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I needed to keep my head straight and not give these assholes any reason to stop this meeting.
I had shit that I needed sorting out, and I’d already left it for too long.
It all happened so damn fucking fast, one moment I was on this high after having Meyah on the back of my bike, absolutely fascinated and eager to learn more and more about her. Then I was on a plane with Wrench on my way to Nevada.
Apparently, Wrench had been sent information that said my brother had made early bail because of overcrowding in the prison. He was being released at the end of the week, and there was only one more day available for visits. If I didn’t do it now, he would possibly walk out of here disappearing into thin air again, and I wouldn’t have had my chance to look him in the eye and hope for the fucking best.
Because that’s all I was doing.
I was going into this fully aware he might not want anything to do with me. I’m not even sure whether he’d speak to me or give me the time of day. But if I didn’t do this now, I might not get another chance, so I dropped everything, and we got on the next flight out of Alabama.
I didn’t even have time to talk to Meyah. By the time I knew what was going on, she was gone, and Wrench and I were already at risk of missing our flight. At least I had my brother with me. Out of everyone at the club, Wrench knew how much this meant to me. He knew how hard this was, and he knew just how hard to push when I doubted myself.
I sneered at the prison guard as he patted his hands down the sides of my body clenching my jaw when his hands came to rest a little too close to my dick, reminding myself if I punched him in the face, I’d be thrown out on my ass.
Or thrown into a cell.
“I thought you might at least buy me a drink first,” I commented dryly before the officer stepped back, his lip curled up as if he was disgusted at the thought of dating me. I flashed him a boyish grin. “Hey now, I’m a cheap date.”
I reached out to pat his cheek but was instantly slapped away, and a hand was shoved against my chest pushing me back against the brick wall.
“I ain’t gay. But you try and touch me again, I’ll make sure one of the boys in here makes you his bitch,” the guard drawled, his hand resting on the baton at his hip while the other pinned me against the wall.
I smirked, raising my hands in the air. “My bad, man. I’m too pretty to be someone’s bitch.”
The guard stepped back and huffed looking me up and down. “Get this asshole out of my fucking way, Billy,” he sneered, backing away and slipping back into his little glass room that was meant to protect him.
Another guard, Billy, I assume, pushed off the wall and waved me forward indicating for me to follow him as an elderly lady stepped up behind me to have her own check done. In the back of my mind, I hoped that she slapped Mr. Handsy around the damn ears with her handbag.
Following Billy down a short hallway, I rubbed my hands together nervously, a million thoughts running through my brain. He lifted his hand signaling the guard to open the door and waited for a loud buzz before slamming his palm against a large metal door that creaked as it opened, and by the way the muscles and veins in his arm tightened and protruded, weighed a fucking shitload.
Swallowing past the lump that had formed in my throat, I took a deep breath as I entered, my eyes refusing to look up just yet. The room was humming with soft voices and the sounds of children playing.
Would I recognize him?
How would I feel when I saw him?
Was this just a huge fucking mistake?
When I looked up, I was instantly given all the answers to my questions.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
I wanted to slump, to embrace the defeated feeling which was shooting through me and sulk toward my little brother begging for forgiveness. But that wasn’t who I was, that wasn’t the man I’d become, and if I wanted to help him, I knew I was going to have to fight for him to put his trust in me again and rely on me to protect him. He wasn’t going to give me a free pass, and he definitely wasn’t just going to hug me and pretend like the past didn’t play a part in him being here.
He’d probably blame me.
And I’d deserved it.
Lifting my chin, I put one foot in front of the other, my heavy motorcycle boots thumping against the concrete floor until I reached the table where he was sitting. I didn’t wait for an invitation dropping my body down onto the cold, hard stool which was concreted into the floor.
“Get up, and get the hell out of here,” Romeo commanded, his hands clenching the edge of the table. I could see the silver lining of the cuffs that encased his wrists—no doubt they were chained to a bolt underneath the table. At least I knew he couldn’t throw a punch and knock me on my ass. His lips were set in a straight line, and his eyes narrowed and brow creased so deeply I wondered for a second whether it was causing him pain to glare at me as hard as he was.
Leaning forward, I braced my arms on the metal table ignoring the pathetic excuse for a threat. “Orange is your color. It compliments your skin tone,” I told him, tilting my head curiously. “But you always did have Mom’s coloring. I got Dad’s pasty whiteguy skin.”
The harshness of his features didn’t ease up any. “Go. The. Fuck. Away, Hamlet,” he warned, his eyes darting to the side, and his body tightening when someone moved too quickly from the other side of the room. I caught it, too. It wasn’t the least bit threatening, but then again, I wasn’t the one locked in this building with violent criminals. It was obvious it was affecting him.
“You’re delusional if you think I’m gonna walk away that easy, little bro,” I said with a shrug. Cupping my hands together on the table, I was happy to wait for as long as it took for him to just talk to me. To tell me what the hell had happened to put him here or just fucking anything.
