The Firm Hand of the Law

The Firm Hand of the Law

By

Loki Renard

Copyright © 2014 by Stormy Night Publications and Loki Renard

Copyright © 2014 by Stormy Night Publications and Loki Renard

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

Published by Stormy Night Publications and Design, LLC.

www.StormyNightPublications.com

Renard, Loki

The Firm Hand of the Law

Cover Design by Korey Mae Johnson

Images by Jimmy Thomas at RomanceNovelCovers.com and Bigstock/Dellm60

This book is intended for
adults only
. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults.

Prologue

“Lily Brannigan.” The chief slapped a picture up on the white board and pointed his thick, hairy finger at it. “She runs the Fox and Stoat down by the waterfront. Inherited it from her grandmother. The Brannigans have been smugglers for generations. Isn’t a one of them that’s straight. This family has crime in their genes. Lily is the last of the line, but she’s in enough trouble for a whole clan.”

The picture revealed Lily Brannigan to be a pretty woman with expressive blue eyes and thick, flaxen gold, almost red hair. A strawberry blonde closer to strawberry than blonde. The picture had been taken covertly, while she was wearing Bavarian tavern clothing. She was smiling at something, her apple cheeks dimpling. The low cut shirt showed off her cleavage to great effect, soft pillowy breasts rising proudly above lace ruffles.

A few murmurs and chuckles spread around the briefing room. A pretty girl always lifted spirits, even if she was a criminal.

“Knight, you’ll be keeping an eye on her. I want you working her day and night. She’s wily and she’s slippery, so best be careful, keep your distance, and play this subtle.”

“Subtle,” someone guffawed in the back.

Gareth Knight did not have a reputation for being subtle. He was two hundred pounds of muscle, and he used it frequently. He was just as surprised as his sniggering comrades. It didn’t seem like the job for him. He was usually the detective they sent out when someone or something was about to explode. An average day at work for Gareth usually involved repeated exposure to nastiness of a fairly unpleasant kind. Keeping an eye on an attractive young woman was definitely out of the ordinary.

A second picture showed her full figure. She was on the smaller side, but she had a full bottom and broad hips, which drew every eye in the room and provoked some comments as well.

“Moving on,” the chief said once they’d had their eyefuls. “Pass those pictures back to Gareth.”

Two pictures came back through the rows of men and ended up in Gareth’s lap, where Lily Brannigan gazed up at him with her spankable bottom and her adorable miscreant smile.

“What’s the deal, Chief?” Gareth knocked on his boss’ door when the briefing was over. There had to be more to the case than met the eye. “Why do you want me on this?”

“Shut the door.”

Gareth shut the door and waited for the explanation.

“The deal is that our subject is going to be a key witness. She’s been in the thick of things for years, seen more than most. That’s the kind of testimony we’re going to need to make things stick. So you need to make sure she stays alive long enough to testify once things start to go south for these people.”

“You think there’s a reason she won’t?”

“We got close to these guys a while back. Before a case could be brought to trial, they killed off every low level dealer, associate, and friend they had. The city morgue was full and the case was dropped for a lack of evidence. So yes, she’s in danger once we start closing in on some of the higher ups.”

“This isn’t surveillance so much as babysitting.”

“It’s both,” the chief said firmly. “Keep an eye on her, keep her alive—and hope you don’t see any action.”

“Mm-hmm, and what makes you think she’s going to testify when the time comes?”

“That’s the second part of your job,” the chief said. “Get close to her. Try to get her on our side.”

“And if she’s not keen on coming to our side?”

“Make her keen.”

An unspoken understanding passed between the two men. They were officers of the law, but there was an awful lot of latitude where the law was concerned. Miss Lily Brannigan would be testifying, whether she liked it or not.

Chapter One

From the moment the heavy set man wearing a leather jacket walked into her bar, Lily knew he was going to be difficult. It was the way he walked, the way his eyes scanned every single person in the room and the doors and windows besides. He had the demeanor of a man who expected trouble.

Wednesday nights were slow nights, nights when most of the clientele were the regulars, men who knew each other like family, even if they never did anything more than grunt occasional acknowledgment to one another. He was out of place amidst the insurance salesmen, roofers, and family men—all avoiding men like him.

Taylor, a regular, was sitting at his usual spot, front and center, watching a replay of the game and drinking whiskey. He was commenting on every single play, as was his wont.

“Useless,” he muttered into the glass. “Can’t go left if you want to go right.”

“Mm-hmm,” Lily agreed. Most of what Taylor said made sense, just not in the context of what he was watching. His sun-faded old baseball cap probably once supported one team or another. Now it just supported grime.

She kept watch on the newcomer out of the corner of her eye as he approached the bar. She noticed he chose not to sit, but to lean at the far end, his back to the wall. She also noticed the familiar bulge of a weapon in his jacket pocket. Quite a few patrons carried. Most of them didn’t have quite the same level of menace about them.

“Can I help you?” She stayed where she was and asked the question with an unmistakably icy tone. The Fox and Stoat didn’t have many restrictions on entry. There wasn’t a dress code per se, but you had to pass the sniff test.

He was probably used to a warmer reception from women. He was a handsome devil, with a square chin and a powerful jaw covered in dark stubble. His eyes were two blue slits under dark brows, his nose long and aquiline. In spite of the way he dressed and the vibe he gave off, there was nothing thuggish about his appearance. He looked like a warrior, she mused as she glared. Someone who would have looked good in a leather harness and not much else.

“Guinness.”

He’d ignored her tone. She knew he’d deliberately ignored it and not obliviously missed it because of the flash of warning in those scintillating eyes.

“We don’t serve Guinness,” she said, resting her hand on the tap from which Guinness would have flowed if she’d pulled the lever.

His brows quirked together, then the left one rose. He focused on her with an intensity which made her stomach quiver. She’d never been looked at like that before, more than looked at, analyzed and taken apart by a man’s laser focus.

“Whatever’s on tap, then.”

“Beer’s off,” she said, digging her heels in. A few heads were starting to lift, like slumbering wolves awakening to the awareness that there was a stranger in their midst. They sensed what she sensed, maybe to a lesser degree. The guy didn’t belong at the Fox and Stoat. The guy needed to go. “Sorry mister,” she said, affecting a slight British tone. “Looks like you’ll have to find another place to drink.”

It took a couple of seconds for the hulking man to realize that he was being thrown out by a woman less than half his size. She watched comprehension dawn and braced herself for the understandable anger. It didn’t come. He smirked at her, his cheek dimpling as he nodded.

“So that’s how you want to play it,” he murmured, making his way toward the doors.

He left without incident, but the evening was changed for good. Lily couldn’t shake a feeling of something like foreboding mixed with arousal, a dark excitement which told her change was in the air. Taking her cell phone out of her apron, she sent a quick text message to a friend:

Did u send sum 1 over?

It took less than a minute for her message to be returned.

No. Y?

Nvm.

She tapped the three letters and hit send. But she couldn’t stop minding. The energy the guy brought with him had stayed even though he was gone—and she wasn’t entirely certain he was gone.

“You okay?” Taylor asked the question gruffly. His eyes never left the game, but they’d done so now. He was giving her a quizzical look. “Did you know him?”

“No,” Lily said, putting on a smile. “Never seen him before.”

“Thought he might be an ex-boyfriend or something, way you puffed up like an alley cat.”

“Just didn’t like the look of him, that’s all,” Lily shrugged. “You want another?”

“I always want another,” Taylor grinned, his wrinkles forming a myriad of impromptu valleys. “But the wife will be wanting to know where I am.”

It was eleven o’clock, pretty close to closing time.

“Last call!” Lily sang out. A few more drink orders came in, not many. It was looking like a quiet end to a quietly unsettling evening.

Maybe she was making too much out of it. She probably was, she told herself as she poured a few more beers for the patrons who were determined to stay to the very last moment. It was just a guy with a gun. There were always guys with guns in that part of the city. Some of them wanted drinks. She started to think she’d probably overreacted by sending him away. But there was the way he’d left, and his words had suggested there was more to it than just wanting a drink.

“Get a grip,” she murmured to herself. She was starting to get nervous, and nerves were dangerous. There were several shipments planned for the week. All of them were important. All of them were worth more than her life. And now there were strangers sniffing around the place.

Putting her concerns aside, she swept the stragglers out by eleven-thirty and locked the doors. Usually doing so gave her a sense of security, but the unease stayed with her as she wiped down the bar.

“Hey, gorgeous.”

A deep male voice startled her. She leaped around, spray bottle in hand, wet rag poised to throw.

“Relax.” Rex, her contact chuckled. “Just have a few things to store away, that’s all.”

Rex was sort of handsome, or would have been if not for the aura of slime which coated his every word and deed. He probably fancied himself a slick operator, but Lily found his charming smile a little too empty and predatory for her liking. Smugglers tended to be that way. They were opportunists, ready to exploit any weakness, any break in the market.

“Haven’t seen you in a while,” she observed dryly. “I thought you went inside.”

“In and out, revolving door,” Rex winked.

He had something in a satchel. She didn’t ask what it was, didn’t want to know. If she’d had her way, the Fox and Stoat would have been a smuggler free location, but given it had been a den of iniquity for generations, that was difficult. The first package had showed up the day she’d taken over the bar, when Gammy got sick. They’d been coming ever since.

“Come on then,” she said, taking keys from the belt at her waist. She led him down to the basement, where casks waited neatly in a row. None of them contained any kind of liquor, never had done. Each of them was hollowed out to hold far more interesting contents of much greater value.

“Had a good night?” Rex tried to make casual conversation. She was not in the mood for it at all.

“I have to get home, Rex,” she said. “Got that stuff locked away yet?”

“What’s the hurry, beautiful?” He reached for her face, leaning in for an unwanted kiss. Rex could be handsy at the best of times. Usually she laughed it off, but she wasn’t in a laughing mood.

“Not tonight, Rex,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’ve got things to do.”

“Someone’s on her period,” he said, cackling as if he’d made some sort of original joke. “When are you going to say yes to that date?”

“Never,” she said, rolling her eyes. He was persistent, but in his case, that was not a good thing. She’d seen the women waiting for him in the bar sometimes, scantily clad ladies who seemed to have a fiscal agenda in mind. There were all sorts that hung out around the waterfront. She tried not to judge. She also tried not to date.