Thorn (Carter Kids #2)

by Chloe Walsh

  Rolling onto my back, I folded my arms behind my head and stared up at the metal bars above my head. “Who?”

  “Your girl.” I heard him twisting around on the bunk above me. “You never told me her name.” The sound of a match striking filled the silence followed by the aroma of nicotine wafting through the air.

  “Teagan,” I whispered, feeling the burn in my chest that came with saying her name aloud. “And she was…different.” Teagan was the only one who had ever known me – like really known me. She had gone to the trouble of digging deeper, finding the screw-up inside of me, and loving me anyway. That wasn’t normal. She wasn’t normal. “She was a pain in my ass,” I added with a smirk, thinking back to the numerous times Thorn had caused me nothing but trouble.

  “She love you?”

  “Not enough.”

  “You still love her?”

  “It doesn’t matter anymore,” I hissed through clenched teeth. Hell fucking yes I still loved her, but I wasn’t the type of guy who talked openly about my feelings. Christ, before Thorn, I wouldn’t have thought I had feelings to talk about. “It’s in the past.”

  “It’s the only thing that matters,” he corrected. “And the past is never in the past. It’s always waiting in the wings, ready to swoop in and fuck up the present,” he muttered and after a pause added, “I’d bet my last cigarette she’s the reason you’re in this wonderful establishment.”

  “It’s not her fault,” I shot back defensively, tensing up. “I was a fuck up long before I met her.” Shaking my head, I let out a sigh and asked, “Why are you bringing this shit up, man?”

  “Because when I look at you, it’s like I’m looking at the eighteen-year-old version of myself.”

  Even though I was pissed as hell at him for bringing up my business, I didn’t dare open my mouth and say so. Lucky was as closed off as I was. It wasn’t an everyday occurrence that the guy spoke about himself, and I wanted to hear what he had to say.

  The bunk shifted and squeaked in protest as he climbed down. “I’m gonna tell you a little story, Messina,” he announced, “from one lovesick fool to another.”

  The moonlight flooding in from the tiny bar covered window in our cell illuminated his profile and I watched as he walked over to our small desk, and hoisted himself on top of it before taking a deep drag of his cigarette and exhaling heavily. “I fell for this chick from my hometown,” he began to explain. “Fell real fucking hard. Her daddy was a cop, one of the good guys. Shit, back then, I was one of the good guys,” he chuckled, flicking the ash from his cigarette before taking another drag. “We’d dated all through high school and I was in deep, Messina. Real fucking deep...” His eyes glazed over and his voice trailed off.

  Exhaling heavily, I sat up and grabbed my cigarettes from under my pillow. “You don’t have to tell me shit, Lucky,” I told him as I sparked up. “It’s cool, man. I understand.”

  “The night I was arrested, I had the ring in my jeans pocket,” he told me in a quiet tone, ignoring my words. “Was on my way to pick her up at her dorm – Hayley was a freshman at the time...” His voice broke off then, it was the first time I had ever heard him quiver, and when he spoke again, I felt like I had been sucker punched in the chest.

  “When I let myself into her room all I could hear was the sound of her crying weakly…begging for mercy and calling my name. Her blood,” he whispered. “It was everywhere. Smeared all over the sheets. The walls. The fucking carpet. Her clothes had been ripped from her body… by the bastard standing over her zipping up his pants.”

  “Jesus Christ,” I choked out, not knowing what to say.

  “I killed a man that night, Messina. With my own bare hands,” he growled. “And in doing so, I wasted the last moments I would ever have with her.”

  “She died?”

  “He fucking butchered her,” he confirmed coldly. “And I butchered him while my girl was taking her last breath in this world.”

  “Lucky,” I whispered. “I’m so damn sorry.”

  “I got eleven years,” he said after a moment. “Would’ve been a helluva a lot more but her father had pull and I was convicted of manslaughter instead. And I’ve been here ever since. Existing.”

  Rubbing a hand down my face, I struggled to take it all in. “Why did you tell me all of that, man?”

  Dropping his cigarette butt in the sink, he jumped down from the desk and stretched his arms over his head. “Because my girl’s dead, Messina, and I aint ever getting her back. But it’s not over for you,” he told me passionately. “Look, I’ve got another six years in this place so it looks like we’ll be seeing this out together. It would be nice to have an ally.”

  “You want me as an ally?” I asked, watching his climb back up on his bunk.

  “I’ve got a good feeling about you, Noah Messina,” he chuckled. “Now shut the fuck up and get some sleep.”

  I didn’t sleep a wink that night.

  Instead, my mind went through Lucky’s admission over and over until the sun rose and the lights were turned back on.

  It’s not over for you, he had told me, and Christ, I wanted to believe him.

  More than anything.

  THIS PLACE WAS A LIVING, BREATHING HELL.

  Even now, twelve months later, I hadn’t gotten used to my surroundings; if I was being honest, I didn’t think I ever would. Time crawled by. I had too much time to think – to fucking torture myself with what ifs. Like what if I had gotten on that plane with Teagan and never went to the quarry? We’d be in Ireland now, and I would be lying beside her and not four concrete walls.

  All I had was myself.

  All I could work on was my body.

  Growing it.

  Strengthening it.

  Preparing for the trouble that I knew was lurking behind every damn corner.

  I wasn’t a virgin to bloodshed, but I’d lost count of the number of times I had a rib busted in this place. Fucking vultures were the reason I kept a blade in my toothbrush.

  But I was running out of time.

  I followed the line of inmates as the guards rounded us up and led us into the visiting room like a goddamn herd of cattle. I watched, emotionless, as the guys in front of me filed into the visiting room, claiming tables that were filled with people who loved them.

  I didn’t have any family waiting on me in here. I didn’t have a disappointed father, or a heartbroken mother to look forward to seeing every Thursday afternoon. I didn’t have a horny wife, saddled down with half a dozen of my kids.

  I scanned the room for the one person I could stand the sight of these days, and when I found him sitting alone in the far corner of the room, I went straight for him.

  “Anything?” I asked the minute I sat down; my hands twitching on the table in front of me and my knees bopping restlessly underneath.

  Tommy Moyet stared at me for a long time before letting out a heavy sigh. “Sorry, man,” he mumbled. “I’ve sent over fifty emails, but Hope isn’t responding.”

  I let my head drop forward, my chin almost touching my chest, as I struggled to reign in my raging emotions. The visiting room was packed full of fuckers who didn’t need to see me break down. Dammit to hell, one weak moment in this place could cost me my life.

  “Tommy, I need you to do something for me,” I said in a hushed tone, hating what I was about to ask my only friend to do.

  “Anything, man, you know that,” he replied without hesitation.

  Leaning forward, I kept my voice low enough so that Tommy was the only one who could hear me – and not the bastard at the next table. “I need you to get a message to Low.”

  Tommy frowned. “Okay…but can’t you just phone him?”

  I shook my head. “There are too many eyes and ears in this place,” I muttered. “It’s not safe.”

  His blue eyes widened in fear. “What do you want me to tell him?”

  I leaned forward and kept my face down when I spoke, so our conversation wasn’t lip-read. “Tell him
Angelo Javi was transferred to my block last week and he knows who I am – what I did to his brother.”

  I knew I could count on Lucky to have my back, and if I told him about Javi and his gang, he would back me up without a second’s hesitation, but I wasn’t involving him in my bullshit.

  No fucking way.

  Shoving my chair back, I stood up and stared down at my best friend for what could be the last time. “Tell him I need him to call Teagan and tell her I love her and I’m sorry. And tell him… tell him I’m a dead man.”

  “Noah!” Tommy called out as I walked away from him, but I didn’t turn around.

  I couldn’t.

  Angelo Javi had pull in this place, and I was a sitting duck.

  I needed to get back to my cell before visiting time was over and I was cornered in a fucking corridor with those guys.

  I needed a fucking miracle.

  I FELT LIKE A TOTAL CREEPER as I opened the lid of Hope’s laptop and scrolled through her emails from her family members – desperate for news. Today was one of the rare days she had left her laptop at home instead of taking it to University with her.

  Hell, today was one of the rare occasions Hope actually left the apartment.

  Most days she remained holed up in her bedroom.

  Her reasons for avoiding the real world was always the same old excuses; she was either working on a story she was writing, or she was tired. But I knew better.

  Hope wasn’t dealing with her breakup with Jordan.

  One year on, and she was more withdrawn than ever and avoided contact with everyone. In the beginning, when we first came to Ireland, Hope had been my rock to lean on. But now, the only time she went out was when she had a class.

  She hadn’t made any new friends at school, and the friends I had made in my Sports, Fitness and Nutrition class at the local PLC had to drag conversation out of her when we all hung out.

  Even Liam, who moved down to Cork last September to study SF&N with me, couldn’t bring her around. She remained standoffish, uninterested in spending time with anyone other than her imaginary characters and her memories of Jordan.

  I scrolled through her inbox and trash until I found an unread email from Tommy Moyet, of all people, in her junk folder.

  Bingo.

  Clicking the email, I braced myself for what I was about to read.

  To: Hope Carter

  Subject: HELLO!!!

  From: Tommy Moyet

  I know you’re probably tired of me blowing up your inbox, Hope, but I’m getting pretty sick of sending unanswered mails. Oh don’t worry though, this is the last time you’ll hear from me. Forget everything I’ve said. Doesn’t matter now. Have a nice life.

  “What are you up to?” a familiar voice called out and I yelped in surprise and ended up knocking a stack of papers off Hope’s desk as I scrambled to exit the Internet.

  “Liam.” I hissed when words found me again. I glared at my former flame as he stood in the doorway of Hope’s bedroom, dangling a set of keys in his hand. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”

  “What are you doing?” he asked, grinning. “Snooping around in your roommate’s stuff?”

  Closing the lid on Hope’s laptop, I grabbed the papers off the ground and set them back where they had been before stalking out with Liam in tow. “You never saw me in here.”

  I made my way into the kitchen and flicked on the kettle. “What are you doing here?” I checked my watch. “We don’t have to leave for work for at least another hour.”

  Liam and I had both scored a few shifts each weekend at his cousin’s gym across town. The pay was worse than bad, but it was good work experience for us. Besides, I made good money from the part time job I had managed to snag at Griffin’s Coffee Dock on the Grand Parade last summer. The owners, John and Andrea, were lovely to work for, but the best part was the place was only a ten-minute walk from our apartment.

  “I thought we could grab a bite to eat beforehand,” Liam announced, shoving his hands into his sweatpants pockets.

  I narrowed my eyes at him in suspicion. “Why?”

  “Because I’m a growing boy,” he laughed, shuffling awkwardly. “And dinner is important?”

  I studied Liam’s face for a long moment, trying to figure this whole thing out. For a while now, Liam had been acting a little more like old Liam – as in boyfriend Liam.

  Getting back together wasn’t something I had any interest in. To be perfectly honest, I didn’t think I would ever trust another guy again. Like ever.

  “It’s just dinner, Teegs,” Liam reminded me, all humor gone from his expression. “As in two friends sharing a meal and paying separately afterwards.”

  “Right,” I muttered, feeling like an overreacting tool. “Well, then I’ll definitely go for dinner with you…”

  The front door of the flat flew inwards and slammed against the wall.

  “I can’t believe it!” Hope practically screamed as she appeared in the doorway, with her phone pressed to her chest. Her eyes landed on me and widened.

  “Teagan,” she blurted out, rushing towards me. “Logan’s on the phone. He says that Noah has been involved some sort of incident at the prison again–”

  “Don’t,” I warned her, waving my hand in front of my face. “I can’t hear about him, Hope. Okay?” One year had passed by since I left the Hill and I was struggling to block it all out; all my thoughts, my memories of him, my guilt for the way his life had turned out. I was getting there. I was rebuilding my life, a life that didn’t include Noah Messina. But I couldn’t handle another sentence with his name in it. I wasn’t strong enough. “Just leave me out of your family business.”

  “Dammit, Teagan,” Hope huffed, as she padded through the flat towards me before thrusting her iPhone into my hand. “You need to hear this.”

  “I can’t,” I warned her, clenching my eyes shut. It was too painful and I was feeling weak.

  “What’s going on?” I heard Liam ask, but his question went unanswered.

  “Talk to Logan,” Hope demanded. “For the love of god, Noah was stabbed, woman.”

  “What?” I deadpanned.

  Dread devoured me.

  Fear claimed my heart.

  With trembling hands, I dragged the phone to my ear. “Is he alive?” I heard myself ask in a voice so shrill that it didn’t sound like mine. “Logan,” I heard myself scream louder. “Is he alive?”

  Please god, let him be okay…

  Please, god, please…

  “Yes.”

  That was the most perfect ‘yes’ I had ever heard.

  “What happened?” I found myself asking. My legs gave out beneath me and I fell to the floor in relief, cradling the phone to my ear.

  “Teagan?” Liam dropped to the ground, attempting to comfort me, but I pushed him away.

  I couldn’t have him near me right now.

  “Liam, go,” I heard Hope warn him. “She’ll call you later.”

  I didn’t listen to their exchange or check to see if Liam had in fact left. I was too busy having my life ripped out from underneath me. “He got into it with Angelo Javi in the yard the other day,” Logan announced, getting straight to the point. “The fucker and his posse waited for Noah and jumped when he was showering later that day, nicked him twice in the side with a blade.”

  “Angelo Javi? As in…”

  “Gerome Javi’s brother,” Logan said, confirming my worst fears.

  “Oh my god.” A tsunami of emotions burst through me, overwhelming me, attempting to strip away my sanity. “Where is he now?”

  “He was sent to the hospital, got stitches and what not.” I heard Logan sigh. “They sent him back there, Teagan.”

  “Can they do that?” I demanded, frantic. Climbing to my feet, I began to pace the flat. “It’s not safe. Jesus Christ, they can’t fucking send him back in there!”

  “They can and they have,” Logan replied, “It’s a joke.”

  “What can I do?” I heard my
self ask.

  “Write him a damn letter for starters,” Logan shot back. “And if it’s not too much trouble, maybe you could get on a plane and come see the guy.”

  I cringed when I heard the venom in his tone.

  Logan wasn’t an aggressive person and we were friends; or so I had thought.

  Not anymore apparently.

  “He’s going through hell inside, Teagan,” Logan added. “And you checked out on him. Imagine how he feels.”

  “Logan, he cheated on me,” I cried out in defense. “He fucked that girl right in front of me and he didn’t bat an eyelid doing it. What am I supposed to do? Run back to him and wait for it to happen again?” I shook my head and wiped my cheeks with my free hand. “He broke me, Logan.”

  “He knew they were coming for him,” Logan hissed in tone of pure disgust. “And do you know the only person Noah was worried about? You. He could’ve been killed in there, and the only thing that concerned him was getting a fucking message to you. You don’t deserve him, Teagan,” Logan hissed and I paled.

  I tried to find the words to defend myself but Hope’s younger brother continued before I had a chance.

  “This is on you,” he added in a deathly cold voice. “If you hadn’t come around and fucked with his head, Noah wouldn’t be where he is today. He was protecting you that night, to keep you safe from JD and George, and you betrayed him, Teagan. You fucking buried him and you bailed when it got tough.”

  “Alright, Logan, that’s enough,” Hope, who snatched her phone out of my hand, warned her youngest brother. “Don’t even think about putting any of the blame on Teagan.”

  I didn’t hear Logan’s reply, but from the way Hope’s face reddened and her voice rose, I guessed it wasn’t pretty.

  Was Logan right?

  Was I responsible for this – for Noah being in prison?

  “You are not responsible for this,” Hope growled, reading my thoughts. Tossing her phone on the couch, she knelt on the floor and pulled me into her arms. “None of this is on you, babe.”

  I nodded and agreed and held onto Hope for dear life, all the while wondering if Noah blamed me too.