AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Chapter One
Alcoholics Anonymous. Narcotics Anonymous. No drinking. No drugs. Curfew at eight o’clock. Weekly counseling visits with a therapist.
Michael Brennan stared down at his parole papers and cringed. On the bottom line, after his list of stipulations, he noted his signature, agreeing to the terms of his release from incarceration. Four years of his five-year sentence had been served behind bars. And now he had one more year on parole – still a ward of the state, still having to answer to someone, with no bars or cellmates. No correctional officers. No work details with no pay. No commissary line to buy the weeks’ worth of junk food… as long as he had money on his books.
He had kicked the bad habits inside. There wasn’t a whole lot going on. Breakfast at 3:30 in the morning. School if you were assigned classes. Work detail. Recreation time out on the prison rec yard. Lunch at 10:00 in the morning. Dinner chow at 4:00. The same schedule. The same routine. The same faces. New faces. Friends who made parole before you. Friends you’d never consider friends if you weren’t locked up together. Enemies based on race, tattoos… anything that might make someone else mad.
Flying under the radar had been the name of the game for four years. It was easy kicking the habits inside. Drugs and alcohol were prolific… even in a controlled environment, there was always someone willing to bring it in or make it. Prison hooch was present. Fentanyl, meth, and synthetic marijuana were all his for the taking. But Michael had controlled himself. Stayed sober to save his life. Being under the influence meant he wasn’t watching his back. It meant he wasn’t flying under the radar.
But now the bars and cells were gone. He wasn’t kept under lock and key. And he had to attend meetings and see a counselor. And a parole officer who could drop by any time they wanted to make sure he was following the rules. Staying on the straight and narrow. Seeing the therapist and going to the required meetings. Testing his urine to ensure he was clean and sober.
He could do it. It was just one more year. Then he’d be off paper, and he wouldn’t owe the state a damn thing. One year. After serving four in a hell hole, one year outside the walls would be easy.
He rested his head on the bus window. The highway was smooth and clear, but the vibration from the road rattled his brain and he lifted it from the glass, looking around at the people on the bus. He wondered where they were coming from and where they were going. Were they wondering about him? He wasn’t dressed in something he’d normally wear. It was clothing the prison had given him upon release. Nothing that marked him as an inmate – a simple pair of blue jeans and a black t-shirt… a few sizes too big.
Being in prison helped him read people better. He noticed things. Facial expressions, body language… when something was about to happen. And on the northbound Greyhound bus, he observed all types of people.
Families traveling together. People who were alone. And one really good-looking woman seated two seats in front of him. She kept standing up and leaning on the window, facing the group sitting next to her. Curvy in all the right places with long dark hair, her shirt clung where it needed to. Her gaze met Michael’s eyes and he stared at her a few seconds too long before diverting his attention back out the window.
He couldn’t help it. He’d been locked up for four years. And while there were female correctional officers who had given him plenty of attention, he longed for some good sex where he didn’t have to worry about privacy or getting into trouble. He wanted to get lost in tangled legs and sweaty skin. Fingers running through hair, nails digging into his back… moaning and begging him for more.
“Can I sit here?” The attractive woman was standing in the aisle next to him and he felt his face heat up. Had she read his mind? Scooting closer to the window, he grabbed his canvas bag and put it on his lap, giving her more room, but mainly to cover the growing bulge in his pants.
“Sure.”
“Where you headed?” She smelled of flowers and something sweet. Michael observed her long legs, exposed from shorts that covered just enough of her body to not be distasteful.
“Home.”
She laughed and patted his knee, igniting his desire. “Where’s home?”
“Fox Lake.”
“This bus is going to Alamogordo, hon. Where is Fox Lake?”
“Fox Lake is too small to have a bus station. It’s northeast of Alamogordo.”
She nodded. “My name is Jill.”
“Michael.” They shook hands and he felt electricity from her smooth palm. Her nails were manicured and long, digging into his skin.
“Mikey. I like it.”
Mikey. He had been called that when he was younger. Only close friends got to call him that and he had gotten into many arguments with people when they said it. Now wasn’t the time. They’d be off the bus soon and she’d be out of his life. There was no need to cause a scene.
“Where you coming from?”
She was so full of questions, and he tried to hide his annoyance. At least she was nice to look at. “Where are you coming from?” he asked, turning the attention back on her.
“Oh, my little group up there went on a little vacation down to Mexico. We’re coming back from there.”
“Mexico,” Michael replied, smiling. He rested his head back on the seat.
“Yep. You coming back from a vacation?”
“You could call it that, I guess.”
She arched her eyebrow and adjusted her sunglasses. Michael took the moment to observe her tight tank top. He imagined all the things he shouldn’t – groping her, pulling it over her head, admiring her body underneath. He turned his focus back out the window. He feared his desire was too obvious and the last thing he needed was that kind of attention.
