Page 9

I f musty had to be described in just a few words, I’d probably say stinky feet and despair. I’m not sure I’ll ever get this scent out of my nose hairs. After a week of this shit, I’m starting to lose hope that I’ll ever smell crisp, clean air again. But more than that, I miss the smell of my woman. The feel of her softness against me. The warmth of her breath on my skin as she sleeps in my arms.

“Heads up,” Rogue whisper-shouts from my cell door. “Something’s going down.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“It means keep your goddamn eyes open.”

He stalks off, and I hear a similar warning given to Ace a few cells down.

“Fucking hell. What now?” I whine, grateful no one can hear me.

Jail life is not for me. Sure, we weren’t always law-abiding citizens, but I’m not cut from the same ruthless cloth as Rock and the Havoc Reapers. Plus, I’m not a young kid anymore. I’ve got a woman and a baby on the way. I’m all responsible and shit. The picture of fucking civilized.

“Meal time!” one of the officers shouts from the main room. “Line up. You know the drill.”

Getting to my feet, I peer out the door and watch the inmates in this block of Gen Pop file out. Ace pauses in front of me, giving me a pointed look, and I simply nod in response as I step out behind him.

Guess we’re taking Rogue’s warning seriously.

One officer is at the door, another just outside of it, waiting for all of us to file out. He’ll follow at the back and make sure no one causes any trouble on our way to the chow hall.

I feel it then. The tension buzzing through the air. My focus sharpens, and I make sure to take in my surroundings, paying attention to who’s in front of and behind us. Rogue is a few men behind me, which makes me antsy. I don’t like strangers at my back on a good day, and those don’t exist in jail.

The line isn’t moving as we wait for the inmates from the upper floor to make their way down. The men are restless, which isn’t unusual, but I catch a couple of them further up the line eyeing someone behind me. The hairs on the back of my neck raise, and I relax my body to increase my reaction time because Rogue was right. Shit’s about to go down.

Just as one of the fuckers in front gives a small nod, the asshole behind me speaks up.

“You fucked with the wrong dude. Now, you’ve gotta pay.”

It’s like everything happens in slow motion. There’s a shift of the air just as I start to turn, and my body moves on instinct, even with a bum ass shoulder. My good arm swings up, hand wrapping around the wrist of the jackass behind me. Light glints off the makeshift blade clutched in his hand, and I barely manage to stop the upward trajectory of it as he was no doubt aiming for my unprotected back.

Son of a bitch!

“Fight!” some asswipe shouts, then all hell breaks loose.

Rogue’s roar echoes through the cavernous room as Ace curses in front of me. I manage a frantic glance at my brothers. We’re each surrounded, two or three against one. Then a fist connects with my jaw, sending me crashing into someone else’s hands. He grips my shoulders, holding me in place for another punch to the gut, followed by a solid hit to my face.

“Saint!” Ace calls out, followed by a grunt.

“Kinda busy over here,” I manage to call out before another hit wracks my mid-section, forcing me to keel over. “Motherfucker.”

Dude with the shank steps in front of me as I raise my head. There’s blood pouring from my nose, and if it’s broken, I’m gonna be pissed.

“You all need to learn your place, and it’s our job to teach you.”

“Eat a dick,” I mutter, trying to catch my breath.

“Funny. You’ll end up someone’s bitch after this, but I get to rough you up some more first. Make that face a little less pretty for your new daddy.”

My smile is manic. “I know someone who’s much better with a knife, and she’ll skin you alive for even trying.”

With a furious glare, he steps into me, but he’s yanked from behind before he can even take a swipe. His body flies back onto the table behind him, rolling over the edge and onto the hard concrete floor, his head hitting the metal bench.

Rogue stands in his place, cracking his neck and glowering at my attackers.

“Who’s next?” he growls.

There’s a bloody cut on his cheek and blood seeping from the busted knuckles on his massive fists. Looks like the big guy had some fun. The man holding me shoves me toward Rogue, who stops my momentum with one of those mega paws of his. He spins me around, so I can watch the two pussies that ganged up on me retreat until they’re backed up against the metal table behind them.

“Which one of you wants to fucking talk?” I ask, swiping my forearm across my tender nose. “Maybe we’ll grant you mercy.”

“Or not,” Rogue quips menacingly.

Ace steps up beside him, out of breath and one eye already swollen shut. “Don’t bother. His friend already spilled. Colt’s reach is further than we gave him credit for.”

“Fuck!” I mutter, spitting blood onto the cement floor.

“Masterson, Hart, Barlowe, hands behind your backs!” the guard shouts.

Where the hell has he been? Is he in on it too?

The three of us do as we’re told, then we’re cuffed and dragged out of the room. I’m thrown into solitary confinement, and I can only assume the other two are as well. They don’t even offer me a wet towel to clean myself up. Fuckers.

I’m not sure how long I sit in the utter silence of the tiny space, with only a thin mattress and single toilet, but I’m feeling every twinge and ache and a new fiery pain in my shoulder. Can’t catch a fucking break. Thoughts of Remy fill my head. Leaning my back up against the cold cement wall, I wonder what she’s doing. Sure hope Trip is keeping her fed and Squire is making sure she doesn’t do anything stupid. There’s a little solace in the fact that two of us got the fuck out of here and can keep an eye on her. Of course, they can keep their hands on her too. My dick perks up. I’d totally let that little daydream play out and get off to it, but unfortunately there isn’t a sink in here. I don’t feel like adding dried cum to the blood already crusted on my body.

The sound of the metal lock engaging breaks me out of the chaos of my mind, the door swinging open to reveal an officer I’ve never seen before.

“Come on, Barlowe. Gotta take you to the captain for questioning.”

“Do I get the chance to clean up first?” I ask petulantly.

His eyes widen as he gets a good look at my prison garb. “They didn’t have you checked out by the nurse?”

I shake my head. “Officer…”

“Cook.”

“Officer Cook, I was shoved in this cell without so much as toilet paper to wipe my ass. I’ve got dried blood caked to my face, every muscle in my body is sore from the beatdown I received, and I’m pretty sure I may have reinjured my shoulder. It’s been a shit day.”

“Here.” He steps forward, offering his hand. “Let me help you up. We’ll swing by the bathroom, and I’ll let you wash your face off, then, after questioning, I’ll suggest a trip to the nurse’s station.”

Either he’s a newbie and a little too trusting, or I look worse than I feel. Either way, I’m grateful for even the smallest hint of compassion at the moment, so I take his hand. The groan that escapes as I stand, not to mention the shortness of breath as my ribs scream from the strain, aren’t faked. I feel like I was hit by a goddamn bus.

“I apologize. No matter what you’re in here for, you’re still a human and deserve a little respect. Sometimes, some of these assholes forget that. They’re too jaded.”

“Sometimes, you have to be to do the job you all do. You’re too soft, you get taken advantage of.”

He side-eyes me as he guides me out of the cell and down a few feet where a single bathroom sits open. “You saying I should watch my back?”

“Not on my watch, but the good men always get the raw end of the deal. Life experience and all that.”

He motions for me to head into the bathroom. “Go on in. I can’t shut the door, but at least you can clean all that blood off.”

“Thanks, man.”

Making quick work of the mess that is my face, I feel slightly more human. Small mercies. Jail isn’t exactly full of them, so I gratefully accept the ones I’m lucky enough to receive. There’s no mirror, so I can’t take stock of the damage. Guess that will have to wait. Stepping out, we proceed down the hall to a small office. I’m a little surprised I’m not cuffed, but again, not gonna look a gift horse in the mouth.

The tiny room is set up with only a small table where another officer sits, a pad of paper in front of him. He motions toward the chair in front of me, and I gratefully sit, sensing Officer Cook taking up a position in the corner of the room.

“Mr. Barlowe, would you care to tell me what happened in there today?”

“You’ve had time to watch the camera footage. You know that my brothers and I were attacked.”

He silently assesses me, his face blank. He’s hard to read, much harder than Cook, but let’s face it. He’s staring at a man arrested for potentially being the long-sought-after Avenging Angel. Why the hell is he so fucking calm? I see this going one of two ways. He’s honest and reports things exactly how they went down, or he’s just as corrupt as the officers that were in the room when Colt’s goons got their licks in.

“I’d like to hear it in your own words if it’s all the same to you.”

My deep sigh is real, and it hurts like a bitch. “I was lined up for evening meal when a guy from behind told me that I had pissed someone off and had to pay. He took a swing with a shank. I managed to dodge that, only to be punched in the jaw, which is sore as hell, thank you for asking. Another guy held me while they beat the shit out of me. Shank dude went to take another stab, but Rogan Hart was faster and managed to get him out of the way. The other two dudes went running like bitches ‘cuz Rogue’s a scary motherfucker when he’s not bleeding. Surprised the dudes didn’t piss their pants when they got a good look at him like that. That’s when Ace managed to escape the group that had him cornered and came over to check on us. Then Officer Dipshit, who did absolutely nothing to break up the fight, called our names, cuffed us, and we got thrown into solitary for…fuck. I don’t know. A couple hours?”

His pen’s gliding across the notepad, but I don’t even bother trying to make out what he’s writing. My head is starting to pound.

“So you didn’t do anything to provoke this attack?”

“Sir, I’ve been a model inmate since the day I arrived. I’ve kept my head down and hands clean. I’m respectful to the officers on duty, even when they’re not to me. I’ve requested information as to why we have yet to see the judge and gotten shit excuses each and every time. At this point, I’m not even sure it matters what I tell you because something tells me we’re not being treated fairly here. Someone’s pulling strings. Question is, has he gotten a hold of yours yet?”

Astute eyes study me, pen tapping on the hard metal surface.

“Mr. Barlowe, I want to personally apologize for your treatment since you entered our facility. Normally, this precinct is run with the utmost care and respect, and we’ve always received high commendations. I can assure you I will work diligently to get a clear idea of what happened today. I’d like to extend a rare offer, if you’re willing to hear it?”

It’s my turn to study him, taking in the four stripes on his arm that indicate his rank. The crisp folds of his uniform that were meticulously ironed to get the creases just right. The ring on his left hand that indicates some woman made the decision to marry him, maybe even have kids with him. Of course, that’s not proof of his character, but together, all the details paint a pretty clear picture of the man in front of me.

“I am.”

“I’m giving you two options. Option A: you get moved to a Maximum-Security cell in full lockdown without the ability to move around freely. It’s twenty-three hours in, with one hour of free-time daily. This option will provide a level of safety because you’ll have less interactions with other inmates, but also less interaction with your friends.”

“And option B?”

“We put you back in Max-Security General Population. You’ll once again be with your brothers, but I’m sure I don’t have to point out the risks that this presents as you’ve seen first hand what can happen.”

I consider the options, but the answer is easy.

“I’ll go back to Gen Pop. No offense, Captain, but I trust my brothers to have my back. At this point, I don’t trust anyone else.”

He nods, sharing a glance with Officer Cook. “So be it. For what it’s worth, your version of the story matches what I watched on the tapes. You three were the innocent victims. Thankfully, no one was fatally hurt. However, I’ll give you this word of advice before I send you and Officer Cook to the nurse’s station.”

I lean forward, wincing at the tug on my shoulder. “I’m listening.”

“I’m one man, with limited power to make demands. The natural process of the law is being ignored in your case, and I’m not sure why or who’s allowing that to happen. I’ll do some digging, but I can’t make any promises. In the meantime, watch your backs. If another incident occurs, tell them you request to speak to Captain Davidson. If they refuse, then tell them you want your lawyer.”

I nod, feeling my nerves settle slightly. It’s a small relief to know that there are two men here who aren’t on Colt’s payroll—at least not yet.

“Good luck, Mr. Barlowe.” He motions to Officer Cook. “Take him to the nurse and make sure she gives him a full evaluation and provides any treatment he may require before he’s returned to General Population.”

“Thank you, Captain Davidson.” I stand, only groaning slightly this time.

“Don’t thank me yet, Barlowe.”

With that, I’m led out of the office, my mind whirling with the limited information I just received. I know that we’ll all need to have a little talk when we get back to our home away from home. We’ve got to figure out what the hell we can do to get ourselves out of here before Colt strikes again. We may not be so lucky next time.