Page 81 of Billionaire Bad Boy Auction

DEAN

The county jail loomed in front of me, a block of cold concrete that seemed to suck the warmth right out of the summer air. I killed the engine but didn’t move. The last time I’d been here, I’d been maybe twelve, standing beside my old man as he bailed out one of his drinking buddies. Even then, the place had made my skin crawl.

Nothing good happened here. Now, Seth was on the other side of those doors. My little brother.

The kid who used to trail after me like a shadow. Seth was always going to be the little brother I protected. I protected him from our own father, neighborhood bullies, and anyone else that tried to hurt him. That was my role in this life—look out for my brother. I couldn’t explain how that came to be. I appointed myself his forever bodyguard. I was constantly trying to save him from himself. No matter what I did, it failed. Seth had turned into this reckless stranger staring down criminal charges.

The last thing I wanted was for my brother to land his ass in prison for years. That wasn’t going to help him. Although I couldn’t say it wouldn’t because, up until now, nothing I did or didn’t do was helping him. Maybe this was the thing.

I shook my head. No way. If he went in and served real time, it would destroy him. It would push him all the way into the dark side. He would lean into the darkness. If and when he got out of prison, he’d be lost to me. He’d jump on the yo-yo game so many felons found themselves in. He’d be in and out of jail and prison until he went in for good. The thought caused me actual, physical pain in my chest.

My phone buzzed in the cupholder. Portia’s name flashed on the screen.

You got this. I know how hard this is going to be. Call me when you’re done—I’ll be here.

I exhaled, rubbing my thumb over the screen before shoving the phone in my pocket. That was all I needed—just enough of a push to get my ass out of the truck.

I opened the door with a sense of dread. Damn. Was this really going to be my life now? Was I going to be visiting my brother in prison once a week? The air inside hit me like a punch. Sweat, cigarettes, piss, and something metallic underneath it all. My stomach turned. A deputy behind what I assumed was bulletproof glass glanced up, recognition flickering in his eyes.

“Dean Jackson.” He tilted his chin. “Here for Seth?”

I nodded, my jaw so tight it ached. I glanced at the woman sitting in one of the hard plastic chairs with two kids that looked to be under two and she was obviously pregnant. Another woman wearing leopard print tights and a black tank that showed off her ample cleavage was bouncing her foot as she stared at her phone. And then, in the corner, was an older guy, well-dressed and looking ashamed, trying to fade into the cement wall.

“ID,” the deputy said.

I pulled it out of my wallet and slid it under the glass. He quickly scanned it and handed it back.

“Sign here.” He slid a clipboard under the glass. “No phones, no bags. Just you.”

I scrawled my name on the clipboard and shoved it back. The deputy hit a button, and the heavy door buzzed open with a jarring clank. I stepped through, noting two more deputies watching me like I might try to break Seth out.

The deputy led me through a series of doors, each one buzzing open with a sound that set my teeth on edge. The visitor’s room was small, with scuffed linoleum and a table bolted to the floor. I sat, my knee bouncing under the table, until the door on the far side opened.

Seth shuffled in, cuffs around his wrists, his orange jumpsuit hanging off his frame.

And that fucking bruise. A dark, mottled purple blooming across his cheekbone, the skin split at the edge. My vision went red at the edges. Someone had laid hands on my brother.

Seth dropped into the chair across from me, his shoulders hunched. He wouldn’t meet my eyes.

“Took you long enough,” he muttered.

I forced my voice steady. “What happened to your face?”

A shrug. “Not everyone here’s as easygoing as I am.”

Damn it, Seth.

My fingers curled into fists under the table. I wanted names. I wanted to find whoever did this and make sure they never touched him again. But that wasn’t why I was here. If Seth didn’t turn things around now, he was going to continue down the wrong path. Who knows where he would end up in ten years if he continued to go down this road? It could be a lot worse than the charges he’s facing now. I had to let the urge to save him go. That little boy on the lake deserved better, and Seth almost made himself a murderer. It can’t be ignored.

This is tough love. I should have done it years ago. Maybe we wouldn’t be sitting here right now if I had.

“I got you a lawyer,” I said instead. “You’re gonna take the deal he works out. No fighting it, no screwing around. You’re not going to find a better deal or lawyer.”

Seth scoffed, finally looking up. “You love pulling the strings, don’t you?”

The words hit hard. I leaned forward. “No. I hate it. I hate that I have to be here. I hate that you put me here.” I held his gaze. “But I won’t let you drown just because you’re too damn stubborn to swim.”

Something flickered in Seth’s eyes—fear, maybe. Regret. His throat worked as he swallowed hard.