Page 25 of Nova

9

Nova

Ileft a couple of hours earlier than necessary this morning before driving downtown to see my lawyer. I increase my speed. I need time to think—time to clear my head before seeing her again, so I hopped on my bike for a little therapy. Nothing feeds the soul better than the open road, wind in your hair, and sun on your face. Strike that. Maybe one thing—or someone I can think of that trumps all that.

Promise.

My thoughts are a jumbled mess, as I take in the familiar scenery around me. After spending the night in a cold cell room, with three other men, all I wanted was to get home and take a hot shower. I still can't believe those pussy ass cops charged me with battery, and a few other shit charges they could tack on. Regardless, if I end up doing time, one thing is certain; I would do it over again—do whatever it takes to protect my daughter.

I take the exit toward downtown, still replaying yesterday in my head. Riggs said he'd find me a lawyer, but never in my wildest dreams did I expect my mystery woman to walk through the door. Her scent gave her away before my eyes ever landed on her face. And Lord forgive me for all the sinful thoughts I was having as I drank her in. The way her skirt hugged her hips, and her button-down blouse pulled taught across her breasts. But her confidence and the way she carried herself went straight to my cock. It was sexy as hell. All I wanted was to bend her sweet ass over the table, hike up her skirt, and bury myself balls deep in her sweet pussy, and feel her walls convulse around my cock. I found myself wanting to do it all in front of that pansy-ass pretty boy she had brought with her. I wanted him to know. Promise is mine.

The only problem there is, Promise wants to keep things between us strictly professional. Not gonna happen. I've tasted her, and I'm hungry for more. Promise Bailey has something I want. My future. And I won't stop until she's mine.

As I pull into the parking lot of Promise's law firm, I glance around, looking for the car she climbed into yesterday, not spotting it anywhere. Nevertheless, I park and walk inside. Everything about the inside décor screams money, which doesn't surprise me. My brother mentioned they are supposed to be some of the best defense attorneys in our area. As I approach the front desk, the young woman on the phone locks eyes on me, the phone dropping from her ear. "May I help you?" Her eyes appraise me as she leans forward, pushing her breasts together. A flirtatious move I know all too well but has little effect on me.

"I have a 12:30 pm appointment with Miss Bailey." I give her my usual smile, and her face flushes.

The young woman tears her eyes away, long enough to peer at her computer screen. "Mr. LeBlanc?" she looks up, and I nod. "Third floor. Would you like me to show you the way?" She continues to flirt with me. A couple of days ago, I would have taken her up on the offer, and maybe have shown her my gratitude, but I only have one woman on my mind these days.

"I'll find my way." I rap my knuckles against the counter. "You have a good day," I tell her before making my way to the elevator. The moment the elevator doors slide open, I hear yelling coming from down the hall. A man rushes out an open office door, his face morphed in anger. Lifting his head, he notices me standing here, and comes to a dead stop.

"Can I help you?" he asks, then steps around me, throwing a folder in his hand down on a desk.

"I'm here for Promise Bailey," I tell him, and he stares for a beat before answering.

"She's not here."

"What do you mean, she's not here? I have an appointment with her today." I start to get a little irritated that she may be avoiding me.

"She quit, and no longer works here." The guy crosses his arms over his chest, still accessing me. "Are you the biker she was representing?"

"Is representing," I correct him.

"Your case has been taken over by Brad Davis." The way he says the prick's name lets me know he's not fond of pretty boy either.

"Where can I find her?" I ask, hoping he may give me a bread crumb.

"Name's Jackson," He sticks out his hand, and I shake it. He then looks down the empty hall. Stepping behind his desk, Jackson opens a drawer, pulling out a notepad and a pen. He scribbles on the yellow paper, then rips it from the notepad. "She's a good person. Don't hurt her." He narrows his eyes.

"What is she to you?" I harden my stare.

"She's my step-sister."

"She's in good hands," I assure him.

"Good. She's been through enough shit the past few days, hell, her entire life. She doesn't need someone else to come along, knocking her down again." I listen to what he says and approve of the fact he cares.

"By the way. Tell your boss I no longer require his services."

Jackson doesn't reply, and I don't wait for him to.

Without saying another word, I turn on my heel, ride the elevator down the way I arrived, and exit the building. Once I straddle my bike, I peer down at the piece of paper fisted in my hand and read the address. I know the neighborhood, and it's a real shit hole—just another part of the city that hasn't had enough invested back into it since Katrina. Pulling my phone from my pocket, I call my brother. I don't need anything from him, except for him to know I'm heading for a seedy part of town.

"What's going on, brother. How'd the meeting go?"

"Meeting never happened," I inform him.

"Why the fuck not? I paid a hefty retainer fee already." I hear the irritation in his voice.

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