Down & Dirty: Hawk (Dirty Angels MC Book 3) Page 2

  “Club,” he barked. “DAMC’s a fuckin’ club, a brotherhood, not a gang.”

  “Okay, well,” she pushed her glasses up her nose once more. “Club, then. Judges tend not to like clubs going to war in their area. Can you see where he’s coming from?”

  “You know this DJ?”

  “Yes.”

  He narrowed his eyes as he watched her face carefully. “Good?”

  “Very well, yes.”

  Hawk leaned forward over the table until they were almost face to face. “You fuck ‘im?”

  He couldn’t miss the uncomfortable swallow and the flash of shock that crossed her expression. Finally, he got a reaction from her. But it quickly disappeared as a blank mask slipped over her face.

  “I’m not going to answer that. That’s simply ridiculous.”

  “You gonna wear a skirt like that when you plead my innocence?”

  When she sighed with impatience, Hawk’s gaze became glued to the rise and fall of her chest.

  “I’m not pleading your innocence. I’m shooting for a reduced sentence.”

  “Then you plan on fucking me an’ not in a good way.”

  “I’m going to do my best to get you out of here and back to your club and your brotherhood as an ‘upstanding business owner who made an unwise decision that won’t be repeated.’”

  “An unwise decision.” Hawk snorted. “In self-defense.”

  “No. I’m not going to insult the judge that way. You’ve learned from your time here and you’ve learned from your mistake. You’re taking this as a life lesson and will be a better citizen because of it.”

  Damn, she was good. She almost convinced him with that bullshit. “Sure, babe. Sounds like a plan. Long as it works.”

  “It’ll work if you keep your mouth shut in the courtroom and you don’t stare down the judge in defiance. You let me do all the talking, while you’re as quiet as a church mouse and looking as harmless as one, too.”

  “Mice can do a lotta fuckin’ damage.”

  Hawk bit back a laugh when she slapped a hand to her forehead and her eyes bugged out behind those sexy little glasses. “Fuck my life,” she said under her breath.

  Damn, that was hot. “Love a classy lady with a dirty fuckin’ mouth. Wanna wrap my fist in all that hair when you’re suckin’ my cock with it.”

  She opened her mouth, blinked, sucked in a deep breath and then sighed loudly before saying, “You really know how to sweet talk a lady.”

  “Don’t want you to be a lady. Want you to be a hellcat. Not prissy. Sweatin’, screamin’, bitin’, scratchin’, fuckin’. Comin’ so hard you see spots.”

  “Well, all righty then. Let me pull up my calendar so we can schedule that.” She held up a finger as she tapped an app on her computer/tablet/electronic thingy. “Date?”

  “First night I’m outta this joint.”

  “Location?”

  “On the floor, against the wall, on a table, in my bed.”

  “Well, that’s a lot of typing.” Tap, tap, tap. “Okay, let me make sure I got this down correctly... Suckin’, scratchin’, bitin’, sweatin’, fuckin’, and...” She glanced up from her tablet.

  “Screamin’. Forgot screamin’.”

  “Ah.” She nodded, tapping the screen. “Screamin’.” She lifted a brow his direction. “Anything in particular?”

  “My name.”

  “Got it. Screaming H-A-W-K. All that against the wall, on the bed, the floor and hanging from a ceiling fan. Right?”

  He smirked. “That’ll do for starters.”

  “Right. I can’t wait.”

  “Me neither.” She might be taking all of this like a big joke, but she was going to find out just how serious he was.

  She focused her pretty blues on him. “Can you promise me one thing?”

  “What’s that, babe?”

  “It’s going to be the best fuck I’ve ever had?”

  Fucking goddamn. “Have a feelin’ it’s gonna be the best fuck I ever had.”

  She tapped her finger against her bottom lip—which he had the urge to bite—then tilted her head. “Okay, I lied. I need another promise.”

  His lips twitched. “Shoot.”

  “If I get you out of here, you’re not going to punch anyone else.”

  He studied her a couple beats. “Can’t promise that, babe.”

  “Why?”

  “Got enemies.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Who?”

  He zipped his lips shut.

  “Who?” she prodded. “Those bikers you beat up in that bar?”

  Hawk leaned forward, no longer amused at the direction the conversation was going. “Know you’re new to this. Know you’re here to help me, help all the brothers when we’re in a jam. Know it. Appreciate it. But you’ll learn... Club business, babe, ain’t a woman’s business. When you’re needed, you’ll get the info we can give you an’ no more. Got me?”

  Kiki abruptly shoved her chair back with a squeal and stood. “Sorry, but no, I don’t got you. You want me to stick my neck out for you and your boys—”

  “Brothers,” he cut in.

  She ignored him and continued, “Then you need to be open and honest with me or you can hang out to dry for all I care. Got me?”

  Hawk smiled, leaned back in his chair and ran his gaze over her once more. Yep, he was going to get a piece of that hellcat. “Damn, woman, can’t wait for that appointment.”

  “We have to get you out of here first.”

  “You do that.”

  She stepped closer to the table to look down at him. “Are you going to be checking out my ass when I leave?”

  “Fuck yeah.”

  With a nod, she spun around, strutted her way to the door and pressed the buzzer.

  Hawk didn’t miss the guard checking out her ass, either.

  Son of a bitch.

  Chapter Two

  Kiki sat behind the table about to not only face an unhappy judge but she was being seared by the heat of the large biker sitting next to her, who just stared at her.

  Well, she did tell him not to stare at the judge. So, it was all her fault.

  She really should rethink her career. She should switch to real estate law like her ex. Elder law, family law. Something, anything other than defending a badass biker and his “brothers.”

  She bit back a groan. If she knew this was where she would end up, she certainly wouldn’t have joined Pannebaker’s firm. Even though it was one of the best criminal defense firms in the area.

  She should be wondering how a motorcycle club consisting of a bunch of derelicts could afford Pannebaker’s hourly rate. Though, they had no problem paying for the damage done to that pub in South Side. The club’s treasurer, Ace, simply scribbled out a check for six figures. He didn’t even tell the owners to hold it before cashing. No. He said it was good and could be deposited right away.

  Imagine that. But all that money could come from illegal activities. Though, Pannebaker assured her she wouldn’t be representing an outlaw club, that they were on the up and up.

  Kiki let out a snort. Right.

  “You okay?” came the deep voice next to her.

  She refused to turn her head toward him when he was this close. His heavy denim-clad thigh brushed against her stockings. No suit for this guy’s courtroom appearance. No. He insisted on wearing his whole biker get-up sans the vest with filthy patches she insisted he not wear.

  She cleared her throat. “Perfect. Remember to keep your mouth shut and at least appear sorry for your actions,” she whispered.

  “Not sorry.”

  She ground her molars and then unlocked her jaw. “Act like it.”

  Fingers brushed along her knee and then the skin at the edge of her skirt. She sucked in a sharp breath.

  “Get outta here today an’ then we’ll have our appointment later.”

  Oh good lord. He actually took her serious when she made that so-called appointment. She had to clear that misconception up and
do it quickly.

  “I was only kidding about the appointment,” she whispered fiercely. She gritted her teeth against the shiver that wanted to run through her as his fingers climbed her thigh.

  She should be very afraid of this man and not for the obvious reasons.

  “I wasn’t,” he said way too softly.

  Apparently.

  Before she could smack his hand away, the District Justice entered the room and they all stood, including the hunk of tattooed muscle next to her, who was suddenly stuck to her side. Like Gorilla glue.

  Kiki swallowed hard and her nipples pebbled under her blouse. Great. That wouldn’t be too obvious.

  “Ms. Clark,” Judge Powers greeted her.

  She shifted an inch to the right to give herself some breathing room. “Your Honor.”

  He sat and so did everyone else. Well, everyone except for Hawk.

  “Sit down,” she demanded under her breath, tugging at his faded Myrtle Beach Biker Week T-shirt.

  With a smile, he sat, his body visibly shaking in silent laughter.

  “So, what do we have here, Ms. Clark? A,” the judge glanced down at his papers, “member of a motorcycle gang who decided to come into my district and make a mess.”

  “Club, Your Honor.”

  Judge Powers looked up. “What was that, Ms. Clark?”

  “It’s a club, Your Honor, not a gang. They’re not engaged in any illegal activities.” Holy crap, she hoped that was true.

  “A club,” he repeated like he was taste-testing the word. “You mean a club like the Boy Scouts?”

  “Very similar, sir.”

  The judge let out a bark of a laugh then his eyes swung to her client, then back to Hawk’s father, Ace, and his brother, Diesel, who sat in the seats directly behind them.

  “What badge do they get for beating up a member of another club?”

  “Your Honor, Mr. Dougherty has seen the error of—”

  Powers raised his hand, palm out toward her. “Save it, Ms. Clark. I wasn’t born yesterday.”

  “But—”

  Powers interrupted her again. “Here’s the deal, Ms. Clark. You want to defend such upstanding gentleman? That’s fine. But maybe you should be responsible for them. Or at least,” he wagged a finger at Hawk, “this one.”

  Oh shit. “Your Honor...”

  “No, Ms. Clark. You can be his babysitter for the next three months.”

  Oh shit. “Your Honor, please!”

  “Want me to make it six?”

  Oh shit. Kiki sucked in a breath. “No, Your Honor.”

  And not just no. Hell no! She did not want to get stuck being responsible for a damn biker. Pannebaker couldn’t pay her enough.

  For crissakes, she’d quit.

  Walk right out.

  Powers leaned forward. “Here’s the deal. Take it or leave it. I’m sentencing him thirty days for the reduced offense of simple assault.”

  Kiki couldn’t miss Hawk’s large frame straighten and go solid next to her.

  She ignored him. “Thirty days, Your Honor... That’s—”

  Powers raised his palm again. “Let me finish, Ms. Clark.”

  Shit. “Yes, Your Honor.”

  “I’ll release him on time served which is the ten days he already did, but and this is a big but, Ms. Clark, he needs to keep his nose clean for the next three months and he needs to do some sort of community service. I’ll let you decide what that will be. But I do want a report. In addition, you’ll be responsible to make sure he serves that community service. Then you’re free of him. I suggest letting them pay you for your time.”

  Kiki opened her mouth to respond, but the judge wasn’t done yet.

  “Furthermore, he needs to stay out of my district. His whole club does. I don’t want to see them again. He’s lucky I’m not slapping an ankle monitor on him for the remainder of his thirty days.” Powers lifted an eyebrow in Kiki’s direction. “What do you say, Ms. Clark? Does your client want to walk free today or cuddle up with his cellmate for a few more weeks so they can read each other bedtime stories?”

  She glanced at Hawk, who was looking down. Not at the table, no. But at her feet. The heels she was wearing to be more precise.

  Oh good lord.

  “Can we have a minute, Your Honor?”

  “Sixty seconds. Go.”

  Kiki sank her butt into the chair and twisted toward her client.

  “Those are so fuckin’ hot,” he said in a low, deep voice.

  Jesus. His voice alone could make her panties soaked.

  “No time for that. Do you want to take the deal? I’m not thrilled about—”

  “Why? ‘Cause you’ll be stuck to me?”

  “I won’t be stuck to you. I have better things to do with my time—”

  “Take it. Ain’t goin’ back to that hole. Anyhow, me an’ you got an appointment I don’t wanna miss.” His dark brown eyes stared into hers. “You ain’t missin’ that appointment, either.”

  Right. “We’ll discuss that later.”

  “No discussin’ to be had.”

  “Times up, Ms. Clark.”

  Kiki pushed to her feet. “We’ll accept that, Your Honor. He’ll be glad to do community service. He has all kinds of progressive ideas on how to serve it.”

  The judge snorted then got serious. “Fine. Just see that it’s done.” Powers pointed a finger toward Hawk. “Stay out of my district.”

  When Hawk opened his mouth Kiki laid a hand on his shoulder and squeezed hard. “He will, sir. No problem.”

  “Right.”

  Then they all scrambled to their feet as the judge got up from his bench and disappeared through a side door.

  A large presence behind her made her shiver. She looked over her shoulder to see Hawk’s brother standing right behind her with their father, an older and slightly, but not by much, smaller man.

  Diesel clasped hands with his brother and did a shoulder bump over the divider that separated them, then Hawk turned toward his father.

  “Pop.”

  “Boy, you’re lucky you ain’t doin’ more time than you did.”

  “Keeks got it covered.”

  Keeks. She sighed. She already hated the name that her hippie, yoga-loving parents had given her but him calling her Keeks made it so much worse. She’ll have to thank them again the next time they returned to the States from one of their “soul-cleansing” retreats.

  Ace’s eyes landed on her. “I see that.”

  “We gotta date later.”

  Oh shit.

  Ace’s eyebrows rose. “Yeah?”

  Diesel let out what sounded like a combination of a grunt and a caveman chuckle before muttering, “Lucky bastard.”

  As one of the sheriff’s deputies approached them, Kiki cut in to interrupt the touching family reunion. “Okay, you need to go with the officer back to the jail. And I need to do paperwork. As soon as everything is processed, they’ll release you.”

  “Diesel will pick you up,” Ace said to his son.

  Hawk shook his head. “No. Keeks is gonna pick me up.”

  I am? She stared at Hawk.

  “Go on back to church or home. Wherever. She’s got this covered.”

  I do?

  He curled a heavy arm around her shoulders and pulled her against his side. “Right, babe?”

  Oh shit. “I... uh...”

  Ace snorted and shook his head, whacking his son on the back. “Got good taste, boy.” Then he turned and walked away.

  “Wait,” she started, looking desperately at Diesel. “You’re going to pick him up, right?”

  “Nope.” Then he also turned and walked away.

  She twisted her neck toward Hawk who still held her like a vise. “Let me go,” she whispered.

  “Let’s go,” the deputy said to Hawk, who gave the uniformed officer a big smile.

  “Gotta go. See you in a bit, babe.” And with that, he dropped his head and planted a big, wet kiss on her lips before pressing his mout
h to her ear. “Don’t be late. Got a lot to do.”

  He gave her a wink as the deputy escorted him out of the small courtroom.

  Kiki sank into her chair and dropped her head into her hands.

  Jesus.

  Just what in the hell had she gotten herself into?

  She asked herself that again when she pushed through the double glass doors of the county jail, Hawk hot on her heels.

  “Babe. Wait up.”

  Every time he called her babe she wanted to close her eyes and scream. But she was a woman on a mission, one she wanted to finish as quickly as possible. And closing her eyes when she was rushing down the concrete sidewalk in three-inch heels might end badly and delay getting the man out of her hair.

  “Yo, babe.”

  “If you’re talking to me, my name is Kiki,” she threw out over her shoulder.

  “Yeah, ‘bout that...” Suddenly he caught up to her. Which was actually no surprise. He might be bulky but he was tall, too, and his long legs had eaten up the distance between them. “Babe, slow down, don’t want you breakin’ your pretty little neck in those fuckin’ shoes of yours.”

  Kiki skidded to a halt and slammed her hands on her hips, her briefcase smacking hard against her thigh. When he stopped and turned to her in surprise, she stated, “Let’s get something straight right now. You don’t get to boss me around.”

  The corner of his lip twitched and Kiki had to fight stomping her foot in frustration.

  “’Kay, babe. Got any more rules?”

  “Yes, don’t call me babe, damn it!”

  He shrugged his heavy shoulders. Shoulders which were covered by a black leather vest decorated with those filthy, disgusting patches on both the front and back.

  “Hate your name, babe. Sorry. It’s the name of some stuck-up bitch.”

  She blinked. At least they agreed on something. “Then call me Ms. Clark.”

  Now the other side of his mouth twitched. “Only gonna do that if you’re wearin’ your glasses an’ nothin’ else.”

  All the oxygen left her lungs in a rush. She shook herself mentally at the image his words put into her head.

  What the hell? She was not getting naked with this man. This biker who had tattoos all up and down his arms, even on his scalp. And probably the rest of his muscular body.

  No, she wasn’t.