Contents

Product Description

Copyright

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

The Watchers Crew

About the Author

Since his youth, Prince been a crusader for justice. Standing up to schoolyard bullies, chasing drug dealers away from the community center, and challenging racists and bigots out in the street. Though he's gone from the local MC club to FBI Agent working in the Civil Rights Division, he never left the streets behind. He's also never forgotten the sweet, innocent, untouchable girl next door. When a case hits close to home, he'll have to face the friends he left behind and the girl who's never left his mind.

Since she was in pigtails and knee socks, Gabby knew she was going to marry Prince. When he left, she was heartbroken. But now he's back and sexier than ever. She's in designer skirts and stilettos now and she's no longer playing games like when they were kids. She has just one week to convince Prince that they are meant to be. 

When the case Prince is working puts Gabby in harm's way the rules he lives by no longer make sense. Will he be able to let out his inner bad boy to save the woman he can't live without?

Copyright

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright 2017 by N. S. Johnson Seneb

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior permission of the author.

Manufactured in the United States of America

First Edition June 2017

Second Edition August 2017

﻿Chapter One

Prince's eyes glazed over the string of dental floss that most of the girls wore. Their swimwear was a sea of solid colors that had already been solved by many hands. Bored with the flesh on display, he looked down at the cube in his hands.

Prince had solved his first Rubik's Cube at eight-years-old. At that young age, he'd known intuitively that if he repeated certain patterns, he could solve each color, side by side. Twenty years later, his fingers worked the cube until he'd made a cross-pattern with the yellow blocks. Then he executed a sequence of turns to make L-shapes with those same blocks. A few more twists and turns and he'd have a solid yellow side. The simple algorithm was so ingrained in his mind that his fingers solved the problem without the aid of his eyes, allowing his gaze to once again take in the party around his next door neighbor's pool.

His gaze fixed on a tasteful 1950's style bikini that fully cupped a pair of generous breasts and completely covered a heart-shaped ass. It was the complex color pattern that caught his attention. A Rubik's Cube had six faces. A bikini had three; four if you counted the back.

Fuck! He was looking at her ass. Prince turned back to the array of dental floss.

He could look at any ass, except hers. But the pattern on her bikini bottom stuck in his mind and he snuck another glance. On the fabric were blocks of the colors; white, red, green, blue, orange, and yellow — just like a Rubik's Cube. The yellow blocks would make a cross-pattern if she just turned to the right. Two twists to the left and the necessary L-shape would form. He worked out the pattern at the apex of her thighs. He knew the exact sequence to solve the triangular pattern on her left breast. He only needed to reverse it on the right breast.

When his gaze met round, pink lips that revealed pearly white teeth, he was stumped. He'd come to the end of the algorithm. He knew that returning Gabby's smile would be a miscalculation, so he looked away.

"Fuck, if I don't love the smell of coeds in the spring." Prince's best friend, Chief, leaned back in the lawn chair and surveyed the field around the pool. His plaid shirt was open revealing copper-toned chest hair that matched the purposefully shaggy red mop on his head and the sculpted ginger mass on his chin. His legs were spread as his light eyes looked over his domain like the Highlanders of his ancestry.

"Coed is another word for jail bait," said Sully. The other man tilted back a light brown beer bottle and then leaned forward in his chair. But his dark eyes locked on the shapely legs of a scantily clad brunette like she was an icicle in the desert sands of his homeland.

Prince's eyes found Gabby again. His attention always came back to her, a pattern from his youth. Five minutes of quiet and he'd have to look up to see what mischief the little girl next door was getting into. If he heard a light trickle of giggling followed by an indignant screech, he would know that his date had found gum in her hair, or a bug in her salad; all the handiwork of little Gabrielleia Hernandez, upset that Prince gave anyone but her his attention.

But those childish games were a thing of the past. Gabby was no longer an adolescent. She was a grown woman. He was too old to play with her like they used to and she was far too young to be anything but jailbait.

"College-fresh women are completely and wholly legal," said Chief. "Tell him, counselor."

Chief directed the comment at Prince. Prince twisted the cube in his hand and pulled on his legal training. "Technically, the federal age of consent is twelve."

Sully choked on his beer.

Chief dry heaved. "What the fuck, Prince? I said prove me right, not make my balls shrink."

"Once someone reaches eighteen," Prince continued, "they can consensually have sex with another person who is at least eighteen and neither party can be prosecuted for said sexual activities."

Prince's eyes went again to that nineteen-year-old pert ass. A man's hand was on Gabby's ass, passing to the right instead of the left. Prince felt the corners of the Rubik's cube dig into his palms. He'd been working the red face of the puzzle. That color bloomed in his mind as he stared at the hand on the ass, wanting to twist it until it popped out of its socket and off his property.

The word mine sounded in his head. Prince clenched his fists. He shook his head. He took a deep breath in, then relaxed his fingers. But the thought wouldn't budge. 

Gabby had been his. Or rather, he'd been hers. She'd claimed him when she was just five years old, telling anyone who would listen that she was going to marry Prince when she grew up.

It was cute when she was five and he was fifteen. But when she turned sixteen and began to develop a C cup and she still proclaimed that they would one day be married, it was no longer cute. It was no longer proper. Neither was it proper that he was noticing things about the little girl who'd once been his shadow. And so he'd started making himself sparse, until finally she took the hint and moved on.

Gabby stepped away from the hand of the skinny excuse of a man she called her boyfriend. She turned and raised a perfectly arched eyebrow at him; a clear sign that she had little attention to give to him. She walked away, but the boy gave chase. It was clear that Gabby was done with him. And he wasn't happy about it.

Prince tensed. But he held his seat. He knew that Gabby could handle herself. She'd grown up the only girl on the block with a group of older males watching her every move. Her brother, Hawk, lounged in a chair on one side of the pool with Prince's brother, Eagle. Even if Gabby couldn't handle the skinny prick, those two would be on hand in a split second.

"Like I said," Chief was saying, "freshmen girls are legal. See, bruh, you have plenty of opportunities to put that law degree to use here at home." 

"I'm heading down to Washington, D.C. for the interview with the bureau next week," said Prince.

Chief rolled his eyes. "This fucking shit again."

Any talk of Prince's plan to work with the Federal Bureau of Investigation made his smooth-talking friend clam up. Since their youth, Prince, Chief, and Sully had been united in their vigilantism against bullies and injustices. Standing up to schoolyard bullies, chasing drug dealers away from the community center, and challenging racists and bigots out in the street.

But they were all grown men now. It was past time for them to put down their capes, or motorcycle jackets, and get real jobs. That's why Prince was considering this job with the FBI, working for the Civil Rights Division in the Hate Crimes Unit.

"Both of you are selling out," said Chief.

Sully ignored Chief, like normal. The man had always been cool as a cucumber. He didn't work for the Department of Justice, but his allegiance was pledged to the United States. He was in the Army and he was soon headed off for a second tour in the Middle East.

"It's not selling out," said Prince. "We're still all about justice. It's just we do it legally and not like some cartoon comic book superheroes."

"No superhero wears a fucking badge," retorted Chief.

Chief shed his leather jacket. Prince watched as the Baztards Motorcycle Club emblem folded into a neat triangle, just like Prince had designed it to. 

"Whatever," Chief said eyeing the fresh meat around the Hernandez's pool. "I'm about to show these little minnows how the big fish do it."

"If you make any of my friends cry, you'll have me to deal with."

Chief's proprietary grin turned into a pained wince. He turned and met with the arched eyebrow of Gabrielleia Hernandez. Gabby was a couple of inches over five foot. The top of her head met Chief's chest, and she had to tilt her head back to glare up at him. But the way Chief's head hung, it was as though a kitten brought down a lion.

"Aw, Gabs," said Chief. "You know I'm just talking shi-" He cleared his throat. "You know I'm just messing around."

"Hmmm," she nodded, then came close to his ear. "You see the blonde in the yellow bikini?" Gabby cocked her head towards the pool. "She's been talking behind my back all year long and then smiling to my face. Go get her."

Chief chuckled, gave Gabby a peck on the cheek, and then took his marching orders to go get that two-faced blonde. Poor girl. No one crossed Gabby without consequences.

Gabby watched Chief approach her frenemy with a wicked grin. Then she turned back to Prince and Sully. Prince held his breath, but she didn't turn to him.

"You doing all right, Sully?" she asked. "Can I get you another beer?"

"Thanks, Gabby, but I'm about to call it a night." Sully rose and pulled on his club jacket. The night was warm, but he'd rode his bike and the leather would protect him from the elements.

"Hawk says you're headed back overseas soon?"

"Yeah, second tour. Afghanistan, this time."

Gabby winced, pressing her lips together in a slight grimace, but quickly turned her frown upside down. "Can I write to you? I don't want you to get behind on The Real Housewives."

"Can't walk around Kabul not knowing if Bethany and Jill ever make up," Sully said with a grave face that made Gabby giggle.

He bent down and gave Gabby a kiss on top of her head. She put her arms around him for a hug. Sully startled. He wasn't so good with affection and Gabby always doled it out in spades. When she released him, he nodded to Prince and then headed out of the Hernandez's backyard. That left Prince alone with Gabby.

Prince hated the awkwardness between the two of them. It had never been that way before. Gabby had been attached to his hip before she could crawl. She'd been his shadow since she could walk. She'd struggled to keep up behind him when she could run. But then her increasing breast size came between them. Her widening hips made him take a step back. Her lush lips, whose pout he used to find adorable, had his eyes glued to the floor. But looking down he saw the pink polish on her toes and it made his pants feel uncomfortable.

"Hey," she said. Her voice had been high pitched for most of her life. Now it was husky and sex-ladened. "I made these for you." 

Gabby produced a small plate of sandwiches. Charcoal chicken with a homemade, creamy chipotle sauce. Prince groaned and grabbed for the sandwiches. He took a bite. It was delicious as always. Gabby was an amazing cook. He'd devoured the first one before he remembered his manners.

"Thanks, Gabs."

She grinned, and just like that he saw his Gabby. But it was strange that she didn't come any closer to him for a hug. She was always hanging on him, snuggling up under him. Not anymore and he was sorry for it.

"So, how was your first semester at college?" he asked.

Gabby shrugged. "They didn't kick me out."

Academics had never been Gabby's strong suit. Social situations, cooking, and music were.

"How's orchestra going?" he asked and then finished off the second sandwich.

"I made first chair last month," she grinned. 

"That's my girl." He reached up his hand, and she slapped it with all five of her fingers. Unfortunately, it was the hand he'd used to shovel food in his mouth and he got some of the chipotle sauce on her palm.

Gabby giggled and reached for a beach towel. She wiped her fingers, and then his.

"I hope you'll come to the end-of-year concert," she said as she dropped the towel back onto one of the lounge chairs.

Prince didn't miss the hope in her voice. He also didn't miss that she held onto his now cleaned fingers. He had been a constant fixture at her concerts since she picked up the cello. He'd never missed a recital or concert.

"Sorry, Gabs." He rubbed his thumb over hers just like he'd done when she was a little girl. The move often settled her when she was upset. "I may not make this one."

Gabby lowered her lashes and pressed her lips into a tight pout. Prince had to look away. He could not resist the pout.

"I might be out of town." He might as well get this over with. "I got offered that job with the Bureau."

Her eyes widened, and the pout fell away, replaced by open-mouthed astonishment. "In D.C.?"

Prince had the urge to fold her into his arms like when she was a toddler. To kiss the booboo. To rock her to sleep. But he didn't have a chance to do any of those things.

"Gabby, can I talk to you?"

Both Gabby and Prince turned to her boyfriend. Their hands were still entwined. Prince had forgotten. For a long time, it had been so natural to hold her hand. That word sounded again in his mind; mine. But he knew that wasn't right. She could never be anything more than the little girl he used to hold, the girl next door that he used to watch over, the teen he'd watch out for. Slowly, he unfurled his fingers from the young woman's and he let her go.

"I'm going to take off," Prince said.

He didn't look back as he walked away. He wasn't ready to go home, and so he headed for the pool house. Before he went in, he chanced a look back.

Prince watched as Gabby put her hands on her hips and squared off with the boyfriend. He remembered when those hips were straight lines. They were all curves now. When she put her hands on her square hips as a little girl, there was no way anyone would win an argument against her. Now, with all those curves, well, there still was no way anyone was winning an argument against her. Gabby had always been able to bend the men in her life to her will, and this skinny prick would be no different.

Prince watched as the skinny prick's head drooped. Gabby raised a hand with her finger pointing to the gate. After the prick shuffled off, she turned back to her guests. She plastered on a smile that would make her mother proud and continued to play hostess.

Prince grinned. Nothing could shirk his girl. He shook his head. She wasn't his girl anymore. She never would be his girl. Which was why Prince needed to get out of here and take that job in D.C.

﻿Chapter Two

Gabby waved to the last of her friends. The pool party had been a success, but she felt like a failure. She was struggling in school, but that wasn't new. She'd spent a good deal of the evening fighting with Charlie, again, more old news. At least now she was free of him and his nagging. She'd heard her brother and Eagle complain about women constantly calling and hanging on them, seeking their attention, and tracking their movements. She felt a weight lifted off her now that her boyfriend was kicked to the curb.

Having a boyfriend hadn't been at all what she expected. Charlie hadn't had a lot of interesting things to say. He hadn't wanted to play board games like she used to do with Prince. He was a vegetarian, for god's sake, and picked at most of the food she'd made him. All he wanted to do was get his hand up her skirts and down her panties. Or bathing suit.

Well, he could take his non-interesting, vegetable grubbing, nagging self onto the next girl, because she was done.

"Gabs?"

Gabby looked up at her best friend, Diniece, who stood in the gate between the backyard and the street. Diniece had pulled a pair of jeans over her long brown legs and swept her intricate braids up into a ponytail.

The two girls had met during Freshman Orientation and had been inseparable ever since. Diniece had been instrumental in getting Gabby to go out and explore the social side of being a college student. And for a time, Gabby had actually managed to push aside her deep-seated feelings for the guy next door. But the moment she saw Prince tonight, all of those feelings came back.

Gabby had seen Prince looking at her in her colorful swimsuit. She'd chosen it because the colors reminded her of a Rubik's Cube, Prince's favorite game. His gaze had been locked on her ass as though he was trying to figure out how to solve the puzzle of her. And when he'd held her hand, she'd felt the same electricity she'd always felt between the two of them.

"I'm gonna head out with Cheryl and Walt," Diniece was saying. "You coming?"

Gabby had seen Prince go off into the pool house and she hadn't seen him leave. The last thing she wanted to do was go out and feign interest in frat boys. "I'm gonna stay here and clean up a bit. But you go on ahead."

Diniece cocked her head to the side and regarded her friend. "I can stay behind and do the ice cream after a break up thing with you."

"No need," Gabby sighed. "Charlie wasn't worthy of a tub of ice cream."

"Okay, girl." Diniece brought Gabby in for a hug. "Shopping therapy tomorrow?"

"Definitely."

Gabby watched her friend walk out the gate and then she turned to the pool house. Technically, it was the Hernandez's pool. But with Eagle and Hawk being best friends and Gabby constantly clinging to Prince as a child, and not to mention their mom and her dad working closely together, the families both claimed it.

Gabby opened the door to see a large man sprawled out on the couch. Prince had a beer in one hand and the remote in the other. He looked up to see her close the door. His unfocused eyes went wary, and then shifted to concern.

"Hey, monkey?" He sat his beer and the remote down and stood. "What's the matter?" 

The nickname had come about when she was three and would wrap all of her limbs around him in an effort to escape bedtime, or nap time, or going to daycare, or for any reason that she could think up to stay with Prince.

Gabby was the first to admit that she could be manipulative. She had to be when she was surrounded by three large males who could best her with their pinky fingers. She learned to bat her eyelashes, pout her lips, and play on the protective instincts of her brother, Eagle, and Prince.

"Was it that prick?" He came to stand before her. "Where is he? What did he do?"

Gabby shook her head, batting her eyelashes. "He's gone. It's over between us."

"Yeah, I thought so." Prince scanned her body as though looking for any evidence of wounds. Finding none, he looked into her eyes. "What happened?"

"Last night, Charles wanted me to do something that I didn't want to do."

Prince's nostrils flared like a lion ready to strike. It made Gabby feel tingles in her belly.

"Don't go ballistic," she said. "I thought I wanted to do it. But when he did it, I decided I didn't like it. He got mad that I wouldn't let him try again. So, I broke up with him."

Prince bared his teeth when he spoke. "What did he try to do?"

Gabby tugged her lower lip in her mouth before she responded. She felt her cheeks flush as she said the words. But she was unsure if she was embarrassed by what Charlie had done or if she felt excited talking sex with Prince.

"He finger popped me," she said.

"Finger popped?" Prince whispered the words. His brown skin looked like it was turning green.

"He stuck his thumb into my vagina." She knew she didn't need to clarify, but her words worked.

Prince's protective instincts kicked in. He looked ready to murder poor Charlie. Gabby knew she just needed to turn that mindless aggression to a better cause.

"I don't understand how that was supposed to feel good?" She crossed her arms over her chest and gave herself a squeeze. "I didn't like it. His hands were rough and it hurt. I mean, it's not like I was ready for sex. But I was willing to take a step. Now, I don't know if I'm interested."

"He didn't know what he was doing."

"I figured," she said taking a step into Prince. "I mean you have rough hands." She trailed a finger down his forearm to the fleshy part of his thumb. "Whenever you touch me it never hurts."

He took a step back, but her hands snaked around his hips and locked at his low back. She unloaded the rest of her arsenal, looking up at him from under long lashes, and then there was the pout. She knew Prince could never resist the pout.

"Gabby…" Prince warned, his tone no-nonsense.

But she had one more card to play. And this one never failed. She tilted her head and changed tactics.

"It's just that… You've always been my best tutor. And it's been so hard not having your help to navigate college. And now there are all these intimate situations."

She tightened her hold on him. He didn't retreat. Her body was pressed flush against his. She could feel his heavy breaths that began in his belly, rose to his chest, and landed on her forehead. He wasn't holding her, but she had him.

"I just want to know what it's supposed to feel like," she said. "You know, for when the next boyfriend goes down there."

Prince's body tensed, and he cursed under his breath.

"Please," she said again. "Show me what's supposed to happen. I trust you more than anyone."

She felt his breaths rise and fall a little faster. She felt the rumble in his belly as it pressed into hers. Something firm pressed into her belly as well.

Prince's hand slipped a little lower on her waist. She watched the calculations play out in his hazel eyes. She'd never been this close to her goal, and she wasn't going to let this opportunity pass her by.

Gabby knew that she and Prince were meant to be. It was one of her first memories. She'd never understood why they had to wait until an arbitrary number of years to pass for them to be together. But she was of age now. There was nothing stopping them, except his hesitation.

"He pinched me down there. Was that supposed to feel good?"

"No," Prince growled with disgust. "When a man touches a woman… there." He swallowed, but he didn't back away from her. "It's a sensitive area. You have to treat it with care."

"So you would rub me softly, with the pad of your finger?"

"Yeah," he breathed. "Softly."

"Which finger?" she asked. "Your thumb? Your index finger? Your middle finger? Is there a difference?"

His eyes were foggy as they gazed at her. The fingers of his right hand trembled as they rested on her hip, like they were fighting to hold still. "With my index finger. You have most control over its dexterity."

"Because you use it to write with? That makes sense."

"Yeah." He swallowed and then gulped down another breath of air.

"Would you make circles?" she asked. "Or a windshield wiping motion? Or something else?"

"I…" He had to swallow again. His thumb was on the waistband of her bikini bottom. It made little circles just below her belly button.

"Prince?"

"Yeah, Gabs?"

"I feel achy down there. Like I'm hot and swollen. That didn't happen before. Is that normal?"

"Yeah, monkey." His thumb slipped inside the waist band and rubbed circles in her tight curls. "That's perfectly normal."

Gabby felt it was safe to unlock her arms from his waist. With one hand she slipped one side of her bikini bottoms down and then the other until the garment hit the floor. "So there's nothing wrong with me?" 

"No, sweetheart," he sighed as he looked down at her bare torso. "You're perfect."

Prince's thumb burrowed through her damp curls and found the hood of her bud. Gabby's knees buckled at the impact of his rough finger pad. Prince caught her with his free arm. 

"I feel like I need to lay down," she said.

Prince scooped her up in his arms and carried her over to the couch. The moment her butt made impact with the cushion, Gabby spread her legs. Prince let out a chocked sound as he hovered over her, staring down at her bare sex.

"What happens next?" she asked, running her bare toes along the cushion. She could feel his hot breaths cool her sex as he panted above her.

Prince lifted his gaze to focus on her. His eyes cleared. Gabby froze for a moment. Had she made a miscalculation?

"You need to learn how to do this for yourself," he said finally.

Gabby breathed an internal sigh of relief. "Show me."

Prince swallowed. He took a deep breath and let it out, and then he reached for her. With one hand on each thigh, he opened her legs wider. His gaze was cool and assessing.

"This is your clitoris. Your bud is average size so you don't need a firm touch. Just light circles in a clockwise motion-"

"Like this?" Gabby reached down and swirled her index finger around her swollen bud. It didn't feel as good as when Prince had briefly touched it with the pad of his large thumb. But having his eyes on her was bringing her to her climax quicker than when she touched herself in the dark of her dorm room with him in her mind.

"Good girl," whispered Prince. "Just like that." He pressed her thighs open wider, stretching her labia apart, pulling at the hood surrounding her bud.

His hot exhale against her swollen bud made her belly tighten. His slow inhale while his gaze fixed on the juices running down her legs made her core clench.

"Prince…" she moaned.

"Keep circling, monkey. Let it happen."

And so she did. She let the waves of sensation build inside her. She let that spring that resided in the center of her belly coil around until her toes began to curl and her breathing shallowed.

"A little faster. That's a good girl."

Her hips were now lifting off the cushion as she made passes over her bud. She wanted to press her legs together to help relieve some of the tension, but Prince's grip on her was absolute.

"Slow down, monkey."

"I don't want to."

"Trust me."

Gabby was used to having her own way. Prince was one of the people who typically gave it to her. But the soft plea in his voice had her fingers slowing down their motion. And the effect of the halted progress shattered her.

Slowing down her touch made the orgasm come at her even faster. But as it came for her, it built up steam, like a snowball rolling down a mountain. It picked up other snow, packing it on until it was a boulder that came rushing down the north face.

The orgasm knocked her back. Her hips arched off the couch. Her back bowed. Her heels dug into the couch cushions. A desperate gasp escaped her lungs. She had to shut her eyes to try to contain some sense of herself. Behind her eyelids, she saw stars and colors collide, reform, and then burst.

When she opened her eyes, she saw Prince. He was staring at her with a look in his eyes she'd never seen before. Was this it? Was he finally coming to understand that they were meant to be? Was he finally realizing that he loved her?

Not in the way that he'd loved her as a child. Not the adoration he showed her as a little girl. Was he finally seeing her as the woman that she was, the woman who was meant for him?

Gabby raised her hand to his cheek. His upper body shook on its impact. He inhaled and his eyes grew larger. He turned his face to her fingers. He swallowed once, twice. Then he opened his mouth and attacked her index finger.

He pulled it into his mouth and sucked. His eyes closed and he sucked her finger. A groan sounded deep inside and still he continued to suck. He let go of her finger with a long lick.

Then his head slowly turned back to her, back to the core of her. He took one breath, and then he was on her.

His mouth latched on to her entire core. His tongue worked in circles, figure eights, and a back and forth motion that had Gabby trembling. 

He let go, coming up for air, and her hips followed him. He dipped his head and lapped up the juices that had spilled down her thighs. He suckled first the right and then the left labia. He stuck his tongue deep inside her virgin hole, swirling and burrowing until another orgasm made its way up the hill. It picked up speed and then crashed into her so hard that she wrapped her thighs around Prince's head.

Prince patiently unfolded her thighs' grip from his head. All the while not breaking the hold his mouth had on her. He moved his attentions up to her clitoris. He made that same pattern of circles, eights, and swipes at her bud. He sucked on her until Gabby was a writhing mess and a third orgasm rolled through her body.

The third one shook her so hard her eyes teared. She closed her legs, placing a protective hand at the apex of her thighs. She curled into a fetal position as the pleasure continued to assault her in aftershocks.

"Fuck," she heard Prince whisper. "Fuck."

Yes, she thought. That's exactly what she wanted. For her Prince to fuck her. She rolled over onto her back and gazed up at the man of her dreams, the man she knew she was born to spend the rest of her life with. She smiled up at him, intoxicated by his touch, under the influence of his tongue, and punch drunk with pleasure.

But Prince was not grinning. He wasn't even smiling. His hands were in his tightly curled hair. His eyes were filled with horror. His mouth was set in a grim line.

"What did I just do?" His voice was hoarse, and the words were forced.

Gabby blinked, trying to make her mind understand what could possibly be the matter. But her limbs still weren't working properly. She couldn't hold herself up, much less sit up.

"I don't know what came over me," he said as he backed away from her. His movements staggering and uncoordinated, like he was drunk as well.

Gabby opened her mouth, but her throat was raw from all the moaning. She couldn't form words to stop his hasty retreat. She couldn't reach out to grab him as he backed away from her.

"I'm so sorry, Gabby. That will never happen again."

He turned out the door and was gone.

﻿Chapter Three

Three years later…

Race tracks were a series of right turns. Prince liked curves, but he preferred to go down the straight and narrow. That way, when he rode his bike, he could truly open up the throttle and let out some speed. Though he liked a straight shot, he also liked to turn left every once in a while. 

"As you can see, Agent Obademi, there's actually nothing to see."

Prince turned to the police officer. The man was in his dark blue uniform while Prince was in his standard issue Men-In-Black suit. He even wore tinted sunglasses. He looked every bit Will Smith's Agent J from the cult classic. Only Prince really did make the shit look good.

Despite what the cop said, Prince walked over to the guardrail of the racetrack and took a closer look. The scorch marks from the accident were still visible in the wall where one race car had slammed. That car had caught fire, and they'd had only moments to pull the driver from the burning vehicle.

Prince clenched his fingers into a tight fist, saying a quick prayer of thanks that the driver had been pulled out. He had his life, but it had come at a cost. He would be recovering in the hospital for a few days longer.

"We investigated," said the officer. "There was no sign of criminal intent. I don't understand why the FBI has been sent in?"

"The reports indicate that one racer intentionally bumped Mr. Trent's car," said Prince.

"Bump and runs happen all the time in racing, even in NASCAR. Doesn't make it a crime."

Bumping was when a car that was behind tapped the car in front of it causing the lead car's rear tires to lose traction and spin out. The bump cleared the way for the trailing car, allowing it to run on ahead. 

As a policeman, the officer would be familiar with the technique as law enforcement often used the maneuver in high-speed chases. With a gentle tap, the driver of the bumped car is forced to either slow down, stop, or try to correct his steering. 

Prince had viewed the event footage. The tap hadn't been gentle, and it caused Christopher Trent's car to spin out of control. Unable to correct, he slammed into the wall.

The maneuver was unsportsmanlike, but not illegal. The other racer had paid a fine and would be sitting out the next race. But Prince was more interested in what happened before the race.

"There are reports that the other driver…" Prince looked down at his paperwork. "Roman Voigt, and his crew, the Henchmen, were yelling racial epithets at Mr. Trent and his crew, the Watchers."

The policeman shrugged. "They were shouting at each other. Calling someone names isn't a crime last time I checked."

The officer was wrong. Yelling racial slurs prior to, during, or immediately after committing a crime did break a law. As an agent in the Civil Rights Division of the FBI that focused on Hate Crimes, these were the bad guys that Prince went after on a daily basis.

"The Henchmen race with a confederate flag on their hood." It wasn't a question. Prince had seen the photographic evidence.

"Again," said the police, "free speech. Not that I agree with it." He pressed his pale hands to his chest in affront. "But they have the right to fly the flag. I have the right to think those boys are little shits. But that doesn't mean I can arrest them just because I believe they are shits."

"The Henchmen also use a sign that's historically associated with hate." Embedded in the flag on the race car was a Nazi Swastika. "They use a name associated with a racist group, and they were shouting racial epithets at the victim and his friends before an assault with a deadly weapon. That's grounds for investigation. That's why I'm here."

"From what I understand, they were yelling racist stuff at the Latino, Asian, and black guy," said the officer. "Christopher Trent, the one they call Crow, you know he's white, right?"

"Yeah, I know he's white." Prince had known Crow since he was a kid. Crow was one of his brother, Eagle's, best friends. As a young man, Crow and the other boys of the Watchers Crew had spent many days and nights at the Obademi residence, making this case somewhat personal.

"Can you be racist against white people?" asked the officer.

"I'm going to need the reports from the race officials, the video and photo evidence," said Prince. 

"You can get those from the track's office." He pointed to an office building overlooking the track.

"I also need to put out a call for the spectators to send their cell phone video footage, especially of the scuffle beforehand."

The police officer scratched his chin. "That's gonna be difficult. We're not really set up to collect that kind of evidence. And people don't just turn over their devices to the police without a warrant."

Prince sighed. His hometown didn't have the best relationship with their police force. He turned and headed for the office. When he entered, he was greeted with a heart-shaped ass bent over a desk. The woman had more curves than the race track outside.

Prince stared as the woman straightened. Sensing him, she turned. Her wary eyes lit with interest when she took him in.

"How can I help you?" her voice brimmed with sensuality and innuendo.

"Agent Obademi, FBI," Prince said, his voice all business.

Her eyes sparked. "Yes, they said you were coming. You need the reports."

She turned and leaned over the desk again. This time she exaggerated her hips and jutted out her tight ass. Prince squinted hard, willing any reaction to come to him. Nothing stirred.

The woman straightened slowly and switched her way over to him, holding out the stack of paperwork. "If there's anything else you need, Agent Obademi, my card's attached."

"Thank you," he said, nodding and turning on his heel. As he left the office, the card slipped from its paperclip on top of the stack. He didn't bend down to pick it up.

He hadn't felt a twinge of interest. Even three years later, no matter how many women he kissed or tasted, nothing compared to the pure sweetness that had permeated his blood and infused his soul. He still had the taste of Gabby on his lips.

Prince shook himself as he headed to his bike. He had to wrap up this case and get out of here soon. Gabby was away at school, but she was close enough to make a trip home at any time. And he knew that if she did, they could wind up making the same mistake again.

﻿Chapter Four

Gabby's Mercedes purred down the quiet street of her youth. Everything looked familiar. All the bushes were trimmed. The tulips were awake and plump. Expensive cars lined the driveways. It was upper-class finest at its chicest.

"Are we the lamest ever for missing spring break of our senior year?" Gabby turned to her best friend, Diniece who sat next to her with her brown head buried in a law book.

"What? I'm working," said Diniece "I'm trying to build a better future for myself at my internship. You're the one that has schoolwork to do. How did you even get three teachers to give you extensions all the way from winter quarter?"

Gabby shrugged as she made a right turn. She'd never had problems getting people to do what she wanted them to do. Not since she was a kid. Everyone seemed to bend to her will. Except one person.

Her car pulled closer to her home. Across the street was the Obademi residence with its brick front and wrought-iron gate. The gate was shut, but Gabby knew another way in. Even though the Obademi and Hernandez houses were on opposite sides of the street, they were at the end of the lot and shared property around the back.

It didn't matter that she had access. He wasn't there. He was never there. He hadn't come back home since "the incident" three years ago. Three years with little to no contact. He seemed to instinctively know her schedule. And any time she was home, he conveniently was not.

That was going to change. Once she passed these classes and had her degree in hand, she was moving to D.C. She was all but guaranteed a seat in the national orchestra as a cellist. If they were in the same city, Prince could no longer run from her.

But first she had to actually graduate college. So, no spring break for her. She would be following her best friend's model and burying her head in her unopened school books for the next week.

Gabby pulled into her parents' driveway. There were no cars at her home either. Her father was likely at work. As a United States attorney, he often worked long hours, but he'd always made certain to make his presence felt at home when his children were younger. Her mother was just as busy with her charity work and her role as a sought-after socialite.

Gabby and Diniece would need to entertain themselves for a couple hours until dinner. They got out of the car and rounded to the trunk. Diniece pulled out her suitcase. Gabby did the same. Her report card, which had been stuffed into an unzipped pocket, fell out of her backpack. Diniece picked it up.

"Girl, I don't see how you're gonna change these D's to anything higher in the alphabet in just a week."

Gabby grabbed the foul report back. "You let me worry about that."

Diniece looked across the street as a car pulled up. The gates to the Obademi residence opened, and the car pulled in.

"Is that Judge Obademi?" Diniece asked.

Gabby groaned inwardly. Judge Abeni Obademi had never liked her. She was always kind. But Gabby knew that she wasn't Prince's mom's favorite person. Even though she was everybody else's favorite.

Judge Obademi opened her car door and waved to them. Gabby smiled and waved back. Thinking that was the extent of their interaction, she set her feet to turn and go into her house. But she startled when Judge Obademi moved steadily toward them in her heels and pants suit. Gabby blinked and set her feet in motion into the street. They met each other halfway in the road.

"Hello Ms. Jordan," said the judge extending her hand to Diniece. "It's good to see you again."

Of course, Gabby thought. The judge would be more interested in her friend who was studying criminal justice than she was in the girl who'd lived next door to her her whole life. Diniece was staying with Gabby's family over spring break because she was working with Gabby's father as part of her internship.

"Your Honor, it's good to see you, as well," said Diniece. "While I'm working with Mr. Hernandez I'd love the opportunity to come and talk with you, pick your brain, get any career advice, if you have any time at all."

"Of course," said the judge. "You just call my office and I'll have them set something up."

Mrs. Obademi turned to Gabby as though she just realized she were there. "And how are you, Gabrielleia?"

Gabby's hands fluttered, wondering if she should extend her hand or offer her long-time neighbor a hug. If it had been Mr. Obademi, she'd already be swept up into a bear hug. If it was one of her sons, Gabby would be squeezing the life out of them. But she never quite knew how to act around the matriarch of the Obademi family. So her hands fluttered. And out spilled the report card. 

Judge Obademi reached down to pick the paper up before Gabby could react. Gabby knew the woman was used to seeing the straight edged letter A's on her sons' report cards. Her hazel eyes looked at the abundance of fat, rounded letters on Gabby's report with disdain. She handed the paper back to Gabby as though it were poison.

"That's just a progress report," said Gabby. "It doesn't take into account some late work."

Oh that's great Gabby, tell her you aren't turning in your work on time too. But that was better than the truth. Which was that she wasn't turning in her work at all.

It wasn't as though Gabby was a party animal. She just hated school. Had always hated school. She didn't see the point of school.

Since before the time she could talk, she knew exactly what she wanted to do with her life. She wanted to be Mrs. Yohaness Obademi. She didn't need to go to school for that. She'd already learned everything she needed to know about Prince. What he liked to eat. How to make him smile. What his favorite everything was. She knew everything; except how to get him to stand still and realize his love for her.

"Are you home for a minute before you go off to the beach?" asked the judge.

"I'm not going to the beach. I'm staying home and doing some extra credit work," Gabby stuttered. "In fact, I've been invited to perform at the governor's mansion tomorrow night."

The judge grimaced.

That may not have been the right thing to say. The new governor was not favored in some circles. Gabby knew that. She caught many of the telecasts were he said outrageous things about minorities, women, and immigrants. She was not a fan either. But classical music knew no politics. The governor's dinner and playing there was an honor; one that would seal her position in the National Orchestra.

"Well, it's nice to have all the kids home for a change," said the judge.

Gabby's ears perked up like a hunting dog spotting prey. "All the kids?"

"Yes, Yohaness is in town. But I'm sure you knew that. You were always chasing him around like a little puppy."

Diniece snickered. Her friend knew better than anybody her preoccupation with Prince. Diniece had dragged Gabby out enough times over the last three years only to watch her reject man after man that didn't live up to her perfect Prince. 

Gabby didn't respond to the judge's quip. She held her tongue until she could learn where Prince was at this very second.

"It's a shame about Chris' accident," said the judge. "Thank goodness he's going to make a full recovery. I wish my youngest would give up that infernal racing."

Gabby had not heard about her brother's friend's accident. She knew Crow well. He had been a fixture at her house when her brother was younger.

"Yohaness is investigating the case as part of his role at the FBI's Civil Rights Division," said the judge. "There may be a hate crime element."

Gabby nodded, taking in every tidbit of information. "So, he's investigating. So, he's probably talking to Christopher at my brother's place?"

Mrs. Obademi shook her head. "No, dear. Christopher was in an accident." She spoke slowly, enunciating her words as though speaking to a child. "He hasn't been released from the hospital yet. I believe that's where all the boys are."

Gabby nodded her head vigorously, ignoring yet another quip. "Oh, right. I forgot. Well, it was really nice talking to you Mrs. O. I hope you'll come over for dinner while I'm here."

The moment the judge walked away, Gabby returned her attention to her best friend.

"Gabby…" Diniece began in a warning tone. But then she just shook her head in defeat. She knew that once Gabby made up her mind, there was no changing it.

"You have to drop me at the hospital," Gabby said. 

"What about your homework and raising your grades?"

But Gabby was already yanking her luggage up the front stoop. "I'm gonna have to change first."

﻿Chapter Five

Prince turned the Rubik's cube left and right, rotating it in his palm top to bottom. Aligning the colored squares was rote memory and touch at this point, but the sequence always worked. Within a matter of minutes, the puzzle was decoded, reminding him that every problem could be solved with the correct sequence of actions.

He set the cube down and gathered the sheets of paper before him. He gave the thick stack a slap on the desk. The pages fell into an orderly queue. Though they fell in line, things still didn't add up.

The reports from the racing track weren't enough to prove that the incident involving Crow was racially motivated. Hate crimes were notoriously hard to prove. The main reason for this was because the violations weren't reported very often. Even when they were reported, they were rarely prosecuted. Perpetrators of hate rarely came up and said to an officer that they picked their victim because of their racial, religious, or gender identity.

The word hate meant something different to the legal system than it did to the public. Prince could prove that a crime had been committed. But could he prove why it was done?

The police officer who'd met Prince on the track did have a point; the victim of this particular crime was white. The assailants, who were also white, had been yelling anti-Latino, anti-Black, and anti-Asian slurs. There was even a mention of a few homophobic epithets thrown in by the Henchmen. Crow identified with none of those designations.

So, while there had definitely been an intentional assault, had that assault been hate-induced when the victim wasn't the target of the hate? Prince didn't doubt for a second that it was. But belief alone wasn't enough in the justice system. He had to prove it.

Roman Voigt, the driver for the Henchmen, insisted that it was a mistake that he hit Crow's car. The track officials and the police had accepted that answer. Sure, they'd meted out a fine and a penalty. But missing one race wasn't a big deal.

Crow could sue in civil court for injury, but Prince knew better. Crow and all the brothers of the Watchers Crew would prefer to take their justice either to the streets, back on the track, or, more than likely, divide it between both avenues. Prince knew this would escalate. The next time someone could end up dead. It was only a matter of time.

Prince sighed and picked up his cube again. He gave it a few twists and turns until the colors were scrambled, and then he began to work the process again.

Three years ago, Prince had been overjoyed at going to Washington, D.C. to work for the Federal Bureau of Investigation's Hate Crime task force. Born with an innate sense of justice, Prince believed he would be fighting the fight to keep the scales of justice in balance. The problem was that justice was not only blind in this case; it had been handicapped.

If only he had more data to work with. There was a lack of reporting by the local police department. He didn't think it was malicious — not entirely. It was mainly due to lack of training. The city didn't even have a formal FBI field office. He'd set up in the District Attorney's office. 

He put down the cube that he'd solved yet again. Still, he had no solutions in the crime set out before him. He ran his hands over his face. There was a hint of citrus on his index finger from the lemonade he'd had at lunch. It couldn't hide that sweet hint of Gabby on his fingertips. Nothing had doused that scent in three years.

Prince closed his eyes, just for a moment, and let his mind sail back to that night in the pool house. He brushed one thumb across the dark curls at the apex of her thighs. He parted her pink labia with the other. She'd been so wet for him, and she'd smelled so sweet.

He'd only meant to finger her, to show her how good it was supposed to feel before the next guy. But the thought of anyone else between her legs had made him snap. Before he knew it, he'd latched on to her. Her sweet nectar had spread to his brain, infecting his every sense, contaminating his blood, allowing him to continue with the bad decision of delving his tongue into the depths of where his cock wanted to be.

"It's great having you back, Yohaness."

The cube clattered to the desk as Prince jerked out of his sinful memories. He stood and put his hands behind his back. He sucked his bottom lip into his mouth as though to hide the evidence of what he'd done. He turned a downcast face to the man that had used his given name.

Not many people used his birth name. Not since he was very young and had been poked at for having a name that sounded like Your Highness. Instead, people had started calling him Prince. But this man had known him since his birth.

Mr. Hernandez, better known as Gabby's dad, also known as the district attorney, shoved a hand in Prince's direction. Prince looked down at that hand. His own hand clenched, and he hesitated to give Mr. Hernandez his palm. If the man knew what Prince's fingers had done to his daughter three years ago, he would be slugging him across the face. 

But he didn't know. No one knew. And it would never happen again. In the end, Prince shook the hand of the man whom he had a world of respect for.

"It's good to be back, Mr. H," said Prince. "I just hope I can't get enough evidence for you to bring this case to trial."

Mr. Hernandez shook his head. His eyes sparkling, so much like his daughter's. Prince felt a momentary pang in his chest. He hadn't seen Gabby's mischievous, determined eyes in three years.

"We're in desperate need of training for the local police force," Mr. Hernandez was saying. "Especially now with our new governor in place. I have a feeling more events like this will take place. And we'll need to be ready."

The new governor had won on a platform of divisiveness, fear, and segregation. Though the city of Prince's birth was diverse, the new governor had been able to get a lot of folks living in the rural areas out to vote for the first time in years. Men and women who'd given up on the government as it became more and more progressive came out of the woodworks, thus landing him the election.

"Do you think the Hate Crimes Division would loan you out to help us train local law enforcement?"

Prince gave no answer. He didn't voice his frustrations with his division of the FBI. He didn't let Mr. Hernandez know that he was questioning his role with the bureau, that he didn't believe he was doing much to help with keeping the scales of justice in balance. That he was doubting the ability of the FBI to uphold their mission of protecting and defending citizens against threats and enforcing the laws of the land. He didn't let Mr. Hernandez know that he felt less like a leader in the criminal justice system, and more like its victim who had his head repeatedly banging against a brick wall.

"You should come over for dinner tonight," said Mr. Hernandez.

Prince was tempted. Mrs. Hernandez was a wizard in the kitchen.

"I'm sure Gabby would love it."

Prince froze. His mouth flooded with desire making it necessary to swallow once, twice. His eyes went to the calendar on the desk.

Gabby should be in school. He was certain of it. He'd downloaded the university's academic calendar each year she'd been away. But a closer look at the calendar told him it was nearing the university's spring break.

Fuck.

He scratched at his stomach. He pulled at his collar. His eyes flitted from the calendar, to his keys, then back to the pile of paperwork on his desk.

She was here. Maybe she was just home for the day. It was her senior year. Surely she'd be spending spring break, her last spring break of college, with her friends lounging on a beach somewhere.

"I need to get to the hospital," Prince said instead of giving Mr. Hernandez an answer. "I have a few more questions for Christopher."

Mr. Hernandez nodded and stepped aside. Prince left his suit jacket on his chair and instead grabbed for his motorcycle jacket. He did have some more questions for Crow, but he needed to clear his head first. A ride was just the thing to do that.

He left the building and hopped on his Harley-Davidson Super Glide. He'd flown in from D.C. and rented a car for the week he'd planned to stay. But as soon as he'd hit the garage, he'd traded in the rental keys for his bike. He didn't have much opportunity to ride in the District, with work keeping him busy and the city's abundance of bad drivers making him leery. He took the long way to the hospital, enjoying the fresh air and the freedom from confinement of a cubical or the stress of a crime scene.

He parked his bike with reluctance and entered the hospital. He hadn't seen his brother's friends in a long time. The Watchers Crew partied wild, just as wild as the Baztards had partied back when they were that young. But Prince hadn't partied for a long while, not with the new life he had.

It would be good to see all the boys of the Watcher's Crew. Just thinking about the tight-knit group of guys made him miss his own crew. He knew he should make the time to see Chief and Sully. The question was, did he want to?

One crew at a time.

He'd already talked with all four member of the Watchers Crew the previous day. But it wouldn't hurt to make sure he hadn't missed anything. Perhaps the Henchmen had aimed some of their vitriol directly at Crow. Perhaps he could get Crow to launch a civil suit. He knew none of the boys were hurting for money. He didn't ask where it came from. He didn't want to dig too deeply and inadvertently find out either.

He headed over to the reception area of the hospital. Now that Crow was out of the woods, he'd recently been moved and Prince needed to get the new room number. There was a pretty nurse behind the station. She didn't look like a real nurse. She looked like a Halloween caricature of a nurse.

Her uniform was just a tad tight. Even though she wore scrubs, there was more than a hint of cleavage showing. Her covered legs were miles long, but the cotton covering them showed their definition. When her gaze rose to meet his, Prince felt like she was giving him an x-ray and a full physical examination all at once.

"Excuse me?" he said. "I'm looking for Christopher Trent's room?"

"I'll take you," she said, her lips curled into a carnivorous grin as she sashayed in front of him.

Prince checked her out. Though his cock wasn't interested, he was still a man. She was beautiful, but she wasn't his type. She might have been his type years ago when he rode more often and ran with a rougher crowd. But even now, he didn't feel a twinge of interest.

"You one of Crow's brothers?" she asked.

"Not by blood. I'm Eagle's brother. My name's Yohaness."

"Excuse me? Did you say your name was Your Highness?"

"Pretty much," Prince grinned. "My mother believes in the power of names."

"Mine, too. I'm Cleopatra. I have two brothers; Solomon and Khan."

"She named you all after various kings and queens."

"Yeah, depending on our dad's heritage. Your mom named your brother Eagle?"

"No, she didn't." Prince smiled not giving up Eagle's given name. He could tell she was hedging. He wondered if his brother had gotten into her scrubs. It was likely. This woman looked exactly like the type to bend Eagle to his knees. Prince decided he liked her instantly.

"It's nice to meet you, Yohaness."

"No one calls me that." No one but his mother and Gabby's dad. "Everyone calls me Prince."

There was laughter coming from Crow's room. It was light and feminine with a double dose of sweetness and the slightest hint of mischief. Prince froze in his tracks.

He knew the sound of that voice. It had tickled him the first time he'd played peekaboo with her as a baby. It had made him dizzy the first time he'd picked her up and twirled her around. It had gripped his heart the first time she'd tossed her hair over her shoulder to reveal she'd grown breasts and curves. It had put his cock on ice when he heard the high-pitched scream of his name in the throes of passion.

Prince leaned on the doorjamb. Gabby stood on the far side of Crow's hospital bed. She stood there not as the child he tried to hold onto in his mind. She stood there in pinup glory. She wore a bright sundress that brought out the sparkle of her eyes. The dress was cinched at the waist accenting every curve from her breasts to her hips down to her exposed calves. Her hair was done up in curls and her lips were fire-engine red. Prince's cock jumped in his pants, pushing at his zipper to get across the room.

Gabby giggled as Crow waggled his eyebrows at her. Prince hadn't heard what the blond man had said. But he looked at the injured man laying impotent in the bed, and he wanted to break his leg.

"Keep talking to my baby sister like that and I will hurt you," Hawk growled.

"Do I look like I'm stupid enough to make a move on your sister?" grinned Crow. "My fiancé aside, I don't have a death wish."

"Can you imagine what it was like growing up with two guard dogs?" Gabby punched Eagle.

"Don't you mean three?" Eagle looked up to find his brother framing the door. 

And then Gabby cocked her head. It was a delicate move, like a bird sensing a shift in the wind. She took an inhale, like a lioness scenting that the king of the jungle was near.

Prince had the insane desire to run away like a deer in fear for its life. At the same time, he felt the urgency to hold still like a bug on the wall. Maybe if he didn't move, she wouldn't spot him. If she didn't spot him, she wouldn't be able to crush him with that wide smile of hers. She wouldn't be able to pin him with those sparkling eyes.

Gabby turned her head to him. Her eyes skated over him, brief and efficient. Her smile was all her mother's; a socialite at a party, making nice with an acquaintance she hadn't seen in some time.

"Yohaness," she said, her voice a trickle of polite airiness. "I didn't know you were in town."

Prince's lips pressed together. His eyes narrowed. Gabby never called him by his given name. She never stood still when he came into a room. She'd always light up, squeal, and make a mad dash into his arms.

Not today.

Today, she stood prim and proper in a dress straight out of the fifties. It outlined her bust in the shape of a heart. It cinched in her tiny waist before flaring out along her generous hips. And still, she stood there immobile, smiling politely at him with a friendly gaze.

Prince couldn't find his voice. He couldn't feel his tongue. He couldn't blink. 

"I'm surprised you weren't the first person he called," said Hawk. "He's always been wrapped around your little finger since you were born."

"I don't have his new number," she said quietly, not meeting his eyes. She turned back to Crow and gave him a wide smile. "Listen, I'm going to get out of your hair." Gabby leaned over and gave Crow a kiss on the forehead. "I'm glad you're well, Christopher. Maybe slow down next time."

"Ha-ha," grinned Crow. "You coming to my homecoming party tonight?"

"No." Hawk, Eagle, and Prince all said in unison.

"Just like old times," said Gabby with a giggle. She turned to Nurse Cleo. "I wasn't allowed in their fort as a kid either, but other girls were."

She turned and headed towards Prince. Prince weaved away from the door frame and braced for impact. But her gaze was trained on the floor. Her steps were slow and even. Her hands were down at her side.

He tensed as the scent of her neared him. And then he realized, as her gaze didn't connect with his, she was going to walk right past him.

And she did.

She walked right past him and out the door. Prince turned and stared at her ass as it moved up and down beneath her dress. She was about to cross the threshold and she hadn't even touched him.

But then, she paused and turned. "It was nice to see you again, Prince."

"You too, Gabby."

It was only a two second stare. None of the other people in the room caught it. Then Gabby flipped a stray curl over her shoulder and walked out.

"Prince, you're coming to the party tonight, right?" said Crow.

"I'm too old to be going to any of your parties," Prince said.

His eyes were still latched on Gabby and her long legs. She'd always had long legs, but had they always moved like that? Like she was strutting because she knew she had sunshine between her legs. Prince knew for a fact that there was sunshine between her legs. He knew because he'd been so cold for so long outside of their warmth. 

"How long are you in town for?" asked Hawk.

"Not long," said Prince as he watched Gabby pause and push the button for the elevator. She smiled at a man in a white coat as he came to stand next to her. "I just have some questions to ask you about the race."

"You think you can prosecute those dipshits for a hate crime?" asked Crow.

Gabby stepped into the elevator with the doctor. The man leaned down and said something to make her laugh. Prince grit his teeth as the doors closed them in. 

"Listen," Prince said to Crow without turning around. "Can I give you a call and talk about the case later?"

"Sure thing," said Crow.

But the man sounded far away. Prince was already headed to the stairwell. He bounded down the stairs until he got to the ground floor. He yanked open the exit door and looked around the parking lot.

He didn't see her car. He didn't see her. Until…

Prince walked over to his bike. Gabby ran her hand over the handlebars. She pressed her palm into the leather of the seat. She turned when he approached.

"Hey," she grinned, her eyes sparkling up at him. "You think I could get a ride home?"

﻿Chapter Six

It had been the right dress. Gabby was never a fan of miniskirts. Her mother had taught her that skirts, longer skirts, gave a hint at the treasures beneath. That long, winding road made men want to do whatever it took to get the prize at the end of the journey.

She watched as Prince's eyes strained. His pupils dilated as he looked at her bare calves. His eyes traveled up and got a nice view of her knees, but cloth obstructed his view any farther.

He took a step forward. "Didn't you drive?" 

"A friend dropped me off," she said. "But it's okay. I can call an Uber if you're still mad at me."

Gabby pulled out her phone and gave a few taps to get to the ridesharing app.

"Uber?" Prince took another step towards her. "You get into strangers' cars? What did I tell you about strangers?"

"That I shouldn't talk to them. Or get in cars with them." She tilted her chin up to meet his stern gaze. "So, can I get a ride from you?"

Prince pinched the bridge between his nose and sighed like he used to when she beat him at Connect Four. He excelled at complex mathematical operations. But he never saw the blind side that came from easy, simple calculations.

With his eyes closed, Gabby had a chance to take him in. There were bags under his eyes. He looked thinner, but still fit. It was as though any ounce of fat had melted away from him in the last three years, not that there had ever been any. Prince had always been a fine specimen.

He wore the bottom half of a suit. The top was a crisp white shirt with a tie beneath his motorcycle jacket. She was used to seeing him in jeans. Seeing him in the tailored suit pants and the creamy shirt against his cocoa skin set her body humming.

It didn't take much for her to remember the fireworks he'd set off in her three years ago. The tiny sticks of dynamite still fizzled in the core of her. And now that the match was so close to her, she felt ready to ignite again.

"You're wearing heels."

Gabby blinked at Prince's words. She looked down at her shoes. "Should I take them off?"

She slipped out of her right heel. Prince closed the small amount of distance remaining between them and put his hand on her hip. It wasn't meant to be sensual, but upon impact Gabby felt as though she would spontaneously combust in the middle of the hospital parking lot.

She grasped his shoulders for balance. Her thighs brushed up against his. He inhaled, sucking the breath from her parted lips. Gabby licked her bottom lip to restore some of the moisture there. Prince watched the action with a hooded gaze.

"Keep your shoes on," he said. "It's the skirt that's going to be a problem."

Gabby's lips parted into a slow grin. "I'm sure you don't want me to take that off. Or do you?"

Prince shivered as though she'd thrown water in his face. He let her go in a fast, thrusting motion. But at the last second, his touch gentled and he gripped her hip as though making sure she was steady before he let her go.

"You should wait for your brother," Prince said. "He can take you home."

Gabby shrugged, leaning back against the leather of his bike's seat. "Hawk's headed to his place for Crow's party. So…"

Gabby didn't know much about her brother's social life. But she did know that he'd played the field; a big wide open field full of women. And she knew that he still frequented that field, even though he was in a relationship with his girlfriend Ellie, whom Gabby and her family adored. Gabby had heard whispers in high school of her big brother being into something called polyamory. She hadn't known what that meant until she went to college and people actually told her things instead of hushing when she came into the room.

Prince grit his teeth as she let the silence between them stew. He obviously knew more about Hawk's proclivities than she did. That's what she'd counted on. Although she didn't want Prince to treat her with kid gloves anymore, if she could use it to get her way, she would. And it looked like that tactic worked.

"Okay." He said it more to himself than to her.

Gabby didn't even try to hide her grin of triumph. She turned away from Prince and ran her hands over the bike's seat like it was a favorite pet returned home. She hadn't ridden with him since she was a girl. Even then, it had only been up and down their neighborhood street. He'd let her ride when she fit on the seat in front of him. The moment she'd climbed on all by herself in a pair of gym shorts, with her feet reaching the pedals, and her legs clinching around his hips, and her then small breasts rubbing against his back, she'd been banned from his bike.

Now she turned back to Prince. His eyes were locked on her fingers as they trailed the leather of his seat.

"I finally get to be your bitch," she grinned.

Prince's hazel eyes flashed. "Watch your mouth, Gabrielleia."

Gabby rolled her eyes and put her hands on her hips. "You keep forgetting, I'm a grown woman."

"No, you're not." Prince shook his head. "You're a lady."

He took his leather jacket off and wrapped it around her shoulders. She was engulfed in his scent, in his heat. She closed her eyes and breathed him in.

A thick finger lifted her chin, and she met with the hazel eyes she'd seen in her dreams every night. They looked at her through a haze of desire, just as they had when he'd swiped his tongue over her clit and held her gaze as she had her second climax. That one had been longer than the first one but deeper than the third one.

"I'm not mad at you, Gabs," he said softly. "I'm mad at myself. What happened between us three years ago shouldn't have. I took advantage of you."

Gabby halted her tongue. Even though she wanted to rail against the insanity of that logic. She'd taken every advantage she could get to get him alone and in that situation. She hadn't done anything she hadn't wanted to do, and she almost always got her way.

Prince knew that. Everyone in her family knew that. It was a running joke that happened to be based in truth.

She had wanted him since before she understood what wanting meant. He'd wanted her, too; a little too soon before it was prudent for him to admit it to himself or anyone else. She'd been entirely legal when they'd done what they'd done. She hadn't regretted it for a single second and she was spinning all of her wheels trying to figure out how to make it happen again.

Gabby may not have been the best academic, but she paid attention and she learned the lessons that interested her well. She was going to ace this assignment. It was her life's work. She was determined to figure out all the steps in the algorithm of making the moves to win Prince Obademi's heart. So, if he needed to believe he'd taken advantage of her, she'd work that into the equation.

"I'm fine," she said looking down, toying with the leather seat. "It did overwhelm me a bit."

He closed his eyes as though he were in pain and sighed. The gust of soft air met her nose. She smelled citrus on his breath and had a sudden urge for lemonade, but only if she could drink it from his mouth.

"I figured I did something wrong," she continued, "and that's why you stopped talking to me."

His eyes jerked open. "You didn't do anything wrong. It was me; it was all me."

Gabby broke out into a beatific smile. "Then I forgive you."

Prince blinked at that smile, like it blinded him.

"Do you think we can be friends again?" Gabby asked. "Because I really missed you."

He sighed again, but this time it was one of sorrow. "I missed you too, monkey."

"So we're all better?" She took a step closer.

Prince's eyes narrowed at her advance and he took a step back. "Come on," he said. "I'll take you home."

He reached for his spare helmet and aimed it for her head. It smelled new, like no one had worn it, which pleased Gabby to no end. She felt him sweep the loose tendrils of her hair back, winding the locks in his large hands, and sliding the gathered hair into the back of the helmet.

Prince put his own helmet on. Hitching himself onto the bike, he hesitated a second. But then reached for her hand.

She shifted her skirt slightly and slid one leg over the seat as ladylike as she could. There was space between them, but she scooted down closer to him. Her thighs cocooned his. Her arms wrapped around his chest. She hugged him tight.

"I really missed you," she said.

He tensed in her embrace, but only for a moment. "Be a good girl, Gabby."

She gave him another squeeze and the tension in his body relaxed. He reached back and flipped the visor of her helmet down and her world changed to shades of gray, but her plan was crystal clear.

She sat on a bitch seat wearing a ladylike dress with her thighs and arms wrapped around the man of her dreams. A good girl was the last thing she intended to be.

﻿Chapter Seven

The moment her arms wrapped around him, Prince knew he was in trouble. Gabby had always been a good girl. Hawk and Eagle swore she was the devil's spawn in pigtails, a manipulative brat with an angelic smile. Sure, he'd seen her pitch a fit a time or two, but she never gave him an ounce of trouble. Until she grew breasts.

Those breasts pressed into his back now. He felt the points of her nipples through layers of clothing. His cock felt like a brick between his thighs. The scent of her wafted up and under his helmet. His tongue snaked out to grab a taste. It was like a hit of NOS injected into his taste buds.

Memories of that night between her thighs with her clit in his mouth zoomed through his mind. He remembered tugging and sucking on her right labia, which had much more of a pronounced curve than her left one. He knew because he spent a lot of time rounding each of the bends before making that assessment. And the hell if he didn't want to take her out for another spin.

But he couldn't. She was Gabby, his little Gabby with the pigtails and angelic smile. Behind him he heard the little demon breathe a contented sigh as she pressed herself closer to him, resting her helmeted head at his back. Her thighs wrapped around the outside of his. He felt the heat of the sweetness she kept there.

Prince hunched forward and turned on the engine. He needed to get her home as quickly as possible. He kicked up the bike stand and pulled out of the parking lot.

Gabby held on tighter. He felt her body sigh and lean with his as he turned into traffic. She followed his every move as they rode as if they'd done this a million times.

His brain urged him to go faster, to get her unwrapped from him and deposited safely back in her home, and he in his. But his hand relented off the throttle. It was the first time he felt calm and carefree in God knew how long. He felt his body sigh back into hers. His brain cleared. Every problem and puzzle that had plagued him the last few years lost its complexity as his focus settled on the girl behind him.

This was so familiar to him. Gabby, with all her long limbs, wrapped around him. Gabby, looking up at him with a gap tooth grin like he'd hung the moon. In the past, he'd stop whatever it was he was doing and give her his full attention. Whenever he did, things slowed down. His worries would fall by the wayside and he'd remember how to enjoy the simple things.

Their brothers were wrong. Gabby wasn't a menace. She was uncomplicated and easy to figure out. Her motives were always clear and pure. She had never been anything but a source of joy and a reminder of goodness to him.

It was pretty clear she'd gotten over her childhood infatuation with him. It had been three years. She'd likely had a number of boyfriends and lovers by then.

Prince's hand clenched at that thought. He twisted the throttle, and they zoomed off the highway and onto the exit that led to their community. He pulled to the curb of her house. Her arms and thighs remained wrapped around him like the little monkey of her youth; the monkey that would latch on and not let go.

But she was scooting back on the seat. Her legs loosened their grip from around his. Her hands unlatched from his chest. Her head rose from his back. As she moved further away from him, the calm, peaceful sense of rightness went with her.

He had the urge to reach back and pull her thighs back around his waist and lock them at the ankles. Then he wanted to turn and bury his face in that warm place that he hadn't stopped thinking about once in three years. But he couldn't do that.

Gabby slid off the bike as ladylike as possible in a skirt and heels. She was moving beyond his grasp. Suddenly, the last three years of her absence crushed him. How had he survived without that precocious smile, without that infectious laugh, without those inquisitive eyes?

She stood on the curb and took off his helmet. Prince watched as her lovely face left the dark confines of the helmet and brightened the sun-filled sky. He knew every line of her face, but he felt like he was looking at her anew.

She handed him the helmet with a smile. Then her slender fingers went to the collar of his motorcycle jacket which was over her shoulders. She ran her hands from the collar down along the lapels and over the front buttons. Four of her fingers on each hand curled around the front opening on either side, both of her thumbs caressed the buttons, and then she gave a tug.

Prince had trouble swallowing as Gabby shed the jacket and revealed her form. He could deny it no longer. Gone was the gangly girl of his youth. In her place was a full grown, curvy, vivacious woman.

"Thanks for the ride, Prince," she said in a voice that was no longer high-pitched, but husky. "It really was good seeing you again. Maybe we can hang out while you're here?"

Prince gave an internal sigh. She hadn't given up on her childhood fantasy. He straightened his spine to begin his lecture and make things clear to her. She might be grown, but he was still older. Too old for her.

Gabby didn't wait for a response to her invitation. She didn't wait to hear what he had to say. She turned and headed up the drive to her house.

Prince watched her ass sway as her heels and long legs made distance between them. He felt the weight of his responsibilities swirling around his head, preparing for a landing. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. She was already at the step that led to her door.

Then she turned back. "You hungry? I have some chipotle chicken in the fridge."

Prince kicked out the kickstand. His strides ate up the distance between them. Gabby turned and fumbled with the key to the front door.

Prince shoved his hands in his pockets to keep from reaching out to help her. He didn't feel certain if his hands would reach for the key or something else.

He looked at the ground instead of at her ass in that skirt. His eyes fastened on her shapely calves in those heels, which was no better. He looked across the street to his house. There was food to eat in there. But not food like in the Hernandez kitchen. He decided he would go in, eat something delicious, and they would talk.

He entered the house. The grand entrance looked as it always had. There were pictures on the wall of the whole family. It always made Prince smirk to see Hawk in shirtsleeves and a tie with a smile on his face instead of a smug grin. And there was Gabby, looking every bit the Latina princess at the center of her family. She wasn't standing in the center, but the eye couldn't help but gravitate to those bright eyes and that infectious smile.

He turned away from the family portrait and they made their way to the kitchen. Mrs. Hernandez always had homemade treats out. She would always say that cooking was her love language.

Prince's mother stuffed the freezer with an array of frozen meals. In the fridge was always two loaves of bread, an assortment of cheeses, and lunch meat from the deli. The cabinets were stocked with sugary and carb-loaded snacks.

The only thing the Hernandezes had in their freezer were leftovers, and those never lasted long.

"Beer or lemonade?" asked Gabby.

He answered, and she pulled a beer from the fridge. Then she went about pulling out plates and cutlery to begin to assemble a dish for him. Prince sidled up to the kitchen bar and watched. It had been a minute since a woman had cooked for him. When he had played the field, he'd dated working women who kept the same hours as he did, which didn't leave a lot of time for home cooked meals. 

He watched Gabby pull an apron over her dress; "Happy Homemaker" it read. She turned back to the fridge and her skirts swished. She put a plate of fresh baked cookies in front of him.

"I baked these before I came over to the hospital," she said.

Prince looked down at the cookies. They were his favorite; sugar cookies. He could almost imagine the smooth, creaminess of the butter. He knew the sugar flecks would melt in his mouth. He balled his fingers into fists instead of reaching out for one of the treats.

"Gabby," he said. "What happened that night between us was a mistake."

Gabby nodded as she sliced into the meat, which was in a pan full of drippings and not in a branded plastic container. "You mean that night when you gave me three orgasms and made me see stars?"

She didn't look up at him. She concentrated on the condiments. She layered mayo on the bottom with a dollop of honey mustard on each slice of bread. Just the way he liked it.

"It was a mistake," he said firmly, which was hard with his mouth watering.

"Really?" She put her thumb to her mouth and sucked off a smidge of mustard.

Prince couldn't take his eyes off the little flick of her tongue as she puckered her lips.

"Did you do it wrong?" she asked.

He blinked, focusing on the lecture at hand.

"Cause if you did it wrong, I'm willing to give you another chance to get it right." She slid the sandwich over to him and then leaned her elbows onto the counter. She rested her chin in her hands and looked up at him beneath hooded lashes.

Prince couldn't decide which he wanted more. A bite of the sandwich, or of her. His belly growled, his cock strained. His brain struggled to bring to the forefront the image of that little girl, but that image had been obliterated long ago.

"I took advantage of you in a vulnerable state," he said. "You had just broken up with your boyfriend."

Gabby snorted and threw her head back. "Charlie? Please. I had no trouble handling him." Then she leaned back down on the counter. "And when have you ever seen me do something I didn't want to do?"

Prince thought on the query for a second. The smell of meat messed with his head and the growing meat in his pants messed with his control. He struggled for an answer. "Bedtime," he settled on.

Gabby grinned. "Going to bed was never a problem, not as long as you were there with me."

She straightened and took a step around the bar.

"And then bedtime took on a whole different meaning when you put your hand down my swim suit. When you put your face against me and took me with your tongue. That's when I knew I wanted you in my bed every night."

She was standing before him. One more step and she'd make her way between his thighs. The sandwich lay on the counter, forgotten.

"We both knew exactly what we were doing that night," she said. "We both knew exactly what we wanted then, as well as now. I'm just brave enough to say it out loud. I'm not playing a game. My feelings for you are real. I want you. And now it's your move."

She held still. It would only take an inch and he could satisfy his craving and find out if her lips were as sweet as her clit. But the door opened and her father's voice made the decision for him.

﻿Chapter Eight

Gabby sighed. Her head dropped down and landed on something soft and warm and familiar; Prince's chest. He let her rest her head there. But only for a second.

She'd been so close. She could taste the scent of his toothpaste on his breath —cinnamon. But then he took a step back, and he was again out of her reach. At least this time it was only a few feet and not a few states.

She lifted her head and looked up at him. Prince scrubbed his hand over his face and into his hair like he was trying to shake himself awake. She wondered, was she a nightmare? Or dream?

His gaze connected with hers, and there it was. She hadn't imagined it. It was crystal clear in his hazel depths.

Prince wanted her.

It hadn't been a life lesson with her that night in the pool house. He'd done it because he'd wanted her. He just couldn't admit it to himself. He probably still saw her as a little girl. But she hadn't been a little girl for years.

She watched his jaw tense like a dog with a bone. He did that when he was working out a particularly tough problem. A flick of her eyes took her gaze to his right hand which clenched and unclenched, like he wanted a square cube to solve. He was trying to figure out the right steps to get to the outcome that he wanted. The outcome that would keep the distance between them.

Well, that wasn't happening. Gabby would just have to continue to keep him off balance. To do the thing he least expected so that he couldn't work through his process. At least not until she could convince him that she wasn't the problem. She was the solution.

So Gabby did the unexpected. She was the one who backed away from him. But not before she flicked her gaze downward again, this time towards the front of his pants. Looking down at the bulge in Prince's pants, she saw the last bit of proof she needed. There was no denying that bit of evidence.

They were meant to be. He'd figure it out sooner or later. But she would prefer sooner.

She'd been patient for three years. That was the longest she'd ever waited for anything in her life and she was done. For now, she walked away from him. She hadn't missed the half step he took toward her at her retreat.

Gabby turned in time to greet her father. "Hola, Papi."

"Hey, Princess Leia." Samuel Hernandez brought her into his arms and planted a kiss on top of her head. "How was the drive up? Diniece is still at the office. I made her promise to be home in time for dinner. Hey there Han. I figured you'd end up here sooner rather than later."

"I was just…" Prince began and stopped.

"Getting a taste of Gabby's cookies?" asked her father.

Sweat pooled at Prince's brown forehead and he visibly flustered. "No," he said forcefully. "She made me a sandwich."

"You didn't offer him any of your cookies?" Her father turned to her with a frown of disappointment.

Gabby couldn't hide her smile. "I tried to." She went to the counter, picked up the plate of sugar cookies and shoved them toward Prince. "I told Prince they were made especially for him, and they've been sitting around waiting a long time. He can take them home if he'd like."

Prince's jaw tensed again. His hand clenched and unclenched. Gabby only smiled. Then she turned over her shoulder and addressed her father.

"But he refused," she told her father. "I think he's on a diet or something."

"Since when does Prince say no to you?" Gabby's mother entered the kitchen. Valeria Hernandez sailed over to Prince and kissed him on each cheek. "What are they feeding you in D.C.? Seafood from that polluted water? You're skin and bones. I'm going to pack you a cooler for when you have to go back."

"Thank you, Mrs. H, but that's not necessary"

"Son," chuckled Mr. Hernandez, "You may have gotten away with denying one Hernandez woman, but no man gets away with denying two Hernandez women and lives to tell the tale."

"You're staying for dinner," Mrs. Hernandez insisted. "You just tell us what you want and we'll whip it up."

"Gabby already made me a sandwich," Prince pointed lamely to the forgotten dish.

"Okay, that's a start," said Mrs. Hernandez turning to the fridge. "What do you want on the side?"

Prince opened his mouth to respond but Mrs. Hernandez began pulling out vegetables and spices. Prince looked between the three of them. They had effectively boxed him in inside the kitchen. There was no escape.

He returned to his barstool as Gabby and her mother pulled out knives and pans.

"I'm so glad you're back Prince," said Mrs. Hernandez. "Maybe you can help the local police with handling all these incidents against minorities and immigrants."

"The rash of hate crimes has escalated since the governor's election," said Mr. Hernandez.

"That man," Mrs. Hernandez shuddered as she threw veggies into a sizzling pan.

Gabby had seen some news reports of Jewish temples being spray painted. She'd heard of school children using hateful language against minorities in their classes. She'd grown up in a fairly mixed neighborhood, but she still had to contend with stereotypes and prejudices even with her social status as the daughter of the district attorney.

"Shouldn't the Governor take responsibility for what people are doing in his name?" Gabby asked as she sliced into a red pepper.

"It's their actions," said her father. "He hasn't encouraged anyone to commit any violent crimes."

"What about with Christopher?" Her mom addressed this question to Prince. "With the race car accident? Humberto said the other team was shouting racial slurs, and that they had a swastika emblem on their car. I can't believe that's even legal."

"It's free speech," said Prince. "What I have to prove is intent; that the other driver intended to harm Crow due to his prejudices."

"How do you do that?" asked Gabby.

"The statements of racial slurs is a start. It would help to link the other driver to known racist or radical groups."

"So you'll need to infiltrate the racing team?" said Gabby.

"It's not that simple—" Prince tried, but Mrs. Hernandez cut him off.

"Isn't the driver who hit Christopher the son of the Governor's Chief of Staff?" asked Mrs. Hernandez. "Gabby, you were invited to play at a dinner there tomorrow night. You can take Prince. You two can go in undercover."

"That's actually not a good—" Prince tried again, but the Hernandez women were already concocting a plan. And then Mr. Hernandez jumped on their bandwagon.

"If you heard something while there as a guest, you could use that information," he said.

Prince looked between the three of them. Once again, they'd boxed him in. His gaze found Gabby's, and he shook his head. "I would never do anything to put Gabby in harm's way."

Gabby's heart swelled as his need to protect her shone fiercely in his eyes. Normally it would tick her off if he or either of their brothers' treated her with kid gloves. But in this instance, it worked in her favor.

"If there's anyone I trust with my daughter's well-being," said her dad, "it's you."

﻿Chapter Nine

The house was dark by the time Prince got home. The Hernandezes had kept him until he'd cleaned his plate of the sandwich, the side dishes, a second sandwich, and a couple of Gabby's cookies.

Gabby.

What the hell was he going to do about Gabby? When her parents showed up, she'd morphed into the old Gabby. The Gabby who made him laugh as she made funny faces at her parents' PDA. The Gabby whose insights, that she'd lay down nonchalantly about life or politics or art, made him pause to consider. The Gabby whose eyes sparkled when she looked at him and made him stop taking himself so seriously.

That Gabby he knew how to handle. The Gabby who moaned under his touch, the Gabby who made an offering of herself, the Gabby whose lips parted in invitation; that Gabby…

Fuck, that Gabby he wanted desperately. He wanted to take the offering of her lips and touch her in ways that would make her scream in pleasure. Instead, he slammed and locked the front door to his parents' house. He had to get back to D.C. and soon. Otherwise… 

No, he couldn't complete that thought.

He strode through the darkened living room. He hadn't bothered turning on any lights. No one used this room any longer. Eagle had left home at eighteen, but hadn't gone far. Both he and Prince loved their parents, but their mom and dad had raised two independent, self-sufficient men who wanted their own space, and to live by their own rules.

Prince heard clanging down the hall. He knew his mom was likely working late at the courthouse, like most nights of his youth. His mother was the most ambitious, determined woman he'd ever met. He was proud to take after her. But unlike at the Hernandez's house, there was rarely dinner on the table in the evening. The Obademis only ate together on holidays. The dining room was a pristine, untouched picture torn out of a catalogue.

The clanging and banging down the hallway continued as Prince made his way into the kitchen. He flipped the light switch on to spotless fixtures and appliances. He knew that the pots and pans in the cabinets were all without grime or residue. The microwave, on the other hand, had seen better days.

Prince pulled the freezer open, took out a frozen dinner, and placed the carton on the turntable of the microwave. He set the timer and then headed towards the clanging, knowing his father probably hadn't eaten yet.

Walking down the hall, he looked to the wall of family portraits. There was the wedding portrait of his parents, both clad in their traditional Nigerian garb. His mother, Oluyemi, was second generation Nigerian, while his father, Abeni, came straight from the homeland as a mechanical engineering student. His father later became a citizen when he scored a job working on military planes.

Tonight, Ben Obademi tinkered on an old school engine in his workroom. From the looks of it, it was a steam engine, maybe for an old boat? All the Obademi men loved to tinker with anything that housed rods, and pistons, and gaskets. Prince, his dad, and his younger brother would spend hours taking things apart, putting them back together, and then taking them apart again to figure out a more efficient process. 

Prince picked up a screwdriver and got to work alongside his father. The two men worked quietly, unscrewing parts and setting them aside. The mental and physical work of taking apart the engine settled Prince down. But with his mind relaxed, the memories took up shop.

Though his friends knew this wasn't the place to come for a good home cooked meal, they knew it was the place to come to discuss and fix anything mechanical. His friends, Chief and Sully, were fixtures in this room as much as Eagle and the boys of the Watchers Crew. They'd all sit and listen to Ben, who they affectionately nicknamed ObiWan, talk about the intimate workings of an engine. Then the boys would go out and apply his teachings to their cars and motorcycles.

And always, peeking around the corner, would be Gabby. Hawk would tell her to play with her dolls. Eagle would pull at her pigtails. Chief would teach her bad words. And Sully would sneak her treats. Inevitably, Gabby would end up in Prince's lap when she was little, or at his feet when she was a bit bigger, or leaning against the side of his chair when she was nearly grown.

As the boys' conversation naturally turned raucous and left the G-rating, Prince would carry her, or walk her, or tug her out of the room and back to her yard. Then he'd wind up staying with her for a quarter, half, or full hour laughing at her antics, explain to her some process for the tenth time, or they'd simply sit quietly and look up at the sky. Tonight, at dinner, was the first time he'd felt that sense of calm of his youth in a long time.

"How's the case going, son?"

Prince shrugged, as he put pressure on a bolt that wouldn't budge. "I don't feel like I'm getting anywhere. There's enough evidence to prove criminal intent. But not enough to prove that the motive was hate-filled."

His father nodded as he set aside another piece of the engine. "Why did the other man say he ran into Crow?"

"Roman Voigt maintains it was a mistake. I haven't been able to get a hold of him. He's not under arrest so he doesn't have to cooperate."

"But he's under investigation. Can't you get a warrant?"

"All the evidence has been turned over. And I doubt that even if I were able to question Mr. Voigt that he would tell me that his actions were racially motivated."

Prince hesitated to continue on and tell his dad that there was a potential wild card up his sleeve. He didn't know why he wanted to keep his spy mission with Gabby a secret. After a few moments of quiet, he came out with it.

"Gabby's invited to the governor's mansion tomorrow night," said Prince. "Mr. Voigt's father is the Governor's Chief of Staff. I'm going as Gabby's plus one."

"So you're going to go and bump into him? See If you can get him to talk?"

It wasn't that open and closed. His father missed the issue of Gabby. Because his father didn't know that there was an issue with Gabby.

"You know how Gabby's always… been a little clingy with me?" 

His father chuckled. "I believe her first words were 'I'm going to marry Prince.'"

"Yeah," sighed Prince.

His father laughed again. "That's a stubborn one there. I doubt she's changed her mind."

"It was fine when she was a little girl, but she's a grown woman now."

"Exactly," said his dad. "She's a grown woman now."

Prince stopped torqueing the wrench and turned to his father. "But I'm ten years older than her."

"Your mom is five years older than me," said his dad.

Prince shook his head. "That's different."

Ben leaned against the desk. "Because your mom is the older one, and she's a woman? That's sexist son."

Prince threw up his hands. "It's Gabby."

"I like Gabby. She's a good girl."

Prince was starting to wonder about that. Gabby had always been a force of nature, but he had always been in the tailwind. Now her energy was directed at him.

"What's the worst that could happen?" asked his dad.

He could upset her father and lose his respect.

He could upset her mother and be banned from the Hernandez kitchen.

He could upset her brother and lose his longtime friend.

He could upset his brother and cause a rift in his own family.

Even worse, he could upset Gabby. He could leave her hurt and crying. That wouldn't do.

At the same time, he didn't want to ignore her any more. He didn't want to run from her or her family or his family. He'd missed them all. He'd missed her most.

Prince gave the bolt another tug with the wrench and it came free. He could manage this thing with Gabby. It would take a bit of work, but he would figure this out. He just needed to take it step by step.

He'd take Gabby to the governor's mansion. They'd have some fun spying, though he doubted he'd get anything useful out of it. Then he'd sit her down and talk this thing between them out.

Prince turned his wrench on another bolt. This one caught. It was tighter than the last one. But he knew that if he gave it some time, he'd work it out, too.

﻿Chapter Ten

Gabby was in her happy place — her mother's closet. The racks were lined with ball gowns that Cinderella's fairy godmother's wand could never, with all the gourds in the field, conjure up. There were taffeta and crinoline and satin and silk garments. Cocktail dresses that socialites would clutch their pearls over or better yet, clutch the pearls hanging around their rival's neck and squeeze to get at. And then there were the shoes. Racks and racks of designer names to send a foot fetisher into an apoplectic shock.

"Try this one, Gabs." Gabby's mother poked her dark head out of the closet. "The color will bring out your eyes, and the shape will accent your hips."

Valeria Hernandez was a great mother, but an even better girlfriend.

As a mom, she baked cookies for school events and made costumes for Halloween. She attended each of her children's extra-curricular activities. Best of all, she always had an encouraging word or sage advice every time either Gabby or Hawk came to their mother with an unsolved problem.

It was when Gabby was ten, when she was just beginning to learn the value of a good BFF, that she came to know that her mother would always be the best there ever was. When all of her friends were chasing after middle school boys, Gabby's sights remained across the street on the college student next door.

Prince was finishing up his final year of pre-law. Even with his studies, he always made time for her when he came home for breaks. This particular break, he'd brought the She Devil home.

One afternoon with the She Devil and Gabby knew the woman had to go. Gabby had successfully scared off every one of Prince's girlfriends when he still lived at home. She'd managed this through a number of devious, childish, and, she could now admit, down-right mean tactics.

The She Devil was a law student like Prince. She shared Prince's African heritage, complete with an accent where Gabby couldn't entirely understand her words. The She Devil took to repeating words to her slowly, laughing at her attempts to participate in the grown up conversations, and making Gabby feel stupid. The demoness did this all when Prince had his back turned, never in front of his face. She was clever, the evil witch. Gabby realized she'd met her match and, for the first time in her life, she backed off in retreat.

When Gabby had gone home crying, her mother found her. Gabby told her mom that the boy she liked was now close to a girl that was mean to her. Sage advice at the ready, Valeria told her daughter that if this boy Gabby liked was worthy, then he'd notice that he'd gotten himself a toad on his arm, and he'd come after the real princess soon.

So of course, Gabby went and put a toad in the She Devil's purse the next day.

The toad jumped out of the handbag while the She Devil was making out with Prince at the pool. Like the witch she was, the She Devil flipped out, cursing up a storm, and blamed Gabby. Gabby burst into tears and, just like she'd planned, she was immediately pulled into Prince's arms.

The She Devil didn't return for the next break.

Valeria had watched the whole incident play out from the kitchen window. When Gabby came inside, she got a wink and a plate of cookies from her mother. Valeria told Gabby to give the boy she liked more time. She told her daughter that she had a lot more growing up to do before her prince would come to claim his princess.

And so Gabby waited, and waited, and waited. Until the night of the pool party.

The next morning after Prince had literally rocked her world, Valeria found her daughter crying at the pool. This time she'd told Gabby that it was Prince who needed a bit more growing up before he was ready to be claimed by his queen. Valeria told Gabby that she'd known Prince was the one for her daughter the first time he held Gabby in his arms and she'd stopped crying. She believed the two were fated, just as she had been fated to marry her own husband.

Tonight, Gabby spun around in the dress her mother had put her in. It hugged her curves and lifted her breasts. It did indeed bring out her eyes with the bedazzled bodice. 

Valeria gave her daughter a wink. "You'll be irresistible to every man at that gala in this dress."

It wasn't what she'd typically wear for a performance. Gabby had an assortment of black dresses and dress pants having been in orchestra all her life. But those dresses were mostly long and formless to allow for movement and a large cello between her thighs. She was trying to get something else between her thighs tonight.

On the bed, Diniece tapped on her tablet. "You two do understand this man wants to stop construction on the bridge for immigrants who use it to get downtown, making their commute longer and more expensive. And he has plans to reinstate Stop-and-Frisk so anyone who looks too brown has to show their papers?"

"That's why we're sending our best girl in," said Valeria. "Gabby will get close to the enemy, learn his weaknesses, and then strike when and where he least expects it."

"With her cello?" asked Diniece.

"There are more ways to fight a battle than with protesting and picket signs," said Gabby as she eyed herself in the mirror.

"There are also more ways to get a man's attention than with trickery and covert missions," said Diniece.

Both Gabby and Valeria snorted. Gabby's mother had known that Samuel Hernandez was going to be her husband back in grade school. Valeria had told her daughter how she'd flitted around her father, making friends with all his friends, but never paying him much attention. She'd followed him to college and continued the ruse. Once in the dorms, she gave him plenty of smiles and giggles and light touches. The first time Samuel asked her out Valeria refused, insisting she didn't want to ruin their friendship. The second time he asked her out, she said maybe. This continued until he'd fallen to his knees and begged her to spend the rest of her life with him.

Relationships were just a series of moves, like pieces on a game board. Gabby had been plotting her next move to win over Prince for the last three years. Tonight she was going on the attack. She was going in for the kill. She had a tactical plan.

She knew all of Prince's strengths, but more importantly she knew his weaknesses. His main weakness was that he did not like injustice. He also hated to see her cry. He could be swayed with baked goods and home cooking. And, once presented with a problem or a puzzle, he felt compelled to solve it.

Gabby had been born to privilege, so there wasn't much injustice in her life. She had no intention of crying tonight. It reminded him of her as a baby. And she'd already plied him with home cooking and baked goods, so that tactic was off the table. 

The weakness she would exploit tonight would be his need to problem solve. She needed to become the puzzle and let him try to solve her. But what problem could she present?

She'd already let him rescue her by driving her home the other day, and he knew she was capable. She didn't want him looking at her like a helpless kid.

She could play hard to get, but she'd done that earlier, too. He was smart. He knew she wanted him. He wouldn't buy into that a second time.

She could get him to help with her late assignments. He'd never said no when she asked for his help with schoolwork. But she didn't want him to see that she still got disappointing grades. Her grades didn't bother her parents. She and Hawk had never been excellent students, not like the Obademi boys.

Maybe game play was the problem. Maybe she should just tell him the truth; that she wanted to date him. That she wanted to play a different role in his life. It was a scary prospect. That let her know it was the grown-up thing to do.

Gabby descended the stairs behind her mother, followed by her BFF. Prince had already arrived. He and her dad were talking in the living room.

Prince looked delectable in a suit and tie. He smiled and embraced her mother as she came into the room. He waved to Diniece who he'd met when she and Gabby were in their freshman year of college. Then his eyes caught on her.

He blinked slowly. His mouth parted. His lower lip trembled as he exhaled slowly. He swallowed. Then he cursed and turned away.

Gabby turned to Diniece. "Stay in my room tonight. I think I'll need the pool house."

Diniece looked between her best friend and the man in her crosshairs. Forget being mature about things. Oh yeah, the game was on.

﻿Chapter Eleven

Prince had had a game plan. He was going to pick Gabby up, they'd have a talk in the car where he'd set them both back on the path of their old, easy friendship, then he'd get to do one of his favorite things in the world; listen to her play the cello. 

He had many of her recordings from when she was young. He had each and every recording he'd missed of her performances in college. When he was stressed, or working a difficult case, he'd push play and listen to her pull that bow on the strings of the instrument which was once bigger than her. The sounds she pulled from that instrument always set him at ease, helped him sort out problems he faced in his work, and settled him down for the night.

Not tonight.

When Gabby descended the stairs in a dress which made her curves even more pronounced than the curves of the instrument she played, Prince realized the game was won. He nearly toppled over as she came up to him, advancing like the queen that she was in an attack he'd never seen coming. He laid down his arms and prepared to surrender.

"What's my mission tonight?" she asked from the passenger seat in the car.

"To stay by my side." He blinked at the ferocity he heard in his own voice.

Beside him, Gabby's breath caught as she turned to him. A spark lit her light eyes and desire flushed on her cheekbones.

Prince gulped and shifted in his seat. "I don't want you to get in any trouble. If Roman Voigt is there, I'm going to have a conversation with him. That's all."

"I can't be the bad cop?"

"No."

"Can I shine my cell phone light in his eyes while you grill him?"

His mouth twitched, but he didn't give in to this little game. "You've been watching too many movies."

"I actually haven't. But I would love to see that new cop movie that just came out."

"Yeah, I've been looking forward to that one, too." He'd been so busy at work, he hadn't had time to even turn on the television, much less go to the movies. He also didn't see the trap that had just been laid.

"I'll go with you," Gabby said. "Maybe an early movie and then dinner afterwards to discuss?"

"You mean a date?"

"Yes. A date. With me. You have to admit we've done pretty well with the picking up part, and the witty banter part. Last night we did the sit down and eat thing. And we can't forget the best part when we made out a few years ago. I bet if we put it all together in one night, it would be the date to end all dates."

"Gabby, we can't date. I'm too old for you."

"There is an age gap between us." She agreed. "But there's also one between your parents. They're all still together, and very happy. I'm sorry Agent Obademi, but your argument doesn't stand. Would you like to submit another?"

Prince chuckled as he pulled up to the Governor's mansion. He put the car in park and turned to face the precocious girl beside him. Once again, he was caught off guard by the beautiful woman who sat before him.

"Gabby…" He didn't have another argument to submit.

Prince unbuckled his seatbelt and got out of the passenger seat. He walked around to Gabby's side and helped her out. She came to stand just below his chin. Her head was tilted back. It would take just a small movement to taste those lips and satisfy the craving that hadn't receded for three years.

"I'm done playing games and make believe," she said. "What I feel for you is real. It always has been. I do realize that you might not feel the same way about me now, but can you give us a chance? Just one date."

He stared into those eyes he'd known for more than half his life. She'd always had intelligent, soulful, bright eyes. He couldn't remember why he wasn't spending his days gazing into them and his nights tasting her lips.

"Prince?"

Prince hadn't even blinked at the sound of his name. His focus remained on the woman within his grasp. Gabby's light eyes darkened as she looked over her shoulder. Her full lips set into a firm line, like it did when she was about to launch into a tantrum as a child. Prince turned to look and see what, or who, was about to catch her oncoming wrath.

"Prince? Is that you?"

Prince took in his ex-girlfriend, Kemi Toure. She stood before him as statuesque and regal as ever. Her chocolate skin glistened in the outdoor lighting. Her cocktail dress sheathed a boxy frame that he knew well. Memory sent a tingle of awareness to his cock, which lifted its head to take a look with its single eye. Prince and Kemi had been hot and heavy in college. He couldn't remember why they'd broken up.

"And look who you have with you." Kemi turned her attention behind him. "Little Leah, still chasing behind you. Isn't that cute."

Gabby made a strangled sound in her throat like a croak, like a frog croaking. And then he remembered why he and Kemi had broken up. He stepped in front of Gabby, unsure if he was protecting her from Kemi's brash, African tongue or protecting Kemi from Gabby's sickly sweet Southern snark. In either case, he feared the two stereotypes would clash loud enough to bring on the fire department.

"What are you doing here, Kemi?" Prince asked.

"I'm working," she said. "I'm counsel for the Governor."

Prince noted that her accent was completely gone. She spoke with a Southern drawl now instead of the thick tang of her West African roots.

"It's been a long time." Kemi eyed him. "We should catch up while you're back in town. My condo isn't too far." She let the suggestion hang, but her words, and her offer, were unmistakable. She wanted to catch up between the sheets.

"How would your husband feel about that?" came a sickly, sweet voice from behind Prince's back.

Kemi rolled her eyes to focus on Gabby. "I'm not married."

"Ah," nodded Gabby. "So, your career keeps you warm at night."

"No, but I'm sure Prince can help with that after your parents pay him for this babysitting job."

Prince turned to Gabby. "Hey, Gabs. Why don't you go and get set up for your performance?"

His eyes pleaded with her to be the adult. He didn't think she'd rise to the occasion. But he found himself surprised as she patted his chest and smiled. His cock had taken a peek at Kemi, but stood to full attention under Gabby's brief touch.

"Sure," Gabby said. Then she tilted her face up.

Prince gulped as her lips aimed at his mouth. He stood there frozen, knowing he should move, but he didn't. He was shocked by how much he wanted to finally know the taste of her. He held his breath and waited for impact.

At the last possible second, Gabby veered off her course and her lips landed on his cheek. Prince let out a shaky, disappointed breath. Gabby smiled at him, her light eyes twinkling. Would this woman never stop surprising him as she lit up his scoreboard?

"It was nice seeing you again, Kimberly," she said sweetly.

"You too, Gabriel," Kemi singsonged in a falsetto at Gabby's retreating back. "So, you're dating children now?"

"She's a grown woman." Prince said a little too forcefully. "And we're just friends."

"I remember when we were friends. What happened?"

Prince shrugged. "You left to pursue your career. Is it keeping you warm at night?"

"Not as warm as you used to," she said.

"You're the governor's legal counsel? How can you stomach his policies?"

Kemi snorted. "I know the alternative. My family's from a country teeming with terrorists. I saw firsthand what happens when radicals move in. I don't want to see the same happen to this country that I've worked hard to become a citizen of."

Prince shook his head. "The guy's a chauvinist."

She laughed. "So's my father. But he protected me. He made sure I had the best. And look at me now." 

She held her hands up as though she were presenting a prize, but the prize was her. Kemi was a long way from the girl who would dress in her tribal colors. She was now in an Italian-branded cocktail dress. Her hair was no longer braided, but straightened into a bobbed cut popular in France.

"You're working for FBI Hate Crimes now?" she continued when he said nothing. "Have you lost your belief in the First Amendment trying to legislate hate?"

"Hate speech comes at a cost to others. Racism, sexism, homophobia all have victims and those people need protection."

Kemi shook her head. "You can't eliminate hate by making a law."

"The point of civil legislation is to promote the common good by prohibiting actions that are harmful to the public order."

"I get it. I can't yell fire in a movie theater," said Kemi. "It would be dangerous. But you can't make a law requiring me to love my neighbor."

"No, but I can arrest you if you harm that neighbor with a word or a deed"

She held up a manicured finger. "Deed, okay. But word? No. You're impinging on my free speech."

"If your hate speech incites violence, you have contravened the law."

"Does it stop at a hate crime?" she asked. "What about all the other sins: greed, envy, lust? Is hate worse than jealousy. Is jealousy worse than pride? I don't have to hate someone to commit a crime."

He hated to admit that she had a point.

"What if I only hate one person," she said. "And that person happens to be gay. But I don't have a problem with other people who are gay. Do I get charged with a hate crime then? And who determines the groups? I hate cheerleaders. If I get in a cheer off with another squad will I get sent to jail?"

"No, I think cheerleading competitions are safe," Prince chuckled. "The law may be imperfect. But if you break it, you have to face the consequences."

"Why are you really here?" She eyed him suspiciously. "I know you're not involved with that kid. Do you believe the governor has broken a law?"

Prince looked around them. The trickle of arriving guests had ceased, and they stood outside alone. "No, but his words are encouraging violence."

"You say violence. I say protest and civil disobedience. The Civil Rights Movement wouldn't have happened without racism being a factor in people's lives. There are problems in this state and the people are again agitated. They want their state back."

He had been enjoying their civic banter. But those words turned Prince's blood to mud. Kemi's prettiness faded.

"You do understand that if this discord was going on when you were trying to get into this country," he said gently, "you would have been denied entry?"

Her jaw tensed. "Well, my family are not terrorists. We followed the rules, and we didn't jump the lines."

"And now that you're on this side of the line, you don't have a problem closing the gate?"

She sighed. "I'm not the bad guy here." Then she smiled, so seductively. "Give me a chance to remind you. Go out with me."

﻿Chapter Twelve

Gabby watched Prince with the wicked witch as they came into the hall. Bile rose in her throat as she watched the She Devil hold his attention. When she was younger, Prince and the witch got into deep, intellectual conversations about things Gabby could never follow. The witch loved subtly ridiculing Gabby's lack of understanding and knowledge of things like law and torts. Gabby would work harder in school with little to no improvements.

At least it would get Prince tutoring her. But because she paid more attention to him than she did her books, she didn't advance academically. He never looked at her like she was stupid. He told her how smart she was, how talented she was. But he also chided her for not applying herself as much to her academics as she did to her music.

Why should she when her grades made him wince, but her playing made him smile? Her playing always got his attention. He'd close his eyes and get lost in the music she created.

On the stage, Gabby picked up her bow and began to play. The room fell silent. All eyes went to her and the haunting sounds she created. Prince's eyes went to her, too. The She Devil's eyes narrowed in annoyance.

Gabby played on, telling Prince her feelings with her finger movements. Their gazes locked. His lips parted. His eyes softened. She felt the connection. What they had was on a soul-deep level, which was better than a boring intellectual level.

As she pulled at the last note of the piece, applause boomed in the room breaking the spell. Gabby stood and took her bow. She turned to Prince. He gave her a wink as he slammed his hands together repeatedly. Beside him, the She Devil rolled her eyes. In response, Gabby blew Prince a kiss.

A man came up on the stage, joining her. He had pale skin and white blonde hair. To say he looked like a ghost was being kind. He looked like a ghoul. His smile looked carnivorous. He got closer and, having been raised Catholic, she saw the collar at his neck marking him as clergy.

She set her cello aside preparing to shake the man's hand, but he halted as he neared her. His eyes narrowed. His back was to the crowd, so they didn't see the look of disgust that crossed his features as he stared at her face. Had she messed up her hair? Was something on her dress?

It was customary for an MC to ask for a second round of applause for the entertainment. The ghoulish priest cast a dismissive eyebrow at her.

Gabby lifted her cello and headed off the stage. Prince was there. He stood at the edge of the raised platform. He reached his hands out to her like he did when she was a little girl racing towards him. He took her instrument, then he took her hand gently. His gaze was hard. It was focused on the priest, but the man's attention was turned to the crowd who appeared to miss the whole exchange.

"Who is that man?" Gabby asked.

"Levi Voigt," Prince answered. "The Governor's Chief of Staff and the father of the man who hit Crow."

"Tonight we celebrate our victory," said the priest. "There is a long road ahead of us, but we are going to take our state back from the illegals who sneak across our borders." 

Mr. Voigt found Gabby's face in the crowd and he sneered. Was that comment meant for her? Gabby had led a sheltered life, but prejudice always poked its ugly head around corners; yelling something from afar but never coming at her directly. It had never looked her square in the eye and said anything right to her face.

Voigt turned back to the rapt crowd and continued. "We are going to protect our children from the sexually depraved homosexuals who walk our streets and have access to our classrooms. We will bring back Christian family values that have escaped the households of single mothers and same sex couples that adopt our impressionable children. We will end the war on Jesus and show that there is only one true God. And this is the man who will lead the way."

The crowd applauded as boisterously as they had for Gabby. Gabby shrunk into Prince's side. She hadn't been paying much attention to the news or the election. She'd voted for the opposition party; the female candidate. She'd seen the Governor many times on television and in the entertainment section of the papers. He was a philanderer and a playboy. His exploits were amusing as he lifted the skirts of obvious gold diggers. He got two women pregnant; divorced three and was now on number four who was a third his age.

The Catholic church didn't believe in divorce or abortion, but this man would be their lamb? There were rumors he'd gotten not one, not two, but three young women pregnant out of wedlock over his lifetime. There were accusations of forced abortions and tampered DNA tests.

The new governor, Ronald Drummon, came onto the stage. He was a funny-looking man. His skin was too tight from one too many procedures. His hair was too full for someone of his age. His belly hung over his belt. His hands were small and feminine. His lips pursed like he'd sucked on a prune and smelled a skunk.

Governor Drummon looked to Gabby like a grumpy grandpa who missed his nap. But then he spoke, and fire and energy came out of his mouth. Too bad his words were vile.

"We are going to take back our state," he boomed. "The refugee program will end Monday morning. We will deport illegals who come across our borders for a haven. I have instructed my staff to take a closer look at all the work permits and green cards on record."

The crowd applauded. Gabby noted that the people gathered were a homogenous bunch with very few diverse faces in the mix.

"This must be done if we want our state back," said the Governor. "The illegal men that cross into our boundaries are after our women. The illegal women entice our men, get themselves pregnant, and then take advantage of our freedoms on our dime. But they're the ones who spread their legs willingly and—"

A trickle of applause went up from the side of the stage, cutting Governor Drummon off from his tirade. Gabby couldn't imagine anyone cheering for the lewd, profane speech. But it was the priest clapping. His eyes arrowed on other men around the stage as though trying to encourage their applause. He was trying to stop the governor who Gabby assumed must have veered off the track of his prepared remarks.

The new governor hushed under the increased applause and preened under the admiration. The priest corralled the man off the stage and into the crowd to shake hands. Gabby saw Kemi in the trail of the staff. She didn't understand how any woman, especially a woman of color, could support any of the words said on that stage.

Prince led Gabby to the hall with her cello. They stepped outside into the cool air. Prince corralled her to his car, and he put the instrument into the trunk.

"There was a lot of hate in that speech," she said. "Does that prove your case? Can you arrest him?"

"No," said Prince. "It's not the governor I'm trying to arrest. It's someone who associates with him. That man isn't here tonight."

"But his father said a lot of nasty things. He was probably raised to think that way."

"What they said was hateful," agreed Prince. "But none of it was illegal. The worst part is that the governor is about to use the legal system to make many of those hateful things into rights. LGBT adoption is regulated and licensed at the state level. He can restrict abortion laws, making it harder by banning it after, say, eight weeks of pregnancy."

"A woman might not even know she's pregnant at that time."

Prince nodded. "Stop and frisk is not unconstitutional. At least not until you use it to profile certain races."

Gabby had never been much of an activist, but she was fired up and ready to do something. "We're going to stop him."

She took off back into the mansion. Prince was at her heels.

"What you doing?" he said.

"Looking for evidence," she said.

"We don't have a warrant."

"I'm not an officer of the law," she said. "I don't need one."

"It's still breaking and entering."

"I was invited."

"This isn't like you snooping in your brother's room when you were younger."

"I was rarely caught then and never prosecuted," she said as she headed to a back room. "The only reason you know that is because I told you."

They entered a room off the back hall. It looked like an office. A large desk sat in the center, but no papers were out on the desk. A wide-screen television hung from the wall surrounded by shelves of books.

"What exactly do you think you're looking for?" Prince asked.

"Nazi insignia, child porn, a white hood. Too bad your girlfriend can't tell us where to look."

"She's not my girlfriend," he said.

"Good, because she's all wrong for you."

"She doesn't play games."

Gabby tossed him a look over her shoulder. "That's her problem. You like a challenge, someone who keeps you on your toes. Someone to keep that brain of yours thinking in new directions instead of rehashing the old debates. Someone who doesn't fit neatly into one of the boxes."

He came to lean beside the book shelf where she was pulling out titles. "Someone like you?"

"No," she said turning to face him. "Just me."

He gazed down at her. She could see his nostrils flaring. He was so close to kissing her. All he needed to do was lean down. She would meet him more than halfway. Instead, he inhaled. Then he frowned.

"Do you smell that?" he asked.

"Smell what?"

Prince turned his head away from her. "Someone's smoking marijuana."

"Isn't that legal now?" 

She trailed behind him. They went over to a glass door that led to a balcony. Outside was a wraparound patio. Prince opened the door and peered outside. He motioned for her to stay back. Of course, she didn't listen.

He hugged the wall and inched around. Without even looking to see if she'd heeded his command to stay back, Prince put out a stiff arm to halt her progress. But Gabby was able to peer over her shoulder.

There were two people lounging in chairs, puffing up smoke. One was dark haired and pale. The other was deeply tanned and had deep red hair.

Prince dropped his arm and cursed under his breath. The two men's heads snapped over to where they stood. Gabby took a step around Prince, preparing to launch herself at the redhead, but Prince held her back.

"Hey, Princess Leia," said the red headed man.

"Hey, Chief," said Gabby.

﻿Chapter Thirteen

Prince's eyes connected with clear blue eyes fogged in a haze of smoke. He'd known those eyes for most of his life. He'd seen them glint with triumph as Chief took down a bully twice his size for daring to extort kids on the playground for their lunch money. Prince had seen those eyes sparkle with false sincerity as he assured first one and then another girl that his feelings were true and solely for her. Prince had seen those eyes narrow with focus as he stood side by side, ready to back him if anyone dared cross his closest friend.

"What's up, brother?" Chief drawled.

Prince's jaw tightened as he looked down at Chief lounging back with smoke swirling around his head like a crown. There was a small smile on the man's lips that belied casualness. Prince knew Chief was alert and ready to strike at any moment.

They studied each other. Prince noted that Chief looked the same as the last time he'd seen his friend over a year ago. Same shock of red hair. Same devil may care grin. And just like old times, he held a joint in his hand.

Chief wore his Baztards MC President kutte in the warm evening air. The cut off jacket made Prince feel tight and stuffy in his tailored suit. His VP jacket was in the back of his closet at home where it had hung since the last time they'd rode over a year ago.

"Are you trying to get arrested?" Prince pointed to the joint. "That's felony possession and distribution in your hand on government owned land."

"Relax," said the other man. Prince recognized him as the governor's son, Russell Drummon. "I have a medicinal license for this hypoglycemia in my eyes."

"Do you mean glaucoma?" Gabby offered.

Russell frowned, and then a full five seconds later, he snapped his fingers. "Yeah, that's what it's called. I've been having a shit of a time remembering. I kept saying guacamole for a while."

"But you don't have eye problems," Prince turned his attention back to Chief.

"No, dad, I don't." Chief took a leisurely pull of the joint before passing it on to the governor's son. "What are you gonna do? Arrest your brother for partaking of an ancient ritual of healing with his fellow man?"

"Whoa," said Russell as he blew an O of smoke from his lips, looking at Chief with admiration. "That's like some deep, shaman shit."

"I should," said Prince, ignoring the half-baked blond kid and focusing on Chief. "Then you would finally realize there are consequences to your actions."

"Like jail?" said Chief. "Been there, done that. And I ain't going back. Besides, his pop's gonna legalize it."

"Oh, no," said Russell with a slight cough. "That's never going to happen. He just said that at his one and only college rally. The conservatives that surround him will never let weed fly. Especially not that holy man Chief of taff, Voigt. My dad's an old, rich, privileged asshole." Russell took another hit and spoke around the smoke he exhaled. "He's not progressive despite his number of marriages and philandering."

"I've heard Pastor Voigt's congregation is pretty exclusive," said Chief. 

Chief's tone was casual as he turned his attention back to Russell. Prince knew better. He was up to something. Chief liked to play the charmer, but he was as sneaky as a snake when it mattered to him.

"Some of the members have been linked to the Klan." Chief took a toke as he leaned back, eyes on Prince as though to challenge him to either take the joint away or take a hit.

"You haven't heard the half of it," said Russell. "Dad dragged me to a sermon once. Totally killed my buzz with all the BS Voigt spewed. I think my dad fell asleep in the pews."

"BS like what?" Chief asked.

"Does his son attend the church?" asked Prince.

Russell screwed his face in concentration as he looked between the two men. Two questioners were obviously too much for the stoner to handle. 

Voices sounded inside. A voice much like the pastor and father in question. Chief handed the half-smoked joint back to Russell.

"Sounds like it's time to go," said Chief.

Prince took Gabby's hand and followed Chief towards the stairs off the deck that led down into a yard.

"Wait," called Russell. "Did I pass initiation? Am I a Baztard now?"

Chief tossed a grin over his shoulder as he took the stairs. "You definitely are bastard material. But I gotta check with the other guys. We're a democracy. Give me a call next week and I'll let you know the vote."

"But I don't have your number," called Russell.

"Sure you do," said Chief. "I gave it to you. Remember?"

"Oh," drawled Russell as he put the joint to his lips. "Right."

Once they were all down the stairs and making their way across the yard towards the front of the house, Prince let go of Gabby's hand and went in on Chief.

"What the hell was that?" Prince asked.

Chief didn't slow his stride. "Someone graffitied the community center."

That pulled Prince up short. The center was under Baztard protection, had been since the two of them were kids and hung out there.

"I'm trying to figure out who," Chief continued. "Nobody from the neighborhood would dare."

"What did it say?" asked Gabby.

"There was a swastika, and…" Chief pursed his lips. "The words 'Take your taco trucks back to Mexico.'"

There were a lot of kids of Hispanic origin at the community center. The majority of them were from El Salvador, not Mexico. But the message was clear and would deliver a devastating blow to the children who sought a safe place at the center.

"You think it was someone from the governor's camp?" asked Prince. "Or the Henchmen?"

"That's what I'm trying to find out." Chief turned his gaze to Gabby who stood pensively beside Prince. "What about you? Gabby-Gabs finally roped you into playing house for real?"

"No, he's still resisting my charms," said Gabby. She grinned, leaning into Prince's side like she belonged there.

"He has his business face on," Chief nodded at Prince, but still addressing Gabby. "So I'm guessing this outing isn't about pleasure."

"Crow was in an accident," said Gabby.

Playtime left Chief's face, and he turned serious. "He okay?"

Gabby nodded. "Prince thinks it was personal. The guy who did it is the son of the Governor's Chief of Staff. We were hoping he'd be here tonight, but he wasn't."

"Roman Voigt?" Chief addressed this question to Prince, who nodded. "President of the Henchmen MC?"

Prince nodded again.

"So they're fucking around in our front and backyard," Chief growled.

"Watch your language around Gabby," snarled Prince.

Chief turned his gaze to Gabby and looked her up and down. "You do realize she's a grown woman now. Or has D.C. blinded you?"

"I'm not blind," said Prince. "I see the bag of weed in your pocket and that you're strapped."

"Fuck yeah, I'm strapped. And my gun license is in my back pocket."

"Carrying a gun during a drug sale can get you seven years." 

"I wasn't selling, I was sharing."

But Prince ignored his friend. "You keep putting me in these situations." 

"It had nothing to do with you."

"That's why I left. You think I want to be the bastard to bust my best friend? You fucked up what we built."

"No," said Chief. "That was you. I'm still here holding shit down while you're out playing cops and robbers."

"You know what? Fuck you."

"No, fuck you."

Prince held up his middle finger. "Put this in your pipe and smoke it."

Chief grinned and backed off. "You know what, I will." Chief headed through the maze of cars and found his bike. He hopped on, turned the engine over. When he took off, it was with one middle finger in the air.

Prince ground his teeth as he watched the man retreat into the night. Then he turned back to Gabby. "Come on, I'll take you home."

﻿Chapter Fourteen

Prince was tense the whole drive home. Gabby allowed him his silence. Instead of trying to engage him in conversation, she spent the drive making a plan. By the time he pulled off the highway, she had an order of operations; distract him, guide him, surprise him.

Prince parked at the curb of his parents' home, just outside the gate. He killed the engine and sat drumming the steering wheel. Gabby watched him, trying to determine the best angle of attack when he sprung out of the car.

"You want a nightcap?" Gabby asked after he rounded to her side and handed her out of the car.

"What?" he asked shutting the passenger door. "No. Are you drinking?"

Gabby smiled up at him. "I'm legal, Prince. But no. I'm not drinking."

She'd had a beer her freshmen year at college and found the fizzy drink revolting. Wine was more her cup of tea.

Prince shoved his hands in his pockets, but made no move to leave. Good, he was still distracted.

"Do you want to talk about it?" She placed her free hand on his chest.

Prince looked down at her hand. He picked up her fingers and peeled them off his shirt, gently. Gabby curled her fingers around his. He didn't pull away.

"I'll walk you home," he said.

"I didn't realize you and Chief weren't talking," she said as they began the short trek to her house. 

"Chief should go to the police to report that incident about the community center. There are procedures in place." 

"The Baztards are neighborhood watch over there. Don't they have procedures?"

"We can't play vigilante games anymore. We're grown men."

Gabby nodded as she leaned into the perfect specimen of man at her side. "From what I've noticed of men, you're all pack animals. But you've been without a pack since you left. You've been without a family. Who's been cooking for you? You're skin and bones."

She ran her hands up and down his biceps. He stopped at her mailbox and turned to look down at her.

"I didn't abandon him," he said. "Or you."

"You took off without saying goodbye. You've never done that before. Plus, you wouldn't take any of my calls while you were away. It felt like you purposefully avoided coming home when I was on a break. I think that's the definition of abandonment."

"I just needed some distance from everything," he sighed.

She set them again in a forward motion, but away from the mailbox and towards the back gate. Prince followed her lead, opening the gate and allowing her to precede him. It wasn't until they crossed the threshold that he realized what happened.

"Gabby," he sighed.

She flicked the light switch on in the pool house.

Gabby didn't wait. She reached up and captured his lips. They were in a firm line. The tip of her tongue slipped out and tasted his top lip.

Prince sighed and his mouth opened. His hands came to her shoulders. He didn't push her away. They stood still, hardly breathing, not quite kissing.

She was cocooned in his arms. He gazed down at her. She saw the struggle in his eyes as they roved over her face. Saw the tension in his lips. She wondered if he was seeing the pudgy caterpillar she'd been in her youth or the elegant butterfly that she was now?

She wrapped her arms tighter around him and rested her head in the crook of his neck. It was enough. She wanted him, but she didn't want to add to his stress. She wanted to be a part of his release. She wanted to be a safe place for him.

Prince held onto her, resting his head atop hers. "Gabby," he sighed again.

"I missed you so much," she said into his neck. "Can't you be mad at me without being away."

"I'm not mad at you." He pulled away and ran a hand through her hair, across her temple, down her cheek. His thumb caught on her lip. "I'm mad at myself. I shouldn't have these feelings for you."

Her heart sped up. He had feelings for her.

"Why not?" she said. "I have them for you. I've always had them, my whole life. They're pretty awesome feelings. There's this warmth in my chest. There's a fire in my gut. There's clarity in my mind." She turned her face and nuzzled her lips at his thumb. "There's a tingling sensation lower."

Prince pulled his thumb away, but not the rest of his body. "I feel like I've cheated you. You should've been out there dating."

"I did. No one compared to you. No one gets me. No one makes me feel safe and heard and important."

"You are important to me; you know that."

Gabby shook her head. "Not when you run away from me. Not when you won't talk to me."

He closed his eyes, but still, he didn't pull away from her.

"I knew I loved you the moment I first looked at you," she said.

He opened his eyes and gazed down at her. "You weren't even a month old."

"But I was sure then. I'm legal now." 

He took a step away from her then. But she followed him, pressing her body into his.

"I have my own mind," she said. "I know what I want. And it's you."

Gabby reached up and captured his lips; his bottom lip this time. This lip was soft and pliable. He didn't kiss her back. He sighed into her. He didn't pull away. He held still.

She could feel him working through the process. Weighing his options on which move to take. Gabby tilted her head back, running her full lip against his top lip, trying to tilt the scales in her favor.

His gaze went unfocused. The corners of his eyes twitched, like a calculator that had too big a number to process. Then he closed his eyes and groaned.

"Fuck."

His hands gripped her hips on both sides. His forehead came down to rest on hers as though he couldn't handle its weight any longer. His breaths came out in shallow pants.

"Fuck," he whispered again.

His fingers dug even deeper into her hips. They were becoming painful, but she didn't complain. His eyes slammed open. She felt trapped inside the crosshairs of his hazel gaze. It was exactly where she'd always wanted to be.

"Okay," he said. "Okay, just a kiss."

"Hmm," she nodded in agreement, locking her crossed fingers behind his back and pressing her eager hips into his groin. 

Prince rubbed his bottom lip across her top lip. The gentle touch felt like a punch to her gut. With a gasp, she buckled into him. Her open mouth pressed into his. Her breasts hit his chest. Her belly pressed into his groin, trapping a hard, throbbing length between them.

"Fuck," he groaned as he caught her body and her lips. 

He pressed her into him. One of his large hands came to the back of her head. He tilted her chin up with his thumb and then slanted his mouth fully onto hers.

Gabby heard a snick as they locked into each other. The fit was perfect. The seal he made on her was unbreakable. 

He tilted her head back farther, bending her body to his will. His grip at the back of her neck gave him total control. He slipped his tongue inside of her mouth and began his quest. Didn't he know that she had surrendered long ago?

If not, she had no plans to tell him. If she had had any defenses he would've broken them down with the same methodical patience and attention that he gave to any problem.

He licked the seam at her lip and it broke. He tilted her head to the left and conquered the right side of mouth, she yielded. His grip torqued her to the right to quell any resistance he might find on the left side of her mouth. There was none. When he realized victory was his, he let her up for a breath.

"Fuck," he sighed again, as though he were the one who'd lost the war.

She stepped back from him before his game plan could change. His hands at her neck and hip tightened, unwilling to let her go. Gabby grinned. She had him.

She reached up inside the tight cage of his embrace and pulled at the straps of her dress. Prince looked down at her fingers and grimaced. There was a mixture of fear and helplessness and anticipation storming across his features. He swore again when the dress fell to the ground. She hadn't worn a bra. She was left in her panties and her heels. 

"This will be burned into my mind forever," he said as he licked his lips.

There wasn't much space between them. For her, it was too much. She took a step towards him. 

He dropped his hold on her. Holding his hands up in front of his chest in a stop motion. Gabby didn't stop. She took another step until her breasts filled his palms.

"Okay," he said, eyes on her breasts, fingers trembling. "Okay. Second base and then that's it."

Gabby pressed the front of her panties into his third base.

"Fuck, Gabby."

"Yes," she said. "That's exactly the plan."

﻿Chapter Fifteen

He was losing his mind. He'd lost his mind. And he didn't care. Everything in him told him to take her. Mine rang through his head like he was some caveman. And maybe he was. And this was his woman.

He picked up Gabby. Like the little monkey that she was, her limbs wrapped around him. He felt her warm core through the thin fabric that covered her treasure. The inconsequential polyester of his slacks and cotton of his briefs were no match for the heat emanating off both of their groins. But he wasn't going there. He couldn't.

He was only aiming for second base. But hadn't he said he'd stop at first? Before that, hadn't the plan been to have a talk with her? He couldn't remember. The game plan was unclear in his head. 

What was clear were the twin orbs staring back at him. Gabby's nipples looked like caramel morsels in the dim light of the pool house. He was just going to have a taste, just one swipe of his tongue and then he'd stop.

He could hear the laughter in his own head. Looking down, he realized it wasn't coming from inside him. It was coming from her. 

He'd laid Gabby down on the couch, the same couch he'd splayed her on three years ago and licked to the center of her sweetness. She looked up at him with a triumphant, smug grin on her face. 

He'd seen that look on her face many times. When she was a baby, he'd played peekaboo with her. She learned quickly that he was never truly gone. She'd stopped giggling when his fingers covered his face, and she'd smile smugly when he reappeared only a second later. 

He'd seen it when she was an adolescent and they played checkers. She'd distract him and, with the next move, she'd slide her way across the board, looking up at him with that same expression of gotcha on her ruddy cheeks.

He'd seen it too when she was a teen and it was trivia night. He'd always get the historical and scientific questions, where he could never best her at pop culture facts. She'd chuckle as he struggled to pick out a Kardashian from a Hilton.

All those faces of Gabby's coalesced into one. The one lying beneath him. He'd loved each and every one of those faces. The love had grown and increased and evolved over the years until this moment. In this moment when the woman who looked up at him with the same twinkle in her eyes could actually be his. 

She was in his arms where she always preferred to be. And he was wrapped around her finger, like he'd always found himself. It was inevitable that he ended up here. Her grin told him that she'd known he'd be there once he removed his fingers from his face. That chuckle that escaped her lush lips told him he had been distracted once again as she made her moves across the seemingly simple game board. That twinkle in her eyes told him his struggle was pointless. She'd won.

Well, Prince had never gone down without a fight. And that wouldn't happen here. He still had one hand to play. Two in fact.

His hands covered her breasts. Her grinning mouth fell open in a loud gasp. Prince massaged the undersides of her mounds, dancing around the nipples until she was writhing beneath him.

"Please," she begged.

And just like that, she'd taken the upper hand from him. He knelt his head down and took one of those sweet morsels into his mouth.

Gabby jackknifed her lower body up to meet his. Her warm core met with his hard length. Prince was aroused and hard as a rock. Urgency coursed through him, pulling blood from his head and redirecting it to his cock. But along with the arousal and the urgency, there was a sense of peace.

The tension that had been ever present in his shoulders melted away under Gabby's trembling fingers as she gripped his shoulder blades. The ache in his low back dissipated as her ankles locked in place at his tailbone. The constant pressure in his head cleared as he rested his forehead against her heart while he continued to suckle her beaded nipple into his mouth.

"Please," she begged again.

Prince released the breast he still toyed with in his other hand. He trailed his fingers down her firm belly, over her gyrating hips, and underneath the band of her damp panties. When he found that pearl he'd been dreaming about for the past three years, he matched the touch of his thumb to the swirl of his tongue.

It didn't take much before Gabby was writhing. Her body pulsed in a deep climax from her shivering chest, through her clenching belly, down to her core which was trying to suck his thumb deep inside its grasping depths.

Prince was ready to acquiesce those demands. All the blood rushed to his cock which demanded attention after so many years of going without a warm, wet sheath. Now that it was within reach of the only core it wanted to nestle into, he couldn't deny it.

Prince released her nipple from his mouth. He pulled his hand from her panties. He straightened and reached for his belt buckle. As he began fighting with his zipper, the door to the pool house rattled.

Feminine laughter preceded a blonde head in a prim skirt. Her long legs backed in across the doorstep, followed by a massive body. The bear of a man had his focus on the petite woman in his grasp. His large body backed her into his cave, but on second glance it was clear that the little blonde was guiding the big, bad bear by his loins.

"Fuck," groaned Prince.

The bear of a man glanced up and his eyes caught Prince's. He pulled the blonde into the protection of his big arms and took in the situation. Prince had his pants unbuckled, and a woman's legs locked at his back.

A chuckle escaped the large man framing the door. "Oh, sorry man."

"Hawk?" Gabby sat up, her chest uncovered, her hair tousled.

Hawk's face transformed from apologetic humor to horror-stricken. "Gabby." 

Brother and sister turned their faces away from each other. Gabby collapsed back down to the couch to cover her chest. Hawk turned his back and yelped like a little girl, covering his eyes.

Ellie, his girlfriend, looked between the three of them as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened. "Hey, Gabby. I didn't know you were home."

Prince hopped up off Gabby and away from the couch. He gave Ellie his back as he re-buckled his pants.

"You don't have to stop on our account," said Ellie. "We'll just go for a dip in the pool."

"Prince," said Gabby, sitting up on the couch. Her breasts were still bare, but she didn't try to cover herself now that her brother had left the room.

"I'm sorry," said Ellie. "You guys probably want your privacy. I keep forgetting that not everyone is open about their sex lives."

"It's fine," said Prince. "You stay. I need to have a word with Hawk."

"Prince," Gabby said again. When he didn't answer she said his name again. This time with a tremor in her voice that dug nails into his heart. "Don't leave."

He couldn't look at her. He wasn't sure if it was the shame of what he'd just done to her, what he said he would never do again to her. Or because he wanted to shove the shame, and Ellie, out the door and pick up where he'd left off.

"I just need some air," he said, hurrying out the door.

He heard Gabby exhale on a sob, but he didn't turn back around. He shut the door behind him with a quiet snick. Then he looked around for her brother.

Hawk paced the length of the pool, shaking his head and rubbing his eyes. When he saw Prince approach, he turned a murderous gaze on him. Prince felt arrested by Hawk's eyes. He never realized how similar the siblings' eyes were until this moment. But Gabby's were darkened with passion, Hawk's with anger.

"It's not what it looked like," said Prince, holding up his hands in front of his chest. He realized the last time he'd done that, Gabby's breasts had ended up in each of his palms. He put his hands down. "I mean it's not what you think. Gabby and I…"

After a moment's silence, Prince heard chuckling. Hawk still rubbed his eyes, but his shoulders shook along with the movement. His eyes changed from anger to glee. The big male doubled over in his laughter.

"She finally got you," Hawk said between his bouts of chortling.

Prince stiffened. His posture went rigid, the tension resettled in his shoulders, the ache in his back. He ran a hand over his face as he watched Hawk try to catch his breath.

"Fuck, man," said Hawk as he straightened. "I had after she graduated in the pool."

"The what?" asked Prince.

"You know, the pool. On when she'd finally have her way with you."

"Had her way with me?"

Hawk approached him, turning serious. "You think you can keep this quiet for a couple more months? Until she graduates? It's a pretty big pool."

Prince moved his mouth, but words eluded him. There was a pool as to when he and Gabby would get together?

Hawk clapped him on the back and Prince stumbled. "What am I thinking?" Hawk said. "It's Gabby we're talking about. There's no keeping this secret, she's going to tell everybody. In fact, I bet she and my mom will be planning your wedding in the morning."

Prince backed away, barely missing the edge of the pool. "It's not like that."

Hawk cocked his head to the side in a birdlike fashion akin to his namesake. His good-humored grin shifted to a menacing glare. "It's not like what?" 

"I mean… I… she… we…"

Hawk took a menacing step toward Prince. Prince was older, but Hawk had a good twenty pounds on him. He also had righteous indignation on his side, whereas Prince's mind was addled by conflicting emotions of Hawk's baby sister.

"Are you playing around with my sister?" Hawk's tone was full danger.

"No," Prince threw up his hands. "I … I …"

"Yeah, that's what I thought." Hawk started laughing again, his face once again friendly. "She said she was going to marry you when she was five. And you know my baby sister; she always gets her way."

Prince tried to talk, but suddenly the air seemed thin. He doubled over, hyperventilating.

"Yeah," Hawk rubbed him roughly on the back, like he was trying to help him pass a burp. "I'll see you at the wedding. Tell Chief I'm planning the bachelor party."

Prince straightened and looked at the sky. He gulped down a few lungfuls of air. Then he turned and headed for the gate.

"You can run," Hawk called out to him, "but you can't hide."

Laughter followed Prince out the gate. He went into his parents' garage. He pulled his helmet on, grabbed his motorcycle jacket, and hopped on his bike. He tapped his foot impatiently as the garage door took its time rising. He kept looking over his shoulder, certain someone was on his heels. But no petite brunette came after him. So, he took off into the night.

﻿Chapter Sixteen

Prince pushed the bike. Beyond the speed limit. Beyond the city limit.

He raced down a two-lane road out in the middle of nowhere. But the curves of the road made him think of Gabby.

He turned off the road and found a street that took him on a straight path, but the path he chose guided him back toward the city. Back toward her. He turned left.

Behind him, he heard motors closing in. Despite being angry with Chief the growl of motorcycle engines was a welcome sound. Gabby was right about one thing. Prince was a pack animal. He'd been too long without his pack. A ride with Chief and Sully sounded like just the thing to help him figure out his next move.

A glance in his rearview mirror showed five bikers. He didn't recognize a single one of the bikes. He did recognize the symbol blazing bright on the front of each bike. It was the same from the Henchman's race car.

At the speeds they all were traveling, it could be dangerous to allow them to think this was a game of chase. But neither was he fool enough to stop out in the middle of nowhere. Prince traveled another mile and then pulled over into the parking lot of a popular bar. 

He dismounted. Pulling off his helmet, he leaned against his bike as the other men pulled into the lot in an impressive formation. The leader dismounted and took off his helmet. Prince saw the pale blond hair of Roman Voigt emerge from the dark helmet. His brain took over any trepidation that may have risen in his chest. Whether Roman knew it or not, Prince was finally going to have that interview.

"You lost, boy?" asked Roman.

Confronting hate, bigotry, and racism as part of his daily job hadn't inured Prince to when the vile behavior was directed at him. But it did allow him to look forward at the long game. And so, instead of reacting to the slave era term of disrespect, Prince put on his most charming smile and aimed it at Roman. He wasn't going to shine a light in the man's eyes. Interrogation was about seduction.

"I'm exactly where I need to be," said Prince. "You're Roman Voigt. I've been trying to get in contact with you."

"Is that right?" Roman swaggered closer. The other four men at his heels.

"My name's Yohaness—"

"Your highness?" Roman cackled, looking over his shoulder for backup. The other men laughed on cue. "What? You think you're some African prince, like Shaka Zulu or Eddie Murphy?"

"Agent Yohaness Obademi. I'm a special agent with the FBI."

Roman's face fell. Behind him, his crew looked uncertain. "Am I under arrest?"

"Should you be? Did you do something illegal?" Prince continued with his friendly smile, even though his stomach turned. He kept his voice even, and his posture relaxed.

"I'm looking into the …accident at the race track last week. I've already been to the track and looked at the police files," Prince continued.

"I wasn't arrested," said Roman. "I paid my fine and I'm sitting out. It's all been taken care of."

"Not all," Prince shook his head. "Mr. Trent isn't pressing any charges, even though he does have a case." 

Some of the tension released from Roman's shoulders at that tidbit of information. "Like I said, no charges have been brought against me."

"It's a shame about your car. That was a custom body job with those symbols."

Roman smirked, his pale eyes full of challenge. "The symbol is a swastika, and it's freedom of expression." The men behind him snickered.

"I agree," Prince nodded. "It is freedom of expression. And the symbol is an ancient one. It's from my grandfather's people in the Congo, the Adinkra symbol for knowledge of self."

Roman's face contorted. The men behind him stopped snickering and their faces also turned to confusion. Perhaps they had assumed that using the sign they were putting a racial middle finger up at minorities and that was within their legal right. If so, they were. Depending on what they believed that symbol meant.

"Did you think it meant something else?" Prince asked innocently.

Roman's eyes narrowed, his brows wrinkling as he tried to work out the trick. "That symbol celebrates the glory of the original race. It's not from some spear-chucking savages who didn't learn to read until we taught them."

Prince held onto his smile. He focused on the information he was getting for his case, and not the personal attack that scratched his ears and his soul like chalk on a blackboard. 

"Man, fuck this uppity nigger," said one of the Henchmen. "Let's kick his ass."

"You can try it," said Prince, his tone still friendly. If cold steel could be called friendly. "I'll even let you throw the first punch before I put my foot up your ass. Then I'll charge each and every one of you with assaulting a federal agent."

The mouthy one looked uncertain, but he didn't back down. Prince turned his attention back to Roman. He almost had all the information he needed to prove motive and intent.

"It looks like you have a problem with people of color, Mr. Voigt," said Prince.

"Yeah," Roman agreed.

"People of African descent?"

"Should be put on ships and sent back."

"People of Hispanic descent?"

"Should have their wetbacks tossed into the ocean."

"People of Asian descent?"

"Should calculate how to get their yellow asses back to China."

"That's some hateful ideology, Mr. Voigt."

"Sieg Heil," said Roman. "Freedom of speech, Mr. Federal Agent, or do you not believe in the Constitution? You get to say black is beautiful, and nobody calls you racist."

"Racist beliefs aren't a crime," said Prince. "Until you hurt someone with actions based on those racist beliefs. Then, as a member of law enforcement, it's my duty to step in and protect the citizens of this great country. So to answer your first question, yeah, boy, we do have a problem. You'll want to make some time to talk to me at the Justice Department about the race track incident."

Roman's forehead wrinkled. "That case is closed."

"The state case is. The federal case is still open. Did I mention I work for the Hate Crimes Division of the FBI? You just outlined your belief system and announced your affiliation with a known hate group."

Roman ground his teeth. His fists clenched. Behind him, his boys appeared more anxious than cowed. It looked like this was about to go south and fast.

And that's when the sound of more motorcycles made their presence known. Prince recognized the unmistakable growl of Chief's Harley. He'd modified the exhaust pipe again. Now his bike sounded like the roar of a lion.

Chief and the Baztards pulled into the parking lot in a haphazard fashion that was disorderly, but the cacophony of growling engines made their point. The bikers dismounted. He recognized over half of them, but there were new faces in the bunch. Prince counted ten faces of men and women from the palest shades to the darkest hues.

"What do we have here?" asked Chief as he swaggered up beside Prince. Those blue eyes were at the same time full of anger, mischief, and focus. Not a good sign for everyone present to walk away unscathed.

"A problem that has been solved," said Prince.

"I think you may have made a miscalculation, brother." Chief smiled sadly. He shook his head and clapped his friend on the back. "I don't see any blood."

Prince cursed under his breath as Chief swaggered up to Roman.

"What's your name again?" asked Chief. "Roach, isn't it?"

"You don't need to know my name, you leprechaun wigger."

Prince stepped up to Chief's left shoulder, forever at his brother's back. Leprechaun, he knew the Scotsman would get a chuckle out of. Wigger, which stood for white nigger, he knew Chief would not find funny.

But Chief didn't unleash his anger with a fist to Roman's chin. He narrowed his eyes and stayed focused. If Roman couldn't manage to distract Chief with an insult, it meant the man was truly fucked. Maybe not tonight, but sometime in the near future.

"You know anything about a community center and spray paint?" Chief asked, his tone quiet and deadly serious. "Someone sprayed a hateful symbol and a nasty message for all the kids to see."

"I think I heard of that," said Roman. "Your brother here just told me that symbol is some African shit that means know thyself. Sounds like a good message for the kids."

Roman smiled smugly. He shrugged his shoulders and took a step away. Chief balled his fist at his side.

Prince stepped up to Chief's shoulder and spoke quietly. "I need you to trust me. I've got this."

Chief cracked his knuckles. He looked at Prince. Blue eyes met hazel and the trust that had existed between the two of them since the first time they took a schoolyard bully down together flared. Slowly, Chief released his fingers and then his breath.

They both turned and watched the Henchman mount their bikes and take off down the road. A few of them raised their middle fingers and called out slurs as they rode off. Prince looked to the other Baztards assembled. There were a number of clenched fists, angry glares, and pursed lips. But they all heeded their President and didn't make a move.

"Let's ride," Chief called. The man was a natural born leader. He had the charisma and charm to turn an opposing army. Luckily, he chose to use his powers for good — most of the time.

Prince mounted his bike with the other Baztards and they rode off. As they pulled onto the street in the opposite direction that the Henchmen took, Shepherd took the place at Chief's right. But after a mile, the young man pulled back, and let Prince pass him to take the spot. The right-hand spot was reserved for the Baztard's VP. 

They pulled up to the Baztard's clubhouse a half hour later. It was a warehouse that he, Chief, and Sully began renting their senior year of high school. By the time they'd graduated, they were able to buy it outright.

Then Prince went to law school and Sully went on his first tour. That left Chief alone with the recruits. But pulling up to the warehouse it looked as though Chief didn't lack for company.

The ranks of the Baztards had filled quickly when they first began. One of the reasons for that was that there was no discrimination in the club. Prince saw many familiar faces, but even more new and young faces. Baztards had always been a mixed bunch. They prided themselves on it. All races, ages, ethnicities, genders, and sexualities were welcome within the walls.

The Baztard motto: you cool with us, we cool with you.

A number of women from Prince's past rubbed against him. But inside his pants, his cock was an angry beast. It paced inside its cage, eager to get back to the warm place it had left a couple of hours ago. Instead of heading back to his side of town where his body and mind and dick wanted him to be, he collapsed down onto the couch next to Chief.

He was surprised there wasn't a girl in Chief's lap. The club President's mouth was locked around a beer bottle instead of a girl's lips. The two men sat in companionable silence, like old times, viewing their empire, which looked like the world as it should be. Everyone lived in harmony. Respect was earned. Disputes were mediated with justice that was swift, had eyes opened, and hands out of everyone's pockets.

It felt like times hadn't changed. The only thing missing was Sully.

"How's he doing?" Prince asked, popping open a beer.

Chief didn't need to ask who. "He has his good days."

"I'm guessing that today wasn't one of those."

"The last tour really messed him up."

Sully had been on three tours to Iraq and Afghanistan. It was more difficult for him because he looked like the people on the other side of the war lines. Prince decided to change the subject.

"How's Han?"

"He's grown big," said Chief with a smile that always came when he spoke of his son. "But his mama's being stingy with visitation."

Chief and Raquel had been high school sweethearts. But Chief had always had trouble keeping it in his pants and Raquel wasn't keen on sharing.

"What about Ida?" Prince asked about his younger daughter by another woman.

"I'm going to be chasing after boys with a gun in a few years," Chief groaned, but the grin took the bite off the sound. "I had her last weekend. Her mama just got married so she lets me take her on date nights."

"You managing to pay support and keep the club up?"

"Yeah," said Chief, his jaw tensing. He took a swig of his beer and crossed his arms. "Go on. Ask how."

Prince didn't. He realized he'd rather not know. He'd prefer to keep the peace with his friend if only for one night.

"I made a mistake," said Chief, slamming his beer down on the table in front of them. "It almost cost me everything I love; my kids, my brothers, this club. I set things straight. You and Raquel are the only ones who refuse to see that."

Prince's hands gripped the near empty bottle in his hands. "Maybe because we're also the ones who know you best."

"You know what, motherfucker?" Chief turned fully to Prince. "You owe me an ass-kicking for letting that Nazi fuckface go."

"I told you," said Prince, slamming his bottle down and turning to face off against his oldest friend. "I'm handling it."

"And I trust you." Chief jabbed a finger in Prince's face. "Because you're my fucking brother."

Prince smacked the finger out of his face. "Then why the fuck are you yelling at me?"

The music and dancing had stopped. Everyone cleared the floor as Prince and Chief faced off.

"Because I'm pissed and I want something to fucking punch."

The two stood up, fists raised. They eyed each other as they circled. Prince's gaze was calculating, looking for the best place to strike his best friend. Chief's gaze was full of fire. He simply threw out a punch.

When it failed to connect, Prince caught him beneath his shoulder. But Chief must have anticipated the move because he dodged Prince's motion, rendering the punch not as effective. 

Chief rounded on Prince and caught him in the eye. Stunned, Prince touched the side of his face and felt a bruise forming. He glared up at Chief who had one hand raised and an amused grin on his face.

"Aw shit, bruh. I thought you saw that coming. I wouldn't—" But Chief didn't get a chance to tell Prince what he wouldn't do because Prince clocked him in the nose.

"Fuck," shouted Chief. "Fuck you, asshole."

"Fuck you, too," Prince shouted right back.

Both men took a deep breath as they touched tentative fingers to their tender wounds. Shepherd came up and offered them both an icepack. Both Prince and Chief took the packs and settled back down on the sofa. The music turned back on and the dancing resumed.

"Feel better?" asked Prince after a moment.

"Yeah, thanks," said Chief.

They sat back in silence, watching the party play out before them. Prince glanced over at Chief as he tossed the ice pack on the table. The man's nose had been broken before. Prince was sure his blow improved his friend's face. The spot on his own face had stopped throbbing. It would swell, but not too badly.

Prince rolled his shoulders, feeling relaxed after he'd let out some of his aggression. There was nothing like a good brawl to get over blue balls. He turned back to his friend, wondering if he was facing the same dilemma.

"So," Prince said, picking up another beer. "You seeing someone?"

"Trying to," said Chief after tossing back half a new bottle. "She said I'm too old for her."

Prince burst out laughing. Despite never going to college himself, Chief had been chasing coeds since he was a sophomore in high school. Finally, they were putting his ass in place.

Beside him, Chief glared. He waited patiently to make his next remark. "So, you and Gabby?"

That sobered Prince up. He didn't answer. He gulped down what remained of his beer.

"Hawk texted me an hour ago," Chief grinned. "By the way, he's not planning the bachelor party."

Prince bent over and put his head between his legs as the air in the clubhouse thinned out. He closed his eyes and tried to take shallow breaths. It didn't help.

"I can't believe it took you this long," Chief said. "I thought you'd hit that as soon as she turned eighteen. I lost the fucking pool."

﻿Chapter Seventeen

"Your brother walked in on you!" Diniece squealed. She tipped over in a fit of giggles and landed face first into Gabby's mattress.

Gabby shut her eyes and then rubbed the heel of her hands over her face. She had nearly died when she saw her brother's face framed in the doorway of the pool house. But her heart fell when Prince had hopped off her, walked out the door and hadn't come back.

Hawk hadn't returned either. Ellie had stayed behind to talk to her. The woman was a bit socially awkward.

Ellie was an Entomologist; a person who studies bugs. After a few moments in conversation with the petite blonde, it became obvious that she spent more of her time with insects than she did with humans. But Gabby liked Ellie's awkwardness because it was clear to see that she was genuine and that she was head over heels in love with Gabby's big brother.

Hawk had never in his life had a girlfriend. Sure, there had been plenty of women in his life. But never just one. Whenever they were together, Hawk couldn't keep his eyes off Ellie. He'd brush a tendril of hair away from her forehead as she became animated about some new find in her lab, and then gently nudge her to turn the conversation away from creepy crawlers.

Last night, as Ellie tried to cheer Gabby up after Prince ran out on her, the bug doctor regaled Gabby with tales of the mating rituals of bugs, such as water bugs, praying mantises, and fireflies, who trap their partners as they copulate. A certain water bug known as the Male Strider actually trapped females when they copulate. Gabby wasn't sure if Ellie was trying to make her feel better or worse about Prince's running off, but she certainly had been distracted for a few minutes. 

"He didn't come back," Gabby sighed. "I feel like my vagina is a Prince repellant."

Diniece fell over in another fit of giggles before sobering and coming to sit by Gabby's side. Gabby had told Diniece about what happened between her and Prince three years ago during their sophomore year. Her friend couldn't deny the pattern. Each time Prince gave Gabby an orgasm, he'd run off afterwards and wouldn't return for years.

Her heartbeat increased. Her palms began to sweat. Had he gone back to D.C.?

"There is a pretty big age gap between you two," said Diniece.

"Do you really think a number should keep two people apart?"

Diniece turned away from Gabby, looking out Gabby's bedroom window which overlooked the pool house. "People will talk."

"I don't care what people think," Gabby insisted.

"Maybe he does." Diniece twisted her bottom lip as she continued to stare out the window. "What about his reputation? People could call him a cradle robber, or a sell out for dating someone outside his race."

Gabby frowned. "How did this become racial? We're both minorities."

"Yeah, you two are."

"What?" asked Gabby.

"What?" blinked Diniece, turning away from the window and focusing on Gabby. Diniece's eyes were fogged as though she were someplace else, with someone else.

"You're not making any sense," said Gabby.

Diniece sighed and looked out the window again. "I'm just saying that we're getting started with our lives. Someone like Prince has lived. I mean lived. Sure, I bet the sex would be crazy good, but then what?"

Diniece twisted her bottom lip again. She rose and went to stand at the window, looking out over the pool house.

"But then you only live once," she said. "And we are young."

She tapped her fingernails on the bedroom window. Then she turned to Gabby abruptly. Eyes clear and bright. Mouth set in a firm line.

"Gabby, do you still need the pool house?" Diniece didn't wait for an answer. She grabbed her phone and headed out the door. Gabby could hear her bounding down the steps.

Diniece wasn't usually this inattentive. But she supposed that she had a lot of work to do for her internship. Gabby picked herself up and headed down the hall. Her parents were in their bedroom packing for a weekend getaway. She left them to it. The last thing she wanted was to witness her lovey-dovey parents dote on each other when the man she wanted couldn't stand to be in the same room with her.

She bypassed the kitchen where her textbooks lay untouched. She padded into the living room and peered out the front door. Prince's car was still at the curb of the Obademi house. But Gabby had heard his motorcycle take off into the night. She hadn't heard it return. And she didn't see any signs of it now. She did see Judge Obademi head down her driveway where her morning paper sat just inside the open gate.

Gabby threw the front door open and trotted across the street. "Good morning, Mrs. O."

Oluyemi looked up in surprise. "Hello, Gabby. I thought you'd be at the beach by now."

Gabby's steps faltered as she came up to the gate. "I'm getting some school work done."

"Really?" Mrs. O's brows sank together in a frown. "I thought you were a music major."

"I am." Gabby bit at the inside of her cheek. "But I still have to do regular core work."

The sound of an engine had Gabby whipping around. Unfortunately, it wasn't a motorcycle. And it wasn't who Gabby wanted to see.

"Kemi, is that you?" Judge Obademi beamed as the Wicked Witch got out of the car.

"Oluyemi." Kemi came into the judge's open arms for a prolonged hug. "It's so good to see you."

"It's been too long," said Mrs. O. "Is Prince with you?"

Gabby turned back around and peered into the car. She knew it had been empty when Kemi marched up the drive on her broomstick. But she still did a double take to be sure. 

"No," Kemi confirmed. "We had talked about getting together last night." 

"Yes," interjected Gabby. "Last night while we were at the Governor's mansion, where you work."

Kemi turned and arched an eyebrow at her. "Oh, I didn't see you there Gabrielle."

"I had heard you were working for our new governor," said Mrs. O with a purse at her lips. "That must be some task."

"Governor Drummon and I don't agree on everything," Kemi nodded. "But I love this country and this state. It's given me and my family so many opportunities. I'm committed to doing all that I can to be certain it is run well so that others have the opportunities that I was afforded."

Judge Obademi nodded slowly. Gabby could tell she was turning over Kemi's words in her head. Prince and his mother got the same look when they were working through a problem.

"Anyway." Kemi turned her back on Gabby, shutting her out of the conversation. "I just thought I'd stop by on the off chance that he was around."

"No, he's not here," said the judge.

Gabby wanted to interject that he'd been out all night, most of it with her. But she didn't get the chance.

"Why don't you come inside?" Judge Obademi linked arms with Kemi.

The two women continued talking, leaving Gabby standing in the driveway. It was clear Judge Obademi preferred the woman in the enemy camp to the girl next door.

Gabby's chin hit her chest as she slunk back across the street. She didn't have Prince. His mother had never taken to her. And now her toughest competition was welcomed back into the game with the advantage of home field.

﻿Chapter Eighteen

Prince pulled onto his street. Through his visor he spotted a luxury car with tags that read "Kemi." He pulled up to the curb on Gabby's side of the street and parked his bike.

He knew Kemi was there for him, but she and his mother had always gotten along just fine. They could keep each other company. Prince had someone else more important to see.

He spotted Samuel Hernandez lugging suitcases into the trunk of his car. "I hope you're taking the weekend off."

"I am." Prince greeted the older man with a handshake. "I think I just got some evidence that'll break the case. I'll be in the office first thing Monday morning."

"Unfortunately, I won't be there. I'm headed out of town for a few days with the old ball and chain."

"What's this about a new gold chain with a diamond ball for me?" Valeria Hernandez stepped out of the house with an eyebrow cocked and a hand on her hip.

Her husband's mouth went slack as he took his wife in. "You can have anything you want, mi alma."

The older couple embraced as though Prince wasn't there. Prince was used to the Hernandezes' amorous displays. They embarrassed Hawk and Gabby, but Prince always found them endearing. His parents were very reserved in their affection.

"You looking for, Gabby?" Mrs. H. asked Prince when her husband finally released her.

"Yes, ma'am."

Mrs. Hernandez smiled with a twinkle in her eyes. "She's inside. Alone." She gave Prince a peck on the cheek and sighed. "You two are going to make beautiful grandbabies. And I just won the pool."

She slid into the car. Mr. Hernandez closed the passenger door and then rounded the car. He chuckled as he slid behind the driver's seat and pulled off down the street.

Prince walked up to the door. He raised his hand to knock, but he heard Gabby playing inside. He pushed the door open. He followed the sound like the animals following the tune of the Pied Piper.

She sat at the kitchen table. Her eyes were closed as she worked her instrument. Her slender fingers pulled and pressed at the strings along the neck of the cello. Her wrist danced along the lower body of the instrument, until it pulled one long, final note off the highest string. Gabby's head bowed down in the silence that suddenly filled the room.

"That was so sad," said Prince.

Gabby's head jerked up. Her big, light eyes wide as she gazed at him. "What are you doing here?"

Prince took a few steps into the room. "This is where you are."

Gabby set aside the cello, but the bow remained in her hand. She looked down at it instead of up at him. "I thought you'd be in D.C. by now. Or out with Kemi."

Prince pulled up a chair and sat down before her. His legs boxed her in. "I saw Kemi's car outside. But I didn't see her."

She lifted her head. Her heart shape face tilted to the side as she regarded him, searching his gaze. Her brow crinkled, and she tugged at her lower lip. "You knew she was there, but you didn't go see her?"

"No." He reached for her hand and uncurled her fingers until she released the bow.

"You came here instead?"

"That's right." He set the bow on the table and laced his fingers with hers like he'd done when she was a baby, a little girl, and now a grown woman.

"Because you came here?" she said. "To me."

He nodded, rubbing her fingers from the knuckle to the primly trimmed nail. And still she studied him, searching for … something.

And then her face broke out into a beatific grin. She tilted her head back to the ceiling and shouted, "Finally." Then she launched herself at him.

Prince teetered back in the chair as he took on the full weight of her body. He chuckled as he wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close where she belonged. "It was inevitable. Did you know our friends were placing bets on when we'd get together?"

Gabby nodded as she ran her hand over his brow. "Yeah, Mom had twenty-two. She'll be thrilled when she finds out we're together. We are together, right?"

Prince tilted her chin up. Then, in answer to her question, he slanted his mouth over hers. Just like last night, they fit together perfectly. Two puzzle pieces that had been laying side by side on the game board all along. Anyone looking at the pieces could easily tell that their edges and grooves were a match.

Gabby lifted up off him. Prince followed her mouth as she pulled away, coming to stand before her. She locked her fingers with his and gave a tug.

"What happened to your face?" she asked walking backwards.

"Chief."

"Ah," she said and dropped it. She'd grown up surrounded by testosterone-riddled males her entire life. She needed no further explanation.

"I spent the night at the clubhouse to figure this all out." Prince mirrored her every step; moving forward as she stepped back. 

"You've worked it all out?"

"Yeah," he said. "I've found my solution."

"Are you going to make love to me now?" she asked. "No more stopping just as things are getting good."

He grinned, nipping the edge of her mouth. "I think we should wait, take it slow."

"I've been waiting all my life for you. We are not going any slower than we have been for the last twenty-two years. We're alone now."

Prince broke his gaze from Gabby's lips and looked around. They were at her bedroom door. He didn't even remember climbing the stairs. How did she keep doing that to him?

When he found her gaze again, he didn't hold it for long. His head dipped as she slid the sundress she wore off her shoulders. The garment dropped to the ground to reveal those caramel tipped breasts. She wore pink, cotton underwear today with a little blue bow below her navel.

"This is where we left off," said Gabby. She hooked her thumbs in the waistband of those pink panties. She gave a tug outward, but not down. Prince saw the dark curls he'd been dreaming about for the last three years; the pink flesh he could still taste on his tongue.

Still, she didn't tug down. She waited.

Prince took a deep breath. Then he took a step towards her. He placed his hands over hers and slid both their fingers down her hips. He bent his legs, pressing his lips to her breasts, her belly, and the place where the panties used to be; the panties he now tossed to the side.

He stayed down on his knees, breathing her in. His arms went around her waist. His hands filled with her ass. Her hands came to rest in his hair.

"Gabby," he sighed. He pressed a kiss to her damp folds. Then he couldn't help himself, his tongue struck out, like a match seeking a flame, a bow seeking a string.

Gabby vibrated under the pull of his tongue. The tune he strummed across her labia wasn't sad. It was a joyous crescendo as her voice joined in to hit the last high note.

Between her cries of joy, the sweet taste of her in his mouth, and the throb of his cock, Prince was delirious. He scooped her up and carried her to the bed. Her legs fell open as she hit the mattress, begging him to use a different instrument for the next song.

He made quick work of his shirt and pants. His cock was in his hand. His chest pressing up against hers. His lips covered hers, pulling at the plump lips that met his with eager abandon.

Gabby writhed beneath him, eager for the concert of their bodies to begin. She reached between them, taking his baton in hand. His bare cock jumped and pulsed at her touch, but he held himself back.

"Wait," he gasped.

"Hell, no," she growled.

"Gabs, we need protection."

She shook her head. "I've never done this before."

"You're still a virgin?"

"Of course. It was always going to be you." She said it as though it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"I haven't been with anyone in three years," he said.

Gabby grinned up at him. She circled his cock head around her core and then arched until his hard edge met her soft entrance. Prince sank down into the mattress. Gabby surrounded him. Her lips sucked at the bottom of his mouth. Her legs wrapped around his ass. Somehow, he managed to pull back.

"Gabby, wait," he begged. "Wait."

"This is happening," she growled. "With or without your cooperation."

"We still need protection," he reasoned. "Are you on birth control?"

"Oh," she sighed. "Don't worry about that. It's taken care of."

"Thank God," said Prince.

Because he was at the end of his control, the edge of his sanity. He allowed his body weight to sink further into her body. All he wanted to do was thrust into her tight, slick heat. But he had to be patient. He had to be gentle. She was untouched. She'd waited for him. He'd waited for her. Now, was the time.

"So you're on the pill," he sighed with relief.

"No." She thrust her body up to his.

Prince felt the tightness within her, the place where he imagined her maidenhead to lie. She pushed past it and swallowed him whole with an unladylike grunt, followed by a sigh of the deepest pleasure. And that's when her single-syllabic response penetrated.

But it was too late. He was lost inside her. He'd lost any pretense of control. 

Gabby set the pace. Her limbs were wrapped around his ass, his shoulders. Her hips thrust upward, taking him into her body again and again. His little monkey wrapped around his middle.

The idea of protection was laughable. He'd never had anything to guard himself against this woman. Not time, not distance, not anything. It was inevitable. He had belonged to her since the first time she'd wrapped her hand around his finger. Now she wrapped her body around his.

He felt her body tensing for its second release. His balls tightened. His cock wept. His eyes teared. His mouth captured her cries as she trembled beneath him. And her mouth captured his, as he shuddered above her, releasing his mind, his body, his heart, his soul to her.

﻿Chapter Nineteen

Gabby's eyes opened slowly. Outside her bedroom window, the clouds of blue moved across the sky like notes on a sheet of music. Birds chirped and tweeted in vocal accompaniment. The sweet sight and sounds couldn't match the joy that strummed through her heart.

Prince's nose was tucked behind her ear. His mouth blew soft breaths along her neck. His arms were wrapped around her tight. His eager cock pressed into her back.

Gabby turned and reached down for him, thrilled that she was finally able to do so. But he stayed her hand.

"You're sore," he said.

Gabby ignored him. She hitched a leg over his hip and rubbed her bare core against his stiff rod.

Prince groaned. "Gabby." His tone was a warning, but he didn't stop her.

She aligned herself with him. She rubbed the fleshy part of his cock against her soft folds and winced.

"I told you so," he said, sitting up.

"I don't care."

"I do," he said kissing her lips. He moved her hips back until she was sitting in his lap with his cock between them. "I don't ever want to hurt you."

Her fingers encircled his cock, and he hissed. 

"But I want you," she said.

"You have me." Prince gathered her into himself. "In every sense of the word, you have me."

She hadn't managed to get his cock back inside her that morning. Instead, Prince offered her his tongue. It was a consolation prize she'd accept daily.

After she caught her breath from more orgasms, and they washed and dressed, they ventured downstairs in search of sustenance. Before Gabby could pull out the fixings for brunch, she heard voices and splashing outside.

Hawk and Eagle had made an impromptu visit home. At the pool deck, Ellie sat on Eagle's lap. His thumb and index finger toyed with the strap of her bikini bottom while she giggled as he whispered in her ear.

Hawk was in the pool with the pretty nurse from the hospital. Cleo, was her name if Gabby remembered correctly. Back at the hospital, Gabby had sensed that there was an attraction between her and Eagle. But now, Nurse Cleo and her brother splashed around in the pool playing basketball. When Hawk snagged the ball from Cleo, she jumped up and wrapped her legs around him. He caught her by the ass which freed the ball from his hands. Cleo took advantage by grabbing the ball and making the shot. In retaliation, Hawk gave the nurse's ass a firm spank.

"Gabs," Prince whispered in her ear. "Why don't we go back inside and let them have the pool."

He gave a tug, but Gabby stayed put. She'd known that Eagle and Hawk were wild when it came to women. She also knew the two males had shared everything since they were boys.

"Hey, look everybody," shouted Eagle. "There are the newlyweds."

Ellie hopped off Eagle's lap and came up to Gabby with her arms thrown wide. She enveloped Gabby in a hug. "Congratulations, you two." 

"We're not …" Prince began but gave up. "Thanks," he said accepting Ellie's hug.

Gabby smiled up at Prince and his look of resignation. She wrapped her arms around his bicep and led him over to the lounge chairs with the others. He came willingly.

"Are you going to wear an engagement ring?" Ellie asked. "Did you know the custom springs from Rome where wives wore rings attached to keys indicating their husband's ownership and-"

"El," said Hawk with a warning tone before his girlfriend went off on one of her info dumping tangents. But there was a smile in his voice and on his face. The way Hawk looked at Ellie, Gabby knew that her brother was thinking about his own lock to put around this girl.

"Ownership can be a good thing," said Cleo as she took the vacant seat in Eagle's lap. "But it depends on the owner. Instead of a ring, I gave my girlfriend a gold choker."

Gabby's eyebrows rose to her hairline. "You have a girlfriend?" She looked up at Eagle. "And a boyfriend?"

Eagle winked at her.

"Yep," said Cleo as she tucked her toes under Eagle's thighs. "I don't knock marriage. I believe in lifetime partnerships. I'm devoted to my Toy."

"That's her sexual submissive," offered Ellie from the comfort of Hawk's lap.

"Are you a dominatrix?" Gabby asked. 

Cleo nodded.

"Is Eagle your slave?" Gabby asked.

Both Hawk and Ellie laughed. "She wishes," Ellie said.

Eagle only grinned. He looked up at Cleo with the same adoration that Hawk shone on Ellie. "I'm at her service," he said.

Cleo grinned back, trailing a finger down his bare chest. "Yes, you are."

"Hey," growled Hawk. "Don't corrupt my baby sister."

"I'm pretty sure my brother's already done that," said Eagle.

"You did what, Yohaness?"

Six heads turned to the gate that connected the Hernandez and Obademi properties. Prince and Eagle's mom stood just inside the open gate. Her eyes weren't on her younger son and the woman sitting in his lap. No, they were on her eldest son and the woman sitting at his side with her fingers entangling his.

"What are you doing holding hands with little Gabby?" said the judge. "She's too old for that."

Which was it? Was Gabby a child or was she too old? Gabby made a move to stand, but Prince slowed her motion. He held onto her waist as he rose coming alongside her. He wrapped his arms around her and faced his mother.

The judge frowned as she looked at the two standing side by side, but she continued on. "I've been looking for you because Kemi stopped by yesterday."

Prince gave a shake of his head. "I'm not interested in Kemi. I'm with Gabby."

The judge's mouth slackened. She took a step back as though she needed a different vantage point to take in the scene before her. She got the same look as Prince when he was working out a problem. It was the same look that Gabby knew she got when she was trying to figure out how to get her own way. Finally, Mrs. Obademi held up her hands.

"It's your life," she said on a slow exhale. "Who you date is your decision. But it's a decision I'm going to have trouble supporting."

Gabby felt Prince tense beside her, but he didn't follow his mother as she made her way back towards the gate. Before she reached it, the door to the pool house opened.

A mop of red hair backed out of the door, followed by a mess of braids strewn haphazardly into a low ponytail.

"Promise me, you won't tell a soul?" Diniece was saying.

"On my honor," grinned Chief, making the sign of the cross on his chest.

Diniece leaned in for another kiss. But her face fell as she caught sight of the crowd gathered over Chief's shoulder.

Chief turned and then gulped. "Good morning, your honor."

The judge only shook her head and then continued on through the gate, closing it behind her.

﻿Chapter Twenty

Prince rode into work on his bike on Monday morning. He hadn't felt like facing the confines of a car, not after he'd finally opened himself up to what he really wanted.

He'd spent the rest of the weekend in Gabby's bed, feasting on her body, listening to her talk about everything and nothing at all. Sitting with her as she worked on her school projects while he wrote his report.

They essentially played house for two days while Diniece made herself scarce. Though Prince assumed she was hiding. Whether she was hiding from him and Gabby or hiding from Chief, Prince didn't know. Chief had been tough to get a hold of for the rest of the weekend as well. In the end, Prince assumed the two were hiding out together. It was better than blue balls, a bruised cheek, or a broken nose.

He'd kissed Gabby goodbye at the front stoop of her house. He'd mounted his bike, but stopped and stared at her before pulling on his helmet. She was a picture framed in the doorway. Her hair was tousled from their lovemaking during the sunrise. She'd pulled on a sundress, but that didn't hide her curves. She leaned against the frame in bare feet.

Prince nearly hopped off his bike and went back to her. But then he realized, he could have her at lunchtime. Then again tomorrow morning, and every night after that. He was going to marry her and they were going to spend the rest of their lives together, having mornings just like this where she kissed him and sent him off to work.

He pulled the helmet down and took off for the city so that he could return to her as soon as possible so that they could start that life.

Prince pulled into the courthouse complex. Though the city was a major metropolitan, they didn't have an FBI Field Office. But there was a resident agency led by a supervising agent. Prince waited patiently as Special Agent Dawson reviewed his report.

Dawson turned over the last page with a grimace. He squinted and gave a shake of his head as he flipped the stack down on his tiny desk.

"It's all there," said Prince. "There were racial slurs exchanged before the race. Mr. Voigt admitted to me that the emblem on his race car was one of hate. He also admitted that he attacked the Watchers Crew race driver for a racial reason."

"But the victim that he attacked is a white male."

Prince nodded his head slowly, trying to follow the trajectory of Dawson's line of thinking. "Crow -Mr. Trent- is part of a diverse group of drivers. Roman was attacking that group."

"But only Mr. Trent was injured. Hate crimes are crimes against people of color, various religious groups, individuals who identify as LGBTQ, and people who have been historically attacked for their apparent differences. You can't extend that definition to the majority group. Mr. Voigt's attack doesn't fit the definition of a hate crime."

Prince leaned back. He squinted at the other man, then at the stack of evidence he'd compiled. "Are you telling me that if you're white, nobody can commit a hate crime against you?"

"I didn't make these rules," Dawson said.

"Hate can extend to everyone. Mr. Voigt appears to hate everyone that isn't like him. There are implications that he graffitied a community center filled with kids of Hispanic origin. If we let him get away, he will continue to commit more heinous acts."

"Hey, I'm on your side, but it's not enough."

Prince shoved away from the desk. He stood and began pacing the room. He felt the steam coming out of his ears. Was this asshole going to get off on a technicality? A racist one at that!

"You've got an even bigger problem," said Dawson. "Roman Voigt is the son of the chief of staff for the new governor. With the tension in this state after the election, this would create a media frenzy if we brought this case to trial and didn't get a conviction. And we do not have enough to get a conviction. We don't even have enough to make an arrest. Crashing is a common occurrence in race car driving. The track meted out its punishment. The state didn't find criminal fault. The victim isn't pressing charges. And now the governor is involved."

"So we're just going to let him walk." Prince didn't wait for an answer. He stormed to the door. "This is bullshit."

He marched out of the small office, and who should he bump into but the villain in this case. Roman Voigt was coming out of the Attorney General's office. Unlike the District Attorney who is elected by the people, which Samuel Hernandez was, an Attorney General was appointed by the President.

The AG shook hands with Levi Voigt while Roman smirked at Prince.

"You still want to have that talk, Agent Obademi?" the bastard asked.

Prince held his tongue. It was easy because he was concentrating on keeping his fists down at his sides. But his control snapped when Kemi walked out of the AG's office. She let out a long sigh as she saw him. She directed her client and his father towards the elevator. Roman winked at Prince before he headed into the opening doors with his father.

Kemi steeled her shoulders before she turned to Prince.

"Proud of yourself?" Prince asked. "You just put a misogynist, racist aggressive bastard out on the street."

"He hasn't committed a crime," Kemi said holding up her hands. "And since he's not a criminal, he still has rights."

Prince stepped away from her. "He violated the rights of others."

"Listen." Kemi reached for his arm. "I know you're upset. Why don't we go out to dinner and talk about it?"

Prince looked down at her hand. He couldn't fathom how he'd ever thought her touch anything other than poison. "I don't think that would be a good idea since we're on opposing sides of this case."

"There is no case, Prince."

"There will be. This isn't over. But we are. Or didn't my mother tell you, I'm engaged."

Kemi jerked her hand away from him as though it was he who had burned her. "To that little girl?"

"Gabby is more woman than you'll ever be."

﻿Chapter Twenty-One

"How was that banana in your fruit salad last night?" Gabby waggled her eyebrows as she pulled into the early morning traffic.

"He buttered my biscuit good," said Diniece. "What about you and secret agent man?"

"He assaulted me with a friendly weapon."

"And held you for aggressive cuddling?"

"Attacked my pink fortress."

"Entangled your lower beards."

"Filled me out like an application."

The two friends broke out into a fit of giggles. Diniece had made herself sparse after Gabby told her that Prince had finally taken her V-card. Diniece had figured, since she was caught, she'd spend the rest of the weekend with Chief making the beasts with two backs.

Diniece had more experience than she did, but Diniece put her schoolwork and her future career above everything. Diniece had never had a boyfriend, just a string of one night stands and short-term bed buddies. And by all accounts, she seemed to prefer it that way.

"So," Gabby hedged. "With that application you took with Chief, do you think you might hold a steady job?"

Diniece jerked back, the smile faltering from her face. "That was just for fun. It's nothing serious. Plus, he has two kids and two baby's mamas. I would be a fool to saddle myself with that. But damn if that man doesn't know his way around a woman's body."

Diniece's cell phone rang at just that moment. Glancing over, Gabby recognized Chief's phone number. Diniece's thumb hesitated a few seconds before hitting the cancel button. A second later, she pulled up the text app.

As Gabby neared the entrance of the courthouse complex, she wondered if those two noncommittal individuals might be just what the other needed to make something lasting. Diniece continued to text as they pulled up to the guard gate at the complex's entrance. 

"Morning, Stu."

"Hey, Ms. Gabby. Is your dad enjoying his vacation?"

"My mother confiscated his laptop and cell phone, so probably not."

Stu chuckled. Everyone knew the D.A. was as married to his work as he was to his wife.

"Stu, I just realized I forgot my purse." Gabby knew better than to drive without her driver's license, but she'd been a little preoccupied that morning saying goodbye to Prince. They'd made love before the sun came up. Then they'd hopped in the shower together and made love against the tiles. Then Gabby had made him a full breakfast, along with a bagged lunch of his favorite sandwiches, before kissing him goodbye. She couldn't wait to do that every morning for the rest of their lives.

"No problem, Ms. Gabby." Stu waved them forward. "I don't think it'll be a problem passing through the District Attorney's daughter."

"Thanks, Stu." Gabby pulled up to the curb of her dad's offices. "So, I'll pick you up at five o'clock?"

"Um." Diniece looked down at her phone. Then she twisted her lip as she regarded Gabby. "I think I've got a ride."

"Hmm, so more belly bumping for you tonight?"

"Shut up." Diniece hopped out of the car with a grin and slammed the door.

Gabby rolled the passenger window down. "Enjoy your amorous congress," she yelled.

Diniece flipped her friend the bird as she walked away in her heels and designer business skirt.

Gabby looked up at the offices. She knew Prince was in there. Her foot tapped at the floorboards like a junky who smelled his next hit around the corner. But Gabby decided not to go in and bother Prince. It was a big day for him.

They hadn't talked about their next step, but she assumed she would be moving to D.C. right after graduation. She wondered if she should even bother with graduation?

But she knew better. Not only would her parents have a literal cow if she dropped out months before her completion date. Prince would be disappointed in her. But what actually made the decision for her is that she didn't want the judge to have any more fodder against her.

Gabby pulled out of the complex, preparing to head back home to hit the books and raise her grades. She waved goodbye to Stu as she left the gated area. The complex was not just the courthouses. It also contained services like vet services, family services, and motor vehicle services. When she pulled around the corner, she saw a familiar face walking down the street. Gabby parked at the curb and hopped out the car.

"Sully?"

The dark haired man turned. His body jerked and his hands went up in alert.

Gabby stopped in her tracks, nearly teetering. Her brother had told her that Sully was suffering from bouts of PTSD after his last tour of war.

"Sully. It's me, Gabby."

His eyes took a moment to focus. Then he closed them and sighed. "Hey, Gabby. I'm sorry. It's not a good idea to sneak up on a soldier."

"I'm sorry." She took another step towards him. He looked tired and haggard, nothing like the laid back desert prince who'd spin a tale of magic and wonder out of thin air. "I haven't heard from you in a while."

"I'm sorry I stopped writing. Things just got …"

The light had gone out of his gray eyes. Gabby had the urge to wrap her arms around him, but she somehow knew that wouldn't be a wise thing to do. Still, she didn't want to leave him alone when he looked, well, alone.

"I was going to head out for a cup of coffee," she said. "You want to join me?"

"Can't. I have an appointment at the Vet Administration. Made it months ago and I can't miss it or it'll take another few months to get on the list again."

Gabby nodded. "Maybe you can come over for dinner tonight? Prince is in town."

"Yeah, I know." He looked away.

Gabby chewed at her lip, wondering how to get past his shell. "He and I are together."

That caught his attention. He narrowed his eyes as he gazed down at her. "What are you? Twenty-One?"

"Twenty-two."

"Damn. I had twenty-three in the pool."

She got a grin out of him. That's when she saw a glimmer of the old Sully. She took another tentative step towards him. His easy grin vanished as loud voices sounded in the near distance.

A group of men came down the corner. They were loud and raucous. Sully looked over his shoulder and sunk back into himself.

"Out of the way, fucking towel head," said one of the men in the group.

Sully's back went ramrod straight. His gaze narrowed as his eyes flicked over each of the four males. One was in a suit, the others in jeans and motorcycle jackets that held the emblem of a swastika over their hearts. Sully's fists balled.

"What you looking at, you fucking bomber?" said the guy in the suit. "In a few months, we'll be sending you back to where you came from."

"He was born here," said Gabby, stepping up to Sully's side. "He went out and fought for our country."

"This isn't your country," said the man. His eyes were crystal blue and his hair white blond. He'd be handsome if he weren't spewing such hate. "It's ours. Why don't you show us your papers, chica?"

Gabby flinched under the man's proprietary glare. She reached for her purse to shove her ID down his throat and froze. The man grinned at her hesitation.

"That's what I thought," he said.

Sully stepped in between them, but two of the other guys were on him. Both threw punches at Sully, one high and the other low. Sully evaded them both and took one man down. Then a third joined the second. Sully was outnumbered and before long he went down.

Once they got him down on the ground, the blows didn't stop. The men were on top of him throwing punches. On the side of him delivering kicks.

Gabby's voice caught in her throat as she watched with horror. She made to take a step to get them off, to take some of the heat, to run for help? She didn't know. She raised her heel, and then her whole body went airborne.

﻿Chapter Twenty-Two

Prince rode himself hard, pushing himself and his bike beyond the limits. His physical limits. The speed limit. The city limit. He headed back to the bar where he'd first confronted Roman and his crew. It was lunchtime, and the bar was empty of bikes. Prince cursed as he sped out of the parking lot, spewing gravel as his wheel turned. He wanted to punch something.

It had been all he could do not to launch himself at Roman's smug face as those elevator doors closed. He wanted to hurl words of betrayal at Kemi for standing on the wrong side of the issue. He wanted to tip over Dawson's tiny desk, letting all his carefully constructed paperwork spill on the floor.

This was not what he signed up for when he came on to the Hate Crimes division. He'd dedicated his life to protecting the weak and powerless with the balanced certainty of the law. But what good was the law if it allowed people to get hurt based on technicalities? 

This was no longer a matter of legalities. It had nothing to do with free speech or expression. When Roman and his Henchmen painted that hateful sign on their racecar, on their bikes, and on their jackets in this diverse community that worked hard to show respect and tolerance to others, they had declared war in a land of peace. In war there were rules of engagement; circumstances and conditions under which you used force. Roman knew that when he attacked Crow on the track. He'd made a calculated decision. One way or another, he was going to pay.

Maybe Prince should let it play out in the streets like he knew it would. Prince knew Hawk and the brothers of the Watchers Crew were bidding their time. The Baztards, too. Prince knew both clubs would move in on Roman at the most opportune time and a battle would wage across the city.

Even if Prince had been able to get a legal conviction, it wouldn't stop that eventual showdown. He knew that people couldn't erase hate from someone else's heart. They could only try to protect themselves and those they loved from the rages of war.

Prince pulled his bike over to the side of the road. He crested to a hilltop that overlooked the city. Fluffy green leaves poked out between red brick buildings. A yellow bridge extended over crystal blue waters as cars made their way to and fro in an orderly fashion. Prince's palm itched for his Rubik's cube, for a problem with a predictable process that would lead to a clear solution. But his cube was back at home.

His shoulders slumped, and he closed his eyes to the scenery. He'd gone into law enforcement because he'd needed a process that would bring conflicts to an end. Street justice and vigilantism kept all parties in a continual loop of righting what someone else thought was wrong. The law was meant to close that door after due process. But the law had failed all parties and the wound would fester, then scab over after some time, only to be ripped open in the future.

He wanted out of the damn loop. All Prince wanted to do was to take Gabby in his arms and get lost. Over the last couple of days, he realized that whenever he was with her everything settled and he didn't have a care in the world. It had always been that way between them. Now he could take refuge in that haven for the rest of his life.

He pulled out his phone preparing to hit her number. But when he looked down, he saw that there were a dozen missed calls. All from Chief. The last notification was a text message.

Prince's eyes zeroed in on the words "hospital" and "Sully."

Prince lowered his visor and took off at full speed. His haven would have to wait while he went to check on his brother. Prince couldn't imagine what could have happened to put his friend in the hospital. Sully had become a recluse after his last tour and kept to himself.

The first person he saw when he entered the sliding doors of the Emergency Room was Nurse Cleo.

"I'll take you to him," she said, taking his arm and guiding him along the maze of hallways.

"What happened?" Prince said as he followed her lead.

"He was beat badly just outside the vet building," she said. "He's been in and out of consciousness. He keeps calling for Gabby."

That surprised Prince. "He and Gabby were close. She wrote to him while he was away on tour."

They came to Sully's room and Prince's knees nearly gave out. His friend was black and blue wherever skin was showing; beneath his eyes, his chin, his shoulder, even one of his hands was badly bruised. A nun dressed from head-to-toe in a white habit and coif, stood over him at the end of the bed. It couldn't be that bad.

Prince turned to the corner where Chief sat slouched over in a chair. His normal healthy tan was pale in the waning afternoon sunlight. His blue eyes were the darkest of storm clouds. He wrung his hands and bounced the heel of his right foot on the linoleum floor.

"This is Sister Ruth," said Cleo. "She's been taking care of Mr. Abdelrahim."

"He's Muslim." Prince's voice came out raspy as though it had been bruised. "If it's bad enough to have clergy, we'll need an Imam."

The nun shook her head. Her voice, when she spoke, reminded Prince of the sad song Gabby had played on her cello a few days ago. It was just as soft and resonating.

"He's going to pull through, God willing," Sister Ruth said. "It's going to be a tough road, but it looks as though he has family and friends to help him along."

Sully opened his eyes. His head swiveled and his gaze found the speaker. He blinked once, then twice as he took in Sister Ruth. He reached his bruised hand up to her. It shook like a brittle leaf in the wind.

Sister Ruth caught his hand, gently, inside hers and guided it back down to the mattress. With his hand in hers, Sully seemed to settle. He closed his eyes and exhaled.

"It's all right, Mr. Abdelrahim," said Sister Ruth. "Look who's come to visit."

Sully struggled to open his eyes. This time he found Prince. Sully's eyes widened when he saw his friend. He struggled to sit up but Sister Ruth and then Nurse Cleo were on him, coaxing him back down.

"Gabby," Sully managed. "Gabby."

"I'll call her right now, brother." Prince pulled out his cell phone. "She'll be right over."

"No," said Sully. "Took her. Took Gabby."

Ice ran down Prince's back. The phone felt like a heavy weight in his hands. His thumb felt too big to press the small symbols on the phone. But finally he managed. He pressed the phone to his ear and heard a sound that stopped his heart.

It rang. Over and over again, the phone simply rang. Gabby always answered his calls before the first ring had completed.

"Who?" Prince said. "Who took Gabby?"

"Nazi." Sully struggled to get the words out. "Young. White hair."

Sister Ruth's eyes widened and her hand trembled as she reached out for Sully.

"Where?" Prince demanded.

But Sully was seized with a coughing fit.

"I'm sorry," said the nun. "But you're going to have to leave. He's not well enough yet and I need to get the doctor in here."

Prince's mind reeled as he was backed out of the room. Roman had Gabby? That was impossible. Gabby was at home. Wasn't she?

He hit redial, but again, the phone rang and rang. He switched tactics and rang Diniece's phone.

"Gabby dropped me off this morning at the courthouse," she said when she came on the line. "Why? What's wrong?"

Prince didn't respond. He hung up the phone. There were three pieces of this puzzle and the jagged edges fit together. Roman had left the Attorney General's office that morning. Sully had been found at the vet building, beaten, bruised, and left for dead. And Gabby had dropped Diniece off at the courthouse.

Prince staggered against the wall. But he didn't fall to the floor like his legs wanted to. Chief caught him and pulled him back up.

"Do you know where the Henchmen's club house is?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I do." Chief was already tapping at his phone. "I'm calling everybody. The Baztards will meet us there."

"I'm calling her brother," said Prince.

Any thought of the law and balance and justice went out the window. If they hurt her, he would kill each and every one of them.

﻿Chapter Twenty-Three

The shock wore off slowly and then the fear began to settle in. Gabby had been a part of many an argument, many which she had instigated herself. But never had she been a party to violence where fists and feet and elbows became involved.

The sickening crack of bone against bone still rang through her ears. The sight of Sully's booted feet lying on the ground had made her spine shudder. She'd known that she was supposed to fight back, scream, bite if ever anyone tried to take her. Her father, her brother, Eagle, and Prince had all drilled that into her as a child. But no one had ever mentioned what to do if she saw an attempted murder.

Because that's what it had been. Those weren't the jabs she'd seen her brother and his friends exchange as kids. Now she sat huddled on the dingy sofa of a warehouse somewhere just outside the city. Slowly, her body came out of its sluggish impotence and she looked around for a way out.

She could get out of this. There was always a way out. Every problem had a solution. She just had to find the right process, the best order of operations. Just like Prince had taught her. 

Someone was going to find her. She had her cell phone in her pocket. Prince would call and when she didn't answer, he'd know something was up. Then he could track her phone just like they did on television. But when she peered down at her phone, she saw no bars. No service.

She closed her eyes and let out a shuddery breath. It wasn't the end of the world. Someone could still track a cell phone if it was out of service. If nothing else, they could see where it had been last and work from there.

She weighed her options in the meantime. She sat in a warehouse turned into a garage. There were motorcycles all around and two race cars. If she could get the keys, she could ride a bike or a car out. There were also bound to be wrenches and crowbars around that she could use as weapons.

But even before that, she could use her feminine wiles to gain an edge. She could flirt her way out, cry to get some sympathy, or throw a tantrum to show how difficult she was going to be.

Gabby turned to the dark haired man whose eyes were locked on her breasts. "What's your name?" she asked.

The man smiled. "You can call me papi, mamacita." He ran his hand down her body toward her ass in the seat.

Gabby struck out like her brother taught her. But the man caught her fist. Then he grabbed her ass, anyway. He took out her phone and held it up. "Look what these bitches are getting off welfare."

He threw the phone down to the ground and smashed it with his booted heel. Gabby blinked at the pieces of glass and plastic. Could a dead phone be tracked?

"Or she got it on her back," said the white-blond haired guy.

"I am a United States citizen," said Gabby. "I was born here."

"Then show me your papers, mamacita," said the blond one who seemed to be in charge.

"They're at home. My name is Gabrielleia Hernandez."

"You know what, mamacita, shut your fucking mouth," said the dark haired, handsy guy. "Unless it's around my cock."

He reached for his belt buckle. Gabby's heart beat into her ears and drowned out the sound of the leather strap coming undone from the metal buckle.

"Roman, you want first crack at that ass?"

Roman? Gabby looked around again. Motorcycles. Racecars. There was a Nazi emblem on the hood of one of the cars.

"Roman?" she said. "Roman Voigt? I know you. You're the one who hit Crow in the race."

"Good," Roman grinned. "You're Watchers Crew property. So you're used to being shared and passed around."

"If I were you," she said, "I'd let me go. You've already pissed off my brother, Hawk." 

Roman's advance halted at the sound of that name. His eyes twitched as he studied her. The man had to have looked Hawk in the eye at some point in his miserable life. If so, then he would see the similarities in Gabby's face.

"And my boyfriend is coming after you, too. FBI Agent Yohaness Obademi? Does that name ring a bell?"

"Fuck." Roman turned his head skyward.

The dark haired guy wrapped his belt around his wrist. He looked between the two of them. Uncertainty now clouded his glassy eyes.

"Oh, yeah," Gabby continued now finding a reserve of steel from somewhere inside her chest. "And did I mention my dad is the District Attorney, Samuel Hernandez. And my soon to be mother-in-law is a judge which means, unless you let me go, you are well and truly fucked."

The rest of the crew took steps back from her as she continued to talk. Roman's pale face turned ashen. The dark haired one lifted his belted hand to rub at the nape of his neck.

And then the sound of dozens of motors filled the silence.

Gabby turned back to the men with a triumphant grin. "You hear that? Only a Dodge Charger makes that kind of growling sound. And that roaring like a lion ready to charge? Yeah, that's a Harley. Sounds like my brother and my boyfriend are here. They're gonna kick your asses."

﻿Chapter Twenty-Four

Prince kicked out his stand and dismounted. Standing erect, he pulled out his sidearm and checked the safety. As his thumb moved to release the lever, he felt a hand at his bicep.

Chief shook his head. "Holster it."

Prince narrowed his eyes at his friend, his brother in arms. "They have Gabby in there."

"We don't want her getting caught in any crossfire. Let's use our heads and our hands first."

Up ahead, Hawk decided to use his feet. He kicked the door of the Henchmen's warehouse in. The Baztards and Watchers combined were twenty people deep. None of the men or women had needed any convincing when they heard the name Henchmen. When they heard Gabby's name all of their faces stoned over.

Gabby was a favorite in both clubs with her infectious smile and her fussing over to make sure everyone's dinner and dessert plates were full. Even though Hawk, Eagle, and Prince kept her mostly out of crew and club business, every member knew and had affection for her. And they all rushed in the broken open door without a moment's hesitation.

Prince hurried into the fray striking out against the first man who was not one of his own. He'd been following the letter of the law for the last three years, working inside the system, crossing T's and dotting I's.

It felt good to handle things with his fists instead of a pen. He needed no evidence to clock this piece of shit in the jaw. There would be no reports to file as he shoved the man aside and went for the next.

Prince stepped over the prone body that crumpled to the floor. Then he spotted Gabby. Roman had his fist around her upper arm.

Prince saw red.

He pulled his gun from its holster, released the safety and pointed it at Roman's head. He walked slowly through the brawl. No one approached him. None of the fists and feet that were swinging met him along the way.

When Roman spotted Prince and his steel friend, he pulled Gabby in front of him as a shield. Didn't matter. Roman was taller than his petite, little princess. Prince saw the whites of the pathetic excuse for a man's eyes. He had a clear shot. His finger caressed the trigger.

Legalities went through his head. With each step closer, Prince built a multitude of iron-clad cases. He could claim self-defense. Hell, he was an officer of the law, and this was a crime scene. If that didn't work, his mother was a judge. His neighbor, and soon to be father-in-law, was the District Attorney. He would get off. And if he didn't, it didn't matter. All that mattered was that Gabby was safe.

"Prince, wait." Chief's clear voice spoke in his ear. "Let's take him in. If you kill him, it'll be satisfying in the moment. If he goes on trial, it hurts the Governor and lets the community see that justice does work."

Prince was hallucinating if he thought those words were coming out of Chief's mouth. Chief who put not an ounce of trust in the system. Instead of listening to the devil over his shoulder, Prince took another step towards his angel.

Chief rounded Prince. He stepped in front of the gun, with his back to the barrel and faced Roman. But even with his brother's back in the path of the bullet, Prince did not lower the gun.

"Let her go," Chief said to Roman.

Roman looked around the crowded warehouse. His men were down or had deserted him, running out the door and into the setting sun. He was surrounded by the type of men and women he purported to hate, men and women who returned the feeling. Under the gravity of the situation, Roman loosened his grip on Gabby. 

Prince exhaled. His forearm lowered, and he replaced the gun in its holster to receive the woman he loved more than anything in this world.

But Gabby didn't run into his arms. She turned and clocked Roman in the jaw. "Told you."

Then she turned on her heel. It wasn't until she was away from Roman that she grimaced and hugged her knuckles to her chest. Prince chuckled as she finally came into his arms where she belonged.

"I've got you, monkey." He kissed her face and then he kissed her injured hand. He held her tightly, breathing her in.

"Gabs?"

Gabby turned her head against Prince's chest. Her brother stood before them. He had a smudge at his temple, but was otherwise unharmed. She let go of Prince and wrapped her arms around her brother's huge frame.

Hawk folded his baby sister in his arms and petted the back of her head. His voice was soft and low. "He didn't… hurt you? Did he?"

Gabby lifted her head. Her eyes flashed with indignation. "He stomped my phone."

Hawk let out a long sigh through flaring nostrils. He nodded gravely down at Gabby. Something unspoken passed between the siblings before Hawk handed Gabby back to Prince. Hawk walked with calm, purposeful strides towards Roman. To his credit, Roman held his ground.

Hawk struck out, with lightning speed, and caught the man's arm. He twisted Roman's forearm behind his back until he squealed like a little pig.

"Hawk," called Chief.

"I'm just subduing him," said Hawk as he continued to wrench Roman's arm. "I don't have handcuffs."

"I do," said Eagle and Owl in unison.

Hawk ignored his brothers and shoved Roman to his knees.

Prince turned to Chief. "Call the cops."

"Who?" Chief shook his head as though Prince had thrown cold water on him. "Me? I've never called the cops in my life."

Prince scooped Gabby into his arms. He turned from his brother and left the matter to the men and women who had always been the true protectors of this community.

﻿Chapter Twenty-Five

Gabby's head rested against a soft chest. Someone was stroking her hair. The last thing she remembered was being in Prince's arms. He'd told her how much he loved her, that no one would ever hurt her again, that he'd never leave her side. She wasn't sure how much was real and how much was her mind coloring in the edges of a dream.

She'd always known that Prince loved her; never doubted it. He was just finally realizing how much and how differently he loved her in this day and time than in the early years. She'd always known that he would never allow anyone to hurt her. And now he included himself in that mix of perpetrators. She knew he'd never purposely abandon her again. But she also knew that their time together was coming to a temporary end.

The case was solved. He'd be going back to D.C soon. She'd be going back to school at the end of the week. They'd have miles and time between them for a while. But just for a while. They had forever before them. They just had to get over this little bump in the road first.

Waking up in Prince's arms now, Gabby noted that his chest had more cushions than she remembered. And his nails were longer. And he smelled of Chanel. Gabby lifted her head and met the gaze of Judge Obademi.

"Just rest, sweetheart. You're safe."

Gabby had never heard the judge use such dulcet tones. She'd always heard the judge's voice as a commanding bass, not a soft and lilting woodwind.

"Where's Prince?" Gabby asked.

"He had to go back to the scene, to make sure everything was being handled properly; you know him. He asked me to stay with you."

"Did you call my parents?"

"I did," Mrs. O said. I told them you were fine, and we were taking care of you. They'll be back tomorrow."

Gabby couldn't be sad that her parents were ending their trip a bit early. She wanted her mother's arms around her, but the judge's firm caress was nice. She'd never thought of the judge as maternal. She'd seen the woman play catch with her boys, and race alongside them. But she couldn't remember ever seeing Oluyemi give out hugs and kisses.

"Did you know I used to hold you when you were a baby?"  asked the judge. "Not often. You were a crier."

"I'm sorry."

"You would settle when you were in Yohaness' arms."

"I love him," Gabby said simply.

"I know," the judge replied.

"I'm going to take care of him," said Gabby into the judge's chest.

"I know."

Gabby straightened, coming face to face with the only other roadblock in her way of a happily ever after. "I'm going to make him very happy. I'm good at it. It's what I'm best at. That may not be changing the world, but it's important work. And it's liberating because he makes me feel like I can do anything, which just makes me want to love him more and harder and better. He can be the one that changes the world. I'll be the one making his world better."

Oluyemi pushed a stray curl back behind Gabby's ear. "Being a wife and a mother is the most important work that I do. It's the reason I leave the house every day. It's the reason I work as hard as I do. I want them to have the best." 

Mrs. O sighed, but the sound wasn't one of exasperation. It was content and full of light. She leaned in and smiled conspiratorially at Gabby.

"I'm the only one who didn't bet on you," she said. "I misjudged you, Gabrielleia."

"So, you'll accept me as your daughter-in-law?"

She leaned her head back and laughed. "Don't you think my son should propose first?"

Gabby raised an eyebrow. The judge let out another chuckle.

The front door opened to reveal a tall, dark, handsome commanding presence. Prince strode in. Gabby leapt up and into his arms.

"Hey, monkey," he said pulling her close. He pressed his lips to her temple, and then he turned to his mother. "The Henchmen crew is in holding for assault and kidnapping on both state and federal charges."

The judge came up and clapped her son on the shoulder. Then she cupped his face in her hand. "Good work, son."

After the judge left, Gabby turned to Prince. He traced the outline of her face. Then he rested his head against her forehead. His arms came around to her back and he pulled her into him until their fronts fit like pieces of a puzzle.

"You headed back to D.C. soon?" asked Gabby. Her voice was small inside the cocoon of his love.

Prince pressed his lips to her right eyelid and then her left one. "No."

Gabby jerked her head away from him. "You're not?"

He took a step forward, forcing her to take one back. "I accepted a new position here."

Home. The word on his lips made Gabby's heart flutter like the wings of a butterfly taking its first flight. She even felt herself ascending.

"I'll be consulting with local law enforcement and working out of the justice department to forge a local hate crimes division. It's going to be needed now more than ever with the political climate in the city."

"You're staying?"

"I'm sorry." Prince's eyebrows rose to his hairline as he continued to guide her backwards. "Did I have a choice in the matter?"

"No." Gabby chuckled. Then she noted they were at the door of her bedroom. "How did we get here?"

Prince grinned. "I learn from the best."

"Yeah?" Gabby toed off her shoes. "Because there are a couple lessons I was hoping you'd teach me."

"What's the subject?"

"Love." Gabby fell back on the bed. Ever the insightful tutor, Prince taught Gabby every lesson he could think of while they were between the sheets, on top of the sheets, on the carpet. For these lessons, Gabby applied herself and she aced his examination.

The End

* * *

If you enjoyed Smart Baztard, Book One in the Baztards MC series, then you should see where it all began with Gabby's big brother, Hawk, in Test Drive, Book One of the Watchers Crew series.

About the Author

N.S. Johnson is the alter ego of urban fantasy and fairytale retelling romance author, Ines Johnson.

Ines writes books for strong women who suck at love. If you rocked out to the twisted triangle of Jem, Jericha, and Rio as a girl; if you were slayed by vampires with souls alongside Buffy; if you need your scandalous fix from Olivia Pope each week, then you'll love her books!

Aside from being a writer, professional reader, and teacher, Ines is a very bad Buddhist. She sits in sangha each week, and while others are meditating and getting their zen on, she's contemplating how to use the teachings to strengthen her plots and character motivations. 

Read More from N.S. Johnson or Ines Johnson

You can reach her at her website www.ineswrites.com or on Facebook at /inesjohnsonauthor.

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