by Jennifer Ann
I’m still unable to stop fearing that something is seriously wrong. On our last visit, Alexa was just as desperate to see me as I had been to see her, but there was something off when she said goodbye. She almost looked regretful. Could Dryden have already gotten to her somehow?
I’m raring to go by the time we’re lining up for breakfast. Callisto stands beside me, hiding a chuckle behind his paw-sized hand. “Brother, I’ve never seen you this worked up about anything. You expecting another visit from that lady lawyer today?”
“She won’t be coming around anymore,” I growl out before looking around to see if anyone is paying attention. “You think there’s any way you could get a message to your cousin in Little Havana to check up on her?”
“Why not call her yourself?”
“Because I’m being monitored by someone dangerous,” I mutter under my breath. “At this point I don’t think he knows she was assigned to my case, and I need to keep it that way. My motion hearing is coming up soon, and I don’t need anything to jeopardize her ability to represent me. They’ll find out soon enough, but hopefully by then, I’ll be free to protect her.”
My mammoth friend bobs his head, making his double chins bounce. “Sure, sure. I get it, you have it bad for this woman. I’ll contact D-bag and have him check in on her. You know her number?”
Peering beyond the inmates filing out of the dormitories, I discover Ryks and Smith pushing their way through the crowd, headed straight for me. Smith’s lips curl with a righteous smirk, while Ryks’s face seems paled. When they stop within mere feet of me, I can see sweat lining the younger guard’s brow.
“You’re coming with us, Harrison,” Smith barks.
A bolt of fear nails me in the gut. Could Alexa be here?
Without question, I follow them into the hallway, ignoring the inmates harmlessly jeering at my back. The two guards escort me beyond the library and dining hall, continuing on past the attorney visitation rooms until we’ve reached a dead end by the janitor’s closet.
I turn around, frowning at Smith. Ryks passes his weight back and forth between his legs like a little kid who has to pee. Something’s up, and I don’t think I’m going to like the outcome.
“What the fuck are we doing here?” I ask.
“Were you expecting that hot piece of ass attorney?” Smith asks, his smirk widening. “She must’ve finally wised up, realized you’re too worthless to give a fuck about. Don’t imagine it’ll be long before she’ll come around so I can get my dick wet.”
Mother. Fucker.
Throwing a solid fist into Smith’s face, I enjoy the snap of the cartilage on his nose before Ryks comes at me, attempting to tackle me down. Though I don’t want to hurt the guy, I’m unable to stop the instinct to fight back. I may not be of much use to Alexa in here, but I’m sure as shit not going to stand back without defending my girl’s honor.
Smith recovers, placing an uppercut to my jaw seconds before I feel the blunt blow of a stick against my lower back. I falter, wheezing in pain, but I don’t fall down.
“Let’s go, you spineless fuck!” Smith taunts with blood flowing from his swollen nose. He motions for me to come at him with his fingers, bouncing on his feet. I heard rumors that Smith once held some heavyweight title in high school, and he appears to know what he’s doing. It’s a good thing I learned a thing or two about Jujutsu from a buddy in my unit while we were stationed overseas, because his next blow would’ve knocked me on my ass if I hadn’t been prepared to deflect him.
“Did Dryden pay you two clowns to attack me?” I ask, bouncing on my toes.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Smith sneers. But the truth is plain as day on his ugly mug. Maybe Dryden has finally put a hit on me. Maybe this is the end of the line, where I’m forced to either defend myself or give into the inevitable.
I refuse to give up without a fight, knowing Alexa is waiting for me.
When Smith strikes again, I bend in half and catch him in the side. He crumples to the floor, coughing and wheezing. One down, one to go. As expected, Ryks comes after me like a bull in a China shop. I easily step aside to avoid his fist, catching him by the arm and bending it back. I pull him close so his back is facing me.
“Come on, Ryks. I expected this from Smith, but not you. How much is Dryden paying you?”
The crackle of a radio comes behind us. “Staff needs assistance in the visitor’s wing!” Smith yells from the floor.
Shit. No matter what comes next, he’ll make me look like the bad guy. Knowing I’m defeated, I release Ryks. He immediately pins my arms behind my back as Smith jumps to his feet, coming at me for the beatdown of a lifetime. My nose snaps with a blinding blow before he moves down to my chest, likely cracking a rib. His fists pummel into my flesh again and again until there’s mass hysteria with the arrival of more guards. I struggle to fight back through the blinding pain, refusing to let Smith win.
Then someone releases pepper spray. I roar when the intense burn covers my face like the worst sun-burn of a lifetime. Closing my tear-filled eyes, I breathe out a raspy cough. Suddenly I’m pinned to the ground and my hands are cuffed over my stomach.
I’m only able to open my eyes a fraction of an inch in time to see Smith kneel over me, wiping his hand over his bloodied face. “You just earned yourself a solid week in the hole, you piece of shit.”
Spittle covers my scalding face before I’m pulled to my feet.
I’m royally fucked.
Days on end of total darkness can do irreparable damage to a man’s head. After being treated by the prison doctor, I’m left to wrestle with my inner demons, evaluating every decision that led me to this point. Would I join the Four Brothers a second time? Without question. Should I have started something with Kerissa just to get revenge? Hell yes. Would I beat that fucker Smith again? Without a doubt. Would I put my freedom on the line for another chance to be with Alexa? Abso-fucking-lutely.
Whenever painful memories of being raised by my abusive old man resurface, I push them away by recalling every last detail of my visits with Alexa. The way those beautiful blue eyes widened the first time I stepped into the room. The way she seemed eager to kiss me already by our second visit. The way her body reacted to my tongue and cock, like I’m the key to unlocking the gate to her personal paradise.
There’s no fucking questioning it anymore: I’m in fucking love and would lay my life down to keep her safe. But what if she doesn’t feel the same? She said she’d wait for me, yet she hasn’t come back or done anything to get me out of the hole. Maybe she gave up. Maybe she realized I’m not worth her misery. I try not to think about it too hard, because it makes me feel like a whiny little bitch. The idea of losing her is a torture worse than being locked in the hole.
I spend hours—days—imagining how things will change if I’m released. With any luck, my last employer has connections in Miami and I won’t have to rely solely on Alexa to provide for us. I made good bank by selling my motorcycle to an old Marine buddy who had run into some trouble, and I started a reasonable savings with whatever income I didn’t use on expenses over the past few years. It’s not enough to provide for Alexa indefinitely, but it'd be enough for a decent down payment on a mortgage.
I’m only able to count the days that pass by the choice of cardboard meals passed through a small opening in the door.
Scrambled eggs and rubbery meat mean breakfast.
Lunch comes in the form of peanut butter and jelly on dry white bread.
Anything else that appears to be leftovers from another day, tasteless and still slightly cold from refrigeration, signals the end of another torturous day.
Seven of the recycled meals pass without any signs of reprieve. By the time I’m waiting for another P&J on the eighth day, I’m paranoid as shit that Smith will find any excuse to keep me down here until I die. When we reached the end of that hallway, I was sure he was executing a hit ordered by Dryden. I’m certain the Four Brothers’ president had brib
ed Ryks into letting him see me the other day. Is that why Ryks was sweating when they came to get me—because he knew whatever they were about to do was bullshit?
As solitude seeps into my veins, paranoia over my situation becomes stifling. What if no one comes for me? What if I finally take my old man’s place after spending so much time alone in the dark? What if Alexa’s in trouble?
“I’ll never forgive myself if something happens to her.”
I don’t realize that I’m talking out-loud until the little opening for my meal is lifted up and someone asks, “What’s that, Harrison?”
I recognize the voice as belonging to Lopez, one of the more decent guards. From what I’ve seen he goes by the rules and doesn’t give inmates any shit unless it’s deserved.
“Hey, man, what’s going on?” I ask in a voice cracked from dehydration. Licking my dry lips, I move closer to the door until I can see his dark eyes staring back at me. “Are they letting me out today?”
“Sorry, I don’t know how much longer you’ll be in here. Warden said to let you know that your hearing was this morning. The judge took it under advisement.”
“Hold on. They didn’t let me out for the fucking hearing?” I slap my open palms against the concrete walls at my sides, furious they didn’t let me see Alexa. “I want to speak to the warden!”
“Relax, Harrison. Your rights haven’t been violated.”
“My rights have been violated! Smith said I’d be down here for a week, and it’s been longer! I want to speak to my attorney!”
“Smith won’t be vying for you anytime soon, my friend. You really messed him up good. They had to surgically realign his face so he could properly breathe.”
I hit the wall again, this time hard enough to feel a satisfying jolt of pain to my wrists. I’m desperate to feel anything real at this point. “I want to speak to my fucking attorney!”
“All right, Harrison, calm down. I’ll put a request in with the warden, but I can’t promise you anything.”
After shoving the sandwich through the opening, I’m once again submerged into total darkness.
A door squeaks on its hinge, and a ray of light burns against my eyes. Am I dreaming?
Five torturous days have passed since Lopez told me he’d speak to the warden. The other guards that were on rotation in the following days claimed they knew nothing about my request, and refused to let me speak with anyone.
After having an epiphany that Alexa needs me to come out of this strong, I started kill time by conditioning my body with as much vigorous exercise as the small cell would allow. It still didn’t shut out the voices that are convinced I’m being kept down here because the Four Brothers knows about Alexa.
“On your feet, Harrison.”
This is real.
I spring to my feet, holding a hand over my eyes to protect them from the harsh light. Lopez stands with the door open, shoulders hunched, shifty gaze flickering from me to the hallway.
“What’s going on?” I ask calmly. I’ll be damned if I let it be known how much these past days of isolation have gotten under my skin. “Did you talk to the warden?”
“They’re letting you out.”
“Out of solitary?”
His dark eyes lock onto mine. “Out of prison.”
I gulp past the heaviness in my throat. “What?”
“The judge granted your attorney’s motion. I don’t know the details of your case. I only know you’re a free man.”
Feeling unsteady on my feet, I slap a hand on the concrete wall. A slow, delirious laugh rises from my chest. It comes on so suddenly, without warning, that I’m not convinced my mind is all there.
She fucking did it!
“Are you sure?” I ask, wiping at tears that spilled with my hysteria. “I mean…this isn’t something you tell someone unless you’re absolutely certain.”
“Yeah, man. I was told your attorney came to give you the good news. But since you looked so broken, I just figured…”
I suck in a sharp breath. “Is she still here? My attorney?”
Lopez dips his chin and releases a slow smile. “As far as I know. I was just told to bring you up to the conference room.”
Thank fuck. The thought of seeing Alexa again creates the first boner since I was brought down here. I don’t know how the hell I’ll keep my hands to myself until we’re safely off prison grounds, even though I know I have to be careful. She could still lose her job for messing around with a client.
Once we’re safely behind closed doors, I plan on spending an infinite amount of time showing her my gratitude.
I burst from the room, throwing my arms around Lopez and clapping him on the back. “This is the best day of my fucking life,” I say with a grand chuckle.
“I can only imagine.” He gives my shoulder a friendly pat. “Let’s get you outta here.”
I’m floating higher than a damn kite as we ascend from the bowels of the prison and head for the room where my girl will be waiting. The halls are quiet. It’s somewhat bright—much brighter than the hole I was locked in—and I’ve lost all sense of time. If I had to guess, it’s early afternoon and everyone’s out on work duty for the day. I’m ridiculously giddy knowing those days are far behind me and I’ll be walking out the doors shortly with my woman by my side.
But when Lopez opens the door to the attorney room, a sudden cold clenches my core. A graying man with hipster glasses sits in Alexa’s place, a stiff smile spread over his pale lips.
“Congratulations, Mr. Harrison. You’re a free man. Judge Kespohl granted your motion, as well as your request to be admitted into the Witness Protection program pending further investigation.”
Witness Protection? What the actual fuck?
Every last one of my veins pops out from my neck as I search the small room, as if expecting Alexa to be hiding in plain sight. “Where is she?” Desperation garbles my words. “Where’s my fucking attorney?” I roar.
Holding his hands out, the main rises to his feet. “My name is James Halsrud. I took over as lead counsel for the purpose of your motion hearing. Alexa has taken a leave of absence.”
“Leave of absence? What the fuck does that mean?”
His eyes dart between me and Lopez as he pushes his glasses higher on his nose. “She…uh…took some time off. To be with an ailing parent in Cleveland.”
Everything becomes hazy as my body warms to impossible temps. Her parents are dead.
“Get me the hell outta here,” I tell the man, curling my fingers into fists at my sides. When the man nearly nods and doesn’t move, I roar, “NOW!”
Flinching, the man takes a step backwards. Lopez hooks my arm through his and hauls me back into the hallway.
“You need to calm your ass down, man,” he tells me with a stern stare-down. “You don't want to do anything to jeopardize your freedom. You’re already in hot water after what you did to the guards. There’s chatter going around that they’re charging you with felony assault and battery. I’d hate to see your ass wind up back in here.”
I grind my teeth together. He’s right but it’s hard to fight against the tornado of rage in my chest. I half expect my heart to bust out of my ribs. “You don’t understand. My attorney’s parents died when she was little. The fact that she wasn’t here today can only mean she’s in trouble.”
With a sigh, Lopez glances into the visitor’s room before his gaze falls back on me. “Listen. Whoever this woman is, you won’t be any good to her if you’re thrown back into jail. So I suggest you pull your shit together long enough to check out of this place, and then you go find her.”
Staring back at him, I dip my chin with a single nod.
If Dryden has gotten his hands on Alexa, he’s a dead man.
11
Alexa
Stepping out onto the stage in a shiny pink g-string that hardly covers my recent wax job and a matching triangle-bikini top meant to cover nothing more than my nipples, I’m painfully exposed. The “outfit” was c
ustom made to fit me, courtesy of Archer. Every last one of my nerves are worn thin when I saunter into the spotlight in sync to the slow and sexy R&B melody.
After two weeks of shaking my naked ass in front of strange men, you’d think this shit would get easier. But the crowds have continuously grown since word got out about the newest dancer, and most nights I’m performing for a packed house. Plus I’m waiting on pins and needles for a glimpse of the club’s owner.
The first few days after I was hired were rough as hell. Every move I made was analyzed, and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t terrified that I’d crack under the pressure. I was cautious around the girls as I tried to assess their ages without asking too many questions. It didn’t take long to sort out the girls who were working under their own will and those who were afraid of everyone and everything. Once I eventually formed a bond with a few of the dancers, it seemed I was “in” and had gained everyone’s trust.
But all the girls remained tight-lipped and skittish when I first asked in a roundabout way how they wound up at Spinner’s. I’ve asked what they’re doing after work or what they have planned for the weekend, but I learned to stop probing as it only makes them more distant and paranoid when I’m around. I’ve tried following them home, but someone’s always watching us, even after our shifts. Tatum managed to track a few of the girls in question back to the clubhouse, but once they were inside the fortress, there wasn’t much she could do without a warrant.
I hold on to the hope that it’s just a matter of time before someone slips and says something I can use, before I run across evidence of foul play, or I find a way into the MC’s clubhouse.
With the exception of coded messages sent to Tatum via the untraceable phone, I’ve cut all traces to my old life. And there’s an ever-present, raw ache for Michael always weighing me down, making it difficult to maintain an upbeat persona.
