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“We’ll figure it out,” he said dismissively. “Now were you serious about this or not?”
The room fell abruptly quiet, save for the rhythmic tick of the plastic wall clock on the kitchen wall. In the pre-dawn silence it sounded thunderous.
“Okay,” I said finally. “Let’s do it.”
Adrian’s mouth curled from flat skepticism into an actual smile. I saw relief in his eyes. It was more expression from him than I’d seen in a long, long time.
“Good, now go wake the others,” he said, taking my coffee away. Making a face, he dumped both mugs in the sink. “I’ll grab you after breakfast.”
Thirty-Two
ADRIAN
The Monroe Correctional Complex loomed like a great stone juggernaut, designed to be impressive and imposing. In actuality it was neither. Its four cement pillars made it look more like a historic monument, or a bank, or something equally ridiculous, rather than the prison it actually was.
We made our way inside, through the metal detectors. Past people performing jobs that seemed to drain them of any life or enthusiasm, using motions that were practiced and mechanical. During the course of my life I’d been here three times. Once as a child, when my mother brought me for Christmas. Twice as an adult, when I’d had questions I needed my father to answer.
Since then I’d needed nothing from the man, to his credit he’d expected nothing from me. He’d tried writing me numerous times, but stopped when it was obvious he wouldn’t be getting an answer.
“You okay from here?”
Kayla was even more of a comfort than I imagined she’d be, and I was grateful for that. She felt damned good hugging my back the whole way here. The crisp autumn air of the open road cleared my head of intrusive thoughts, leaving plenty of room to think about anything I wanted. My father, for instance.
But all I could think about washer.
It totally sucked that she was leaving, especially after the last two nights. They’d been wild and crazy ones for sure, but they’d also been unexpectedly incredible.
“I’m good I think,” I smiled. On a whim, before ducking through the visitors gateway, I pulled her in for a slow, soulful kiss. “Thanks for doing this,” I told her solemnly. “Seriously.”
Kayla’s cheeks were pink and flush, her body warm from having my lips on hers. She hadn’t expected it. PDA wasn’t exactly my thing.
“Adrian?”
I looked back, as the next guard scanned me with an additional wand. “Yes?”
“Listen to him,” she said simply. “And don’t just listen, actuallyhearhim.”
I nodded because it was the only thing to do, then moved into the final waiting area for the last step. Two metal doors was all that stood between me and my father. Once he’d arrived at the proper stall, they’d buzz me in.
Don’t let her leave.
The words echoed in my head. They were my own words, uttered silently over and over throughout the past few days. But they were also the same words Warren and Luke had repeated, when conspiring with me on a plan that might get her to stay.
“We need to keep her here,” they’d told me, “at least for a little while longer. Shit, we just got her back. We can’t just let her…”
“Walk away,” I’d finished for them, feeling the same way. “I know.”
But Kayla had a life in California, and as someone with a life beyond North Glade I could appreciate that. As much as I wanted to spend more time with her, I also respected her freedom. Staying was a choice: her choice. Not ours.
That’s not to say we couldn’t at leasttryto convince her.
Over breakfast they’d done just that, according to Kayla. After taking her back to her hotel to shower and pack up, they’d taken her out for bacon and eggs and much-needed real coffee. And that’s when they’d made their “pitch” to her, as Kayla called it. And whatever that pitch had been, it had nearly brought her to tears.
Even now, I still wasn’t sure if that was a good or a bad thing.
I’d picked her up, and we spent a long scenic ride on the traffic-less back highways. All the way out to Monroe I enjoyed the feel of her pressed against my back. Her lithe, feminine arms wrapped snugly around my waist.
“Mannix!”
