by K E Osborn
“Yeah, brother, she has you wrapped around her surgically trained little finger.”
“If she was your Old Lady, you’d let her, too. I ain’t mad at it.”
“Okay, so we have a loose plan, and I mean loose, but anyway, I’ll put a call in to check on Zero. Then when he’s processed, we go check things out further. Fill him in on what we think the go is,” I instruct.
“In the meantime, all we can do is hope nothing goes wrong,” Texas laments.
It better fucking not. I don’t want to have to deal with Cherry, or especially Prinie if shit hits the fan.”
“I need a fucking beer,” Texas grunts.
Chains nods as they stand from their seats.
“I’ll catch up with you. I’m gonna make a call.”
Texas dips his chin. “Good luck.”
“I need it.”
They both exit the chapel, leaving me alone in the eerily quiet room. I don’t know if I’ve ever been in here on my own as much as I have in the past twenty-four hours. Every time I come in here, it’s always with Zero, so being in here now without him feels foreign and like a part of me is missing. All I know is, I need to do everything in my power to get him out of this.
I can’t be in there with him.
If I could, I fucking would.
But the Baron will split us up in a heartbeat.
Also, I need to be here to watch over Prinie. I’m being torn in two—my need to stand with my brother and the need to protect the woman I care deeply about.
Zero’s told me to keep my distance, but him being gone makes that more complicated. I need to be here to make sure Prinie doesn’t do anything stupid. That damn woman makes rash decisions on a whim. I know that all too fucking painfully. The day she up and left felt like a part of my soul died.
We weren’t on good terms, not in any sense of the word.
Prinie was perfect.
She still is.
Stubborn. Strong-willed. Too fucking persistent for her own good.
But perfect.
Our attraction to each other was always dangerous. Not only because of her brother finding out about us, but because I always felt like I could hurt her. She makes my skin crawl in a good way. A tingle. And when she’s near, my body ignites in a way it doesn’t with anyone. Ever.
I knew she could be an addiction for me.
And I was right.
I should have stayed away.
I should have kept my distance.
I tried.
Fucking hell, I tried, but Prinie is nothing if not persistent.
She wore me down with her quick wit and sassy attitude. I guess the fact she was off-limits was an attraction too. I’m nothing if I’m not breaking all the rules.
Prinie followed me around relentlessly for months until I cracked under her pressure. We ended up making out on the pool table late one night when everyone had gone to bed. The second our lips connected, I knew I wanted to wrap my hands around her neck, to soothe the beast inside me, to get that sexual gratification I always sought. So, I broke away and tried to stop the road our relationship was about to travel. Because I’m dangerous for Prinie.
So, I needed to stop Prinie’s advances.
But she didn’t stop.
We didn’t stop.
Stealing kisses when no one was watching. Hiding our—whatever it was—from Zero was a constant strain on my moral compass. Until one night, Prinie made her way into my room.
I told her to leave.
Begged her to.
She wouldn’t, said we needed to figure this out.
I told her it had to stop. I was the VP, and if Zero found out, he could have me killed.
She pushed. I pushed harder.
Prinie fought me back until I pinned her to the wall in all my pent-up rage. She was so fucking sexy the way she argued with me. It worked me up to the point I couldn’t fight it and ripped off her clothes.
I fucked her.
Hard.
Aggressively.
I nearly choked her until she couldn’t breathe.
Thrived in satisfaction as she gasped for breath.
Then, I ghosted her.
Hardcore.
Prinie tried to talk to me, she tried to fight with me.
Hell, she tried to seduce me again, but I fought it all, just so I wouldn’t give in to my addiction.
What happened that night nearly killed me.
In that moment, the feeling was like the biggest high I’ve ever had. The adrenaline coursed through my veins making me feel like a fucking king.
Until it didn’t.
Until reality slapped me like a raging typhoon.
Prinie was gasping, clinging to her neck. Tears were pricking her eyes from the pain I’d inflicted upon her. But more than that was what I saw in her eyes—Prinie was frightened—and I hadn’t experience that in a woman before because I had always discussed my sexual preferences before the act. I never felt more worthless. Like I didn’t have a place on this earth, like I shouldn’t have a place on this earth.
The high, the euphoria I felt, was nothing to the devastation injecting my veins. Like a cold blast of pure glacial water turning my body into a sheet of ice.
Prinie was everything I wanted, but in that moment, she was everything I knew I could never have again.
She pulls me in two and rips me apart at the seams.
While I didn’t want to be around her, I knew I needed her. She was my oxygen. And though I was ghosting her, I was never too far away. I was always watching, always keeping an eye on her, even if she thought I wasn’t. Up until that fucking night.
The night we were attacked.
The night her parents were murdered in front of her, it broke what was left of her fighting soul.
I wasn’t there to help pick up her pieces. So, she took Koda and bailed.
That was the hardest day of my life.
I lost my president.
My club was attacked, but more crucial, I lost the only thing keeping me level. Prinie left, and with her, all hope of me ever being any kind of normal man went with along with her. She abandoned me.
I gave her no choice, but I wanted her to fight harder for me. To give me a chance.
How fucked up is that?
Prinie left, breaking me, but it also broke Zero more than he ever let on. He didn’t show it, but I knew it. So, I put all my energy into him by being the best VP I could.
He chose me without a club vote, without a second thought. He wanted me by his side as his second.
So, from that day on, I restricted my sexual contact. If I had any, it was a blow job, rarely having sex. That way my urges couldn’t come out. I needed to prove to Zero that I wasn’t worthless, that I am worthy of his friendship and loyalty.
And that’s why right now I need to get him out of there, return the favor, and get these trumped-up charges dismissed. Or at the very least, let him know I’m working on it.
Picking up my cell, I dial the number I need.
It rings, far too long for me not to be annoyed, before a woman answers, “Houston Police Department, Corporal Daykin speaking.”
Going by her tone, she’s young like she’s new at this. I might be able to manipulate my way if I need to. “Corporal, what a lovely night we’re having.”
“This isn’t a line for chit-chat, sir. If you would like to report a crime or need assistance, then please continue. If not, kindly free the line for calls of a serious nature.”
Wow. Seems I had Daykin all wrong. Sometimes a pretty voice can be deceiving.
“Okay, to the point then. You have a man in custody… I would like to talk to him. Check-in and make sure he’s doing okay while being wrongfully arrested.”
She inhales, then lets out a long exhale. “Innocent or not, is of no consequence to whether he can receive special-privileged phone calls, sir. If he’s here, for processing, which I am assuming he is, then you will have to wait until he either phones you or has visitation with his a
ttorney, if he has one. Or, if he’s innocent as you suggest, then you will see him when he’s released. Until such time, I cannot help you—”
“Can you just tell me how he’s doing? Give me something, Daykin… please?” I put on my best begging voice which goes against every fucking grain of my being.
She exhales like she’s considering my proposal. “Fine! Who are you asking after?”
“Krew Walker.”
Silence.
The pause is a little too long. Immediately, I know it’s because she’s aware Zero’s in there due to the Baron, and that shit can’t be a good sign.
“Look, your friend is fine. He’s okay while he’s in here. There’s no one else currently in the cells with him. But after his arraignment, if the judge doesn’t grant bail, he won’t be as alone in his cell like he will be when he’s taken into remand. Do you hear what I’m telling you?”
Hell yes, I do. I guess Daykin’s not a fan of the Baron.
A cold sweat invades my skin. Zero’s going to have a cellmate, and he’s already been chosen. This means there’s no hope of getting bail at the arraignment.
Zero’s going inside.
My job now is to figure out who the hell his cellmate is going to be. Because if Daykin is right, it’s not going to be anyone good.
I’m running out of time.
Zero is running out of time.
WRAITH
A Week Later
As suspected, the arraignment didn’t go in Zero’s favor. Zero pleaded not guilty, then the judge set the court date for twenty-six months. Which, of course, we all know is exorbitant. The prosecutor asked for a continuance, so Zero wouldn’t have a swift trial. The Baron wanted Zero to know he was going away for a long-ass time, and that he held all the power where the judiciary was concerned. When I found out who the judge was, it didn’t surprise me as he’d been seen lunching with the Baron many times in the past. We should have guessed.
Zero was stoic on that day, but adamant he didn’t want Cherry or Prinie there. It was fucking hard to tell them they couldn’t go, but eventually they understood it wasn’t safe.
Since then, the clubhouse has been in fight-back mode.
Zero was taken back to Harris County Jail when he was, of course, refused bail, and now, I’ve been doing every-fucking-thing I can think of to find someone, anyone, to help him on the inside. But to no avail.
Finley has been keeping us up to date on his health on the inside, but no one is able to gain access to the details about who the fuck Zero’s cellmate is. Zero’s apparently keeping tightlipped. Seems shit is already strained inside the system with him in there. But with Kevlar’s help, and a lot of convincing from me, we talked Ethan into pulling a few strings at the jail where Zero’s incarcerated.
When a new prisoner enters the system, they go into what’s called reception. No one but their attorney and official clergymen are allowed to visit for a period of one hundred and twenty days. It’s not a plausible position for Zero to be in because we need to see him, and we need to do it sooner rather than later.
Kevlar begged his brother to help us, and I’m sure Kevlar’s done some kind of deal with his lieutenant brother. I have no idea what Kevlar had to sacrifice, but I appreciate it. I wanted Kevlar with me because if anyone understands how to work the judicial system, it’s an ex-cop. And who better to bring attention to us, to let the cellmates know we mean business than someone who’s going to grab the prisoners’ attention.
Even though Kevlar may not have put these fuckers in here, criminals are criminals and some of them are hardened, which means they’ve been in and out of jails for years. Some of them are bound to know Kevlar. If we need people to talk to, Kevlar’s going to know the best inmates to bribe.
Will they want to talk? Probably not. But Defiance has pull, and we can offer deals.
My goal is mainly to check on Zero. Get anything I can from him.
Finley is with us, to help if we need to discuss any legal shit. We need a voice of reason in all this fucked-up shit.
As we walk the halls, Kevlar’s body is extra tense.
“You good, brother?” I ask.
He dips his chin but says nothing.
Coming in here is hard for him. He’s going to have shit flung his way from the inmates. It’s inevitable, but he’s been through worse. Much, much, worse.
We stop at the entry to the meeting room where a guard eyes Finley up and down and states categorically, “This is not a conjugal visit. It’s an open room with other inmates, so keep your hands to yourselves.”
I raise my eyebrows as Finley scrunches up her face, anger seeping off her in waves. “You will want to watch your tone and your accusations. Not every female who steps foot in this jail is here to fuck her baby daddy. You see this outfit I’m wearing?” He eyes her again, then shrugs. “This is a two thousand-dollar Michael Kors skirt. You think I’m coming in here to fuck? Not on your life. But if you speak to me like that again, I will fuck you up through the legal system so fast you won’t see me coming. Now open the damn doors and let me get to my client.”
His eyes widen, swallowing a lump down his throat. “Y-You’re an attorney?”
“I am. I bet there’s a bunch of women out there desperate to file sexual harassment cases against you, isn’t there?”
The guard spins around, opening the door real fucking quick.
Finley stands taller. “Keep your nose clean. Your hands to yourself. Then maybe we won’t be seeing each other in the future. Deal?”
He grumbles some shit under his breath.
I walk past him patting him on the back. “Don’t mess with her, man. She scares the hell out of me.” We keep walking, following Finley into the large room. Tables with bench seats line the room which is set out like a cafeteria. Some visitors are already here as we move to an empty table, sliding onto the bench. Finley is in the middle with Kevlar and me on either side protecting her.
A loud buzzer sounds, making me pay attention to the door at the far end. It opens to two guards who walk in, followed by inmates. My muscles tense as I wait for Zero to walk through the door. I’ve never been more anxious in my life.
Inmates stride in, walking to their loved ones.
Some study Kevlar, their faces turning sour.
One inmate walks past Kevlar turning up his lip. “You’ll get yours, dirty blue.”
“Keep walking, asshole,” I grunt loudly.
The inmate chuckles as he saunters past Kevlar, who inhales deeply, while trying to ignore the dickhead.
“Don’t react Kevlar. Don’t give them anything,” Finley whispers.
“I know, and I won’t.”
I can’t even begin to imagine what this must be like for him.
“Zero will be here soon, and we can forget about these other douchebags.”
“It’s pretty shitty that Zero will have to put up with the taunts because he knows an ex-cop,” Kevlar states.
“Pfft, Zero’s been in the company of a lot of worse people than an ex-cop, Kevlar,” I tease him.
He smirks as we all turn back to the door, where more inmates are filing in, then finally Zero rounds the corner. His tall frame is hunched over, his arm gripping onto his stomach as he hobbles into the room. The guard shoves him which makes Kevlar and me both stand abruptly.
“Keep your head guys,” Finley mumbles quietly.
Zero spots us, his head lifting. He doesn’t react. He just shuffles over, his badly beaten face coming into view. My jaw ticks as I assess his injuries. His eye is swollen, his bearded lip is cut and bloody. His nose is crooked, it’s obviously broken. The way he’s hunched, he’s protecting his ribs which I’m sure he’s sporting a couple broken ones.
My fists ball at my sides as he slides into the table, gingerly taking a seat. Sweat pricks at my temple as my body flames. Anger rages inside of me as I take in the sight of not only my president, but my best fucking friend—a mess, a wreck in front of me.
“Jesus Christ, Zer
o. Why didn’t you tell me when I called you last night this was happening?” Finley berates.
Zero winces as he brings his bloodied knuckles up on top of the table. “Didn’t want to worry y’all.”
“Worry?” I grunt through my teeth. “I’m not fucking worried, Zero. I’m fucking fuming!”
He exhales, his swollen eyes leaving mine. “I can handle myself, Wraith.”
I snort. “Obviously.”
“Who did this to you? The guards?” Kevlar doesn’t hesitate.
“No. There’s a guy in here. My cellmate. Think he’s been paid off by the Baron.”
“Name?” I demand.
“Pretty sure he’s part of the Serbian Mafia. Heard something about the Triglav Clan when I was trying to be stealthy and listen in to his conversation with another inmate. Turns out, I wasn’t as stealthy as I thought.”
“And that’s why you look like all this?” I ask, waving my hand around in front of him.
“That was the first time.”
“Fuck, Zero!” I sit, rubbing my temple to ease the headache now brewing behind my skull.
“I’m okay. I’ve had far worse beatings than what Damir and his fuckers are—”
My ears pick up. “Damir? That his name?”
“Yeah…”
“Says he’s Serbian but speaks perfect English?” I grunt.
“Yeah, fucker, get with the program.” Zero tries to smile, but he winces when his face obviously hurts.
I haven’t heard that name for so long.
It can’t be the same guy, can it?
But honestly, how many Damirs, around the same age, from a Serbian background, who also live in Houston, can there be?
I can’t breathe.
My eyes flash open, but the weight of something on my face causes panic to set in instantly. Darkness engulfs my body as the heat from my frantic breaths against the plush fabric only make it harder to draw in the air I so desperately need. My fingers claw at the pillow, scratching at the strong hands pressing it into my face while I kick and jerk off the tattered, hard mattress.
But nothing is helping, my body is weakening.
I’m losing the fight.
