by Eliza Marsh
“That’ll be easier for some than others,” TJ snarked from the corner of the room.
“I know it’s not the get out of jail win you guys were hoping for,” Carter added. “But based on the impressive criminal records they have, it’s better than we could have hoped for.”
“Where are they being sent?” Luke asked, his arms crossed sternly over his chest.
Lorraine took over again. “We agreed that they stay local, given several of them have small children. They’ll be at Central State Prison unless they start causing trouble.”
“On a happier note,” Carter said haughtily, “you’ll be pleased to learn that several of the Dead Saints members will also be off to jail. Doubt they’ll be able to pin a murder charge on any one particular guy, so it’ll most likely be involuntary manslaughter for all of them. They’re looking at a minimum of six years.”
Several of the bikers grinned at this news, glad to know at least some justice would be served against the guys who had killed one of their own and landed others in prison.
“If we’re lucky, they’ll end up sharing a cell block with our guys,” Jagger said casually.
Lorraine gave him a pointed look. “If you’re lucky, they won’t. You make sure to tell them to stay quiet. I mean it, one toe out of line and they’ll be doing serious time. We can only do some much with rap sheets like theirs.”
“Don’t worry,” Luke said gruffly. “They’ll be on their best behavior. They’ve got too much to lose.”
"That's what I like to hear." Lorraine moved towards the toward, motioning for Carter to follow her. "We have a deposition to get to, but I'll keep you posted on the specifics of the plea deal once it's official. Gentleman." She gave a general nod of farewell, and the pair exited the room.
As the door closed behind them, Tyler was the first to speak. "So if the Saints are down as many guys as we are, does that mean we don't retaliate?"
Luke ran a hand over his freshly shaved chin as he thought. "If we don't retaliate, we look weak. We can't afford to lose position on the street. We'll just have to make it clean and concise, something that will end this beef, at least until we're all whole again."
"Then what?" Tyler asked, looking around the room.
Jagger responded with a dark smile. "Then, we wipe the Saints off the map completely."
46
Central State Prison was on the outskirts of Macon, Georgia, surrounded by several miles of woods and farmland despite being within the city limits. It was about a twenty-minute drive from the east side of the city where the Rockwell family lived. Not a bad ride at all, except for the cranky baby that had fussed the whole way in.
The visitation room had a sterile aesthetic, with plain white walls and metal tables with built-in benches. There were at least a few windows to let in the afternoon sun and make the room slightly more inviting to its guests.
Jackie sat at one of the tables, Oliver’s baby carrier on the bench next to her as they waited patiently for Dean to arrive. It had been several weeks since the plea deal was signed, guaranteeing the guys did no more than a year of jail time. After their transfer to Central State Prison from the county jail, it had taken Jackie another two weeks to find the time, and the courage, to take the trip out for a visit.
A year was a long time - a long time alone, a long time to raise an infant.
A long time for a million other things to go wrong.
She was pulled from her thoughts as Dean entered the room and headed to their table. Standing up to greet him, she wrung her hands nervously as he approached and stopped in front of her. He looked tired, but otherwise unharmed, the bright orange jumpsuit hiding the definition of his large frame.
“Hey stranger,” she said with a smile as he wrapped his arms around her, earning a glare and a not-so-subtle cough from the guard nearest them. They separated at the unspoken command, and Dean directed his attention to the baby as the pair sat down at the table.
“What’s up, little man?” he asked, leaning over to pick up the growing boy and cradle him against a shoulder. “How you doin'? Think you need to lay off the junk food, man. You’ve put on some pounds.” Oliver giggled despite not understanding a word of his father’s joke, his tiny hands grabbing at the scruffy hair on the lower half of Dean’s face.
“Here, baby,” Jackie said, pulling out a stuffed hedgehog from the bag at her feet and shoving it into the outstretched hands as Dean tried to dodge them. “Play with this instead. You’re gonna hurt Daddy’s face.” Oliver’s eyebrows scrunched together as he considered the new object. He made a happy noise and took the animal into his hands, immediately placing a corner of it in his mouth.
With the baby temporarily distracted, Dean turned his attention to the woman sitting across him. “Someone staying with you?”
She nodded, smiling at his concern. “Tyler has been camped out on the couch. I’m not allowed anywhere except the diner without an escort.”
“Good. I know the Saints are down a few guys too, but I don’t want you to be an easy target if they decide to look for revenge.”
“We’ll be okay,” Jackie replied as she laid a hand over his on top of the table. “Plenty of people are looking out for us. Jagger and Tyler are both here indefinitely. Plus, they’ve added another prospect, and there are two assholes from the Alabama charter that are helping out for a while. It’s basically a full house.”
Dean laughed and shook his head as he recalled the neighboring charter. “Not a fan of the Wild Boys I take it?”
She rolled her eyes, not able to hide her annoyance at the newcomers. “Everything I imagined you guys would be when I first met you, they are. Rude, misogynistic, and arrogant.”
“Yeah, well, someone has to fuel the stereotype. Get Nash to sort ‘em out if they give you any real trouble.”
Jackie nodded, and they sat in silence, each lost in their thoughts. After a few moments, she leaned down to reach into her purse. Sitting back up, she laid a black, velvet ring box on the table and looked up at him, saying nothing.
Dean coughed, trying to contain a grin. “So, you looked in my boots like I asked.” Jackie continued to stare at him expectantly, waiting for an explanation. He grabbed the box and opened it carefully, staring down at the gold band with three small diamonds. “It was my grandmother’s ring. Her prized possession after my grandfather died. The only thing she really had to remember him by. She was an amazing woman, raised my mom the best she could on her own.” He paused, fidgeting with the ring as he got lost in memories from long ago. “My mom brought this with her when she came down for Ollie’s birth.”
When he didn’t continue, Jackie raised her brows. “And you thought this was a good time to propose? At the start of a prison sentence while going through withdrawal from your secret drug addiction?”
Dean smiled fully at her sass, closing the box and laying it back on the table. “What, not romantic enough for you? I thought this orange looked good on me.” She opened her mouth to bite back with something equally sarcastic, but he held up a hand. “I’m not trying to propose, not yet at least. You deserve something proper, like flowers and candles and shit. I just wanted you to hang on to it, to know that I’m serious about getting my shit together and being there for you and Ollie as soon as I get out.”
She nodded absently, staring at her hands as she picked at the old green polish on her nails. “CPS is still threatening to take him. They’re saying I’m an unfit parent for putting him in that situation, that I’m a danger to him. There’s a court hearing and everything.”
“That’s bullshit. You’re a great mother. The lawyers will never let them take Ollie.”
Jackie shrugged and blinked back the tears as they started to well in her eyes. “Lorraine is doing what she can, and she’s confident, but there’s always the possibility of it not going in our favor.” He didn’t know what to say, there was nothing he could say, to make the situation better. So he simply sighed and grabbed her hand to comfort her. “I was so r
eady to take him and leave when I found those drugs. I told myself I had been right the whole time, that this was no place to raise a baby. So maybe CPS is right, maybe we are a danger to him.”
“Jack-” Dean started to protest, and she shook her head to stop him.
“The last few weeks have changed my mind, because there’s no place better in this world than with this makeshift family we have. There have been bikers sleeping on our living room floor at night just to make sure we’re safe. A dozen people offer to watch Ollie when I need a sitter. They stop by at the diner to check up on me every shift.” She paused as a few tears slipped down her face, which she promptly wiped away with her shirtsleeve. “I was so scared after what happened. Scared we weren’t safe, scared we’d never see you again. And this stupid club of yours has been there every step of the way to help take care of things. I know if something were to happen to you and me, they’d be there for Ollie in a heartbeat. I know they’d do anything for us, no questions asked.”
Dean nodded, trying to keep the smile from his face as she finally realized what he’d always felt about his club. “You can’t find that type of family just anywhere.”
“No, you can’t. I want this family for Ollie. Yes, it’s dangerous, and a lot of bad shit could happen. But I want him to know this kind of unconditional love. And if that means daddy gets thrown in jail with Uncle Murphy sometimes, then so be it. We’ll just have to figure things out for a while.”
He ducked his head to make eye contact with her, holding her gaze with a determined one of his own. “I promise, I’m gonna make it up to you as soon as I get out. The drugs, the jail time, everything.”
“You’re damn right you are,” she replied, trying to stop her tears and lighten the somber mood. “We’re starting over. You’re going to woo me properly. Like you said, flowers and candles and shit.”
“I’ll tattoo your name over my heart. How’s that for romance?”
“It’s a start.”
End.
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