“Is that any way to greet your fucking new cellmate?” I growl.
“Fuck you,” he hisses, spit flying through his teeth.
“Wrong answer, motherfucker. Now, I’m gonna give you a pass this time because you don’t know me and I’m the guy invading your fucking turf, but if you ever come at me like that again I won’t be so fucking kind.” My fingers dig into his flesh as his cold eyes remain impassive. After another moment, I release my hold on him and take a step back. He doesn’t make a big deal about catching his breath or even lift a hand to his bruising throat. Instead, he points to the photograph of the boy and narrows his eyes at me. With his voice hoarse from the struggle, he issues a warning of his own.
“Off limits.”
I lift an eyebrow but don’t look at the photograph.
“Your kid?”
“You hard of hearing? I said, off limits.”
“Fair enough,” I relent. As curious as I am, I respect boundaries. Especially when it comes to someone’s kid or their woman. “You got a name?”
He remains quiet as he pushes off the wall and crosses the two feet separating us. Without giving me another glance, he hikes himself onto the top bunk.
“I don’t like slobs and I don’t share my shit,” he says, folding his arms under his head. Spreading his large frame over the cot, his feet hang off the edge. If he’s bothered by it, he doesn’t show it. “I get out in three months and I can’t afford any trouble. Stay the fuck out of my way and I’ll stay out of yours. If I catch you lookin’ at my kid again, I’ll slice your throat when you’re sleeping.”
“That’s a mighty big threat for someone who don’t want any trouble,” I volley, crossing my arms over my chest as I lean against the wall.
“It’s not a threat, it’s a promise,” he corrects, keeping his tone even and his eyes on the ceiling. I contemplate answering him but decide my newfound cellmate ain’t worth my fucking spit. I also decide I’m going to rip the picture of his boy in half when he goes to sleep. Maybe then the motherfucker won’t be so quick to threaten to slice my throat.
“Bishop,” he grunts.
The one word forces me to lift my eyes to his.
“Excuse me?”
“My name,” he replies. “It’s Bishop.”
I don’t give a fuck what his name is.
The motherfucker made an enemy today. He’ll be lucky if I let him live to see tomorrow.
“That’s your cue.”
“I don’t take cues from anyone,” I tell him as I push off the wall and make my way towards the bottom bunk. Folding my frame onto the cot, I stare at his bunk and try to drown out the noise on the cell block. Bishop doesn’t say another word and soon the correctional officer calls lights out.
I don’t sleep.
I don’t even close my eyes.
It’s not fear that keeps me awake. I know if I close my eyes, I’ll see Lacey’s face. It’ll start off as a dream. I’ll relive all the good. Every beautiful smile and all the I love you's. The nights we spent laughing, fucking and loving. I’ll see those two pink lines and that grainy sonogram. Then I’ll think about the names she’s picked and maybe even say them aloud while I sleep. Soon the dream will turn to a nightmare and all I’ll hear are her cries. All I’ll see is the pain reflected in her eyes as she begs me to look at her. I’ll plead for my subconscious to stop inflicting torture on me and when it doesn’t, I’ll wish for poison.
Just one hit.
A tiny rip.
A single prick of the needle.
I’ll get nothing.
My eyes drift upward again, and I wonder if Bishop is a man of his word. If there’s hope he’ll be the one who puts me out of my fucking misery once and for all.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Lacey
After Riggs and Wolf dragged me out of the courtroom kicking and screaming, they took me home where Celeste and Stryker’s fiancé Gina, were waiting for me. Girl talk wasn’t something that ever came naturally to me and while I appreciated the effort, I wanted to be myself. I wanted to mourn my marriage and the discovery that love was a lie. A brutal lie told by our hearts and believed by our souls.
I was about to ask the girls to leave when the call came in, revealing Reina had woken up from the coma. My dad wanted me to pull Danny out of school and bring him to see his mom and like the dutiful daughter I am, I put my psychotic break on hold. After all, the world stops for Jack Parrish, heartbreak pauses and tears dry. The things you thought would kill you suddenly don’t exist, and you become a pawn in his game. He moves you across the board, placing you where he needs you, setting himself up to win.
Only this time the man didn’t win.
The king was cruelly knocked off his throne when Reina opened her eyes and had no recollection of the last thirteen years. My father and Danny were essentially strangers to her. The doctors called it traumatic amnesia and said she’d likely make a full recovery, but it would take time. Patience was never my father’s strong suit and I couldn’t help but worry if he’d beat me to the punch and lose his mind before me.
I stuck around the hospital and even tried to visit with Reina. I knew she didn’t know who I was, but I also knew my father was very intimidating. I’d hate to wake up, forget my life and be told the man on the brink of a breakdown was my husband. I don’t know if I helped matters any and, by the time I walked out of her hospital room, I was emotionally drained. It’s amazing how the body shuts down when it’s had enough
Thankfully, Pipe and Layla had offered to take Danny home with them. My poor brother was devastated his mother didn’t remember him and neither me nor my father were in any frame of mind to care for him.
Absolved of my responsibilities to my family, I made my way home to my empty house. The minute I closed the door, I was transcended back to the courtroom, begging my husband to acknowledge me. The more I played back everything, the more lost I felt. How could we go from being somewhat on the same page to ions apart? The only answer that made sense was the one my maker fed me.
He doesn’t love you.
He loves the idea of you.
A man like that only loves himself.
I don’t know when I stopped fighting her or when I became a believer of the venom she spewed, but her voice was the only one to be heard amongst the solitude and as the night went on, she became louder.
More aggressive.
More vicious.
An unruly force I couldn’t break free from.
The tears dried and my broken heart morphed into a block of ice. Anger washed over me in waves and before I realized what I was doing, I started stripping the walls of every picture.
Every memory.
Every lie.
Frames crashed and glass shattered, decorating the floors. But it wasn’t enough. I wanted to purge Blackie from my heart and soul. From my fucking life. However, I was learning we don’t always get what we want, and I had no choice but to rid him of our home, of the sanctuary we built on the love I gave him and lies he fed me in return.
Soon I stood in our bedroom, desperately tearing all his clothes from the hangers and dumping the contents of his drawers on the floor. The need to burn every scrap of leather pulsed through my veins and if I wasn’t so exhausted, I might have done it. I might’ve doused the whole house in gasoline and sent love up in flames. Instead, I crawled into bed. The scent of him lingered on the sheets and caused the tears to return. I cried myself to sleep wishing this was all a big mistake and that I’d never wake again.