Mace

M ace knew that going into his club was going to be a huge fucking mistake, but he had no choice. It was where he knew he'd be able to find Owen Blaine and talking to him might just be what he needed to keep his ass out of jail—at least for now. The evidence that the cops had against him was stacking up fast and every hour that passed had him looking guilty as hell, but he was innocent. He wanted to laugh at how cliché that made him sound—but he didn't care. He was being framed and the sooner he could prove it, the sooner he'd be able to move on with his life. He planned on talking to Owen and then getting the hell out of town for a while until he could figure out who was doing this to him.

"You're late," Owen whispered from behind him.

"Fuck, man," almost shouted. "Why the hell are you sneaking up on me?"

"I wasn't," he said, "I'm just trying to lay low and wanted to make sure that it was you before I revealed myself. Didn't mean to startle you."

"I'm not startled, asshole. You alone?" he asked, wanting to cut to the chase.

"Yep, but I'm not sure why you wouldn't let me involve Steel and Mav in this. They might be able to help you too, ."

"If they get involved, they'll be in danger too. I didn't even want you in this, but you insisted." Owen had called him when the news broke that was the only suspect in the murder that happened in the club's parking lot. He was the only one at the bar and when the cops showed up, he was caught with his pants down, literally. He was in his office, fucking the new waitress when they barged into his bar to let him know that they had found the body of a biker in the back of the parking lot. It had been called in by an anonymous informant, letting them know that someone had been murdered at the Road Reapers.

They had asked him questions for hours and when they were done with him, the cops told him not to leave town. When he asked if he should hire a lawyer, the officer questioning him said that it might not be a bad idea, and he knew that he was their number one suspect. Owen called him later that night to check in on him, and that's when his friend offered to help him out. He was investigating the dead biker and finding him a good lawyer. Honestly, wasn't sure what he would have done without Owen's offer to help. He felt so alone after the cops released him. had gone home to an empty house and all he wanted to do was talk all this shit through, but he had no one to do that with. He would have been lost without Owen's phone call.

"Did you find out anything about our dead biker friend?" asked.

"I did," Owen admitted. "He's not from our club."

"I could have told you that," said. He knew every member of the Road Reapers past and present. It was his job as the club's Prez to know who his members were. As soon as he saw the guy being loaded into a body bag on the night of the incident, he could see that he wasn't from his club.

"I figured, but confirming that bit of information was important," Owen said.

"How so?" asked. "We still had a dead biker in our parking lot."

"It takes away some of the cops' questions of motive. If you didn't know him, why would you want to kill the guy?" Owen asked.

"Right, and there's the whole thing about me being innocent. That has to factor in at some point, right?" asked.

"You'd think," Owen agreed. "The guy's name was Reece Childs. He was from out of town, but that's about all I know so far. I'm not sure how he ended up here or why he was murdered in the parking lot."

"So, we've got nothing then?" asked. He sounded like an asshole and here Owen was just trying to help him out.

"I'll keep working on it," Owen promised. "Leave it to me." nodded and started for the back door. "One more thing," Owen breathed, "I've found you a good lawyer, but she doesn't come cheap."

"Do they ever?" asked.

"Unfortunately, no," Owen said. "She's going to want to meet with you, but I told her that it would be better if you were in touch first."

"Good thinking," said. "Can I trust her?"

"As much as you can trust any lawyer," Owen said. "I'll call you when I have anything new. In the meantime, here is her information. Her name is Brooke Reyner." took the business card that Owen was holding out for him and looked it over.

"Thanks for doing this, Owen," whispered. He walked out into the cold night air and pulled the collar of his jacket up over his neck. He was going to have to find a place to lie low before calling his new lawyer. With any luck, she'd be able to meet with him soon so that he could get this whole mess straightened up before the cops came to put cuffs on him. The last thing he wanted to do was head back to prison—not now since he had made something of his life.

The shitty motel that he had been laid up in for the past week was doing nothing to help his mood. The only thing he had been looking forward to all week was meeting with his lawyer and hopefully telling his side of the story to someone who might be willing to help him.

His pretty new lawyer showed up at his room at ten sharp wearing a business suit that did all kinds of things to his libido. He always loved a woman in a suit, and Brooke Reyner seemed to be built to wear one. "Mr. Klein?" she asked after he pulled the door open. No one called him that. Hell, the only person he'd ever heard called Mr. Klein was his father, and that son of a bitch had been dead for years.

winced and nodded. "Yeah, but please, call me ," he insisted.

She nodded and a strand of her blond hair fell into her face from her messy bun. "I'm Brooke Reyner," she said, pulling the hair out of her eyes and shoving it back on top of her head. suddenly found himself wondering what she'd look like with her hair spilling over her shoulders as she rode him. Yeah, that wasn't going to help his case, but undressing his new lawyer in his imagination wasn't something that he could help himself from doing.

"Good to meet you, Brooke," he said, holding his hand out to her. She looked it over as if trying to decide if she wanted to take it, and then slipped her small, soft hand into his.

"It's good to meet you too, ," she said. "May I come in?"

"Oh, um, sure," he mumbled, trying to get over the way the simple touch from a handshake had him all worked up. "I guess it's not good for either of us to be standing out here in broad daylight. There is a killer on the loose," he teased. noticed how her whole body tensed at the mention of a killer on the loose and he instantly regretted his words.

"Sorry about that," he said, "I guess I have a warped sense of humor that not everyone gets."

"No, I got it, I just don't like to joke about such things," Brooke said. "I'm here to help you, , but I can't do that if you aren't in this to win."

"And I'm assuming that by that you mean, me not having to go back to jail or being considered a murderer, right?" he asked.

"Back to jail," Brooke repeated. "How about we sit down, and you can tell me more about why you were in jail, to begin with. I have no record of you doing time." She wouldn't find anything about his time in prison because he was a juvenile when they put him away. His records were sealed, and he planned on keeping them that way.

"Is this confidential?" he asked.

"Are you agreeing to hire me as your lawyer?" Brooke asked.

"I am," said without hesitation. Owen said that she was good, and that was enough for him.

"Great, then whatever you tell me is confidential," she said. nodded and took a deep breath, letting it out again. He had never told anyone what he was about to tell Brooke.

"I was sixteen when I foolishly joined a gang. I lived in Los Angeles at the time, and joining a gang was a rite of passage. I had no choice if I wanted to make it on the streets."

"What about your parents?" she asked. "Didn't they try to stop you?"

barked out his laugh. "My parents weren't really in the picture. My father took off before I was even born, and I'm not sure that he even knew about me. My mother was a drug addict. Her drug of choice was heroin. My grandmother got custody of me, and God love her, she did her best to keep me on the straight and narrow, but she was an old woman. I turned out to be too much for that poor woman to handle."

"What happened once you joined the gang?" Brooke asked. She seemed to be in a hurry, and that kind of pissed off.

"Do you have someplace else you need to be, Ms. Reyner?" he asked. Yeah, he sounded like an ass, but he didn't really care.

"Um, no," she said. "I'm just not used to meeting with clients in a motel room and well, you aren't wearing a shirt," she pointed out.

"Shit," he mumbled. stood from the bed and grabbed the first clean shirt that he could find, tugging it over his head. "Sorry about that," he said. "I had just showered before you got here, and I guess I got ahead of myself when you knocked on the door. I don't usually conduct business half-dressed either. I didn't mean to make you feel uncomfortable."

"I didn't say that you made me feel uncomfortable," she insisted. He could tell from the way that her cheeks tinted the cutest shade of pink that he had made her very uncomfortable, but he wasn't going to challenge her on it. For now, he'd answer Brooke's questions, and then, he'd try to convince her to let him see her out of her fancy suit. didn't care about the rules and whether or not he should pursue his sexy lawyer. All he could think about was getting her naked, and when he was on a mission, nothing and no one could stop him.