Primal Urges

Rayvn- July

“That’s not what he said,” I comment absently as my eyes trail around the wine bar once again.

“Ray,” Addy sighs, ignoring my words completely. “You’re not even paying attention.”

I scoff, rolling my eyes. I pay more attention to my surroundings and the conversations happening around me than anyone even realizes.

I know our waiter keeps disappearing into the back to check the score of the college football game happening right now. His favorite team must be losing because he’s getting progressively more agitated every time he returns.

I know Addy chose the wrong bra when she got dressed this morning. Not only is it pinching on the left side, but it’s scratchy and probably new. She won’t stop fidgeting and discretely tugging at the material. I told her she needs a higher quality bra than that offered at the mainstream lingerie store she insists on shopping from, but they keep dragging her in with every well-curated ad.

Hell, I even know what’s happening between the couple three tables away. They’re fighting over the nanny. Apparently, Scotty won’t stop checking out Lisa’s ass. Here’s the kicker. Lisa’s only 17. Freshly 17, at that. No doubt, Scotty’s trying to do way more than just look at the underage girl.

I shoot another disapproving look in the perv’s direction. His eyes rake down my body, completely missing the withering glare I’m giving him. When he finally reaches my face, he tugs his lip between his teeth and winks. The motherfucker winks while sitting across from his literal wife.

Leaning forward, I press my palms to the table and push to stand, more than ready to lay this fuck-twat out despite the nerves in my belly. I can do this. Someone has to.

“Don’t!” Addy hisses, her wide blue eyes darting between Scotty and me. The poor wife looks five seconds from falling into hysterics at her husband’s behavior, which only further enrages me. I hate… hate men like him.

Correction. I hate men. Period.

Dropping back down, I force myself to breathe through my anger. Going to their table to tell him off, or better yet, break his nose, won’t be good for anyone. Especially me. I’m pretty sure that I’m one public argument away from winding up on the news, and I really don’t want that.

As satisfying as it would be to take all 250 pounds of him down with a well-aimed kick from me and my Louboutin, it’s not worth it. I’ve worked too hard for too long to waste my career on the likes of his pedophile ass.

With one last murderous glare, I turn my attention back to my good friend, Addison Hughes. She goes by Addy for short, or, if you’re the media, Paddy Wagon Addy, as she’s been rudely but accurately dubbed. They aren’t wrong.

She and I work together at the same law firm and have for years. Addy is one of the top prosecutors in the state. She has the highest imprisonment rate Colorado has ever seen. She’s that good. Our relationship is a bit of a dichotomy, honestly, considering we work opposite ends of the law for the most part.

I’m primarily a criminal defense attorney. A damn good one at that. Where she excels with the prosecution, I excel with the defense. I represent the accused, both wrongly and not. I’m in it for the wrongly part. It happens more frequently than you’d think. The only exception is that I refuse to defend rapists.

Refuse.

Past experiences with asshole men taking what’s not freely given have probably fueled that opinion. Or, it could just be the fact that I was raised by one of the most incredible, strong, fierce men I have ever known. My father taught me wrong from right. A lesson many are clearly lacking. I draw the line at representing them. Let's call rapists my hard limit.

Probably the only hard limit I have in life, if we’re being honest.

I silently scoff and roll my eyes at the direction my thoughts have taken. Addy doesn’t miss it, and apparently, it pisses her off.

“See,” she groans, throwing herself back in her chair dramatically. Bringing her wine glass up, she swishes it around, sniffs it, and takes a dainty, cultured sip. “You wouldn’t be smirking if you were actually listening to what I’ve been saying for the last ten minutes.”

Locking eyes with her, I pick up my white wine, making sure to wrap my fingers around the top portion of the glass instead of the stem, just to further irritate her. Her eyes widen. I don’t swirl. I don’t sniff. I don’t sip . If I’m spending one of my only free nights in a month at a bar, I’m getting drunk. Never breaking eye contact, I take a large gulp of the overpriced yet delicious nectar of the gods. Her wide eyes dart around the room as if to check and see if anyone notices my faux pas.

Setting the glass back down, I continue holding it incorrectly as I lean forward. “Brandt wants me to drop the Snow case. He wants me to walk away from it. He and the rest of the partners are afraid it’s bringing in too much negative attention. Harrison agrees. Lowell doesn’t, but he’s so far up Brandt’s ass that he’ll nod and smile just to keep himself in his good graces. Royale doesn’t care either way. She’s flippant. She’ll go whichever way the more powerful, influential wind blows her.”

I take another healthy swig before continuing, telling my friend all the things she thinks I’m unaware of. Just because I wasn’t nodding along like a puppy while she prattled on about the firm and how they’re five seconds from kicking me to the curb doesn’t mean I wasn’t listening. It means I can multitask. It also means I couldn’t give a single fuck what the firm thinks. Not only am I a partner in the large company, but I’m also tied with Addy for the highest-paid position.

Look at us. Women on top. Hashtag winning.

“The thing is, Addison—” I break off, waiting for her to acknowledge me. She takes another delicate sip and gestures for me to continue, an irritated but proud look on her pretty face. “They can huff and puff all they want, but I will not leave that girl alone. I will not abandon her case, no matter who she’s up against. I will not stop looking for answers. I will not stop trying to put that motherfucker away. The partners can cry and bitch all they want, and I will lose neither check nor sleep from this shit.”

She barks a laugh, finally losing the sour, pinched expression that’s been glued to her face all night. She matches my position, leaning forward across the small bistro table, bringing us nearly face to face. Sighing, she shakes her head and glances away, focusing distantly over my shoulder.

“Look, Ray,” she murmurs, her voice serious. “I know you want to help her. I do. I get it. And I couldn’t be happier that you’ve joined my side of the law for this one, you know that. But—” she breaks off, meeting my eyes once more. “This could end badly. He’s powerful. The most powerful man in law enforcement in Colorado. The evidence was lost, and while we all know that’s bullshit, you can’t exactly make it reappear. Even if you could, he can’t be tried for the same thing twice. I don’t understand what your game plan is here.”

My smile is so wide I can feel my large dimples stretching across my face. Her eyes narrow, filling with a calculating gleam. She cocks her head to the side, giving me the look she reserves for court when she catches on to something no one else has.

“You have something,” she mummers. I say nothing, my smile never wavering. “Something big.”

I shrug a shoulder, and my white blazer tugs with the movement. I’d much rather be drinking at home, on my couch, and in sweats, while I watch the latest horror flick, but she’d insisted on after-work drinks.

“Maybe,” I say noncommittally, though we both know I do, in fact, have something excellent hiding up my well-tailored sleeve.

Two months ago, Vincent Sutton, Colorado’s Police Commissioner, raped his 20-year-old office assistant, Tinsley Snow. Due to his position, she held back on reporting the crime. However, a chance encounter between her and another female, who had previously worked for Sutton, proved that what had happened was not an isolated incident. The first woman, Georgia Kingsley, had gone to the hospital where DNA evidence was collected, but ‘somehow’ no arrests were made.

When the two girls shared their stories, there were an extreme number of similarities between the two. They decided to go to a police station a few towns away to report the crimes committed by the Chief. They were terrified, but together they were brave. Due to the evidence collected at Georgia’s exam, Sutton was finally arrested.

Enter: Me.

Vincent Sutton is a 56-year-old creep. Actually, he’s worse than that. He’s an abusive, gaslighting, misogynistic, chauvinistic rapist. He’s also an idiot. This fact was proven when he came to me , demanding that I be his attorney for the trial.

I told him where to shove it. He let loose a string of insults so vile that it almost had me going to prison for murder. Knowing that there was no way I could take him down from behind bars; I swallowed my rebuttal, tossed him a middle finger, and told him I’d see him in court. I left straight from that meeting, sought out Miss Snow, and told her I’d take her case pro-bono.

We bonded immediately. She may be 14 years younger than I am, but I saw something familiar in her that day. She’s a fighter. She may have been too scared, and rightfully so, to report the assault to begin with, but once she knew she wasn’t alone, she became a force to be reckoned with. And I will be damned if I let her down, even now when it seems all odds are stacked against us.

The first week of the trial, everything went to absolute and utter shit. Every single ounce of evidence we’d compiled, including timestamped recordings, particulates from the clothing worn during both assaults, and DNA evidence from Georgia, all disappeared. In the blink of an eye, they were just gone .

Given that every shred of evidence was digital, it’s not a far stretch to assume it was the work of a paid hacker. No doubt hired by Sutton himself. He’s a powerful man, as Addy unnecessarily reminded me. I’ve known from the moment the news was released that he was behind it. The case was ultimately thrown out when we couldn’t come up with any new evidence at the drop of a hat. Every single person in that courtroom knew there was foul play, including Tinsley and Georgia, but there wasn’t a damn thing we could do about it.

Since then, it’s been a constant battle with the media, as well as my firm, to keep the case going. The news wants to brush it under the rug, no doubt being paid off by Sutton. My firm wants me to leave the case alone, given the politics surrounding it. Even Georgia was so disheartened by the way things turned out that she’s given up and walked away. And maybe I would have also if it hadn’t been for Tinsley. But, as I said, we bonded. She got under my skin, and now there is no way in fuck I’ll leave her to fend for herself.

Especially given the new turn of events. Tinsley called me two weeks ago and gave me the unfortunate and devastating news that will change her future irreparably but will also give us a leg to stand on when I go up against Sutton again.

Tinsley Snow is pregnant with her rapist’s baby.

“Fuck, Ray.” The heavy breath Addy lets out draws me back to the present. I pull my gaze from the wine glass I’d been unknowingly staring at for who knows how long and meet her eyes. “You know I’m with you 100%. Whatever you need. You and Tinsley. I just want you to be careful.”

My brows lift. “Careful?”

She nods, swirling her finger around the edge of her empty glass. “I just don’t want anything to happen to you.”

A tingle of awareness that feels a lot like a premonition passes over me. My spine straightens as goosebumps break out along my skin. It takes a lot to bother me or make me worried. Especially when it comes to my job. If I were one to spook easily, I wouldn’t work with the accused and, oftentimes, criminals. It’s not a career for the faint of heart. Luckily for me, I’m typically unbothered. However, Addy’s words give me pause.

What could Sutton do? Have me fired? My firm would have to be daft to lose me, and though they may be a bunch of pricks, they aren’t stupid. Would he come after me? For simply doing my job?

No. No way. He may be a horrible person, but he has to know where to draw the line.

Regardless. I’m not dropping Tinsley’s case. She’s had a horrible life, and I’m not letting anything else spoil her future.

“Let’s talk about something else,” I groan, shaking the worry from my mind. “This is girls’ night. If I wanted to talk about work, I would have accepted one of Brandt’s twenty offers to go on a date.”

She gives me a knowing look as her hand darts out, gripping a waiter’s arm as he passes. “Excuse me—” Her gaze trails over his young, handsome face, then to his nametag. She gives him a sultry smile that has me rolling my eyes. “ Jason ,” she purrs. The waiter’s eyes go comically wide, and I swear I see him almost faint from the power of her attention solely focused on him. “Please bring us another bottle of the Pieropan Soave and,” she glances at me, lifting a perfectly manicured brow. I nod once, and she smiles, turning back to her toy. “And a charcuterie board, please.”

“Y-e-s-s,” he stutters. Swallowing thickly, his eyes dart to mine before homing back in on the blonde beauty before him. “Of course, ma’a—”

She scowls, shaking her head rapidly before tutting him like a child. “Don’t you dare finish that word Jason, or you’ll ruin all our fun before we’ve even had a chance.”

“A chance?” he squeaks.

I barely stifle my laughter as I watch my friend bring this poor young man to his knees. Though he’s been checking her out all night, he hasn’t made a move. Not that his lack of aggression bothers her. In fact, it’s probably why she’s set her sights on him. This is her thing. She’s a domme and can spot a willing and ready submissive with just a look. She loves younger men, but honestly, I think anyone willing to give in to her desires is on the table, as long as they’re tall and sweet.

“Are you single, Jace?” she murmurs, shortening his name like they’re old friends. His head bobs up and down mechanically as though he’s in a trance. “That’s good. Now run along.” Again, he responds without thought, a heavy breath whooshing from his lungs as he jogs back to the kitchen.

“Must you?”

Addy cackles, her eyes still on Jason’s retreating ass. “What? He didn’t seem bothered, did he?”

My phone vibrates on the table. It’s face down, and though I have the urge to flip it over and check my messages and emails, I ignore the impulse, focusing on my friend. “No, and judging by the very prominent tent in his slacks, I’d say you stand a good chance,” I sigh, my nails drumming along the wood.

She grins, showing no sign of remorse for using our girls’ night, which was her idea , to score men. “You could follow my lead, you know? Use me as your wing woman.” My mouth opens before snapping shut once more. I glare at her, noticing the calculating gleam in her eyes as she zeros in on something or someone behind me.

“Addison Hughes,” I hiss, sitting up straighter. “Absolutely not.”

“What is your deal, Rayvn? You’re fucking stunning. You’re built like a model. You’re brilliant and accomplished. What in the world do you have to be awkward about?”

The fingers of my left hand tighten around the stem of my empty glass, and I barely stop myself before snapping it in half. “I’m not awkward,” I growl. “That’s not why—” I break off, exhaling heavily. Shaking my head, I lean back in my chair. “That’s not why, Addy, and you know it.

“Look,” she breathes, “I know you have…” she pauses, her eyes bouncing around like she’s actually searching for the word she needs before continuing. “ Odd tastes where men are concerned, but fuck Ray, at this point, you’re practically a virgin again. Just get laid. You don’t need to look for Mr. Forever, just Mr. Rearrange-My-Pussy-Please.”

Groaning, I rub the space between my eyes even as my lips tip up in a half-smirk at her word selection. “I’ve tried. There’s just no point, and no, not because I’m looking for a husband. I just don’t see the need to sleep around for subpar sex.”

She scoffs. “How do you know it’ll be subpar? That guy over there looks like he could rail you into next month. Sure, he’s balding, but look at his size. He’s definitely got a massive cock.”

“Jesus Christ,” I whisper, searching for some divine intervention or angel to pick me up and rescue me from this woman. “I’m not going to look.” Shaking my head, I resist every single impulse to do exactly that, knowing it will only give her permission to further her mission to score me a massive cock . Not that I wouldn’t love one, but— “How bald are we talking?”

Addison claps like an excited toddler, dancing in her chair with glee. “Yes!” She wiggles in her seat, her hand flapping about as she tries to get Mr. Big and Bald’s attention. I sink deeper into my chair, regretting every decision I’ve ever had which led me to this point. Am I seriously going to give her permission to pick my next lay? My first in— shit —how many years has it been? 3? 4?

Well, fuck. Time sure does fly when you’re climbing the law-infused ladder.

Addison’s smile widens as she begins to wave like a lunatic, clearly having caught his attention. My phone vibrates again, and though it’s against our rules, I flip it over, if for no other reason than to distract myself.

Logan Huxley-Shiloh’s Man: Meet your nephews

Logan Huxley-Shiloh’s Man: (Photo)

Logan Huxley-Shiloh’s Man: Asher on the left with the big feet, Archer on the right with the glare.

“Holy shit!” I screech, my fingers smashing against the phone screen as I attempt to zoom in on the photo sloppily.

Oh my god, they’re incredible. My heart gives a pang. Not at the babies. I don’t want them. Ever. But at momma holding them both, one in each arm. Shiloh is glowing, even if she looks ten seconds from passing the hell out. Her eyes are hazy, her cheeks red and tear-stained as she looks down at her boys with all the love in the world.

Logan Huxley-Shiloh’s Man: (photo)

Logan Huxley-Shiloh’s Man: The Huxley’s

Another pang hits me right in the center of my chest. This time, I understand why. It’s not the babies or the very attractive Lumbersnack that they so very clearly take after. It’s the picture. The whole picture.

The family. The love. The connection. The lack of loneliness. The partner and friendship she’s found with him.

Logan Huxley-Shiloh’s Man: Logan says he can’t wait any longer. Our wedding is in one month. You’re the Maid of Honor. See you in Blue River on August 4 th . Xoxo Shiloh

Rayvn: That’s a month from today, you psychopaths.

Rayvn: They’re perfect. You did good, momma. :)

Logan Huxley-Shiloh’s Man: They look more like me than her. Where’s my credit?

I scoff, barely containing a burst of laughter. Over the last few months, I’ve gotten to know my best friend’s man pretty well. We spent Christmas together, and they finally shared the news of the pregnancy to close friends and family. Logan’s great. He really is. His family is lovely and kind. They made me feel like one of them immediately.

But despite that, I still felt out of place. It’s hard to fit in with people who were raised with an understanding of what a large, close-knit family feels like. I’ve never had that, nor has Shiloh, which is one of the reasons we hit it off immediately in college when we’d been paired together as roommates. We are incredibly similar in a lot of ways, especially where family is concerned. We both come from messy childhoods. However, she seems to have taken to the big sitcom-style family like a fish to water. I doubt I’ll ever have that ability.

I guess that’s what happens when a single father raises you.

Harris Porter has been my role model and best friend since I was five. My mom died of cancer when I was a toddler. I barely remember her. But I do remember my dad, who was a committed firefighter, gave up his freedom for me.

He’d doted on me. Spent his every available minute making sure that I was taken care of, often putting his wants and needs aside. He never dated. Never fell in love again. He also never talked about my mom. I have no idea what a happy, functioning relationship looks like. I have no grand examples of how to be a wife or a partner. Honestly, I’m just winging it.

“What is it?” Addy asks or maybe asks again. I have no idea if she’s been talking to me. For a moment, I’d completely forgotten where I even was.

Smiling at the screen, I type out another message, congratulating the happy family and letting them know I’ll be there in a few weeks for the wedding. I lock the screen and look back at my friend. I’m surprised when I find the vision of her a little foggy. What the hell? Blinking, I realize my eyes are misted over with tears.

Shit. Not here.

“What the hell?” Addison sucks in a sharp breath and leans forward, practically lying on the table. I notice then the food and drinks have been delivered, and her uncomfortable tits are swaying precariously closely to the cheddar.

Shaking my head, I drop my phone back into my purse and smile. “Nothing. Everything is perfect.”

Just not for me.