Zero Apologies

by Autumn Jones Lake

  “I forgot you said you grew up around an MC.”

  She crosses her arms over her chest, sort of hugging herself.

  Shit, I didn’t mean to so carelessly poke at a vulnerable subject.

  “Yeah, not a warm, fuzzy one like ours,” she finally answers.

  I’d hardly call Z, Rock, Wrath, or any of the guys warm or fuzzy, but I think I understand what she’s saying.

  While I hadn’t been thrilled about coming here today, it feels good to be outside. Even though some of the stuff Trinity’s explaining scares me, it’s also empowering. I’d rather know than be in the dark.

  Anything to take my mind off worrying about Z.

  I bump her lightly with my shoulder. “Go back to that kinky fuckery stuff you were talking about.”

  Trinity laughs. “I hear more cars pulling into the parking lot. Let’s go see if anyone needs us.”

  The kids are too invested in digging all the sand out of the sandbox to go with us. Heidi promises to watch Chance for me and I follow Trinity inside.

  The club is even more crowded now. The doors to the chapel are closed, so I assume the patched members are sitting down at the table. Females of varying ages and states of dress prowl between the kitchen and main room.

  I thought it was supposed to be a simple celebration, but apparently word has spread. How will Murphy feel about that? Hell, how’s Heidi going to feel about all these women here to “celebrate” her man’s release from jail?

  Bonnie motions me toward the bar and Trinity follows. “I think we’re out of Heineken.”

  Trinity shoots a glare at Bonnie and presses her hand against my arm. “You sit and relax, Lilly. I’ll go check with Angie.”

  “Sorry,” Bonnie mutters after Trinity leaves. “I wasn’t sure who to ask.”

  “It’s fine.”

  “Surprised you’d even come here without your man,” a nasal voice I recognize all too well says.

  I turn, and yup, it’s Josey. Minus the stripper-lumberjack boots today. Skinnier than I remember and not in a girl, what’s your secret sort of way. “Surprised you’d drag your sorry ass here since you’re allergic to manual labor,” I answer, because fuck this bitch and her attitude.

  “I don’t need to do manual labor, that’s what old ladies are for.” She scans me from head to toe and I take the opportunity to do the same. Girl looks ragged. Even though she’s at least a decade younger than me, the crappy lighting highlights her sallow, wrinkly skin.

  “I can’t believe you’re still trying to hang onto Z. You know what guys like him do on the road, right?”

  “Oh, let me guess.” I tap my finger against my chin and snap my fingers. “Girls like you?”

  “Well…” She gives me a smug smile.

  “Honey, I don’t know if you’ve looked in a mirror lately, but I’m not exactly worried.” Okay, that was a little mean, because, honestly, she looks like she’s been sick or something but, for fuck’s sake, don’t I have enough to deal with right now?

  She smiles, which isn’t pleasant since she’s so thin she looks like a Halloween decoration. “Why would you even bother coming here when your man’s locked up?”

  I don’t like how close she’s suddenly standing to me so I slide off my stool, prepared to defend myself if necessary.

  A heavy arm lands across my shoulders. “Lilly is always welcome here.” Murphy’s voice rumbles with menace. “Z’s brothers have her back. You, on the other hand, need to watch your fucking mouth. Show some respect or get the fuck out.”

  I glance up at Murphy’s intense face but he doesn’t crack a smile or otherwise acknowledge me. He’s too busy staring Josey into oblivion.

  “Sure. Of course. Glad you’re out, Murphy.”

  Well at least someone knows how to shut her up.

  Josey slinks away and mutters over her shoulder, “Sorry, Lilly”

  Once she’s out of earshot, Murphy shakes his head and releases me. “If she’s a problem, let Steer know and he should kick her out.”

  It hasn’t escaped my notice that the guys don’t usually involve themselves in disagreements between the old ladies and club girls, so I appreciate Murphy coming to my defense. Even so, I don’t want to seem weak. I want Z to be proud of how I handled myself around here. “Nah, she’s just a mouthy, lazy bitch. I’m fine. Thank you, though.” My mouth quirks. “I didn’t realize I’m always invited to the clubhouse.”

  He laughs. “Always might be a stretch. Even for old ladies. But that’s none of her business. No one should speak to you like that here. Ever.”

  I glance at the now-open chapel doors. “Church finished?”

  “For now.”

  Rock approaches us, his expression tight with tension that Murphy instantly responds to. “What’s wrong?”

  “I got a call.” He glances at me and the anguish in his eyes seizes my heart. “They’re moving Z to county.”

  “Fuuuck,” Murphy mutters.

  “What does that mean?” I ask. It certainly sounds bad.

  “Union County Correctional. They’ve been holding him at the city jail.” Murphy glances at Rock. “County might be more intense.”

  “They still have to give him his bail hearing,” Rock says. “Sanford’s working on it.”

  “What does this mean? What should we do?”

  “Nothing for you to do.” Rock glances around the room, gaze finally landing on Rooster. “I need to talk to Rooster. You still okay here?”

  “Rock, Heidi and I will probably head out soon. We can take Lilly and Hope back with us,” Murphy offers without looking at me.

  Rock nods. “That might be best.” He slaps Murphy on the back and moves past us, slapping Wrath’s arm and motioning to Rooster to follow him back inside the chapel.

  “Why do I have the feeling this is worse than either of you want to tell me?”

  “It’s not worse,” Murphy says. “It’s just not good. UCC has a bad rep. It’s a mixed bag. You got the short-timers, usually petty criminals. Then you have inmates either waiting for trial on serious charges or convicts waiting to go to prison.”

  “Super,” I mutter.

  “We don’t have a lot of incarcerated Lost Kings, so we’ll be making some calls. Try and see who we’re friendly with so that Z’s not unprotected inside.”

  “Oh my God.”

  “He’ll be fine, Lilly.” He reaches out and squeezes my arm. “I’m not trying to scare you.”

  I swallow hard and nod. As frightening as all of this seems, I appreciate Murphy’s honesty. Although, I suspect the details he fed me were sanitized and sugar-coated.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Z

  My luck was bound to run out sometime.

  “Frazier, let’s go.” A guard I don’t recognize taps the bars of my cell.

  “Where?”

  “Gettin’ moved to county.”

  Fuck me.

  I knew this wouldn’t last.

  Thunderdome, here I come.

  While I’m loathe to ask this motherfucker for anything, I ask to make a quick call. “Come on, I haven’t used the phone once since I’ve been here.”

  The guard cocks his head. “Don’t bullshit me.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Shit,” he grumbles. “Yeah, come on.” He leads me to a pay phone and takes a few steps back. “Five minutes.”

  I don’t want to waste time tracking down Rock or Rooster, so I call my lawyer first. He’s out, but his secretary takes the message and promises to get ahold of him as soon as he’s out of court. “Can you call my friend that hired Sanford and let him know I’m getting moved?”

  “Sure thing, Mr. Frazier. I’ll call right now. His information’s in the file.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Stay safe.”

  Odd thing for a secretary to say. Maybe she says it to all of Sanford’s clients. Maybe they’ve had one or two not make it out of UCC alive.

  Either way, I figure I’m in for a fun afternoon
.

  Every indignity prison has to offer, from shackles to strip searches, happens to me over the next few hours. I gotta say the thing that irritates me the most is Husky sitting next to me on the bus to UCC.

  That should tell you how irritating this fucker is. He’s so damn annoying, I’m starting to wonder if the cops planted him to work a confession out of me.

  “Z, you think we’ll stick together, still be roomies?” he asks.

  Christ, I hope not. “I don’t think it works that way, Husky.”

  “Shit.” He won’t stop fidgeting.

  “If you don’t settle down, I’m going to give you something to fidget about,” I warn him.

  “I’m dying, man.”

  “You will be,” I growl. If I don’t kill him, one of the inmates at UCC might. He already has weakling stamped all over his thin, sweaty frame. “Get your act together or they’re going to be on you like sharks.”

  “I can’t help it.”

  “Use this as an opportunity to get clean.”

  He glares at me, which is kind of funny since I could probably snap his neck and end him right this second.

  More humiliation courtesy of the Union County Correctional system. It takes forever to be processed into the facility. Tedious bureaucratic bullshit. Repeating the same information I’ve already given a hundred times. I don’t bother getting cute with anyone. Just give me my cell and leave me alone.

  I’m well aware there’s a fat chance of any peace in this place. But hey, I’ve always been an optimistic sort.

  One positive, I finally shake free of Husky.

  Jail is an exercise in patience. Everything moves much slower than I’d prefer. And no one gives a fuck about my preferences. Staff is in no hurry to do the prisoners any favors. I figure I better get used to standing in lines because I’ll be doing a lot of it while I’m here.

  Now it’s been a while since I’ve been inside, but I remember the basics. Keep my attitude in check. Find out who runs the block before I open my mouth. See who I can align myself with to stay out of trouble. Listen more than I speak. Show respect. Throwing around my status or my club’s name is a surefire way to get my ass handed to me. I’m not the type to put my head down, but I know better than to lock eyes with anyone inside.

  Finally, I’m assigned a cell. I grab my county-issued itchy wool blanket and follow the guard up the stairs to my cell.

  “Dinner’s at six,” he informs me before locking me inside.

  Wish I could skip it. Fuck knows the food will be a step above pig slop. Chow hall isn’t exactly a safe place. Or somewhere I want to linger, but it’s not like I can order room service.

  “You’ve got to be shitting me,” I mutter about an hour later when the door slides open, and the guard shoves Husky inside. What the fuck did I do to deserve this?

  “See, Z. I told you we’d probably get to be roomies again.”

  “Yeah, I’m thrilled.”

  Not sensing my tone, he grins. “Me too.”

  I stretch out on the cot and slip my hands behind my head. “You wake me, Husky, I’m gonna be pissed.”

  He paces back and forth in front of the door. “I won’t. Unless it’s important.”

  “Great.”

  True to his word, he doesn’t wake me until dinner time. Or rather all the clanging and noise wakes me. We step out of our cell into a semi-controlled mass movement of inmates. I slip into the group like a fish headed upstream. Staying hyper-vigilant is critical here. Crowds like this make it easy to get stabbed. Guards won’t realize I’m dead until they discover my bloody, stomped-over corpse lying on the concrete after everyone’s in the dining room.

  I’m careful not to touch anyone or make eye-contact. I’d prefer not to talk to anyone either, but Husky’s right at my side, babbling away.

  “Do you ever shut up, Husky?”

  He shrugs. “It’s a nervous habit.”

  Eventually, we arrive at the disgusting food-and-who-knows-what-else splattered dining hall. A scoop of brown slop is dropped on my tray, along with what I think is supposed to be a biscuit and some peas.

  I feed my dogs more appetizing meals than this.

  There are still plenty of empty tables. I find a seat where I can keep my back to the wall and observe my surroundings. See who’s in charge around here.

  I’m not waiting long before some scraggly guy ambles his way to my table. “Easy would like a word with you,” he says.

  His demeanor reflects a bit of respect, so maybe he already knows who I am. Clearly, he’s not the one in charge. He’s doing the bidding of the shotcaller. Since I have no fucking idea who Easy is, I raise an eyebrow.

  He jerks his head to the right, and I follow his line of sight to a table in the far corner. Some scrawny dude who looks like he never outgrew his Marilyn Manson fanboy days glares back at us.

  Fantastic. Easy, huh? Bet he spells it with a ‘z’ too.

  “Bring your tray.”

  “What’s your name?” I ask as I curl my hands around the orange plastic, prepared to use it to whap upside the head the first person who bothers me.

  “Jeb.”

  “I’m Z.”

  “I know who you are.”

  Well, at least we’re off to a great start.

  Husky also picks up his tray and Jeb sets his hands on his shoulder. “You’re not invited.”

  “But he’s my roomie,” Husky protests.

  I shake my head. “Stay put, Husky.”

  “He your buddy?” Jeb asks with a hint of a smirk.

  “No, he came over with me from Union City. I can’t seem to shake him.”

  “We can handle that for you.”

  Do I want to see poor Husky get the shit kicked out of him or worse? Just for the crime of annoying me? Not really. “Appreciate that. But it’s fine. Eventually he shuts up.”

  We arrive at the table and I wait for Easy’s signal before setting down my tray and taking a seat.

  So much prison etiquette to remember. Thankfully, it’s all coming back to me.

  “What’s up, Z?” Easy says. “Welcome to UCC.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Your boy, Loco vouches for you.”

  Huh. Well, how about that? I almost laugh, picturing the groveling conversation Rock probably had to have with Loco to get him to make a few phone calls.

  “He’s not my boy. He’s a friend of my club and we do business together sometimes.”

  That was apparently the right answer because a slow, evil smile spreads over Easy’s face, making him look less inclined to stab me at any minute.

  “Right. Your bros most kindly asked that we look out for you while you’re here.”

  Meaning, I suppose, Rock had to hand over some cash to whoever this guy is affiliated with on the outside. At least I hope it’s cash and not some other dirty favors.

  “They did, huh?” I stab my cheap, plastic spork into the brown lump and force myself to take a bite.

  “They did. You need something, or anyone bothers you, talk to Jeb.”

  I side-eye Jeb. “Thank you.”

  “I’m closest to your cell,” he explains.

  “Good to know.”

  “Frazier! Phone call,” blares over the PA system.

  Even though I’m dying to jump out of my seat and run, I raise my gaze to Easy to make sure he’s not going to see it as a sign of disrespect if I leave.

  “Leave your tray.” He points to the two guards stationed at the door. “Let them know you have a call and they’ll show you where to go.”

  “Thanks.”

  Fun with prison politics time is over, thank fuck.

  I hope whoever’s calling has some good news for me because I really want to get the fuck out of here.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Lilly

  Before the sun’s up, I crawl out of the lonely torment the bed I’ve shared with Z has become. They finally set a bail hearing for him today.

  I can’t be there to support Z. I ca
n’t stand up and say, ‘I’m going to be his wife. I’m the mother of his child. He’s not a flight risk because he would never, ever leave us.’

  I can’t plead for his freedom.

  I can’t do any of those things for Z because of something he did to protect me.

  Rock assured me over and over that everything would be okay and this was what Z wanted. It didn’t lessen the guilt weighing me down.

  Chance is still asleep.

  A little farther down the hall, I hear Grace fussing and Hope’s soft voice.

  I end up going downstairs.

  The roar of at least one bike in our driveway has me opening the door.

  Rooster and Jigsaw slowly make their way up the sidewalk. “Morning, Lilly.”

  “Come on in. I was just about to make coffee.” Ziggy and Zipper flank my sides, glaring at the guys. “It’s okay, boys. Come on.” I back them up to make room for Rooster. Jigsaw waits on the other side.

  “Do you want me to take them for a run for you, Lilly?” he asks.

  “Uh.” Crap, the dogs are used to an early morning run with Z almost every day and another quick run at night. With everything else going on, I haven’t done more than take them for a quick walk here and there or left them to play in the yard.

  “Do you mind?”

  “Not at all.”

  As soon as the dogs see me hand over their leashes, they decide Jigsaw’s good people. Their big, furry bodies wiggle so hard, he can barely clip the leash to their collars.

  “They’ll tug if you don’t keep them in check,” I warn him.

  “I got this, Lilly. Be back in a little bit.”

  “Thank you.”

  In the kitchen, I find Rock and Rooster quietly discussing something. Probably plans for Z’s hearing.

  “Coffee?”

  “Please.” Rock turns and nods. “Thank you, Lilly.”

  I try to listen in, but it’s obvious they’re not going to discuss too many important details with me hovering.

  More brothers show up. They take over the dining room to form a plan.