Absolute Power (Southern Justice #1 (35 page)

I turned back to her and grasped her face in my hands. “Claire, get in your car, go home and don’t answer the door for anyone but me.” My eyes searched hers, praying she understood what I needed her to do. She nodded her head in agreement, turned and walked to her car. She suddenly stopped, walked back over and kicked Cash square in the chin, rendering him unconscious.

After Claire did as I asked, I dragged Cash to the back of my car and slammed him into the back seat, face down.

I hit the speed dial on my phone, waited while it rang four times and went to voicemail.

“Chase, remember when you said if I figured out a way to stop the criminals, to let you know? Well, I figured it out.”

Love is what we are born with. Fear is something we learn while we are here.

~Marianne Williamson

I
’d never been this pissed off in my entire life. Angry, fat tears dove down my face, leaving evidence of the cluster fuck I’d managed to create. I faced off with O’Leary; inadvertently letting his new wife know exactly the kind of man she’d just bound her life to. Not that it was much of a shock for her, as continuous loops of giggles were followed by words in Gaelic.

Megan didn’t have much else to say, which in all honesty, didn’t surprise me. One could speculate, perhaps she was using him, and his family, as much as he was apparently using her.

She was able to earn money in the family business, while he visited any young lady he chose. She would play the little wife at home, while he stuck his dick in anyone who would let him. My theory was just that…a theory. How else would you explain her lack of interest when she was told her husband was a cheating bastard?

I left the hospital with tongues wagging, having purposely told key people about O’Leary and his womanizing ways. They all now knew he spread vicious rumors of how I was out to break up his marriage and that was impossible.

Running into Greyson gave me the opportunity to relieve the aggression and rage, which were at dangerous levels. Hitting him over and again felt better than any meditation technique I had ever used.

Granted, I should have walked away, especially once Dylan had him on the ground. All I could do now was wait for Dylan to come and arrest me, charging me with assault.

Lainie was passed out by the time I got home, a small miracle in my favor. I really didn’t want her to witness him placing me under arrest. I also didn’t want her to know the man who once haunted her dreams was once again roaming the streets.

The longer I sat there; the more my anxiety level increased. Gone was the wild temper I’d set out with earlier; in its place was trepidation. Worry if I would lose my nursing license once the board got wind of my street fight. Especially considering he was once my patient.

I nearly jumped off the couch when the buzzer sounded, alerting me to my date with destiny. My nerves reacted with a scream and I slapped my hand across my face, completely covering my big mouth.

I walked toward my door, feeling as if this were my own version of the green mile. I had no one to blame but myself, so I would do everything they asked of me. I would stand in front of the jury and confess how I kicked the shit out of Greyson and, though he might have deserved it, I should have left the fighting to the police.

I didn’t bother asking who it was; I pressed the security code and opened the door. I stood just inside, trying hard to keep the tears away, my stomach in knots. I could feel my heart pounding and hear the sounds as the blood pressed against the walls of my veins.

I adjusted my shoulders back, my eyes on the approaching form of Detective Morgan. His face showed signs of a struggle, anger induced wrinkles imprinted his manly brow. He was pissed and disappointed, and it was all on my shoulders. I’d betrayed him and there was nothing I could do to make it better.

All the running I did from the actions of the women in my family, and it was the reactions of the men that I fell to.

His footsteps quickened, his training kicking in, he must’ve had his handcuffs somewhere I couldn’t see them. “Please don’t let him hurt me.” I thought silently. I’d seen him take down several men, even Greyson a few times. I knew, all too well, what he was capable of.

“Baby, why didn’t you ask who I was?” His voice was angry, but not for the reason I assumed. His eyes searching not only mine but my arms and chest, as well. “Don’t scare me like that again.” His voice was barely above a whisper, as he pulled me into his thick arms. I couldn’t help myself as I breathed a sigh of relief, taking in an even bigger gulp of air, deliciously enhanced with the manly scent of Dylan.

“Dylan?” My voice cracked from the emotions bubbling in my gut. “I know you have a job to d…” Hoarseness took away my ability to get out the final word.

I pulled back and watched his Adam’s apple bob in my direct line of vision. With my face downcast, I tried desperately to find any courage I had left. It was slight, but my desire to do the right thing was overcoming the family trait of running and hiding.

“Claire, you don’t have to worry about him anymore.” He assured me before I could continue. “I know I’ve said this before, but this time I know he won’t be running the streets tonight.” His words were covered in hate, spoken with sincerity and cries of forgiveness.

Dylan’s muscles, firm and protective, were vibrating. He was angry, pissed perhaps. I wondered, if he was female, would he have those miserable, unavoidable tears I did?

“I made certain his paperwork would be held up for a while.” He snickered, shaking his head with the pseudo humor. “He won’t be seeing the light of day for a while.”

Something about the way he said this, caused me to pull completely away from him, taking inventory of not only what he said, but the truth behind it.

“So you’re not here to arrest me?” Color me confused, striped with shock and topped with gratitude.

“Baby, why would I arrest you?”

I dropped my hands to my sides, leaving behind the comfort and security his warm body provided. I wanted to return the second the first chill ran up my arm, reminding me of the harshness of the situation.

“Because, I hit a man! Assaulted him as he lay on the street.” I wiped at the angry tears as they broke the barrier of my eyelids. Emotions too welled up to swallow back any longer; I was no better than the street thug I inflicted pain to.

“And it was hot as fuck.” He growled, sounding primitive and raw. “I wish I had taped that shit, better than fucking porn, if you ask me.”

His eyes told me he was completely serious. Dark pits of wanton fields, waiting to invite me in, salivating at the very thought of what he kept there.

“Dylan,” I admonished, moving farther away, needing the distance for clarity, on both of our parts. “Please be serious. What I did was wrong and against everything I believe in. I only wish…”

Dylan pulled me to my couch, settling himself first, then snuggling me in beside him. “First and foremost, I came here to make sure you were safe and not sitting in a corner rocking back and forth.” His right arm was wrapped completely around me, while his left played with my hair by my collarbone.

“Second, no cop in this city would have ever arrested you tonight. Maybe told you to step back when you showed your Bruce Lee impression.” He teased, pulling me closer and growling into the back of my neck, sending thousands of prickly vibes to my core.

“Frances Greyson, aka Cash, will never bother you, or Lainie, again.” He said with his head still in the hairs on the back of my neck, his hot breath doing wondrous things to my slowly erecting nipples.

“Cash?” I snorted. Regretting my rudeness instantly.

“As in lack of, I’m sure,” Dylan added, his humor welcomed. “By the amount of crack he had on him, his dealer is going to be pissed.”

I shivered, unable to control it and pressed myself farther into Dylan’s side. Cash was a bigger douche than I originally gave him credit for.

“He also hasn’t checked in with his parole officer since his release.”

I pulled away, his admission reminding me of something I thought about on my way home.

“Dylan, why didn’t I know he was released, don’t they call people?”

Dylan pulled me back into his embrace, sheltering me from the answer he was about to give, or maybe he didn’t have one. “Sweet girl, the city cannot afford to pay someone to call every victim and witness.”

I felt foolish when he reminded me of this. Charleston wasn’t a huge city by any means; budget cuts were in the newspaper just last month. “You’re right, I’m sorry.” Fatigue was beginning to show in the shortness of my verbalized thoughts.

“Claire, he had two handguns, a bag of dope and a knife in the front pocket of his jeans.” Guns had never scared me, by the time I was ten, hunting was a regular part of my day. Meat was something we shot, not found in the supermarket. Drugs, at least the type Cash had on him, made me extremely nervous.

“How much dope?”

“Enough to put him away in Federal prison.”

“You want to know what pisses me off?” I asked, shrugging him off of me, standing in a heated furry. “Men like Cash, use so much energy doing illegal things; cooking dope and stealing from those around them.” I glared in Dylan’s direction, ticking off each point on my fingers.

“If only they would use their skills for good instead of polluting the minds and bodies of the people in our community.” I stomped my foot hard against the rug on my floor. “Makes me want to chop off his balls, toss them over the side of a bridge, and make him watch as they fell to the murky water below.”

With my fire now more of a smolder than a roar, I turned to look at Dylan, expecting him to have hold of his midsection, laughing to the point of making himself ill. Instead, he seemed to be lost, his eyes calculating, as if he were running a scenario in his mind. “Hey, I’m just spouting off words, pay me no mind.” I flipped my hand in his direction.

“I had a visitor earlier this evening,” he said with a sigh.

The interviews; I had completely forgotten about them. “Your meetings, how did they go?” I questioned as I sat down beside him, taking his left hand in mine, while his right rested along the back of the couch. His corded bracelet was peeking out from his sleeve.

“Shitty.” His head bobbing as he told me his opinion. “Until the last girl showed up.”

Dylan spent the next twenty minutes telling me about the shy, young girl who had fought hard to get to his shop. He might have this incredibly strong exterior, but the more I was around him and the more I learned about his bottomless soul, the closer I wanted to be to him. To somehow find a way to crawl into his skin and stay there.

“But Aubrey isn’t the visitor I need to tell you about.”

My heart climbed into my throat. Had he, as Shayla said, become bored with the way he was living? Had he possibly come here to wish me good luck and return to his life of being an idiot?

“Portia came by the shop.”

I waited for the rest of the story, the one where he fucked her over the table we shared Chinese on, or took her in the shower I still wanted to lose myself in.

“She showed up, made it known she wanted to ride my dick. I told her no and she…”

I braced myself for the end of his sentence…and
she spread her legs so wide…

“… Said some nasty shit about you and I tossed her ass out.”

Silence wasn’t always golden, like now when I had no idea how to respond. Did I thank him for refusing a free fuck? One I more than likely would never have known about. Or did I jump up and down, congratulating him on a good choice?

I chose to wrap my arms around him, say nothing, and hug the shit out of him. Holding on to the man he was trying so hard to become, one who would mess up, forget things and make me cry. Right now, he was the man I needed him to be, faithful and honest.

“What’s this for?” He snickered, hugging me back just as tight.

I held tight, not wanting the moment to fade away. I was scared he would go back to the old Dylan, like a twisted Cinderella. His pocket started to vibrate and with a ton of reluctance, I pulled back so he could answer his call.