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Like how my hand brushed against my new legal assistant’s tits back in the car when she was slow to buckle up, and how much I fucking liked it.
And how she clearly liked it too. How her lips fell open. Her eyes widened. Her heartbeat doubled. And the way she looked at me, for one brief second—like she wanted me to rip open her blouse and wrap a mouth around one hard, pink nipple.
I shouldn’t think about Fiona like this.
Yes, she’s beautiful. Sexy, even. Long, lean legs, incredible tits, an ass like a dream. She keeps herself in shape, says she likes to do yoga and rock climbing. I believe it. But it’s not just her body.
It’s the way she bats her eyelashes at me, trying to be cute and coy just to piss me off. It’s the way she does her job, efficiently, no bullshit. It’s her laugh. The way she spins her pen.
The girl’s goddamn distracting, and if I hadn’t gone through six assistants over the last year, I’d get rid of her before I break my cardinal rule.
No dipping my dick in my employees.
Besides, she’s too young. Not serious enough for a man like me. Yes, she’s pretty, but she’sfarfrom my type.
Better to forget about it.
“All right, Gareth,” Orin says after consulting with his boys in hushed tones. “We’re thinking about giving you a chance. How about this? We’re having some issues with a couple soldiers, guys that got picked up for dealing last week. You tell me how you’d handle that.”
I tilt my head to the side, falling into game mode while pushing thoughts of Fiona from my head. “Tell me about the case.”
“Two guys, Billy Grady and Jim Fats got picked up a few days back,” Nolan says.
“Jim Fats?” Carson says, interrupting him. “You mean Jim O’Sullivan. This is a fucking legal issue, idiot. Use his real name.”
“Fuck you,” Nolan says. “Anyway, Billy and Jim, the cops accused them of dealing a little methamphetamine. Problem is, they didn’t have any of the stuff on their persons at the time of the arrest, which means it’s their word against the cops, and you know how that goes.”
My mind starts spinning. If there’s no physical evidence, it’s going to be hard for the cops to make anything stick, but there’s no guarantee they don’t have other evidence. Witnesses, recorded conversations. Maybe, if I can get some documentation—
There’s a noise from behind me, someone clearing their throat in the darkness near the door, and instantly all four brothers stand up.
Liam pulls a gun. Nolan reaches into his jacket, searching for a weapon. Carson and Finley shout for the poor interloper to get the fuck out.
“Oh, god, I’m so sorry, I’m just looking for Gareth, please don’t shoot,” comes a voice, clearly terrified.
A voice I know very, very well.
Slowly, I turn around.
Only to find Fiona standing behind me, her hands raised, her eyes wide, her face ashen. Pretty little Fiona, facing down four big, pissed-off gangsters.
Orin sighs loudly. “Put those fucking guns away,” he snaps. “God damn it, boys, how many times do I have to tell you? Guns are thelastresort, not the first one.”
Liam makes his piece disappear. Nolan never had a chance to draw, but he doesn’t move his hand from the holster under his jacket. “Who the fuck are you?” he shouts at Fiona. “This is a private meeting, what the fuck do you mean, you’re looking for Gareth?”
All eyes turn to me.
God damn it.
I knew bringing her was a mistake. She’s too new, not used to this sort of thing yet. But she’s been solid, extremely helpful, and I thought maybe she was ready.
Boy, was I fucking wrong.
“Well?” Orin asks, head tilted. “Do you know this girl? Do you remember how we made you swear to come alone? Did you think I was joking, Gareth?”
I turn to look at her.
She looks back. Eyes wide. Knees shaking. Practically begging.
