AllFreeNovel
Share Us
ONE
ROMAN
When a man steps out of death row for a murder he didn’t commit, the first thing he wants to do is kill a motherfucker.
The jacket I wore when I was arrested no longer fits my expanded muscles, so I sling it over my shoulder like I’m walking off a yacht instead of leaving the New Alderney State Penitentiary. I didn’t expect to be freed so soon after obtaining hard drives crammed full of blackmail material, so my five o’clock shadow looks more like a quarter to midnight.
Fuck it.
I can shave after part one of my revenge.
The afternoon sun has turned the concrete courtyard into a sauna, making sweat bead across my hairline and trickle down my spine. My skin itches and not because of the heat. Now that I’m no longer a prisoner, I’m twitching to lash out at the procession of guards flanking my steps.
Officer McMurphy with the double-Ds leans in close, reeking of jasmine perfume. “Don’t be a stranger, Montesano.”
Ignoring her, I shift my attention to the sharpshooter aiming a rifle at me from the tall concrete tower. After four years and three hundred and forty-seven days, my sexual options are finally no longer restricted to getting sucked off by a crooked prison guard.
I nod, not because I plan on seeing her again, but because she’s a reliable mule. Our arrangement allowed me to run the family business from the joint, letting me save it from falling into ruin.
There’s no doubt she’ll continue to smuggle merchandise into the prison in my absence, but our personal association has come to an end.
“Roman!”
Vincent waves through the gates, wearing a ten-thousand-dollar tailored suit and a manic grin. Behind him is the silver 1965 Mercedes Cabriolet that Dad and I painstakingly restored after collecting it in lieu of a casino debt. I tear my gaze away from the reminder of what I’ve lost and focus on Vincent.
Our family lawyer has aged since my incarceration. He’s lost at least twenty pounds, looks like he’s shrunk three inches, and his once-full hairline has receded into a steel-gray circlet.
I flick my head in acknowledgement, the itch in my skin intensifying to a burn.
The gates open and release me to the desolate highway that surrounds the prison. Vincent’s arms wrap around my shoulders before I can inhale my first breath of freedom.
Every instinct in my body screams at me to snap his neck, but I didn’t escape one death sentence to blunder into another. Instead, I give him a lackluster pat on the back.
Before Dad’s sudden heart attack and the series of events that led to the decline of our family empire, this man was Uncle Vincent—a long-standing trusted advisor.
He pulls back from the embrace, his smile widening. “Welcome back, son. You have no idea how much we’ve missed you.”
I glance over my shoulder to the other side of the gates, where Officer McMurphy and her colleagues still linger.
“Let’s take this discussion somewhere else,” I mutter.
Vincent nods and heads for the driver’s seat, but I clamp a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll take the wheel.”
His jaw drops, and he gazes up at me, his aged features etched with surprise. It’s the first expression he’s made that isn’t fake.
“You sure, Roman? I don’t mind taking you back.”
Back into another ambush? I keep that thought to myself. Vincent doesn’t need to know I’d rather place my hand in a meat grinder than let him lead me anywhere.
I slide into the driver’s side, the seat still warm from the sun. Its leather scent is familiar yet tainted with the thought that this backstabber helped an even bigger bastard to pick apart Dad’s possessions.
Vincent settles beside me into the front passenger seat and clasps his hands. His gaze irritates the right side of my face, but I focus on the road ahead. At the first twist of the key in the ignition, the engine roars to life. I pull out from the prison grounds and onto the highway.
Wind rushes through the open windows, whips back my hair and reminds me I’m free. I inhale a deep breath and fill my lungs with the first rush of air that doesn’t remind me of that shit hole.
“Roman—”
“Don’t speak.”
