Chapter Five

Harper hated TV shows with attorneys chasing down criminals. Not once in law school had they discussed how they were to use appropriate force, nope that was left up to the police. The ones ready to jump in front of a bullet. Her job was to lock up the threat, not arrest them. Yet, here she was sitting in a police cruiser waiting for Rusty to serve an extradition warrant on Julio Vasquez, less than ten feet from the door.

The local police were as useful as tits on a boar. An expression she hated growing up, now rung true. Even with the two Federales willing to accept her filings, they weren’t about to go out of their way too much but escort them into the police station. The small town could have been on a Hollywood back lot. Clichés came from somewhere and Carricito de Santos was where bad Mexican movie sets were born. The open to the squad room cell with two rusted cots and a toilet she hoped was the cause of the smell and flies circling the building built in the nineteen fifties with little in maintenance since. Sadly, the stench belonged to Officer Diego in his sweat stained blue uniform. At one time that morning it might have been crisp and new, but by nine a.m., it appeared slept in.

The fact Julio was considered armed and dangerous to the local police meant he was a male in Mexico. Then again, in New Mexico and Texas being unarmed seemed a bit strange, so she understood the sentiment, but really dangerous, murderer, violent assault, all of these should have at least made the men budge. Instead, just as Rusty had said, these men didn’t care, which meant they knew who Julio was and were protecting him.

Rusty had made sure to keep all the officers with in his sight to avoid tip offs. The last thing he wanted was a full on manhunt.

Harper wasn’t exactly excited by that prospect. Again, she was a lawyer, not some action hero cop bent on revenge. Outside of clearing a case on her workload, the Julio Vasquez case was as important as any other. Although she had noticed a few discrepancies in the file that made her wonder about Federated Gas. Again, she was hit with some John Grisham novel that couldn’t be real. Fantasy verses reality. She’d spent enough time living in a fantasy world with Dylan, last thing she wanted to do was go back there.

Flashes of last night hit her again. Had she actually been sitting up and having sex? Talk about a movie image that never happened. A smile curled across her lips and she covered her mouth with her hand. Biting her bottom lip, she tried to refocus but all she could think about was his strong manly musk mixed with the smell of saltwater. The way he held her, she’d felt no fear. A stranger made her feel safer than Dylan and all his guns in the safe.

Why had she insisted on anonymity? Could it be because she’s a moron? Or worse yet, she knew deep in her heart that more than a few hours would be too much to ask of any man.

“Harp,” Rusty called out as he turned to see her in the backseat of the police cruiser.

“Yeah,” she replied.

“You’ll be safe here, but if you hear anything, duck down in the seat.”

“By anything, do you mean shouting or gunfire?”

He didn’t answer, instead his forehead furrowed in concern as he gave her a sheepish smile. When he got out of the cruiser, the assigned deputy passed him a shotgun. Checking the chamber, he nodded and the men exchanged uneasy looks. The six other cops joined them and with a gloved hand, Rusty pounded on the door as Officer Diego called out in Spanish that the police were there and to open the door.

Harper stared at the door. Although, she’d been told about this area and its quick development of houses she had naively thought of the suburban pop up towns from the fifties, when she should have been picturing a coal mining town from Appalachia.

A scream for help came from inside and the mood shifted as the officers all drew their weapons and approached the company home.

Her fingers dug into the leather of the tan headrest in front of her as she ducked her head a bit as if that could hide the fact she was there. She feared when the police broke down the door, the whole street would collapse. All of the houses were connected like a kid had built them with Lego’s.

Rusty lined himself up and took one step before knocking down the front door.

Her stomach clenched sure he would be the first in the line of fire by a band of crazed men.

Instead, he shifted quickly so his back was pressed against the wall next to the door as the local officers burst through the doors with their guns at the ready. A split second later, he nodded to her before spinning on his heel and entering the home with his gun leading the way.

A dark hole from the open doorway stood out from the bright baby blue of the paint on the exterior. Shouting and commands came from inside the house until Rusty’s frustrated voice carried over the crowd. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” he snapped. “I told you I would handle this.”

Harper knocked on the window of the cruiser to the officer standing watch for runners.

The female cop turned her head to the side, but kept her eyes on the open doorway and her fingers curled around the butt of her sidearm.

“Can you let me out?” Harper asked.

“No.”

“I think it’s clear.”

“Amazing, you can see that, is your Sheriff wearing a body camera or something?”

“Not that I know of.”

“Then my job is to keep you alive. Until I see my boss come out of there, you’re sitting still.”

“Funny, how they left the two women out here.”

The officer’s jaw twitched.

Yep, easy as hell to get another woman going with that shit. Harper had enough insecurities growing up, the whole vaginally challenged thing wasn’t high on her list, but she had learned to manipulate others with it.

“You won’t think it’s funny when I save your life.”

“Nothing to save, they’re done.”

“Unless you see the son of a bitch in handcuffs, it’s not over. Even then, I’ve seen them—” The officer suddenly turned her head.

Harper flipped around in the seat to see a black SUV rolling down the street. Sunlight bounced off the hood of a vehicle cleaner than she’d seen since she arrived in Mexico. It blinded her for a moment. When the glare cleared her eyes, it pulled to a stop and three men in black custom fitted suit stepped out. The driver was taller and broader than the rest. With hair slicked back and a jaw that could cut diamonds. Harper swallowed the lump that had formed as acid burned against the column of her throat. Not good, not good.

“Hola!” The front seat passenger greeted Harper’s protection detail.

Harper strained to hear and translate the conversation from Spanish.

This man was shorter than the driver by a few inches. Not as broad either. Trim, but with an athletic build and a smile that could distract the staunchest of nuns. His skin was slightly tanned, but with the blond hair cut tight to his head and the slight accent, she could tell he was American.

“Yes, I speak English,” the officer replied.

Harper let out a sigh of relief.

“This is a dangerous criminal?” he asked as he ducked his head down to see Harper in the backseat.

“Worse, a lawyer.”

“Oh, dear God.” He laughed. “I understand why you have her locked away then.”

This guy may be playing nice, but that didn’t quell the vice gripping Harper’s stomach. In her peripheral vision, she kept an eye on the brute squad and could see bulges on their hips. Scanning Mr. Congeniality, he didn’t appear to have one. Nope, this guy didn’t get his hands dirty.

“Can I ask why you are here, Officer?” the man queried.

“Serving a warrant.”

Where the hell was Rusty? Seriously, how long does it take for six people to cuff a guy?

“Officer Mendez,” Officer Diego spoke from the doorway. “Have you no concept of public safety?”

Officer Mendez removed her hands that had been resting on her duty belt and put them up to push the man back. “You’ll need to move it along.”

“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” he said. “See the people living in these homes are my employees. Any claims against them, might as well be claims against Federated Gas. We’re a family.”

For the first time, Harper saw Julio Vasquez as he was led out in handcuffs from the home. Even with a reddened cheekbone that must have come from being struck, he didn’t look like a man fearing for his life, in fact his face went from one of unease to a shit eatin’ grin that made Harper pound on the window to be released.

“Caged animals,” the man from Federated said.

This statement snapped the final switch in Harper. “Let me out now, Officer Mendez!”

This time, Mendez didn’t hesitate and when the heat of the day hit Harper as the door opened on the side of the cruiser, she suddenly wished they would have taught take down techniques in law school. “This man has a warrant for his arrest issued out of my district.” Standing eye to eye with Mr. Congeniality, she caught a hint of something familiar.

“Harper Maxwell,” he said setting off chills up her spine. “I didn’t recognize you at first. Did you get a perm?”

“I’m black, it’s called going natural. How do I know you?”

“You work under Arthur Connelly right?”

“Yes,” she tempered her growl, but was unable to unclench her teeth.

“Federated was one of his major supporters last campaign. You’re married to Dylan right?”

“Not anymore.”

“Upset to hear it, but not too upset.” His eyes traveled down her body as if he were licking her. “I’m Samuel Trunket, but you can call me Sam.”

Wrapping her arms tight to her chest, she so hoped one of the officers here could move this jack hole along. “Well Sam, I’m a bit busy and I believe you were told to move.”

“Harper,” he said as he placed his hand on her shoulder. “May I call you Harper?”

“You can, but if that hand isn’t removed in the next three seconds, you’re pulling back a bloody stump.”

Sam snapped his hand back. “Feisty, guess old Dylan couldn’t keep up with you.”

“Mr. Trunket—”

“Sam, please.”

“Sam, the police are arresting Julio Vasquez for murder and attempted murder.”

“Sounds like you don’t know if people are alive or dead.”

“He assaulted two people, one died. Either way, it has nothing to do with Federated Gas.” The words tasted bitter in her mouth because this man wouldn’t have been sent if this didn’t have something to do with Federated. A man kills when not clocked in or working for a company it’s not the company’s fault they hired a murderer. If that were the case, no company would take on the chance of hiring anyone. The mere fact this man is standing outside of the home of Julio Vasquez with two armed guards meant in some way, shape or form Federated had ordered the execution of Conrad Winston. Whether directly or indirectly.

Why was she friends with Rusty? He purposely gave her this case and now, she’d gone from an open and shut case to one that could bring down a major company. It’s the type that could bolster a career. Art should be salivating over this one. A sharp pain pierced her left eye. She’d had enough confrontation in the last year with Dylan. She wasn’t ready to step out on her own. She liked being a prosecutor. If this turned into a witch hunt for CEO’s and corporate memos, she would kick Rusty’s ass because no matter how much she didn’t want to be a crusader, she wasn’t about to be sweet talked into turning a blind eye.

“Here’s my card,” Sam said smoothly as he passed his contact information to her. “Both here and in the US. We would like to provide Mr. Vasquez with an attorney. Once he’s settled in, please call me.” Turning on his heel, Sam walked back to his truck and with a swipe of his finger through the air, his body guards got back in the SUV.

The hair on the back of her neck rose as he kept his eyes locked on her while the vehicle passed by them slowly.

“At what point did you jackasses think this was a good idea?”

Rusty’s voice made her turn to see him guiding two handcuffed men. A white guy with hair so blond it bordered on white and a black man who’s eyes made her freeze.

Her lover from last night gave her a quick smirk before turning his attention back to Rusty.

“You and Tweedle Dee and Dumb back there have two choices,” Rusty explained as two more black men came out handcuffed, led by one of the local officers. “I call your MeMaw or you discover if Mexican jails have been given a bad rap.”

 

* * * *

 

“I vote for jail,” Monty replied.

“Rusty,” Miles said. “Can you please smack him for me?”

The thwack to the base of Monty’s skull had the perfect amount of upward thrust to jolt him forward to his interlude from last night’s arms.

She jumped back like he was on fire.

He was going to take offense, but she was seeing him under arrest and he was under no illusion that she didn’t know at least one of the five guys handcuffed was a murderer. “Sorry ma’am,” he said when he caught her shocked eyes. “My sense of balance is a bit off. Any chance you could take the bracelets off Rusty?”

“Don’t you need a charge to handcuff us?” Sunny asked.

“He has a point,” JT added.

“This isn’t Tender Root,” Rusty grumbled. “I don’t have time for the Long boys and their crap.”

“Technically, I’m a Parker.”

“Don’t remind me,” Rusty said.

“Hey,” Monty protested. “MeMaw said you’re a Long, you wanna marry my sister you better get used to being called a Long.”

“You think she’ll make me change my last name?” Sunny asked as if they weren’t handcuffed and standing in a circle.

“She won’t,” JT spoke up. “But if you don’t, you’ll end up with the Long brand burned on your ass cheeks.”

“You’re Miles Long?” Monty’s lady from last night asked.

“Montgomery actually,” he answered with a bit of a shrug. “The one who ordered my assault is Miles.”

“Melody is your sister then?” she asked as she bit on the corner of her bottom lip.

“Since the day she was born and until the day she dies,” he replied with a hint of warning to Sunny, even though he didn’t need it. He was so tempted to find out this woman’s name, but he could tell she was petrified he would ask. No reason to push her off, especially since he had a strange reaction to seeing what should have been one night. He wanted more. One night buried inside her wasn’t enough. It had only been a few hours, but he hadn’t been able to get the feel of her smooth skin against his body out of his mind.

“I’m prosecuting Mr. Vasquez,” she said. “Can I ask why you’re here?”

“Not to kill him,” JT said emphatically. “We’d like that on the record.”

Pussy whipped…then again maybe JT was being smart. It does happen. “What he said,” Monty added. “We were just bounty hunting, shouldn’t we get a reward or something?”

“Are you licensed and bonded?” his woman asked…

Wait—his woman…Monty shook his head and decided he needed to move away from her before other stupid phrases trickled into his mind.

They were all shoved into the SUV and Rusty got into the driver’s seat.

“So, Mexican jails, do they really have one toilet for every hundred prisoners?”

“When do you shut up?” Miles scolded after they’d been riding for a few minutes in the back of a police SUV.

Packed in so tight, Monty figured if they didn’t have smart phones, he could make out the keypads on the phone in Sunny’s pocket. “You think Rusty will drive us to pick up Walt’s truck?”

“I think Rusty wants to kick all of your asses,” Rusty grumbled from the front of the vehicle. “In fact, I know he does. Would it kill you guys to trust me once in your life?”

“We trust you,” Sunny said. “We just know you have that whole legal issue.”

“What legal issue?” Rusty asked.

“The one where you can’t bend the law.”

“What did you think you guys were going to do? How would you get through the border? Or did you actually believe you could kill someone and not have it come back on you?”

“Hey,” Monty protested. “I didn’t think anything but that you were letting the son-of-a-bitch that almost killed our family get away. How about that, mister serve and protect?”

“I got him indicted in absentia. That’s not exactly easy. You think Harper wanted that floating in her case load, waiting for him to magically show up?”

“Who?” Monty asked.

“Harper, the prosecutor I brought with me to get him extradited.”

Harper…damn, just one more sweet droplet of information about her had Monty’s loins flipping back on. Not the best thing when sandwiched between his brother and Sunshine.

“Well, we’re sorry,” Sunny began. “But in absentia. That’s about as satisfying as trying to rub one out and having the internet buffer. I don’t know about you, but I can only hold my dick in my hand for so long.”

“Elegantly put,” Monty praised. “You’re a poet.”

“You know what? I’m not in the mood for your shit!” Rusty barked from behind the wheel as he put the vehicle into park. “The law applies to you, especially when you are breaking it internationally. I have to go and convince a police department that has been less than helpful to let your dumb asses go, so your MeMaw won’t kill me when I get back to town.”

“What exactly could you charge us with?” Monty asked. “You came in and saw us trying to drag a guy out the back door. He was resisting a bit, but we could have just been trying to get him to the church on time.”

“Seems circumstantial at best,” JT added. He’d been afforded the luxury of riding shotgun, even though he was handcuffed.

“I thought Walt was the lawyer.”

“He is,” Monty conceded. “But he talks a lot…I mean to the point you want to stab yourself in the eye.”

“Why didn’t you trust me?” Rusty asked. He seemed a bit insulted. “Have I ever let you down? Since kindergarten? Once?”

“You did try to sleep with Miles’ girlfriend,” JT pointed out.

“When did Miles have a girlfriend?” Rusty asked.

“Angel,” Monty added.

“Angel? Angel Erickson?” Rusty turned around in his seat and stared at Miles. “You dated Angel?” he asked saying the worded dated in a way that should have included air quotes. “No one dated Angel.”

“You know that,” Monty said. “And most of the three classes prior to yours and Miles’ knew that. The football team, baseball team—”

“You finished?” Miles snapped.

“Adaptive soccer…”

“Now you’re just making shit up.”

“Yeah, but I saw it in a movie,” Monty confessed. “Either way, everyone, but Miles knew Angel didn’t date, she selectively tried to get knocked up by mixing cum vaginally.”

“Now who’s the poet?” Sunny laughed.

“Laugh it up, I fell for the town slut—”

“Don’t lower yourself like that, she was more of a county wide phenomenon.”

The SUV erupted with laughter until a knock on the window had Rusty acting official again. Rolling down his window, he addressed the officer, “I was just waiting for an extra set of hands before bringing them inside.”

Three hours of shit talking had the Long boys laughing when they should have been shitting their pants. They’d gotten in trouble over the years. Contrary to popular belief, they weren’t impervious to the law. Even though people thought they were the privileged class, Monty had always seen their life blessed by good family.

“Montgomery Long,” a guard called.

Monty turned his head toward the guard. A few minutes later, still handcuffed, he was put in an interrogation room. He hadn’t been nervous, his family had been there by his side. For the first time, he was alone. The door scraped along the floor and through the darkened door, he saw an angel.

 

* * * *

 

Harper had come to Mexico to extradite one person. The paperwork was in order. Every time she took a step forward, something would knock her back. A night of toe curling sex leads to her trying to get four idiots out of jail in a country where she has no license to practice. The worst part of the whole situation was Montgomery.

The knee jerk reaction a smart, sensible woman would have when seeing a man in handcuffs is walking away. Hers was to rush to his side and hold him. Demand he be released because there was no way the man who held her last night could ever hurt a soul.

Wide eyed, he sat at the table, handcuffed.

Now, she had to make a decision. “My name is Harper Maxwell and I’m prosecuting your sister’s case as well as the one for Conrad Winston.” She closed the door and crossed to the table to sit down with the files for the four men picked up with Mr. Vasquez. “Sheriff Rust has asked me to help you and your brothers out.”

“I only have one brother right now, technically speaking.”

“Sorry, he didn’t draw me a family tree.” Harper flipped through the files. “I’m trying to help facilitate your release.”

“What am I being charged with?” he asked.

“I think they’re making it up as we speak.”

“Then how can you fight it?”

“Because Mr. Long, I’m that good.” Confidence? When did she find that again? Oh yeah, somewhere between her fourth and fifth orgasm as she was being told how beautiful she was. Or was it when he took her hair into his hands without knotting or locking his fingers in it as if she didn’t have curls, but sets of Chinese finger traps hanging from her head?

Montgomery leaned over the table and lowered his voice. “Are we pretending last night didn’t happen? For Rusty’s sake maybe? Or is your husband within earshot?”

“I’m acting as your defense lawyer, so no one is in earshot,” she stated plainly. “Rusty is an old friend I’ve known since he graduated from the academy. My marital status is none of your business either.”

“Fine,” he said as he sat back in the chair. “But you gotta indulge me on one little thing?”

“I don’t have to do anything for you.” Fucking cowboys. She had missed it last night, but there’s no missing that solo, ten-foot-tall, I’m a gentleman and an ass hat persona.

“Please,” he begged.

The plea in his voice was just enough to have her question why she hadn’t insisted on shutting down the two way mirror. His voice was deep and had a purr to it she might let herself fall into more than she should have. “What Mr. Long?” she asked keeping her lips thin and her jaw tight.

“How hard was it for you to roll out of bed this morning?” His eyes lit up as he gave her body an I-want-to-fuck-you scan. Then again, he knew her body probably better than her ex husband at this point. God knows, he found things she didn’t know existed. “I stirred a few times in the early morning, but all I did was tug you closer. How about you spring me and we find a room we can defile?”

“Defile? You get a word of the day calendar for Christmas last year or something?”

“Right, dumb cowboy, I get that,” he replied. “I play that role well. Hell, I could win an Oscar, but you can’t read people as well as I can.”

“Is that so?” she scoffed. “Well, tell me something, what did you read when you saw me?”

“Hurt, but not fear.”

His first words jarred her, but weren’t surprising.

“Loneliness, I’m not sure how long he’s been ignoring you, but it’s not just in the bedroom. In fact, I bet he’s never noticed those three flecks of gold in your right iris.”

Harper’s heart started to take off to the point it shook her chest. Hell, she didn’t know she had three flecks of gold in her iris. Did she? Or was he—

“You didn’t want much from him, just to be acknowledged, I assume you were a trophy for him. Sexy Nubian princess, but considering where we live, you were also a bit of a token. Someone to be trotted out and put on display with all his other black friends.”

“Race card doesn’t work on me, sorry.” She cut her eyes to the floor then back up to his.

“Hey, I rarely play it, but something tells me you weren’t loved for what you bring to the table as much as how you set the table. Was it all about appearance?”

“I told you before—”

“Your marital status is none of my business and that is true, but can I ask one thing?”

“No.”

“Alright, then I’ll just point out you’re not wearing your wedding ring this morning.”

“I’ve been divorced for over six months, I thought the Gulf of California was as good of a resting place for it as anywhere else.”

“No reason to hold on to something that only had meaning to one of you in the relationship.”

“Who says—?”

“You’re not a cheater, but he was, I can tell. He kept you in your place by degrading you every chance, then he finally took that one step too far.”

Harper’s mouth went dry. Had Rusty told the guys about her? About Dylan? There’s no way he would betray that trust. Is there? “Mr. Long—”

“I spent over half of last night buried inside you, call me Monty.” His lips quirked up at the corners. “That is, unless you’re trying to—”

A knock silenced him as Rusty came into the room. “We got the releases. Just need you to check them.” He passed the file to her then bounced his attention back and forth between her and Monty. “I thought you were in here by yourself?”

“I needed to review a few details with Mr.—Monty.”

“Mr. Monty, that’s a laugh,” Rusty said then stepped back and once again, examined them. “Wait, Monty, when did you get to town?”

“Did they give you the paperwork about the flight?” Harper asked hoping to trip Rusty off the trail.

“Crap, no. I’ll be right back.”

“Any chance I could get rid of my jewelry before you do that?” Monty asked shaking his arms that were bound behind his back.

Rusty released the cuffs then left the room, closing the door behind him.

“Mrs. Maxwell,” he said as he rubbed his wrists. They were darker, but he wasn’t complaining about the bruising.

Rotating his shoulders she watched as the thick muscles flexed and hardened stretching his T-shirt to the limits. When he stood her breath caught.

“How we going to play this?”

“Play what?” she asked swallowing hard.

He came around the table, sat on the edge and leaned down so their lips were but a breath away. “Should we be strangers? Or are you just the attorney handling the prosecution of the asshole who tried to kill my sister?”

“Last night was…” Harper’s eyes fluttered as his words made her lips skim against his. Bringing his strong hand to her cheek, he curved his fingers so his knuckles brushed her skin. “Montgomery…” his name danced on her tongue.

“I love the way you say my name.” He leaned down and crushed his lips against hers. He lifted her from the chair and pulled her to him. Her nails dug into his sinewy shoulders and they fell against the door. “I wasn’t finished with you, so you know.”

“You weren’t?” Her voice quivered wondering if her body could have handled another orgasm.

His hand rubbed along her side then settled on to her hip. “Oh, I think we both have things we still want to explore.”

“Like what?” she panted unable to control her leg from latching around his.

“First, I need your hair down,” he said deftly removing the clip that had been controlling her curls the whole day. “Fuck woman,” he growled then pressed himself against her again.

This time, she felt the weight of his thick cock against her stomach.

“I’ve never been into bondage, but being around you while bound and unable to touch…I get the draw. My cock has it’s own heartbeat right now.”

The skirt she’d been wearing was turning into a belt as it inched further up her thigh and the rough fabric of his jeans pressed against her core.

With a shift of her hips, he hissed as heat scorched where their bodies touched. “Touch me Harper,” he groaned with a slight thrust against her. “I’d kill to feel your hand around me.”

“Just my hand?”