by Elle Thorpe
So I chickened out. Instead, I came up with a stupid lie. “If I hadn’t studied, you know? If I wasn’t naturally smart and driven, it could have been me taking a dead-end job, getting in with the wrong crowd.” I cringed internally even as I said the words, because I knew exactly how they’d sound, and I wasn’t proud of them. I sounded like an elitist jerk, the role I’d spent half my life playing.
When the truth was, I was just a coward, too scared to be honest and locked in a lifetime of lies.
Mae nodded slowly and went back to serving food without a word.
“Fuck,” I muttered. She didn’t even need to tell me that I’d disappointed her. And she’d seen right through my lame story. It was written all over her face. “Mae…”
She shrugged. “It’s fine, Liam. We barely know each other. You don’t have to tell me anything. But don’t lie to me.” She turned back and smiled at the next woman in line. “What can I get for you?”
I grabbed her hand. “Mae, wait. I—” I turned to the woman at the head of the line. “Sorry, ma’am. I just need to…”
The words died on my lips as I took in the woman’s long blonde hair, her ageing face, and the cheap clothes, ratty with overuse.
“Liam?” The woman’s eyes widened in shock.
Her expression had to mirror mine.
Right down to the identical blue eyes.
Eyes that belonged to my mother.
26
Rowe
Reception shifts weren’t my favorite. I’d much rather deal with prisoners and their petty dramas than deal with their families and friends wanting to visit them. The number of stupid questions I was typically asked made me contemplate grievous bodily harm myself.
After not so patiently explaining to one woman why she couldn’t take in a folder full of dirty magazines for her darling little bank-robbing son, I could feel the aneurysm growing in my brain.
Colt spun around on one of the office chairs and raised an eyebrow at me. “You need a day off. You’re being a grumpy prick, even for you. And that’s saying something coming from me, because I’m not exactly sunshine and rainbows either.”
He wasn’t wrong. I’d been working my ass off for months. Double shifts, triple shifts. Sleeping in the guard’s room where there was a couple of bunks instead of going home. Anything to avoid going back to my empty house.
The alternative was worse. Being alone was better. Safer. No ties to anyone.
But fuck it hurt. Instead of getting easier, it killed me a little more inside every day.
At least here, the only hurt I had to deal with belonged to other people.
The alert system pinged, letting us know there was another visitor on the outside who needed to be buzzed in. Colt checked the monitor and hit the ‘door open’ button. “It’s Boston. Were we expecting him today? Didn’t see him on the schedule.”
I shook my head. “Not that I know of.” We often had cops in here, though. We knew all their names and had an amicable working relationship with most of them. Boston was one of the good guys. Some of the older ones looked down on the guards as wannabe cops who’d never made the cut. But Boston and Jayela hadn’t been like that. They knew this job wasn’t for the faint of heart. It was rough, hard, and you had to be constantly aware of your surroundings. It wasn’t unlike being a cop in that respect. They got that.
I frowned as Boston rushed in, disheveled like he’d been out on a two-day bender. His hair was a mess, the top button on his normally pristine uniform was undone, his shirttails partially sticking out from his pants. His eyes were slightly wild and unfocused when he approached the bench.
I peered at him through the plastic shield. “Hey, bro. You okay?”
Boston forced a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah. Fine. I need to talk to a prisoner, though.”
I cocked my head to one side, hearing something in his voice that wasn’t normally there. “In an official capacity? Or as a visitor?”
Boston narrowed his eyes. “Official, of course. Why the fuck would I be visiting any of these morons? They don’t exactly run in my social circles.”
I held up my hands, surprised by his snappy tone. “Fair enough. Just asking. Don’t shoot the messenger. You’re here at visiting hours, and you don’t have a partner with you.”
I immediately realized what I’d said. And it was written all over Boston’s face, too. The mention of him not having a partner here just reminded everyone that the reason he didn’t have one was because Jayela was gone.
“Shit. I’m sorry, man. I wasn’t thinking.”
Boston blew out a slow breath. “No. It’s fine. Sorry. Just a lot going on at the moment.”
“Yeah. Of course. I get it. We’re good. Which prisoner do you need?”
“DeWitt.”
“You got it. You take interview room two, and I’ll go get him. Colt, you got reception for a bit?”
He mock saluted me, like the smart-ass he was, and so I stuck my finger up at him in return. But we were both grinning at each other. We really were similar. We got each other in a way that had made us instant friends.
I let myself through another security door and headed back to General Population, punching in the code to open that door as well. “DeWitt! You got a visitor.” I had to yell over the low din of fifty prisoners milling around and talking shit with each other.
DeWitt looked up from his kingpin position at the head of the table. On autopilot, I quickly took in the other men sitting with him, silently noting each one, and how they interacted. No Michaelson. Interesting. I’d already noticed the growing power DeWitt seem to have in here. He hadn’t been here long enough to warrant it. I wasn’t concerned just yet. But I was definitely keeping an eye on them. When prisoners got too comfortable, they started thinking they ruled the roost. They didn’t. I ruled the fucking roost. And I’d make sure they remembered it if I had to.
The big man stood, throwing down his cards. “I wonder which of my ladies it is today? Maybe the hot blonde with the big tits? Or the skinny brunette who likes to talk dirty in my ear.”
He sauntered toward me while the others hooted and hollered.
I didn’t even bother dignifying his bravado with a response. It was the same shit I heard all day every day, and it was boring. So much about this job was just boring. I didn’t hate it. But if I could have been doing something else, I would’ve. In a heartbeat. But this was what I knew. This was what I’d always done. And there was something about it that called me. Better the devil you know, perhaps.
In the corridor I told DeWitt to stand against the wall while I cuffed him. It was a procedure all the prisoners were used to. We didn’t let them meet with cops or lawyers uncuffed. That had ended in disaster before. Nobody wanted that again.
DeWitt ran his mouth the entire time, but I didn’t bother listening. Once he was ready to go, I let him to the interview room, where Boston waited for him.
“Well, this is a surprise,” DeWitt said as we entered the room. “To what do I owe such a pleasure, Officer Boston?”
I cuffed DeWitt to the table and backed off to the corner of the room. “You good?” I asked Boston, meaning was he okay if I left the room. He was a cop, not a lawyer. So this interview wasn’t privileged. I didn’t have to leave. But Boston was more than capable of holding his own. I’d never bothered babysitting him before, though his agitated behavior had me questioning if he was actually nervous. Some of the newer cops were when they first started coming here. You could tell by the way they fidgeted, their gazes dancing around the room. Having a guard in here with a dangerous prisoner helped put them at ease. But Boston was a seasoned pro. The fact he was acting weird today was completely out of character.
“Yeah. I’m fine.”
I nodded and walked out, closing the door behind me. But something prickled at me. That sense of awareness that made me an excellent guard. It kicked to life, demanding attention, shouting at me that something wasn’t right here. I turned around and stared back a
t the door. Boston had told me he didn’t need me in there. I didn’t want to undermine him with the prisoner. But there was something about the whole situation that felt off. And I couldn’t just let it go.
So instead of heading back to reception to help Colt, I detoured to another room, filled with screens recording the entire prison. There was a single guard inside, monitoring each screen, ready to call for backup if there was a disturbance on any of them. He glanced up when I entered, relief flushing his expression. “Hey. You here take over? I called someone up ages ago. I’m about to piss my pants.”
I frowned and waved a hand at him. “Just go.”
Suited me to be in here by myself anyway. I slid into the man’s chair and gazed around at the plethora of monitors. Grainy black-and-white images filled each screen, the prisoners moving about on them, all doing nothing of real interest. This was the most boring job in the world, unless it was a day were a fight broke out. But I wasn’t looking for a fight right now. I located the camera recording in interview room two, where I’d put Boston and DeWitt. Kicking the door closed behind me, I hit the sound button for that room and leaned forward, peering at the screen and the two men sitting across the table from each other.
My instincts weren’t wrong. While I didn’t expect for DeWitt and Boston to be best friends, chatting gaily with a cup of tea and scones, one look at them on the screen told me that this wasn’t just any old interview. I instantly tensed at the expression on Boston’s face. While it would be no loss to me if he reached across the table and throttled DeWitt, it’d be a shitload of paperwork that I didn’t really want to deal with. “Shit.”
Boston’s expression was murderous. His fingers curled around the tabletop, nails pressing hard into the solid wood, as if he was trying to hold himself back. And when his voice came through the speakers, it was with barely concealed rage. “Who did you tell that I was on the take?”
DeWitt sat back, crossing his arms across his broad chest. “I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t bullshit a bullshitter. I’ve just had my chief up my ass about it.”
DeWitt grinned slyly. “You ever tried that? You’d probably like it.”
I could practically hear Boston’s molars grinding. “Who did you tell?”
My mind spun. There was no way Boston was on the take. I couldn’t believe that for even half a second. The man was as straight as they came. Even the notion of him being dirty was completely inconceivable to me.
DeWitt leaned forward, the smile dropping from his face. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll deal with it.”
“I’ve been letting you deal with it for months. How about you start talking, and I deal with it.”
What the fuck?
DeWitt drummed his fat fingers on the tabletop. “The new guy. Michaelson. You know, the one you put in here for your bitch partner’s murder? You guys fucked up there. There is no way he did it. You and I both know that, though, don’t we?”
Boston shoved to his feet and launched across the table, grabbing DeWitt by his shirt.
I didn’t stick around to see what Boston’s reply was. I slammed out of the tiny security room, racing back around the corner and down the hallway to the interview room. By the time I got there, Boston had DeWitt up against the wall, his fingers around his throat.
DeWitt appeared to be enjoying it. Sick bastard.
I yanked Boston away, pushing him to the other side of the room. “What the hell are you doing?” I got right up in his face, going nose to nose with him. “Have you lost your goddamn mind?”
It took a moment for Boston’s gaze to refocus. He blinked hard when he finally looked at me properly, and then I felt the fight go out of him, his body relaxing enough that I knew he wasn’t going to try again.
I loosened my grip on him. “You good?”
“Yeah. I’m fine.”
“You know that was all on tape, don’t you?”
Boston narrowed his gaze at me. “It’s not what you’re thinking.”
I backed off. “It doesn’t matter what I’m thinking. That’s between you and your chief. Ain’t got nothing to do with me.”
DeWitt piped up gleefully. “Pritchard probably likes you better now he knows you’re dirty. I get the impression our guard friend here likes a lot of things kinda dirty, right, Pritchard?”
I glared at him over my shoulder. “You want to shut up? Or will I let Boston try to kill you again? Seriously, man. Learn to close your mouth.”
Boston shrugged out of my grip and made for the door. But he paused, fixing me with an eagle-eyed glare. “Don’t believe his talk.”
I nodded. Boston seemed satisfied with that, spun on his heel, and left the room.
DeWitt chuckled. “You’re as big a liar as he is.”
I didn’t dispute that fact. I just shoved DeWitt out of the room and back to the cells.
27
Mae
“Mom?”
My gaze darted between Liam and the woman. Her fingers trembled, the thin soup I’d just placed on her tray spilling over the edges of the plastic bowl. She shook her head viciously and put the tray down on the countertop.
Her eyes widened, darting between Liam, me, and the door. “I’m sorry. I need to go.”
That spurred Liam into action. “No, Mom. Wait. What are you doing here? Do you need help? Food? Why haven’t you been cashing the checks I send you?” He dropped his ladle back into the soup pot and hurried to the door that would let him out into the dining area. “Just wait a moment. I’m coming out.”
But the woman shook her head again. “No. Please. I don’t want to be a bother. I shouldn’t have come here. I wouldn’t have if I’d known…”
Liam’s hands faltered over the doorknob, and hurt flashed across his face. I knew what he was hearing.
His mother wouldn’t have come if she’d known he was here.
I cringed.
But Liam’s hurt was quickly replaced by determination. He turned the handle, but it barely moved. Liam cursed under his breath and fumbled for the keys in his pocket to unlock the door.
Meanwhile, his mother was already at the main exit that led to the alley outside. The late-afternoon sunlight flashed, marking her escape, and then it slammed closed behind her.
The other men and women in the room all turned to stare at the scene they were making, curious conversation rippling around the space.
“Mom! Wait!” Liam finally jabbed the right key into the lock and twisted it so viciously it was probably at risk of breaking. “Please.”
His voice broke on the word, and before I really could analyze what I was doing, I was rushing to his side. I followed him through the exit.
There was no sign of his mother in either direction. Just an empty alley, the dirty concrete ground glittering with broken glass, the walls of both the homeless shelter and the building next door covered in multicolored graffiti.
Liam slumped against the wall and drove his fist back against it. “Dammit.”
He rested his head on the bricks, his face turned up to the skies splashed with the pinks and oranges of the setting sun. They danced over his features, strangled with pain.
I took up the spot beside him, standing shoulder to shoulder. Without saying anything, I found his still clenched fist and slowly worked his hand open, massaging each finger as I went, before fitting my palm to his.
When he finally glanced over at me, the hurt in his eyes buckled my knees.
He peeled himself off the wall and wrapped himself around me, his face burying into the side of my neck and inhaling my scent deeply. His big body pressed me into the wall, and I put my arms around his back, pulling him even closer, engulfing him in a hug that tried to absorb some of his hurt. “Shh,” I soothed. “It’s okay.”
But I could tell it wasn’t. Seeing his mother had triggered something in Liam. I wanted to talk to him about it. I wanted to understand what had happened and why she’d run from him. Why her disappearance hurt him the
way it obviously was.
But I also knew what it was to not have a mother in your life. And to be so completely and utterly broken by it, that at times, all you could do was just stand there and let somebody hold you.
I found myself wanting to be that person for Liam.
I drew his face away from my neck and stared up into his eyes. For once, all his walls were down. The cockiness was gone. The arrogance disappeared. All that was left was the real him. The him he tried to hide from everybody else.
I lifted up onto my toes, took both sides of his face in my hands, closed my eyes, and let my lips meet his.
There was no surprise, no hesitation in his kiss. He kissed me soft and slow, and it was just like that first night, where he’d stolen my breath and maybe even a little piece of my heart all in one moment without even trying. I held him to me, let our tongues mingle, drawing him deeper and closer, until the kisses changed.
The kisses woke something in him that in turn called out to me. His lips became harder and more demanding as he took control, pressing me into the wall.
“I want you,” he mumbled over my mouth.
“Here?” I breathed.
“Everywhere. I wanted you back at my place. I wanted you in the car. I wanted you at your sister’s funeral. I wanted you every fucking day I saw you in high school. So yeah. I want you here, Mae.”
A tiny moan escaped my throat. I tugged his head down again, taking his kiss, surrendering to it, blocking out any concern that we were in a public place, and anybody could walk down this alley at any time. I didn’t want him to feel the way I had for my entire life. If I could take even a tiny part of that away from him right now, then I would. Because I hurt, too. And surrendering to him meant him taking some of my pain as well. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I could hear my therapist saying that this was not a healthy exchange. But I didn’t care. Because Liam’s kiss was easy to drown in. And I wanted to sink right to the very bottom, where only he and I existed.
