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Bang. Bang. Bang.
The sound of vibrating metal sent a chill up my spine. My entire body constricted, my muscles tightening and preparing for a fight.
“Get up, motherfucker,” Kent called through the door.
I cracked open one eye, just enough to see his stupid smug face in the little window, with that stormy look in his eye that told me he was looking for fucking trouble today. Of course, he was, when was he not looking for fucking trouble.
“Your date is here.” The asshole chuckled as I dragged myself from the piece of shit bed—if it could even be called that. A few bits of wood and a mattress less than two inches thick. Oh, and throw on a couple of dirty blankets that feel like they’ve been knitted out of damn plastic.
All the makings of a torture chamber.
I wasn’t being sarcastic either.
These guys wanted me to feel bad. They wanted to drive me crazy and push me to my mental limits. The physical shit I could handle, a couple bruised ribs and a split lip every other day were things that would heal. It was the lack of food, the sleep deprivation, the isolation, and the way they made you feel like you were already a little fucking crazy.
That’s what you get when you kill a cop.
At least, that’s what you get when copsthinkyou’ve killed a cop.
Like my club, they had loyalty to their own people.
I backed up to the door and pushed my hands through the small slot so he could cuff me before he opened the door. I was so used to it now and it had almost become second nature. With the metal encasing my wrists—almost cutting off the circulation—the door then creaked and groaned as it opened. I stepped out and onto the balcony.
Having Kent behind me wasn’t my favorite position. Not being able to see what he was doing and knowing his love of ‘surprising’ me when I wasn’t able to protect myself, all made me nervous.
These past two months—they’d been hell and honestly, I was starting to lose it.
I wanted to tell these guys all about the man they were fighting for. How better off the world was without him in it. There were times where I wanted to fight back and not sit on the floor of my cell bleeding while Kent and his buddies tried to break my arm.
I’d watched them do the same to other inmates. Anyone who had charges for assaulting an officer or who wasn’t afraid to speak up. These guys were bastards, and they got off on it. They fed on the power, and in their own minds, convinced themselves they were doing the right thing standing up for their people.
That wasn’t it at all. They were on some fucking crazy power trip, and the longer they got away with it, the worse things were getting. Kent and his handful of lackeys were starting to think they were invincible.
I guess that’s what happened when you spent most of your time locked in a building with two hundred criminals. It was contagious. It started to seep into your skin, and you suddenly found yourself feeling like you needed to fight fire with fire.
They’d made a mistake, though, because I was getting out of this shit hole. Not as soon as I would have liked, but sooner than they ever thought I would be. And if I saw one of them walking down the fucking street at night. Well…
My feet slipped with each step—the assholes letting me keep a pair of sneakers but taking the damn laces.
They ain’t ever heard of Velcro shoes?
That question earned me two days of ringing in my ears and no pain meds to help me fix it.
Everyone was locked up during visiting hours, so the guards could move the inmates who were having visits easily around the jail. Some of the inmates stood at their doors as we passed, staring at us through the small barred window, while the others called out tormenting and threatening remarks toward Kent, who seemed to ignore them or let them flow off his back.
He was an asshole, and frankly, I think he was pretty damn lucky to have not been shanked or had his head kicked in yet because when you were on his bad side, he made sure your life was hell. I wasn’t the only one he decided to have a hard-on for.
I didn’t speak much to the other inmates. Most of them stayed pretty far away from me once they’d seen my back patch in the showers. These guys were mostly thugs, drug addicts, and thieves. Apart from a handful of gangbangers, who had something to prove and learned pretty quickly that they didn’t want to use me to prove it, I hadn’t had many issues. I chose to just keep to myself, do my shit and get the fuck out of here and back to my family.
Back to Meyah.
Fuck this shit had been hard without her.
I felt like a drug addict going cold turkey.
When you’ve been wanting something for so long, to finally have it in your hands and then have it suddenly torn away from you again—yeah, that was hell. Even more so because I knew she was out there thinking I’d betrayed her, and she was probably cursing my name.
Did I want to tell her the truth?Of course, I fucking did, but I just couldn’t bring this down on her.
