come in from?”

“I live in Crestview, but I have another office I work out of in Baron’s Edge from time to time. I don’t work there much since a colleague of mine passed away. I believe you know him. Henry Moreau.”

“Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“Hmm. I thought maybe it would since you’re dating his daughter, Violet Moreau. Well, Swanson is her legal name. Although, I believe she’s going by Dupree these days.” My body goes rigid. Not sure how much this woman knows or if I’ve just walked into a trap with a woman working for the other side.

“Relax. I’m a friend of Kayce’s. He and Henry were trying to take down this group of dirty cops and politicians together,” she says.

“As I understand it, Henry was one of the dirty ones,” I drawl, my voice a little menacing.

Her hand comes up, almost as if she’s trying to push pause. “I know Henry had his issues, and he did his own share of bad shit. I’m not delusional. But I also know he was targeted and had no choice in some of what he did. He was trying to protect his daughter.”

“Protect her?” I damn near scream at the woman. “He approved of that asshole marrying her and then turned the other cheek when she was being beaten and abused. So, please, tell me how he was trying to protect her by doing shady shit and letting assholes like James Swanson get away with that shit.”

“Henry had been collecting evidence on James for years. He was connecting the dots between James and a man named Marco Cusenza, and their other associates. After Violet was hospitalized, Henry called me to tell me about his plans. Two days before his alleged suicide, Henry sent a package to my office in Crestview. It’s a key to a safe deposit box. It came attached to a note addressed to me, explained when to give it to Violet, and included another sealed envelope addressed to Violet directly.”

“Do you know what’s in the safe deposit box?” I ask, still not feeling like I should trust the lawyer. They’re paid to twist the truth after all.

“No. But I have an idea.” She says as we pull up to the gate of the clubhouse. Mason sees me in the front seat and presses the button to let us in.

“Park by the row of bikes, there.”

We exit the vehicle, heading toward the clubhouse doors, when I notice how tense Allyson is. “What’s wrong?”

“I didn’t think this would be so hard,” she says, as if speaking to herself.

“What? It’s just my brothers. They’re more bark than bite, except—Hawk may be the only exception to that rule, actually. But he’s probably busy with his computer shit, so you should be fine.” I shrug.

Upon entering the clubhouse, I’m greeted by roars and shouts of “Welcome home” and “How’s your ass this morning?”

Assholes.

Pres, Jameson, and Kayce are sitting at a table talking. Caleb is sitting on a stool beside them. When Pres sees me, his face twists. Jameson must’ve caught the look too because he turns to see what’s wrong, only his expression is even worse. He’s gone pale, like he’s seen a fucking ghost.

I feel a small hand on my shoulder, and Mrs. Archer whispers, “I’m really sorry about this.” Then walks over to greet the men. I’m shocked to see Caleb hugging the woman. Gabe comes up next, offering the same greeting. But Jameson looks like he’s been cast in stone.

“Hey, Jamie.”

What the fuck? Jamie?

“What the hell are you doing here?” the VP asks. He doesn’t seem angry. I’d say more shocked than anything.

“Kayce, uh, Mr. Eaton called me. I’m Mr. O’Malley’s lawyer.” She tucks a piece of stray hair behind her ear. This does not look like the spitfire who came to get me out of jail. She’s acting timid and unsure.

“Holy shit. You fucking made it, huh? Good for you.” Jameson looks from Kayce to Allyson and back to me. I shake my head, not having a clue as to what’s going on. “You always said you were going to be a lawyer. That’s …” He clears his throat. “That’s great.”

Allyson doesn’t answer with words, only a nod of her head. Kayce takes the moment and walks behind Allyson, stretching his arm over her shoulder and hugging her from the side. “You two know each other?” I know that tone. The son of a bitch already knew they did. He just wants to fuck with Jameson for some reason.

What game is he playing at?

“We went to high school together,” Allyson answers at the same time Jameson says, “You could say that.”

“Well,” Allyson pulls out of Kayce’s hold and rummages through her purse, handing something to Kayce. “This is what you need from the snitch. I was asked to hand deliver it to you specifically. So, now that I have …” She turns to Gabe and Caleb. “It was great seeing you again. Jameson, uh, good to see you too.” She turns around to face me and says, “I’ll mail you your bill. But I really need to get going now.”

She doesn’t fuck around either. She makes a beeline for the front door with Jameson’s eyes tracking her every step of the way as she leaves.

“Where’s Violet?” I ask, but before anyone can tell me anything, the sound of a car peeling off out of the lot and Avery’s squeals of excitement change the subject.

“Did you guys see that car?” Avery asks grinning.

“Of course you noticed the car before you noticed me,” Jake teases, walking over to embrace his woman.

“Are you for real? That was a 1970 Chevrolet Chevelle. It’s a fucking beast of a car.”

“Language, Angel. Or I’ll show you my beast,” Jake admonishes, earning him a glare and the flip of the finger.

“I’m not seeing the downside.”

“Ew. Get a room. Hey, Dec,” Sadie calls out, coming up to give me a side hug. “Heard you got your ass busted last night in the slammer.”

“What the fuck?” I push her off me. The guys are all laughing. Sadie shrugs.

“What? That’s what I heard Hawk say,” she teases.

“Hawk said what, now?” His voice comes booming down the hall as he enters the room with his laptop in hand.

“You told her I got my ass busted in the slammer?” I reiterate what was said. Hawk wrinkles his forehead, then looks to Sadie and smiles.

“No. I said your ass got busted, and you were in the slammer. Not your ass was busted, although I can’t be sure until I ask. So, did you get your ass busted?” he asks seriously.

I move Sadie to the side and lunge for the dickhead. He’s laughing, backing up behind Jake and Avery. “Hey, I have my laptop. You gotta wait until after church to wrestle with me. Although, I’m not sure if I’ll be able to upstage the performance of the guys you were with last night.”

“You’re a fucking dead man,” I growl.

“All right. That’s enough. Ladies, good to see you. Assholes, we got shit to talk about. Kayce’s sitting in on this one,” Gabe announces to the room, making it clear this isn’t a regular church session.

Sadie’s phone chimes, and her face lights up. Avery leans over her shoulder, and her face matches Sadie’s. I’m not the only one who sees it either. Hawk’s appearance goes from playful to irritated right before my eyes.

Gripping his shoulder, I move him toward the sanctuary, whispering, “You keep joking about me getting my ass busted, but I think someone is about to bust your balls, brother.” His only response is to grunt.