Page 29 of Free to Judge (Amaryllis Heritage #2)
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Today, while I know Kalie’s protected by the best—her father—I decide to snoop around to locate some more dirt tying the Italian and Irish marriage made in hell. With that in mind, I hit the chop shop, assuming no one would be around on a Sunday.
It’s far from my lucky day when I walk in and find one of the newer members of the Tiberi outfit stripping down a BMW.
Ciro jumps when the metal door clangs shut behind me, echoing through the stripped-down garage like a warning.
The BMW on jacks in the center of the room is picked clean—headlights out, guts exposed, doors pried off like ribs.
A sneer rushes across his face. He straightens from where he was leaning against a workbench, cigarette dangling from his lip. Next to him is Vin—a young, nervous kid strapped to a plastic chair. Even from this distance, I can see his lip is bloodied and his hands zip-tied so he can’t fight back.
Ciro looks up and grins. “Sure you want to be here, Mr. Law and Order?”
Despite the churning in my gut, I manage, “What have you got?”
“Caught the kid stealing from us.” He cracks his knuckles and Vin pales even more, if that’s possible. “Now it’s time to get even. But this isn’t something you want to know about. Right?”
I roll my shoulders and step further into the room to get a good look at the kid, mind whirling. Is there any way I can get him out of his certain death sentence? “Something like that.”
“What are you doing here anyway?”
“I bailed early the other day. Have to catch up on some paperwork,” I gesture vaguely to the back office.
Ciro snickers. “And here I thought you spent your weekends draped in tits and ass from Velvet Vice. At least that’s what Sal reports back.”
I ignore the implication because there’s nothing there. The strippers drape themselves over anyone in the VIP section at Velvet Vice as they try to amp up their tips—nothing more, nothing less. They’re not the woman who interests me.
They’re not Kalie.
Kalie, who walks around her home barefoot in the kitchen, hair tied up. Pouring a glass of wine as she listens with understanding and offers thoughtful insight. The way she welcomed me into her home for a few hours with hardly any hesitation increases the blood flow to my dick.
Ciro chuckles. “Yeah. You got a hard-on for one of them, for sure. What’s her name?”
I smirk just enough to sell it, eyes flicking toward the kid in the chair. “Don’t ask.”
If I had my way, I’d speak it reverently, like a prayer. I’d moan it into her mouth in the dark, feel what it’s like as I say it against her lips.
I crouch down to get a better look at Vin. “What was he stealing?”
“Leather from inside the BMW. Saw it in his pockets.”
“Got proof?”
Ciro reaches into his own pocket and yanks out the leather in question. Tosses it onto the floor. My lip curls. “If I go into the office, am I going to see a clear shot of him stealing this on the cameras?”
Ciro rears back as if he’s mortally offended I’m challenging his word. He works up enough phlegm and spits at my polished shoes. “How dare you question me?”
Straightening to my full height, I move at a lethal speed. Shoving him up against the lift with my forearm. “If you end up along with the rest of your feckin’ clan behind bars because this kid can ID you, I’m not doing dick to save your ass.”
He narrows his eyes. “You’re our lawyer.”
My smile turns lazy with malice. “I’m not your lawyer.
Get that straight. I was hired for a specific purpose.
Dealing with shit like your fuckin’ hard-on for some fresh little boy meat?
Nah, I’m not defending that.” It’s exactly what the Byrnes want me to do—protect their precious pipeline—but some two-bit Tiberi soldier helping himself to the merchandise? Not happening.
I step back and recommend, “I suggest you disappear.”
Ciro comes at me, fist cocked. “You…”
I catch it in midair before it can connect with my face. “Stop playing games. If you want, we can make a call to discuss what I just walked in on.” I bare my teeth. “Who do you think they’re going to believe—me or some sick fuck who isn’t paying the going rate?”
Ciro snarls, “Someone woke up with morals today.”
I bark out a laugh. “I woke up with my hand stroking my dick, thinking about the next pussy I plan on fucking, not the family I plan on fucking over.” The reality is that I woke up thinking about Kalie.
I couldn’t stop thinking about her, the warmth and steadiness in her actions.
The way her husky voice says my name causes vibrations to dance up my spine.
For just a few minutes, it was enough to be just me—not the me who had to roll around in slime and use a burner phone to call her so I don’t make a mistake and lead them right to her.
Ciro’s fists clench and unclench at his side, torn between his denied treat and knowing he now has a witness. Finally, I say, “Cut him loose. If he really did what you say he did, scare him. But no more.”
Ciro doesn’t say a word, just ensures he slams against my shoulder to throw me off balance before he storms out the door.
I wait a full five minutes before I turn toward the kid.
Leaning in close, I murmur loud enough for Vin to hear, but not loud enough for the microphones I surreptitiously planted to pick up.
“You were damn lucky tonight. Don’t forget it. ”
He nods fast, breath catching. When I release the final ankle tie, he leaps to his feet and falls back a few steps. “Wa-was he really go-gonna…?”
I nod once as I monitor Vin’s breathing. If I need to knock the kid out to keep his mouth from running, I will. Before I can decide, Vin takes off at a sprint. The metal door bangs open as he escapes.
I fling the information off to Cal to have him dig a little deeper for me while I head toward the back office so I can be seen working even as I’m digging into files on my end.
Sliding my phone from my pocket, I check it for the information I need to look up—sales manufacturing slips for companies that don’t exist. Incoming vehicles that were reported stolen.
Oddities that, while in the overall picture of a shop might not raise any red flags, definitely do so when you’re dealing with the sale and transportation of humans.
I can’t help but check my texts before I get down to work. There’s nothing from Kalie, not that I really expected there to be while she’s with her father. Still, just thinking about her makes me want to reach out to her.
Declan:
Hoping things are going well today.
After sending her the text, I dive into the mountains of paperwork, trying to get ahead. As I do, I slip in the occasional search, as if the files I brush up against are being accessed accidentally.
It’s after ten before I come up for air.
She is probably already asleep by now. Lights off. Bare shoulders against clean sheets, dreaming the dreams of the unburdened. Meanwhile, I have blood on my hands and vengeance in my heart, but, God, I want to see her, touch her, be with her anyway.
Even if I didn’t deserve it.
Still, I check my phone.
Kalie:
Come over if it’s before midnight. I’ll stay up for you.
I walk out of the garage without another word, the cloying scent of evil clinging to my skin. The cool night air hits like a reset, but it doesn’t clear my head.
The drive to Kalie’s is almost muscle memory—twenty minutes of silent streets being guided by a beacon of hope. I don’t turn on the radio as I want to hear nothing but her voice in my head on my way there. I don’t want anything but her to fill the spaces I’m already carving out for her.
I park down the street, turn off the engine, and just sit there.
In another life, I’d have pulled directly into her driveway.
Knocked on her door. Hoped she answered it in a little bit of nothing.
Pushed her inside, kissing her as I did.
I would’ve urged her onto her bed, and ensured I had the right to press my mouth to her lips, the curve of her shoulder, and beyond.
Instead, the fact is, I can’t. I’m tied to the very people who want to hurt her—fuck, I’m their goddamn lawyer. At least for now—the best way for me to protect her is to resist what my heart already knows.
She’s mine.
Still, I scrub a hand down my face and whisper to the night air, “You make me want out. For this to be over and done with so I can move on.”
I don’t know if this makes Kalie a liability, a further danger, or a chance for hope.
Then my phone rings, and after I listen to what Keene has to say, my fury at the woman waiting for me inside ignites.