Page 3 of Mace

“Oh, yeah, sorry,” she mumbled. “I guess I lost my train of thought.” Brooke quickly looked over her notes and found her place. She shyly smiled up at him and asked her next question. “So, I found no record of your time in prison because you were a juvenile, and your records were sealed.” It’s what she had suspected all along, but hearing his side of the story only confirmed her suspicions.

“Yes,” he breathed. “I was sixteen when I stole the car. They caught me stripping it outside of my grandmother’s house. I was arrested on the spot and that poor woman had to watch. I’ll never forget the disappointment in her eyes as she watched them put handcuffs on me and load me into the back of the police car. The look on her face was worse than any time that I had to spend behind bars. She died while I was in prison and honestly, that’s my biggest regret.”

“I’m sorry,” Brooke whispered.

“You have nothing to be sorry for. I was the one who made the bad decisions that led to me being arrested. Honestly, it was good that I got caught. Going to jail gave me some time to grow up and think about how I wanted the rest of my life to turn out. I decided right there and then that once I was released, I’d leave LA and find a new place to start over. That’s how I ended up here and after I bought the bar, my life just kind of fell into place.”

“You’re the president of a motorcycle gang called the Road Reapers,” she said as if it was a bad thing.

Mace chuckled and nodded. “Yeah, we’re not really a gang. We’re more of a club of bikers who like to get together and hang out. A lot of the guys in my club are one-percenters, like me.”

“One percenter?” she repeated.

“Yeah, it means that we’ve served time. We’re just a bunch of guys who love riding bikes and are trying to turn our lives around in any way that we can,” Mace said.

“That doesn’t sound so bad. I mean, you don’t sound like a bunch of killers who’d leave a dead body in the parking lot.” She knew that asking her clients point blank if they did it usually didn’t end well for her. Some clients confessed, knowing that she’d have to keep their secret. Not knowing was better. She could plead her case and let a jury decide Mace’s guilt or innocence. Still, it usually helped if she believed in her client.

“If you’re asking if any of my guys could have killed someone and left their dead body in the parking lot of my bar, my answer is no. I don’t think that any of them are capable of doing that. And if you’re asking if I did what I’m being accused of, then my answer is fuck no. I didn’t kill anyone, and I plan on proving that not only to you but to the rest of the world.”

Brooke wasn’t sure why she had felt some sense of relief from Mace’s confession of innocence, but she did. “Good to know, Mace,” she breathed.

“Do you think that you can help me, Brooke?” he asked. He looked to be holding his breath, waiting for her answer, and when she nodded, he let out the breath that he was holding.

“I can help you, Mace,” she promised, “as long as you agree to be completely honest with me.” It was the one thing that she required from all her clients.

“Agreed,” he said. “You’ll have my honesty through this whole process. What now?” he asked.

“Now, we go over timelines and everything else you can think of that might help your case. You up for a few more hours of questioning?” she asked. Yeah, that meant spending a few more hours in the sexy biker’s motel room, but she needed some more details to go on before she’d be able to build her case. Brooke had a feeling that the local courts would want to make an example out of a biker who was trying to turn his life around, and Brooke planned on doing everything that she could to keep that from happening.

Brooke got back to her office in time to pack up and head home for the evening. She had spent the entire day going over every detail that Mace could remember about the night of the murder. Hearing that he was spending some “Quality time,” with one of his waitresses wasn’t something that she enjoyed. He seemed like a decent guy, but falling for one of her clients couldn’t happen—ever. It was against every oath she had taken when becoming a lawyer and Brooke was pretty sure that her father would have a fit if she broke any of the rules for a quick roll in the hay.

Besides, Mace was hot, but not her type. She never really liked the bad boys, but some of the good boys that she dated weren’t so great after all. Most of the men she chose to date ended up being complete assholes. Most rich guys in the business world had a chip on their shoulder when it came to dating a successful woman. But something about Mace led her to believe that he wouldn’t treat her that way. He seemed to respect her and even seemed grateful for her help.

She agreed to meet him at the motel in two days, giving Brooke just enough time to build his defense and talk to the local authorities. Her office was about two hours from Huntsville and the commute might just kill her, but she promised her old friend, Owen, that she’d do her best to help Mace. If that meant spending four hours a day in her car, going to Huntsville and back, that was what she’d do. She just hoped that sooner or later, Mace would check out of his shady motel, and she’d be able to meet with him in a nicer location—one where he’d preferably be wearing clothes because seeing him half-naked earlier made her body hum to life in ways that it hadn’t done in a very long time.

Brooke had just finished packing up her files to take home when her father stuck his head into her office. “Hey, you’re finally back,” he said.

“Yes, I’m packing up some files to work on tonight,” she said. “I didn’t expect my new client meeting to take as long as it did.” She was hoping that her father would leave things at that, but she knew she wasn’t going to be that lucky when he walked into her office and sat down.

“What’s the case?” he asked. Her father never asked her about any of her cases. His asking now sent up lots of red flags and Brooke knew to tread carefully.

“It’s just a simple case of someone being in the wrong place at the wrong time,” she said. It wasn’t really a lie. Mace was at his bar when the dead body was found in the parking lot. She just left out the part about him having sex with the waitress in his office during the time of the murder, or that he was a biker.

“Tell me more,” her father insisted.

“Why the sudden interest in my caseload, Dad? You never ask me about my cases.” She worried that he was asking for a specific reason that she wasn’t going to like at all.

“I’m showing an interest in my daughter, is that so wrong?” her father asked.

“No, but why the sudden interest in this case?” she asked.

Her father sighed and stood, pacing the floor in front of her. “I’ve been informed about your new client by one of the other lawyers in the firm,” he admitted.

“How does anyone else know about my new client, Dad?” she questioned.

He shrugged, “I have no idea, but after hearing about your new client and his business, I’m not sure that he’s the type of person our firm should be associated with.” Now they were getting to the point. Her father always had one, it usually didn’t take him so long to get to it though.

“What kind of business is he associated with?” she spat. She never liked anyone else butting into her life—especially not her father or her nosey co-workers.

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