by Sophia Gray
Sometimes, she imagined she could smell something else hovering above it all—a harsh, meaty scent that was primal and dizzying.
Was it desperation? Hopelessness?
Or just the smell of evil men, thinking evil thoughts and doing evil things until the air around them was a cloud of constant poison?
Bull's threats had been banging around in her head ever since he'd made them. She hadn't been able to eat or sleep since then, and she was gripped by a penetrating sense of dread and despair. No matter what she did or didn't do, it seemed like she was doomed to go to prison, die, or both.
Even if she did everything she was told, how long would it take for Bull to grow bored with tormenting her and start demanding sexual favors from her anyway? Worse, how long would he hold Hank's well-being—and that of the other Warriors, for that matter—over her head? Could she really live with this level of terrified anticipation day in, day out, indefinitely?
No. She couldn't. She was sure it would eventually drive her insane.
For the first time, she seriously considered going to the police. It was an alien thought—her uncle had been the president of the Carnage Warriors for as long as she could remember, and he'd always told her, “No matter what happens, Bethie, never, ever call the cops. You have a problem, you come to me. If I ain't around, you talk to the VP or one of MC's other senior officers. But you call the cops, and no matter what happened or who's in the wrong, you can bet your ass they'll end up arresting all the wrong people and letting the right ones go.”
But she couldn't go to Bib, or any of the other Warriors. Not about this. They were good guys, and she knew how much they cared about her—but their methods tended to be blunt, and no matter what they did to try to fix it, she was afraid all they'd do is make it worse.
Maybe the cops have dealt with situations like this before, she thought. Maybe they've got ways out of this that I haven't even thought of, since I'm so scared. Sure, okay, she'd lied on her CO application, but surely they'd overlook that when confronted with crimes that were so much more serious. She was still basically an innocent person, and that meant they had to do everything they could to protect her.
Didn't it?
Beth went up the steps to her door and put her key in, but the handle turned and the door swung open before she felt the lock turn over. Her breath stuck in her throat like a jagged bone.
It was open. Someone was here waiting for her.
Why? She'd done everything they asked, hadn't she? Was Butler here to intimidate her again? Was there a gang of Aryans standing in her living room, ready to teach her a lesson over some perceived slight?
She was unarmed. Defenseless. She could turn and run, but where would she go?
Beth stepped into her apartment and took a deep breath. She tried to keep the quiver out of her voice, but she was unsuccessful. “Who is it? Who the fuck is in here?”
A lamp switched on, revealing Bib. He was sitting in an easy chair in front of the darkened TV screen. Under his bushy eyebrows, his eyes looked sad and concerned.
“Uncle Bib? Jesus, you just about scared me to death! I hope no one saw you, or else they've probably already called the cops to report you as a burglar.”
Bib shook his head. “Nope, no one saw me come in. I was very careful. There's just you and me here, no one else.”
Beth frowned. “Okay. So what's up? I thought we were going to hang out at the garage tomorrow night, like always. Why did you want to see me before then, and why are you sneaking around in the dark like this? Is something wrong?”
“I don't know, Bethie. Why don't you tell me?”
Beth forced an uncomfortable laugh. “Have you been drinking? Because I have no idea what you're talking about. You sound weird.”
Bib nodded. “I probably do. That's because, for the first time since you've known me, I am just about terrified out of my goddamn wits. I truly am.”
“I, uh, don't...I mean, I'm not really sure what you could possibly be so afraid of,” Beth stammered uneasily. “Everything's fine at work, and—”
Bib pointed a finger at her. “Yeah. That, right there. That look in your eyes when you tell me 'everything's fine at work.' That's what's got me so fucking petrified. Bethie, do you remember when you were six years old and you wanted to sit on my bike?”
Beth was caught off guard. Yes, of course she remembered that. It was one of the only times Bib had ever yelled at her, which made it one of her most unpleasant childhood memories.
“I said no, so you waited 'til I left the garage and then you tried to climb up on it by yourself,” Bib continued. “The bike fell over and got all scratched up on one side, and you tried to feed me a line of crap about how the wind blew through the door and knocked it over. You weren't good at lying then, and you ain't gotten no better at it as you've gotten older. You get that same pinched little rabbit-looking expression on your face, and you've gotten it every goddamn time I've asked you about Hank and your job at Bluebonnet. I figured whatever was wrong, you were just too proud to let me know, and you'd find some way to fix it yourself.
“But so much time has passed, Bethie, and you've still got that same look on your face. And now I'm starting to wonder if you just feel so trapped and confused by whatever it is that you think it's too late to talk to me, or it won't do any good. But that just ain't true, hon. Whatever's happened, I'm sitting here and begging you to tell me. Every problem in this life has got a solution, and we'll find it together, no matter what it takes.”
Beth's lower lip trembled, and tears spilled down her cheeks. She wanted to shake her head and insist that everything really was fine. But the look of hurt and worry in his eyes was too much for her to bear.
She told him everything.
Chapter 21
Beth
By the time Beth had finished telling Bib everything, she'd gone through almost an entire box of tissues and he looked like he'd had his heart ripped out. He sat in the chair, utterly deflated, his eyes full of shame and remorse.
“Holy fucking shit,” he breathed. “I can't believe it. I must be the dumbest fuck on the planet, letting you go in there as a guard without knowing what the real score was.”
Beth shook her head. “It's not your fault. You had no way of knowing.”
“Well, it damn sure feels like my fault. I did a couple of short stretches in county jails here and there, but I never did time in a real prison like Bluebonnet. I guess I just figured it wouldn't be much different, y'know? And now I find out Speed Bump's been lying to me about it all this time...I mean, Jesus, after everything he and I went through together over the years...”
“I'm so sorry I didn't tell you earlier. I wanted to, but even if you knew, I figured there was nothing you could do about it. And if you tried, you might even make it worse.”
With a dazed expression, Bib rubbed his temples. “Like I said, every problem's got a solution. But I dunno what it'll be for this one. Just thinking about it makes me feel like there's a six-car pile-up in my skull.”
“I was thinking maybe I could...I don't know, go to the cops.” Beth's voice was barely above a whisper.
“I know that seems like the best idea, hon, and I wish I could tell you it'd work, but it wouldn't. You'd be confessing to a crime with the application form thing, and the cops won't be willing to do fuck-all to protect you and keep you out of prison unless you agree to give them something big in return.”
“Like what?”
“Like testifying against me. Feeding them info on all the bad shit I've been involved in as the leader of the Warriors. Which would be fine with me, if putting me in prison would be the end of it. It wouldn't, though. It'd mean giving evidence that'd bring down everyone else in the MC too, and I just can't do that. Not when I swore an oath to protect them. Besides, it's not like the cops would just snatch you out of Bluebonnet and put you under protection. They'd want you to help them collect evidence to build their case against Butler and the rest, which would mean sending you b
ack in there with a wire. That's too goddamn dangerous.”
Beth sighed. She'd never felt so tired in her life. “So what should we do?”
Bib considered this for a moment. “I don't know what to do about Hank or the other Warriors in Bluebonnet, but at least we can get you out of this mess. I'll have the guys whip up some fake ID papers for you. It should only take a day or two, and then you can just disappear. Maybe we can get you set up a couple of states away for a few months or a year, until the heat dies down and it's safe for you to come back.”
She thought about it. It seemed like a solid plan, and it was a relief to think that she might not be trapped and helpless after all.
But...
“If I don't show up for my shift, they might figure out that I told you what's going on. They could take it out on Hank and the rest of the Warriors.”
“Hon, you need to let me worry about what happens with the club,” Bib insisted. “I know how much you care about Hank. You know I care about him too. But he's one tough son of a bitch, and so are the rest of them. They can stand the heat, at least until I figure out a way to solve this shit. You ain't no outlaw. You're my niece, I love you, and I need to get you as far away from those fucking animals in Bluebonnet right now, before something bad happens to you.”
Beth was so tempted to just say yes and let Bib fix everything for her. When she thought of working one more shift in that hellhole, her stomach lurched and she felt like she might faint. She could just walk away from all of it—start over someplace new, work some low-profile job at a fast food joint or a gas station, make new friends, and erase all memories of Bluebonnet from her mind.
But there was something about what Bib said—that he didn't have any ideas about how to fix things for Hank and the other MC members inside, but he'd figure out a way. It reminded her of Hank in the stairwell, telling her he'd think of a solution to their predicament sooner or later. Oh sure, both men were extremely confident that they'd come up with something.
Somehow.
Eventually.
But how long would it take them? Would it work, or would men like Bull and Butler have contingencies in place that Hank and Bib hadn't thought of? And even if it did work, how much damage would be inflicted upon them in the meantime?
Seeing Hank almost every day as she worked at Bluebonnet had been difficult. Even though he tried to remain stoic, she could see how much being there was sapping his strength, his vitality, his identity. It was in the slope of his shoulders, the hardness in his eyes, the way his arms always seemed tense and prepared to lash out. It nearly broke her heart, especially since she knew she couldn't show him how much she cared about him without endangering both of them.
But how much harder would it be for her to be away from him? To imagine him in that terrible place without her? Running away would keep her safe, but it would also feel like she was abandoning him to his fate.
Beth felt these conflicting desires pulling at her, threatening to tear her in half.
“I can see the wheels in your head turning,” Bib said. “But there ain't nothing for you to think about. We're gonna get you some new papers in a day or two and get you the fuck out of there, end of story. If I have to tie you up, toss you in the trunk of a car, and drive you across the state line myself, that's what I'm gonna do.”
She nodded. “Okay. But please, please, you have to figure out a way to save Hank from all this. You should see what that place is doing to him, Bib. He doesn't deserve this.”
“I promise I'll do everything I can to help him,” Bib assured her. “Now I'm gonna go out the back and make sure no one sees me, just in case these fuckers are watching you. Remember, tomorrow you need to go in there like nothing's changed. If they see or sense anything different about you, there's no telling what they'll assume or how they'll react.”
But hours after Bib had left, Beth was tossing and turning in bed, unable to sleep. All she could picture was Hank, surrounded by pitiless stone walls and thousands of vicious men who wanted to murder him, with no one to comfort him or look out for him.
No one to love him.
Chapter 22
Beth
The next day, Beth tried to follow Bib's advice and act normally. But when she drove past the gate to the CO parking lot and saw the huge metal doors slide shut behind her, she was hit by a panic attack so strong and sudden, it felt like her heart was going to blast out of her ribcage and splatter against the steering wheel. Her hands shook violently, and she found herself gasping for air with each breath.
What if they had been watching her place last night? What if they'd seen Bib enter or leave, no matter how careful he'd tried to be? What if they were waiting to confront her inside—to punish her somehow?
What if they didn't know about Bib, but they still decided that today was the day they'd throw some extra torment her way? What if they followed through on their threats to force her into sex?
What if Bib came up with a plan and decided to act on it today, but they saw right through it? What if they took it out on Hank and the Warriors?
What if they were finally able to prod Hank into killing for them, and he got caught and sentenced to life? What if he got the death penalty for it? What if he ratted them out and they had to murder him to shut him up?
What if they...
Beth heard a hysterical screech of laughter, and it took a moment for her to realize it had come from her. There was so much danger from so many sides, she'd mentally lumped them all together into one vague, faceless, terrifying They—Butler, Bull, the White Knights, the Nation of Sinners, the other COs. A huge, gray, impenetrable mass of solid dread closing in on all sides, just like Bluebonnet itself. She felt like a single drop of water trying to fight the rest of the ocean.
She took several deep breaths as she stared at her hands, willing them to stop trembling. After a few minutes, they did. Her heart was still twisting and slithering in her chest like a snake, but at least that was on the inside so no one could see it.
Just remember to keep taking breaths, she thought. Slow and steady, one after the other. Keep your eyes blank. Keep your posture stiff and neutral. Keep everyone thinking that this is just a normal miserable day for you at this job—because if there's one thing the monsters in here are good at, it's sensing weakness and exploiting it.
Beth got out of her car, went to the small side door for the guards, swiped her key card, and stepped inside. She changed into her uniform in the locker room, and then came the familiar ritual of walking through a dozen different doors as they opened for her and clanged shut behind her.
Finally, she arrived in cell block G and checked in with Butler. He eyed her with his usual air of mild contempt, then wrote her name down in the log book as he always did.
So far, so good, Beth thought.
One of the first duties Beth attended to at the start of her shift was transporting prisoners to the shower room. This was done in small groups—usually five convicts at a time—to maintain order and keep things manageable. The same procedure was used when bringing them to the cafeteria, except that three or four guards were used, and the number of prisoners went up to about twenty. The ratio of one guard to every five inmates was strictly maintained at all times.
Too many prisoners plus too few guards could easily equal a riot—a grim equation that too many of the older COs still remembered from what happened fifteen years before.
During her brief time working at Bluebonnet, Beth had largely become indifferent to seeing men naked. Half of the prisoners seemed to walk around the cell block in their underwear most of the time, and she'd seen all of them in the showers at one time or another. With little to do in prison except exercise, many of the men looked like they'd stepped right off the pages of bodybuilding magazines—their pecs, abs, biceps, and glutes bulged and glistened under the running water, and their dicks flopped around as they soaped up their bodies. Some of them tried to provoke Beth by staring at her and pretending to jerk off, and they trad
ed plenty of jokes and idle threats with each other. But for the most part, they just went about the business of cleaning themselves.
The casual nudity shocked Beth a bit when she saw it on her first day, but by her third or fourth, she barely registered it.
The only exception was Hank.
Every time she saw Hank strip down and step into the shower room, she couldn't help but remember how his lithe, muscular body felt pressed against hers. She imagined those powerful arms wrapped around her again, and whenever he turned his back to her, she longed to run her fingernails down his shoulders and kiss the nape of his neck.
But even though it was her favorite part of every shift—the lone bright spot in her day, when she could cherish these memories of being with him—she had to remind herself not to stare, or even appear to look at him casually. Bull may have already known about her prior relationship with Hank, but if any of the other inmates sensed it, they could try to hold it over her. So she had to steal brief glances from the corners of her eyes, and no matter how many times she did, the quick flashes of his nude body just left her hungry for more. Then the shower was over in minutes, Hank let her lead him back to the cell block without a word, and she'd look forward to the next day's shower.
