AllFreeNovel
Share Us
CHAPTERONE
“Get up.” The growly voice echoed against the bars of the Clark County holding cell, but Mamba’s brain refused to react. He’d slipped into a quasi-sleep fueled by tequila shots and a hot brunette whose name he couldn’t remember.Mary, Maddy—maybe he never knew it. Either way, it didn’t matter because, in his dream, this dark-haired beauty was swaying her hips in a body-skimming red dress that left nothing to the imagination.
“Dance with me.” She tried to pull him onto the floor.
“I don’t dance.” Mamba smiled down at her, wrapping his hands around her waist, his rough palms dragging over the silky material of her dress.
“Please?” Her huge ebony eyes pleaded as she ground against him. When she arched her back, her nipples almost popped over the top of the low-cut dress. Mamba dipped his head and sucked the delicate skin of her neck between his lips, then traveled lower to the crest of her cleavage. Her whispery moan jacked up his pulse and sent a shivering sensation straight to his balls.
They never made it to the dance floor, but his dick pounded with the need to sink into her perfect body. Mamba had to make her his right the fuck now, or he’d bust.
“C’mon, move it.” The rough voice jolted him out of his hardcore fantasy.
Mamba glared at the guard standing on the other side of the metal bars, then extended his arms over his head, careful not to teeter off the narrow bench. Since he had the cell to himself, Mamba decided to stretch out, but the hard, scarred wood did nothing for his bulky body.
“Let’s go. The guard anchored his hands on his hips.
He guessed the young punk was going for intimidation, but the big fuckin’ joke was on him. Mamba outsized him in height and width, had been fighting since he could walk, and honed his skills in underground free-for-alls in some of the shittiest holes in Vegas. So, no, a rookie barely able to shave didn’t even deserve eye contact.
“Put your hands through the bars,” the guard ordered, handcuffs dangling from his finger.
Mamba stretched again, slowly unfolded his bulk, and ambled across the cement floor. “Yeah, yeah.”
Mamba knew the drill. He clasped his hands together, then extended them through the cutout in the bars. The guard slapped the metal around his wrists, and Mamba stepped back as the barred door swung open.
He threw the guard a side-eye, which earned him a shove on the shoulder as he frog-marched him up the stairs and into the interrogation room. He slammed him into a chair and attached his cuffs to the dented metal table. It seemed like a lot of drama for a drunk-and-disorderly.
“Your lawyer’s on the way up.” The guard threw him another sneer and left.
Lawyer? Why the hell would Cobra call Grayson Hart? Usually, after a call to the Serpents’ contacts in Metro, he was out a few hours later.
Yeah, he should’ve done his drinking at Ecstasy, the club-owned strip joint, or at the clubhouse, but some of his fight buddies told him about a bangin’ place downtown, and they’d been right. The women at the Rook were hot as fuck and very willing. Didn’t he deserve to let loose? He’d gotten off probation a week ago, and— Of course, that could’ve been the problem right there. Maybe Cobra was making him sweat for fucking up, but shit, he was only getting his party on.
The door’s metal latch released, and Mamba prepared himself for Grayson in his designer suit, which matched his condescending attitude. Maybe Mamba should remind him if it weren’t for the Serpents, his Brioni suits would be a thing of the past.
“Mr. Hammond?”
That soft, mellow voice was definitely not Grayson Hart.
Mamba’s head jerked up. “Whoa.”
“Mr. Jack Hammond?” The beauty in the tailored suit hugging her slim hips squared her shoulders, making her silk blouse pull across her cleavage.
“That’s me. Who the fuck are you, and how’d I get so lucky?”
“I’m your attorney.” She slung her leather briefcase onto the metal table, popped the locks, pulled out a thick manila folder, and dropped it on the table. Then, she pointed to it. “Seems your reputation precedes you.”
“Unless Grayson had a sex change, you ain’t him.”
“Very observant.” She flashed a barely tolerable grin but somehow made her condescending attitude hot. “I’m Sydney Graves, but you can call me Syd. Mr. Hart is out sick today, and I’ll be handling your case.” She pulled out more papers from her briefcase. “I think it’s best if we get down to business. We have a lot to cover in a short time, and the charges against you are quite severe.”
Sure, he’d gotten his drink on and got loud and rowdy. And hell yeah, when the hot brunette he’d been dreaming about earlier dared him to get up on the bar and strip, he obliged her, but he’d barely taken anything off before the asshole bouncers got involved. Even then, he kept his hands to himself when he really wanted to bust those smug assholes in the mouth.
“Seems like a lot of drama 'cause I stripped off my shirt and undid my belt.” He flashed her a crooked smile. “The women in the place were having a good time. Shit, they were egging me on and begging for more. The only ones who got pissy were the bouncers. And yeah, I got mouthy with them. That’s why they called the cops. Total bullshit, just 'cause I was having a little fun.”
“Mr. Hammond, I don’t think—”
“Fuck, I’ve done way worse at the clubhouse.”
