Fierce Defender: Book 2, Hard to Handle trilogy Read online

  While they brought out the plates and silverware, Danielle told them she was from San Antonio, but she had been in Sutherland Springs a while back doing some research on a case, and she had fallen in love with it. It was a bit of a commute to work every day, but she thought the tradeoff was worth it. When Zack heard her say that, he gave the others, who doubted he was right when he said this was the perfect place to call home, a smug smile.

  When they went back in to get the condiments for the burgers, the women heard the sudden roar of a loud bike out front. A few minutes later, the doorbell rang.

  “That must be Grayson,” Trish said. She handed Danielle what she had in her hands, and as she and Eva took it out to the table, Trish skipped out to answer the door. Eva smiled and shook her head. Pregnancy hormones were working their magic on her friend.

  “Grayson?” Danielle asked Eva. “That’s an unusual name. His last name wouldn’t be Alexander, would it?”

  “Yes, actually,” Eva told her. “Do you and Gray know each other?”

  “Unfortunately,” the woman said as Trish came back in the room with Gray in tow.

  He was dressed casually in jeans and a black racing T-shirt that showed off his muscular arms. Eva noticed that with his haircut and casual clothes, he looked a lot “cuter” than she had realized before.

  She looked at Danielle, who didn’t look impressed in the least. Gray stared back at the woman with what could only be described as an ornery grin. There was definitely something up between these two. It would be interesting to find out what.

  Just as Trish started to introduce them, Gray said, “Danielle Thurston, Public Defender Extraordinaire. How delightful to see you again.” Then he turned to Trish and asked, “Are we having steak?”

  Trish gave him and Danielle both a funny look and said, “Um… yes.”

  “Good,” he said, his grin broadening. “That will give Miss Thurston something other than my ass to chew on. Hello, Eva. Excuse me, ladies.”

  With that, he made his way over to the group of men. Danielle watched after him with a look of disdain, and Trish with confusion. Eva was amused by whatever was going on. That and the fact that poor Flynn still hadn’t taken his eyes off of the lovely newcomer.

  The doorbell rang again, and this time Eva went to get it. It was Brandon and the curly haired blonde from the night of Zack’s party after the MMA match. Eva smiled to herself and applauded the woman on her good work.

  “Hi, Eva,” Brandon greeted her. “This is my friend Hayley.”

  Eva said hello to them both, noticing how nice Brandon looked in blue jeans and a blue T-shirt. While he and Eva chatted, his “friend” gazed at him with an air of hero worship.

  ******

  Brownsville, Texas

  Wednesday Evening

  “Enrique, Pablo!” Vincent summoned as he and the much cheaper version of Marcella entered the kitchen. Pablo appeared first, a stunned look crossing his face when he saw the Boss and Marcella. Enrique, strolling in casually behind him, stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the big blonde man and the hooker standing in the kitchen. He fumbled to get his gun out of the waistband of his boxers where it was stored. When he finally got it out, he pointed it at them.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Pablo yelled at him.

  “Me? Who the fuck are you letting in here? The Boss is going to fucking kill you.”

  Vincent rolled his eyes, Marcella laughed, and Pablo said, “You fucking idiot. That is the Boss.”

  Still holding the gun, Enrique looked again. He took a step closer, and when he did, Vincent said, “Put the gun away, numb nuts, before I bitch-slap you again.”

  “Boss?” Enrique asked.

  “Yes, you fucking moron. Put the gun away before you shoot off your own balls. That is, if you have any,” he added.

  Enrique did as he was told, finally. “I’m sorry, Boss. You don’t look like you.”

  “That’s the point,” Vincent told him. Then looking at Pablo, he said, “Where is the rest of the crew?”

  “They’re in the living room,” Pablo replied. “I’ll get them.”

  “No,” Vincent said, stopping him. “I’ll go to them.”

  Pablo led Marcella and Vincent to the living room. There were about fifteen of them there, sitting on the nice furniture, eating, drinking, smoking, and playing video games on the eighty-inch plasma screen television. There were empty pizza boxes and beer bottles all over the room.

  Vincent stood looking at the scene before him before shouting, “Listen up!”

  The men, or boys as some of them still were, stopped what they were doing. They looked at him with disinterest before fixing their gazes on Marcella. She took a step behind Vincent.

  “It’s the Boss, you dimwits,” Enrique said.

  They immediately jumped to attention, most of them with one hand on their pants to keep them from hitting the floor. They were all dressed in similar fashion: brand new jeans at least two sizes too large, long white T-shirts, and red bandanas either tied across a black hat or hanging from a belt loop. There were more tattoos between them than bare skin, and as Vincent stood before them, he looked with disdain on the group that his “Boss” had sent to do his bidding.

  “I am rebuilding my business. It’s a business that I spent the past fifteen years developing, only to have it torn down by snitches with no gonads. The perpetrators of this are being dealt with, today, as we speak, by some of your brothers. They will be handsomely rewarded. Your job once I leave here will be to take the product, which will soon be distributed on the streets, to where it belongs. I’m starting small, but I plan to go large within a month. As of today, I am taking over Brownsville. Tomorrow, I will move on to the next city and so on until I own this entire state. I will not be run out of Texas, chased back to Mexico as if I am an ordinary immigrant. I am Vincent Heston, and for those who don’t know, I am the son of Gilberto Fidel Sanchez.”

  There was a collective gasp that told Vincent most of them hadn’t known. It had been a smart move on his part, setting a fire under their asses and striking fear in their hearts… if it hadn’t been there already. He looked at the sorry looking group and pointed at the two largest.

  “You and you. What are your names?”

  “Jesus.”

  “Michael.”

  “Jesus and Michael, who is your shot-caller?”

  They looked confused at first, and then Jesus answered, “You are, sir.”

  “That’s right,” Vincent said. Most of these guys had grown up in custody. They had a much better understanding of prison terms than any other slang on the streets.

  There was a knock on the door. Enrique started towards it, but Vincent stopped him. He looked out the peephole and then pulled the door open, letting in a man in a white suit. “It’s done?” Vincent asked him.

  “Yes, sir,” he said, handing a small object and envelop to Vincent.

  Vincent looked at the object and walked over to the television. He put the little memory card into a slot in the back and turned the television on. A vivid image of a man with his throat slit came up on the screen. His clothes were soaked in blood, but it was apparent that he was wearing what inmates referred to as “Prison Blues.”

  “This was Carl,” Vincent said. “We were cellmates once, and friends after that. But he screwed up, and now he is an example to you all of what will happen if you also screw up. There are two other images on here if you would like to see them?”

  None of the men spoke. Vincent clicked off the television and said, “This is Armando. He will be your contact from now on. He will get you the product you will begin moving today, and he will collect the cash. I don’t think you need me to put into words what will happen to you if the amount of cash doesn’t match the product you were given. There’s another small matter of a rodent that still needs to be caught. If one of you brings him to me, a bonus is on offer. Armando has photos of him. I want you to each take one and carry it in your wallet so that you don’t
forget his face.”

  They still didn’t say anything.

  Vincent whispered something into Armando’s ear, and then the blonde man and the hooker strolled out to the car that waited beyond the fifteen Harleys in the driveway. There were UPS boxes on the porch, and as the car backed away, Vincent watched Armando have the men take them inside the house. He pulled the small envelope that Armando had given him out of his pocket and slipped out a glass vial. Showing it to Marcella, he said, “A little taste for us later.”

  The driver glanced in the rearview mirror and inquired, “Where are we going, sir?”

  “To Sutherland Springs,” Vincent told him.

  Chapter Ten

  His Queen

  Sutherland Springs, Texas

  Wednesday Evening, 8:30 P.M.

  “Those steaks were amazing,” Zack complimented Tyler as he sat back from the table to give his full belly more room to breathe.

  Eva hid a secret smile behind her napkin. Zack really did love his steak. If Tyler were a woman, she’d have severe competition.

  “Yep, you’re going to have to show me how to cook meat like that,” Brandon said.

  The little curly-headed blonde next to him smiled and said, “I can show you how to cook… everything.”

  Hayley was certainly audacious, Eva thought, but she noticed that Brandon only gave the woman a quick smile every now and then. Otherwise, he didn’t seem too interested. She wondered if this was their first date. By the looks of it, it would probably be their last.

  “Delicious,” Gray agreed.

  “Yes, Tyler, thank you,” Danielle said.

  For the first time since Tyler had served them their meal, Gray looked towards Danielle. She had chosen to sit at the end of the table, as far from Gray as she could get, and throughout dinner, it seemed like they had both been avoiding eye contact. But now, he smiled a wicked grin directly at the public defender.

  Uh oh, Eva thought. Trouble’s brewing.

  ***

  Gray was still in shock he was sitting at a dinner table with Danielle Thurston. He and the woman had history, not a lot, but enough. The bad kind. She was the last person he’d expected to see tonight at the barbecue.

  “That’s a big compliment, Tyler,” he said, referring to Danielle’s thank you. “Miss Thurston usually goes out of her way to tear apart my opinions, even when they’re based on evidence.”

  Danielle didn’t miss a beat. “The fact that you just used ‘opinions’ and ‘evidence’ as interchangeable terms in that sentence speaks to your extreme arrogance, Mr. Alexander.”

  She then smiled sweetly at Trish, who was clearing the table. “Here, let me help you.”

  As soon as Danielle had picked up a few empty plates and followed Trish and Eva inside, Zack flicked a carrot stick at Gray and said, “What’s up with the two of you?”

  “What do you mean?” Gray asked innocently, though he knew exactly what Zack was referring to.

  “You could take a bath in the venom the two of you have been spewing all evening.”

  Flynn’s ponytail bobbed in agreement, while Tyler turned around from where he was scraping the grill and said, “Yeah, man, we’re all feeling the tension.”

  Brandon grinned. “It’s entertaining, at least.”

  Hayley remained quiet, sipping her beer.

  Gray laughed. “She and I had an unfortunate first meeting. I was testifying in a case where we had the guy, dead to rights, in possession of enough cocaine to sprinkle across San Antonio and make everyone high. I was even with him when he picked it up with the explicit intentions of his gang distributing it. Miss Thurston was this guy’s public defender. I always thought that PD’s got assigned to cases reluctantly, but she either firmly believes in her job, or she had some kind of attachment to this one. She’s got a big old bleeding heart. Anyways, after I testified for the prosecution, she went out of her way on cross-examination to shake my testimony. She came at me like a little rattlesnake who’d been poked with a stick. I stuck to my testimony, and her guy was convicted. I think she’s holding a grudge.”

  “Oh please!” Danielle was standing a few feet away with her hands on her hips. Gray looked at her petite little frame and pretty long blonde hair, and he wondered how someone so pretty could be meaner than a snake when she wanted to be. “Tell them the real story, why don’t you?”

  Eva came up behind Zack and rested her hands on his shoulders. They, along with the rest of the party, had their full attention on Gray and Danielle. He knew they were keen to get to the root of the animosity the two of them had exhibited all evening, except Flynn. He was just interested in looking at Danielle. Oh, and the blonde who couldn’t take her eyes off of Brandon.

  Feeling the heat, he laughed again. “Wow, I feel like I’m back on the witness stand. That’s exactly how she addressed me in court.”

  “Yes,” she said, “I asked you for the truth. And you sat there on the stand with your hair cut nice and neat like you have it now, and in a neat little three piece suit, and purposely misrepresented yourself.”

  Gray ignored her allegation. He’d heard it all before. Trying to ease the tension, he quipped, “How else should one show up looking for court? And come on, even a public defender can see the need for an undercover agent to not have his cover blown.” Amusement danced in his eyes.

  Vexed, Danielle rolled her eyes and, too annoyed to speak, continued to help Trish clear the table. Out of character, Flynn was suddenly anxious to help as well. He jumped up from the table and took a few of the heavier dishes out of Danielle’s hands.

  By the time they finished with the kitchen, those outside had moved on to another topic. But as Danielle reclaimed her seat at the opposite end of the table, it was clear to Gray and everyone else she had been stewing over Gray’s earlier comments.

  In lawyer mode once again, she looked at Gray and said, “Perhaps one should show up looking like he did when he went along with my client, who was allegedly going to buy cocaine that would allegedly be resold to high school students by an alleged gang that he was allegedly a part of.”

  “You know, saying ‘alleged’ before each statement doesn’t make him sound less guilty; it just makes you sound ignorant.”

  “Gray!” Trish snapped. “I have to admit, I’ve been enjoying the banter, but you’re a grown man. There’s no need for name calling.”

  “I’m sorry, Trish.” He was sincere in his apology. The last thing he wanted to do was upset a pregnant woman. Then he looked at Danielle and said, “I’ll keep the alleged name calling to a minimum.”

  Danielle glared at him from the other side of the table.

  A few minutes went by when no one said anything, until Tyler finally said, “Well now, one of you has to tell us the rest of the story.”

  Trish gave him a stern look, but Gray suspected she wanted to hear it too. There was an eager twinkle behind her eyes. Gray didn’t mind. He wanted to share.

  Gray looked at Danielle and asked, “May I?”

  “Oh yes, please,” she allowed with a pasted-on smile. “It’s getting late, and I’ve always loved a good fairy tale right before bed.”

  Flynn laughed out loud at that.

  “I’ll start at the beginning,” Gray said, ignoring her last comment and Flynn’s laughter. “I was working undercover about a year-and-a-half ago. I had infiltrated a gang that we knew was supplying most of the drugs to the high schools in the area. Our ultimate goal, however, was to find out who was supplying the gang.”

  “Ooh! Tell them the part where you shaved your head and got the swastika tattoo,” Danielle prodded with mock enthusiasm.

  “You have a swastika tattoo?” Eva asked, shocked.

  “Why, Grayson Alexander… how un-American of you,” Brandon said with a grin.

  “And a four-leaf clover,” Danielle added. She seemed to suddenly be enjoying herself.

  Defensively, Gray specified, “I had to blend in. I doubt an Aryan Brotherhood gang would have allowed me in wer
e I to show up looking like I do now.”

  “True,” Danielle said. “I’m personally surprised that anyone lets you in, anywhere. I’ll bet, as my client sat in the county jail for almost a year before he got his day in court, he was wishing he hadn’t invited you in and believed the bull you were feeding him.”

  “Poor thing,” Gray said, sounding as if he were anything but empathetic. In reality, though he would never admit it to Danielle, he had felt something akin to sympathy for the kid. But not enough that Gray thought he could do anything to help him. The kid was in too deep. He’d been on the fast track to prison since the age of fifteen.

  “He believed in you.”

  Inwardly, Gray flinched, but he refused to give her the response she wanted. “Acting the part is a huge chunk of my job.”

  “That’s the truest statement you’ve made so far,” Danielle said, looking at him with her eyes narrowed. Then she looked at the others and said, “The thing that he keeps dancing around here is that my client had only just turned eighteen-years-old. His father was a racist who used to beat him if he so much as spoke to his classmates who were anything other than white. That is, until his father ended up in prison for beating a black man nearly to death. He was coerced into becoming involved with these people by someone who should have known better than to manipulate an emotionally scarred and impressionable young man. I asked for leniency based on his history. Mr. Alexander was strongly opposed to any type of leniency and even asked the judge to be heard on it.”

  He had asked the judge to be heard on it. He told the judge in his chambers that he thought the boy had been led to where he was by a poor upbringing. But he also thought that, without intervention, his crimes would only escalate. The judge had taken it from there. His sentence was not up to Gray; the judge just respected his opinion. Gray was shocked, however, that Danielle would go so far as to try and lay any of the blame of this kid’s actions at his feet.