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I tried to keep the tears at bay. Romeo had warned me Ham was going to try and force me to leave. He also encouraged me to just talk to him, to hear him out, and try to keep a level head.
I tried.
I failed.
I lost my shit.
Instead, when I didn’t get the reaction I wanted, I’d resorted to whatever words I could think of that would cause the most pain. And the moment I said them, I knew I was going to regret them.
“Are you okay?”
I spun around, realizing I was still standing in the middle of a county jail. The guard who had lead me out of the room when Ham looked like he was about to lose his shit, was looking at me with a worried expression.
I felt a shudder run through me. I wanted to get out of there, but I also wanted to walk right back in and finish telling him everything I thought of him, but in a way that wasn’t so fucking bratty and immature. That wasn’t me, but my emotions were all over the damn place. No one prepared me for what I would see when I got in there.
The state he was in.
The pain he was in.
I instantly felt protective, like I was going to stand up and demand answers.
But it was obvious when I spoke he didn’t want to see me at all.
I cleared my throat, trying to fight back the burn of tears. “Yeah. I’m fine, I just want to get out of here.” I turned and made for the counter where an old woman sat. She’d taken my belongings when I’d arrived, and I promptly asked for them back, tapping my foot on the concrete floor.
With each minute that passed and the old lady shuffled back to gather the tray with my belongings—obviously not in a hurry, I felt the guilt begin to get the better of me, my eyes drifting between the exit and the door the visitor’s room.
“I don’t want to speak out of turn…” the guard started again as I loaded my things into my handbag and hooked it over my shoulder, “… but I’d feel like an asshole letting you leave while you’re shaking like that.”I was shaking?“I’d really like it if you came and took a seat first, maybe had a cup of coffee or tea?”
I looked up at him with a frown.
He was the guard who’d come over and warned me about touching Ham, threatening to strip search me. As if he could read my mind, his hands went up in the air, and he smiled, looking like he was almost embarrassed. “I’m sorry for being so sharp with you in there. You’d be surprised at how many girlfriends come in and manage to hand their boyfriend’s drugs or weapons with just one touch,” he explained. “I’ve lost more than my fair share of inmates and seen my work colleagues injured pretty bad due to not being more careful.”
I heard what he was saying, but it was like the tone of his voice was too slimy and greasy. It was as if he’d spent too much time practicing his lines to feed people. He was too smooth. I didn’t trust him for a second, and my gut told me to get the hell out of there as quickly as possible.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I asserted with surprising confidence as I made my way toward the door. I stood there for a moment, the camera above me buzzing before the metal locks on the door creaked and I pushed it open.
“That was convincing,” the guard teased, following me out, slipping through the door just before it closed.
“I thought it was.”
“It wasn’t.”
I wanted to get the hell out of there, away from this place, away from Ham and away from this dumbass who somehow has made it his duty to try and what? Charm me maybe? Show me there’s something better on the other side?
I made it to the front door, tearing it open and stepping out into the fresh air, inhaling deeply and trying to calm the raging bitch inside of me before I spun around and hit the guard with a glare. “I’m sorry, do you chase down all your visitors and try and force them to have coffee with you?”
The caring and playful persona he was forcing fell for a second, his lips pursing in agitation, telling me one thing—he didn’t give a shit. This was purely a play, and with the condition that Ham was in, the bruises, the split lip, how he looked like he hadn’t eaten in weeks I could only imagine how they were treating him.
And how they would love another layer, another way to drive him inside.
Me.
As much as I wanted to punch Ham in the face, the state he was in almost brought me to tears. I could play the tough girl to perfection, but when reality hit, it hurt to know that I wasn’t there to protect him. And there was no way in hell I was giving these bastards any more ammo to hurt him.
In a flash, the mask was back, a friendly smile on the guard's face. “My name is Kent, by the way.” Kent held out his hand. I tilted my head to the side just a little, examining him. My instant reaction was to step back and walk away, get the hell out of there. It wasn’t as though the club hated law enforcement completely. They had friends in the force, and the club had never tried to make me feel like police officers were the enemy. But it seemed like the last couple I’d met, they had this vibe that resonated off them. One that made me feel like I needed to prepare myself.
My hand unconsciously reached for my neck, drifting over the long but hardly visible scar that ran from just behind my ear, down my throat.
