Page 1 of Pike’s Redemption

PROLOGUE

Pike - 8 years old

Eli - 4 years old

“We can’t keep them here. I’m sorry.” The words drifted from the kitchen, where Joyce Reynolds spoke with the social worker in what I’m sure she thought was a quiet voice.

I crept back up the stairway to the room I shared with my little brother Eli. This placement had been better than most, but we’d known it wouldn’t last. It had been too good to be true. In this house, there had been no hitting or touching in the dark. We had chores to help with, but I didn’t mind those. I liked them. These people said we wouldn’t be sent back, but they were liars. I wasn’t surprised. Grownups were all liars.

My brother sat with his back to me, hunched in the corner. I knew better than to disturb him. At four, he was a wild little thing, untamed despite many of them trying their best. The couple downstairs were frightened of him. Scattered around Eli were dolls, action figures, whatever he could find, but all their eyes had been removed. He couldn’t sleep until the eyes were gone.

CHAPTER

ONE

NATASHA

I was on my way to get a killer out of jail.

If the guy that was murdered hadn’t deserved it, I would be a little more hesitant, but I’d snapped up this case without hesitation.

Did Alexander ‘Pike’ Walters commit this murder? Well, maybe — maybe not. Either way — he was my client, and he would be a free man, or my name wasn’t Natasha Petrova. There was no doubt in my mind that Pike was a killer. Perhaps he wasn’t guilty of this one, but I’d seen his jacket. He was no boy scout.

The Morinrock Police Station wasn’t much to look at. The whole town was a bit of a dive, but Dimitri had warned me. I sighed and angled the visor down so I could freshen my lipstick. The drive had been longer than I’d wanted, and my sister Veronica had insisted on coming along. I was exhausted. Bringing her wasn’t something I’d planned, but I didn’t blame her for wanting to escape the confines of our cousin Maxim’s house and the intense security that came with it. Then, there was the suffocating intensity of our mother.

Veronica had leukemia as a child, and even now, everyone still treated her like a china doll. I included myself in that assessment. Naturally, she got her way when she asked me to bring her with me. A change of scenery might do her good. Besides, she wanted to reconnect with our cousin just as much as I did. Also, she would be helpful — there was no doubt about that. We didn’t have much family, so when Maxim mentioned that Dimitri had recently gotten back in touch, we naturally wanted to get to know him.

Blotting my Chanel Satin lipstick, I examined the rest of my face with a critical eye. I looked tired. Scratch that. I was tired, but this would have to do. The fluorescent lights of the Morinrock Police Department buzzed faintly as I walked in. I drew more than a few curious stares from the officers. They were looks I was accustomed to, a mix of desire, interest, suspicion, and outright caution. I approached the front desk and flashed my ID.

“Natasha Petrova, attorney for Alexander ‘Pike’ Walters. I believe you have him here for questioning.”

The officer behind the desk, a burly man with a thick mustache, raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment. He picked up the phone and muttered into the receiver. After a moment, he hung up and motioned for me to follow him.

“Come on then. If’n you’re sure.” He looked at me skeptically as if I might change my mind. “Hope you know what you’re getting into.” He hitched his belt up as he eye fucked me from the tips of my Louboutins to the hint of cleavage that I specifically allowed to be shown.Mama taught me that clothes and makeup could be weapons if used correctly. I hadn’t found her to be wrong.

“Lead on.” I didn’t bother giving any assurances as to my legal training or my readiness to handle the man incarcerated. I’d learned long ago that I was wasting my breath. They didn’t believe I could do the job even when I bothered to give my qualifications. Men typically took one look at a woman in the legal field and assumed that they were there as the secretary.

He led me down a long, dimly lit corridor to the interrogation rooms. The place smelled of stale coffee, sweat, and the scent of countless tense encounters. We stopped before a door, and the officer knocked on it, then gestured for me to enter.

Alexander ‘Pike’ Walters sat at a small metal table, his hands cuffed tightly to the table before him. I had seen his mug shot from his time at Arizona State Prison when he’d been arrested for armed robbery.

His sharp and alert eyes flicked up as I walked in, narrowing. The corner of his mouth tipped up appreciatively. He looked rough around the edges, with dark circles under his eyes and a tense set to his jaw, but he had that indefinable something. Dangerous and smoking hot. Fortunately for me, I was used to these qualities in my work. The Bratva and jail seemed to breed hot, bad boys. I reminded my lady parts that I was not interested.

“Who the hell are you?” he asked, suspicion coloring his tone. I didn’t take offense because he wasn’t expecting me.

Confused, the other officer looked between us as I closed the door and sat opposite Pike, laying my briefcase on the table. “Natasha Petrova,” I said, offering a small, reassuring smile, but not my hand — for obvious reasons. “I’m your lawyer.”

Pike turned that smirk toward the officer. “Lawyer.” He jerked at the cuffs. That was my signal to get to work.

“Is he being charged? Why is my client cuffed?” I crossed my legs, letting the side slit fall open to showcase my spectacular legs, making sure to look bored. “Officer …?” I prompted, catching the officer fascinated by my legs. I aimed my iciest glare toward him. “Should I file a complaint that my client is being restrained unnecessarily?”

“Macmillan, and no, he’s not being charged yet. We just had some questions. Friendly like.” I raised an eyebrow. There were some glossy photos spread out on the table. Glossy, crime scene photos. I reached for them, but Officer Macmillan moved in quickly to gather them up. “Ah, Ms. Petrova, you don’t need to see those,” he said hurriedly.

“That’s okay. If you’re questioning my client about this crime, I’d like to see what you’re showing him.” Of course, I’d already hacked in and gotten the crime scene photos, so these weren’t new to me. Officer Macmillan didn’t need to know that, though. These were all games that needed to be played. If I didn’t insist, I looked weak. That wouldn’t do at all.

Pike’s mouth was set in a hard line as he looked from me to the officer, who had collected all but one photo. It wasn’t pretty. A man, naked, with an ‘X’ carved into his forehead, eyes removed. I peered at the photo, spinning it towards me, pretending I’d never seen it before. After taking my time looking it over, I passed it on to the officer. I held out my hand for the rest of the photos. Flipping through the glossy pictures, I paused to look at a few and then stacked them up neatly, pushing them back over the table.

“Please uncuff my client if you aren’t charging him.” I made sure to keep my voice sweet when I asked. “Here’s my card.” I laid my embossed card on the grimy table. “All further requests need to come through me in the future.”

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