Page 20 of Kingpin (Blackjacks MC #1)

Chapter thirteen

Kingpin

There was no way in hell I would stand by and let my wife walk into this trial alone.

The security guards on duty weren’t thrilled at our appearance, but I didn’t give a shit.

As long as we weren’t acting up, or causing any trouble, they didn’t have a reason to kick us out.

It was a free country. We had every right to be here.

I could have worn plain clothes, slipping into the back row, unnoticed. I could have left the club on standby, waiting for my signal if I needed them.

But the time for subtlety was over. As soon as Cooley went after Hattie, the gloves came off.

A moment later, Welch entered the room, handcuffed, wearing a plain gray button up shirt and jeans. He shot a scathing look at Hattie, seated next to Officer Shepard.

Then his gaze slid over us, claiming the entire second row of seats. His eyes darkened and a muscle clenched in his jaw.

The fucker was angry. Good.

I kept my expression neutral, giving nothing away. He wouldn’t know who I was, or the fact that I gave the order to have Cooley killed. But gossip had a tendency to spread like wildfire behind bars. I’d used that to my advantage.

Even if the cops didn’t have any evidence to pin Cooley’s death on us, the rumor that we did it was more than enough. One look at our Blackjack colors, and Welch had recognized our name.

Barber was still in the wind. If Welch managed to plead not guilty, and he got off scot-free, there was no doubt in my mind they would want revenge for their dead friend.

And they would start with Hattie.

“All rise,” the bailiff declared.

Then the trial began.

When Hattie was called to the stand to testify, I inhaled a deep breath. I was proud of her for doing this, but I didn’t like seeing her exposed. All I wanted to do was get her out of here and take her home. Not the clubhouse. Not her sister’s place. Home—our home, where she belonged.

“Miss Harriet Fields,” the judge said. “Could you relay to the jury, in your own words, how you came to be caught up in this bank robbery? I understand you’re a schoolteacher from Seattle.”

As Hattie spoke, I crossed my arms and clenched my teeth so tightly that my jaw ached. I hated this. Hated that she had been put in danger and I didn’t hear a word about it. Hated that she was still in danger, months later.

Then she faltered in her account and her gaze darted to me.

“Is there a problem, Miss Fields?” the judge asked.

“No,” she said slowly, dropping her gaze.

Clearing her throat, she shifted in her seat, partially turning away from me.

“One of the robbers screamed at us to get down on the ground. The other two robbers were preoccupied with shoving as much money into their duffle bags as they could. So, I saw the opportunity and I took it.”

A pause of anticipation descended over the courtroom.

“I ripped the robber’s mask off.” Hattie pointed at Welch. “I saw that man’s face.”

The judge gestured to a bailiff who wheeled in a television on a cart.

“I understand we have security camera footage to corroborate your story.”

You could hear a pin drop in that damn courtroom as the grainy footage flickered on the television screen. Hattie tugged at her earlobe, making a concerted effort to avoid looking in my direction.

Then Welch backhanded Hattie so hard that her head whipped to the side and she crumpled from the force of his blow.

“ Motherfucker ,” Blackbeard hissed under his breath next to me.

Big G growled. Baby Doll and Hot Shot shifted uncomfortably. The only one who remained still as a stone was Gatling, but the murder in his eyes was unmistakable.

I couldn’t look away from the security footage. Hattie remained huddled there on the floor, clutching her cheek, while Welch brandished his gun at her.

Then Welch’s attorney rose to his feet for cross-examination. I didn’t trust lawyers on a good day, but this guy had the disarming smile of a snake oil salesman.

“Miss Fields, it seems you have a colorful history in Brightwater.”

“I used to live here, yes,” she replied.

The attorney turned and gestured at me with a smug look.

“And could you inform the jury whether or not that man seated in the second row is your husband?”

Hattie hesitated.

“Miss Fields,” the attorney pressed. “A simple yes or no will suffice.”

Leave her alone, asshole, I thought.

“He’s my ex-husband,” Hattie admitted. “We separated, thirteen years ago.”

“Regardless of your marital status, the police suspect this man tortured and murdered the comrade of my client. Can we really place any trust in this woman’s statement when she has known ties to a criminal herself?”

“Oh, fuck off,” Baby Doll said. “That’s a load of bullshit.”

The judge frowned.

“I will have order in my courtroom. Anyone causing disruptions will be removed.”

Baby Doll huffed and slouched in her chair.

“Let’s stay on track here, Mr. Trevello,” the judge admonished. “We don’t need to concern ourselves with who the police are investigating in another case.”

“I know what I saw,” Hattie said, chin held high, shoulders squared. Unwavering in her certainty. “You have security tape footage to prove it.”

“Technically, that footage only shows your face, Miss Fields,” Trevello pointed out. “My client cannot be identified from this video.”

He turned to the jury and spread his hands.

“It’s still a question worthy of consideration.

Aside from this woman’s statement, there’s no evidence to confirm or deny whether my client participated in that bank robbery.

Are you willing to hang a man’s fate on the word of a woman who married a biker with a known violent history and a criminal record? ”

Big G heaved a sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“This prick is raising my blood pressure with every word out of his mouth,” he muttered.

When Hattie was finished testifying, she returned to her seat by Shepard’s side. Twisting her fingers into her skirt while she chewed her lower lip. I wished I could be the one next to her, so I could envelop her fidgeting hands in mine to calm her down.

I didn’t pay any attention to the rest of the trial. Guilt gnawed at my stomach. She should have come to me. She should have let me handle it. Then we wouldn’t have to be here, dealing with Welch and his smarmy lawyer.

But I understood why she kept it all from me.

Hattie wanted a normal husband. Someone who believed in the justice system. Someone who relied on the cops for protection.

What felt like a lifetime later, court was adjourned for the day. I watched Hattie lean toward Officer Shepard and whisper something. He nodded, taking her by the elbow as she stood. My gaze followed her from the room until she disappeared from view.

Then my phone buzzed with a text. I pulled it from my pocket and glanced at the screen.

Ditched the cop for 5 min. Hurry up.

I was out of my seat in a heartbeat, striding from the room. I scanned the corridor, searching for Hattie. She gestured at me from the opposite end of the hallway, near the door that led to the stairwell. I headed straight for her.

When I was within reach, Hattie grabbed my wrist and pulled me into the stairwell. Her fingertips were light and warm against my pulse. Honey blossom perfume filled my lungs. She peeked around my shoulder and pulled the door shut behind us.

“Officer Shepard is waiting in the lobby. I said I needed to make a pit stop at the ladies room before he takes me back to Connie’s. I don’t think he believed me though.”

“That asshole hurt you,” I said, gruffly.

Hattie’s gaze flicked up to me. I cupped her chin with a firm grasp, searching her face for any signs that Welch had left a scar after he backhanded her like that.

All I could see were freckles and the faint lines of crow’s feet fanning out around her eyes.

Her pupils darkened, and her throat worked as she swallowed.

“It was months ago, Neil,” she said, barely above a whisper. “I’m fine now.”

“I don’t give a flying fuck , Hattie.” I traced my thumb over her lower lip. “I wasn’t there when you needed me. That’s unacceptable.”

She sighed.

“I know you can’t get this through your thick skull, but we split up. I wasn’t going to call you out of the blue, over a decade later.”

“Why not?”

She made a noise of frustration.

“Because of what we’re doing right now,” she hissed. “We’re like two goddamn magnets. Every time we’re in the same room, we’re drawn to each other.”

I raised an eyebrow. Was my Hattie thinking about coming back to me after all?

“Stop looking at me like that,” she grumbled.

“Like what?” I prompted.

“Like you’re going to kiss me. I need to keep a clear head. For the trial.”

The trial. Right.

My gaze panned down her body. White blouse, a little snug across her tits. Tight pencil skirt hugging her thick thighs and plump ass.

“Would it be such a bad thing if I kissed my wife?” I countered.

Hattie huffed and pushed at my chest, trying to move past me.

“You really have to stop pretending we’re not divorced. I need to get back—”

Before she could pull away, I caught her wrist and turned her hand over. Stroking my thumb in her palm, with deep, slow pressure. It didn’t take much effort to pull her close against my chest.

I trailed my knuckles down her arm, curved my palm around the dip of her waist. Then I slid my palm a few inches lower to squeeze her hip. I leaned in, brushing my lips against her ear as I spoke.

“And you have to stop pretending that you’re not begging me to fuck you every time you look at me with those pretty eyes, sweetheart.”

Hattie’s breath hitched.

With less than five minutes to work with, I couldn’t do much. But I could give her a taste.

Backing her against the wall, I grabbed her skirt and yanked it up around her hips.

“Neil,” she whispered urgently, twisting her fingers into my cut. “This is a public stairwell. Anyone could walk in on us.”

“Let them,” I growled into the curve of her neck.