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“Yeah, well, none of those women stepped up while Bull was kicking my face in.”
“It’s fear.” Lace put the book down and reached for me, her fingers brushing the tender bruise on my cheek. “If they speak up, the same thing that happened to you happens to them.”
“So maybe I should come forward.” I close my eyes, hoping the incoming migraine will ease away before it gets worse. “Maybe I should tell Warden Flynn exactly what I know about Ronnie and her drug cartel. What are they going to do, bash me?” I force a smile and Lace smiles back, but it’s sad.
“I don’t want you to get hurt again,” she says quietly, taking my hand between hers. “I thought they’d killed you, Joey. I thought you’d died.”
“Hey.” I squeeze Lace’s hand the best I can, trying to comfort her. “I’ve been through far worse than Ronnie and her thugs, babe. Far worse.”
“I should have spoken up. I should have taken the blame for my mistake, but instead I let you go down for it.”
“I chose it, Lace. And even now, laid up in this stupid bed, I don’t regret protecting you. I never will.”
Lace closes her eyes, sniffling, and lays her forehead down on my bed, still clutching my hand. We stay like that for the next ten minutes, silent and calm. Safe. For now.
“Willis,” Jaxon says after a few more minutes, poking his head into the room. “Time’s up, sorry. Back to the work unit.”
Lace doesn’t argue. Instead, she leans over and kisses me, her lips gentle and kind on my own. I don’t want her to leave. I never do.
“I’ll be by later,” she promises. “Get some rest.”
I sleep a restless few hours,until the nurse brings me a dinner tray. I don’t have much of an appetite, but I don’t want the warden to have any excuse to keep me locked up here, so I nibble on some dry wheat toast and some lime Jell-O. A few minutes after that, Jaxon comes in, closing the door behind him.
“You have to eat more than that,” he says, glancing at my tray. “Warden won’t let you leave if you don’t.”
I shrug and push the tray away, eying him. “You look weird.”
“Thanks.”
“I mean, you look wary, or something. What is it?” I’m almost afraid to hear the answer.
Jaxon sighs and approaches the end of my bed, lowering his voice, even though no one is around.
“You’re not going to like this.”
“Tell me.”
“Julie Taylor has been found.”
“Found?” I repeat. “Found where? Is she okay? Is she alive?”
“She’s okay,” says Jaxon, but the hesitation in his voice is clear, and my heart seems to stop beating for far too many seconds.
“But?”
“But,” he continues, locking my gaze. “She’s moved. She’s not around here anymore.”
“What?” I wrack my brain, trying to figure out any sensible thing in the news he’s telling me. “Moved where?”
“According to a friend, she’s in Europe. Paris, to be exact.”
“My sister is in fucking Paris? Paris, France?”
He hesitates. “Yes.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
