Defending My Mobster (BWWM Romance) (13 page)

I woke up the next morning with a slight twinge of disappointment and Nia wrapped around me like a koala. We’d started making out, but things never went any further because it was late and we were both tired even after sitting in a dark room for four hours. Honestly, I wasn’t sure if I minded it much or had just resigned myself to the fact that she needed a break. It wasn’t healthy to have sex all the time.

“Nia, time to wake up,” I tried my opening gambit for waking her up.

“Two more minutes,” she responded with her opening gambit for not waking up. Stroking her face as she mumbled haltingly, I slowly untangled from her and climbed out of bed. We’d been through this more often than not, and I knew the drill.

She was turning me into a sucker, I realized, as I walked towards the kitchen with coffee in mind. It turns out that did not bother me a bit.

“Travis Burton was found murdered in his apartment only four days ago, but police have refused to comment on their investigation. When asked for any progress, the Chief of Police explained they were following several leads, but haven’t brought anyone into custody over the crime,” the television news announced. Snorting roughly at the television as it spouted the news, I leaned in front of the coffee pot and frowned. Of course they didn’t have anything. Their ‘leads’ were just to keep the press at bay.

“So it’s really over,” I heard behind me. Glancing at Nia as she wandered into the kitchen, I smiled with a sharp nod.

“Yeah, bella, it’s over,” I promised. She walked into my arms and let out a sigh before I turned off the news.

“I’m glad it’s over. I really don’t know what I would do if I couldn’t go back to work. You wouldn’t like me anymore if I couldn’t go back to work,” she told me. Smiling as I ran my hand over her hair, I kissed the crown of her head quickly before the coffee pot dinged.

“I will always like you, Nia. I love you, that means I automatically like you too.”

The End ...
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Cowboy Love

By Tasha Jones

Chapter 1 - Tamika

I dropped my handbag on the file cabinet and opened the manila file that lay on my desk. I hadn’t left it there before the weekend.

“Carrie, what’s this?” I asked my assistant when she appeared in my office door with my morning coffee. Her brown hair was plunked on top of her head in a bun and she wore clothes that looked dangerously like the outfit she’d worn on Friday.

“Oh, Larry asked me to get that to you, and he wants to see you first thing.”

I flipped through the folder, scanning the contents so I would know what he was talking about at least. It had something to do with a deceased estate, my specialty, but it didn’t all add up.

I flipped it shut again and got up. Best not to keep Larry waiting.

A meeting with the boss first thing in the morning – that was a way to get my week going. I took a sip of the coffee and put it on my desk. By the time Larry was done with me it would probably be cold. How many cold cups of coffee did Carrie wash down the drain?

I knocked on the glass door with the gold lettering that stylishly said “Laurence Witmark – Vice President”.

Larry was on the phone, but he beckoned me in and waved at one of the chairs opposite him. He scribbled something down while he listened, and I could make out the words ‘deceased’ and ‘executor’ from his scribbled upside-down handwriting. He nodded, twirling the eraser end of the pencil in the graying hair above his ear. Finally he said, “Thank you, Aaron. I’ll get back to you. I’m with Tamika, now.”

He hung up.

“It’s a bit early for you and Aaron to be going at it,” I said. Aaron was the lawyer that worked with Witmark Consulting on Property and Probate Law. I was the Estate Administrator so I saw him the most, and we’d become good friends.

Larry ran a top notch auditing firm and he insisted on having attorneys at hand. Witmark Consulting and Monroe & Findley Attorneys went together like white on rice.

“So I noticed you bombarded me with manila this morning,” I said.

Larry laughed and stretched his arms up. The buttons on his shirt threatened to snap open. He was a big man, as wide as he was tall, and his personality kept up with his personal appearance. Larry was a big man in every way.

“You remember Mr. Hart, don’t you?” he asked. I nodded. Mr. Hart was one of our biggest clients. He had Witmark take care of all his accounting. Hart was a business man, and no one ran a good business without a good accounting firm behind them.

“Well, Mr. Hart passed away three days ago.”

“What?” Hart had been a spring chicken the last time I’d seen him. A bit worn and weathered, soft around the edges, but nothing he couldn’t handle. He’d been upright and proud, and he’d poured himself into his enterprise.

“What happened?”

“Heart attack.” Larry sighed. “These things happen to the best of us, it seems. I can’t believe it.” He chewed on one of the temple tips of his glasses before he put them back on his face.

We both kept quiet for a moment, respect for the recently deceased.

“Anyway,” Larry said in his business voice again. “He had a ranch in Texas. He had us check the books for it a couple of months ago.

“Texas?”

“He has a step-daughter that lives there, and he was planning on retiring close to her. It looks like it’s a…” He squinted at the page in front of him, pushing his glasses up his nose. “A tourist ranch. Aaron was in court on Friday and they appointed Witmark because we did the books, and we have you.”

“The step-daughter can’t?” I asked. Larry shook his head. “Unrelated and out of state. The court doesn’t want it.”

“Where in Texas is this ranch, exactly?” I asked.

“Ingram.”

I stilled. I’d hoped that in my life I would never have to see Ingram again.

“Does it have to be me?” I asked.

Larry looked up at me, over his glasses. “I can’t see why it shouldn’t. You’re from there, aren’t you?”

I nodded slowly, clenching my jaw. My fingers were curled around the armrests.

“Well then, you’ll be right at home. I’m sending Aaron with you. I have a feeling this one is going to be messy. There’s no executor.”

“Didn’t Hart appoint one in his will?”

“He never drafted one. In his mind, he had more than enough time left for that. Never too early to draft a will.”

“Sir, respectfully I decline—“

“Nonsense, Tamika. You’re the best this company has. I want you on this. No better time than the present to impress the guys upstairs, eh?” He chuckled. By ‘the guys upstairs’ he meant himself.

I knew what he was trying to say. Larry wasn’t hard to decrypt, he had messages written all over his forehead. If I pulled it off I could get that raise I’d been longing after.

If I managed to escape Ingram alive. I shuddered and left the office.

Aaron waited for me at the airport. He was tall and broad, with wide shoulders and slightly tan skin. I thought maybe had had Mexican influence somewhere in his bloodline, but he definitely still looked very Caucasian. His thick black hair was a mess and he had stubble on his chin. His clothes were a little shaggy and creased, definitely not how I knew him.

“I thought lawyers didn’t sleep,” I said with a smile. He shrugged.

“We’re still people, contrary to popular belief,” he said. “Besides, you’re wearing sweats. I didn’t know you owned anything besides pencil skirts. I thought you liked to dress up.”

“I may be urban, but I’m allowed a day off.” I looked down at my clothes, tugging at the hem of my sweater.

“Don’t look so nervous, you’ll do brilliantly, as usual,” Aaron said, tipping my face up so I looked him in the eye. “This is going to be fun.” If only my nerves were as simple and straightforward as being worried about my job performance.

We were on the five-thirty flight from Lafayette, Louisiana to San Antonio, Texas. Aaron slept most of the way, but I couldn’t. It felt like I was being transported in time, back to a life that was colored in black and laced with pain. I didn’t want to go back to Ingram. I didn’t want to drive around the cowboy country I’d once loved so much. I wanted to stay in Lafayette, the city I’d made home. It was the exact opposite of Ingram, and that was why I’d chosen it. It was big and busy and there was never enough peace and quiet to allow bad memories to creep in. I’d fought for the past seven years to erase every trace of country girl in me.

When we stepped out of the airport, hot dry air swirled around us. I’d forgotten how hard the climate could be here.

“Looks like Larry booked us a rental,” Aaron said, inspecting a slip he’d gotten at the counter.

I followed him to the parking lot, and we found a beat up red Toyota Corolla.

“You’d think that with what the company’s worth he could have gotten us something better,” Aaron said, pulling a face.

“You haven’t seen Ingram. It’s not the kind of place you want to take your BMW, especially not if we’re going to ranches.” I had to give it to him though, Larry could at least have given us something with decent shocks and air-con.

“I thought you said this was going to be fun.”

‘No, you said it.” I play-punched Aaron and we loaded our luggage.

The drive to Ingram wasn’t exactly smooth, it couldn’t be in a Corolla, but the scenery was beautiful. I had my window rolled all the way down and I breathed in the hot air. It smelled like summer, the traces of a storm hanging in the air, almost drowned out by the distinct pinch of dust. I’d forgotten how much I loved Texas. It was lush and green despite the dryness in the air, and the country was dotted with green trees and shrubs that grew out of rolling fields covered in beige knee-high grass.

“So, why are you so serious? You don’t seem very excited about this trip, and you usually love to travel for business. It happens so seldom.”

I shrugged. “Ingram just isn’t my favorite place,” I said. “People love the small-town vibe, but you can get sick of it.”

“That’s right, I heard you used to live here.” Office gossip was tried and true. There were no secrets among the staff of Witmark and Monroe & Findley.

“I grew up here, actually,” I said, and Aaron pulled up his eyebrows. It made his dark eyes look bigger. He looked around, leaning forward to look up at the sky through the windshield.