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Chuckling, I incline my head as much as I can to the room. An officer steps around me and opens the door. “He’s in here! Piece of shit handcuffed him to the bed.”
A boot connects with my ribs and the wind is knocked out of me. I try to twist away from the second kick, but the knee in my back prevents that. Groaning, I try to relax as much as possible, but that shit fucking hurt.
“Get him up!” someone shouts. I’m pulled to my feet, my hair pulled back roughly until I’m meeting the eyes of an extremely well-built white guy with narrowed gray eyes. “You thought you could hide out here? Breaking and entering, kidnapping, evading arrest, and murder. You’re going down for a long time Rexel.”
Not able to help myself, I grin. “Close, champ. It’s Raxel. It’s a name you’re probably gonna remember.”
He grabs my face, squeezing my cheeks painfully, but I don’t let it show. “Fuck you. You’ll get the chair for the shit you did.”
When he lets me go, I shrug. “In that case …” I pull my head back and head butt him, laughing as I watch him stumble back, grabbing at his busted lip.
“Take him down!”
Finn’s cries make my chest hurt, knowing he has to watch this happen and that he’s leaving me.
Fucking hell, I hate this.
I’m not sure where they take me, but it looks nothing like a standard jail. When we drove in, the gate looked brand new, topped with barbed wire. We went through more than one checkpoint, starting and stopping a few times.
Stepping inside, I cringe away. The walls are bright white, it’s cold as fuck in here and the guards all keep their hands on their weapons as I’m trotted in. I’ll give them one thing, they’re efficient. I’m handcuffed, my mugshot is taken and I’m searched in less than an hour before a gray jumpsuit is thrown at me.
I’m marched to a cell with a door that has a window and a slit at the bottom. No care is taken when I’m tossed in and I almost hit my head on the edge of the metal toilet. The door is locked and I’m left on my own.
Collecting myself, I sit on the edge of the bed and sigh. So close. I was so close to my exit plan. So close to being a free man. So close to asking Finn to come with me.
Prez had a point. Finn wasn’t afraid. He lived for the danger. What’s more dangerous than living with an escaped convict that will technically be on the run for the rest of his life? I would have always been a wanted man until the day I died. Nothing tops that on the danger scale.
I planned to ask him before we got to the drop off location. Something in me tells me he would have said yes and joined me in Cuba. I should have asked before. Even with me being back behind bars, knowing he would have started a new life with me would have meant the world to me.
How the fuck did I end up back here? No one knew but my brothers. I hate thinking that one of them betrayed me. Most of the current members were the members I grew up with. I’ve called them family for years. The thought of them going behind my back after I risked everything to get out has me seeing red.
Surging to my feet, I pace the small cell, pulling at my hair, which serves to remind me of Finn. It’s free of knots, thanks to him. That pisses me off even more, knowing that because of some fucking snitch, I’m behind bars for the second time.
My pacing lasts for a few hours, four steps forward, four steps back, over and over until my legs feel like they’re going to give out. Only then do I plop on the hard mattress, putting my head in my hands.
Of all the things I counted on when I left those prison walls, I didn’t count on Finn. I didn’t count on finally falling in love.
That word feels foreign, even in my thoughts. Before I was arrested, I floated through life, not needing nothing and no one but my chopper under me and my brothers at my back. Now, I don’t have my bike, and one of my brothers betrayed me. I don’t have anything, not even Finn.
I’m not sure how many days I’m in my cell, only being allowed out for an hour once a day. Food is slid in on a tray through the slit and I slide it back an hour later when they come to pick it up. I’m only given a shower once and I grumble to myself, trying to finger comb the knots from my hair. Most of them come out pretty easily, but it’s not the same as Finn’s fingers in it, brushing it out while he hums.
I take up humming some of the songs he did, anything to keep my mind off how slowly time is passing and how much I miss him. It’s a physical ache that I didn’t think was possible, especially for someone that I only met three weeks ago. I didn’t feel this shitty after my first arrest. I missed my brothers, but I did what I did for the club, so I knew they had my back and weren’t leaving me. Not really.
Finn can’t visit. If he does, he could get charged for accessory or some shit. I’ll never see him again.
On what I assume is the fifth day of my lock up, I’m let out for a shower, then led to a visitor’s room. Shane is pacing the floor and I feel a pressure in me I didn’t know was there loosen. Finally, a friendly face.
I’m shackled to a bar in the middle of the table and one of the hard-faced guards barks, “Fifteen minutes.”
Shane nods, rubbing his hands together. As soon as the man is out of earshot, Shane says, “I’m doing the best I can, but it doesn’t look good. They have you for murder. Escaping prison, kidnapping, assaulting an officer. I mean, Jesus, Rax. You had to headbutt the fucking SWAT leader? What were you thinking?”
“He pissed me off,” I answer simply.
“He pissed …” Shane stops talking, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. “Rax, what the fuck! Jesus, man.”
Running a hand through his hair, Shane gives me a long look. “Okay, man. Listen, we can’t take a plea. I’ve been trying for days and they’re not biting. They want to take it to trial. The prosecution wants to parade you around, showing how good police work put you back where you belong.”
I try to keep my face impassive, but inside, I’m fucking fuming. There’s no way I can get anything other than death. I killed a correctional officer, for fucks sake. I was already sentenced to fifteen to life. Unless they stack more fucking life sentences on top, I’m going to get the chair, just like that fucking SWAT officer said.
