“That prick is dead,” he says and Jase’s tone is firm, but it doesn’t matter.
“The prick works for Marcus,” I stress, hating that I have to justify my concern to him. He should know I can’t sit back. He should fucking know.
“He’s never done anything like this. He’s never come after a woman.” Jase’s voice is calm with his head shaking just slightly. The small, rhythmic movements are at odds with my own. He repeats, “He’s never come after a woman.”
My heart thuds. It’s not good enough. I can’t sit back hoping Marcus doesn’t give the word and that the men on the inside are able to prevent anything bad from happening to her.
She’s mine to protect. She needs me.
“I can’t sit back,” I say and my voice cracks on the last word as I close my eyes, moving my fisted hands to the crown of my head. I’m barely steady, but I’m capable of seeing her there. Watching her pace around a cell she doesn’t belong in. Watching her walk alone when I should be there for putting her through it all. “I have to see her.”
“Visiting hours are over,” Jase speaks as if that’s the end of it. Hate is brutal, coursing its way through me. I’ve never resented the man, but what I feel for him at this moment borders on unforgivable.
When I open my eyes, doing my best to keep from uttering the spew of curses that choke me, I see a jacket draped over the sofa arm, probably Jase’s, and on top of it are his keys.
He’s not my boss anymore. And he sure as fuck isn’t a friend. He’ll have to kill me to keep me away from her.
“My car still at her place?” I ask him casually. My gaze doesn’t move from the glint of silver metal until he says, “We got it. It’s out front. Your wallet and phone were in the van at the docks.”
“Where are my keys?” I question him.
He doesn’t respond verbally. Instead he motions with his arm behind me and lets it fall to his side.
I don’t waste a second putting my wallet in my back pocket, my phone in the front and then snatch my keys from the end table to the right of the sofa.
“You’re just going to leave?” he says, raising his voice as I make my way to the door. With my back to him, I pause.
“Bethany stitched you up, by the way. We had to come here to get everything she needed. She risked her job to get the meds.”
Glancing over my shoulder at him, I tell him, “Thanks. I’ll tell her thanks when I see her again.”
“You just kicked her boss in the nuts. You may want to apologize at some point.” He’s resigned in his tone, but there’s a hint of friendliness. He huffs in humor and bends down to grab his own keys and then his jacket.
“You have to know I can’t just sit here.”
“I do,” he admits and then he adds, “Don’t do anything stupid, Seth.”
He doesn’t look at me and he doesn’t wait for a response. Instead he pulls out his phone and dials someone. I don’t wait to hear who.
The pain is a dull white noise running through me. The adrenaline outweighs any and everything that could keep me down.
I’m not conscious of what I’m doing when I get in the car. The headlights are the only bit of light in the neighborhood, but the streets have a few cars scattered through them. I’m careful as I drive, recounting everything that happened. Making sure I know all of it.
My memory stutters at the pain in her eyes when I told her the truth about how her father died. Everything else is red. Blood colors and stains every moment.
A section of road on the way to the jail is nearly black from the lack of streetlights on this side of town, and there are hardly any cars out here. It gets dark early this time of year.
The bank is lit up though. It’s a beacon in the night. Every window is brightly lit. I know it’s closed. It closes at six every day and it’s closed all day on Sundays. Everything around here closes at six except for the bars and the church.
I’m not even thinking; my gaze doesn’t stray from the front of the bank. It’s mostly glass. I know I’m conscious of that. Glass is easy to drive through.
My foot feels heavy on the gas and the rev of the engine sends a thrum of anticipation to my veins. I’m hot as I turn the wheel just slightly. Just enough to put the bank in my path.
Visiting hours are over. Jase’s words echo in my head. We can’t get in to the jail without signing in. I’m sure he thinks she’s safe and that she’ll still be there tomorrow, but I can’t risk it. I won’t. He has the distance to be logical, to allow the risks. I don’t have that luxury.
My heart races as I keep my hands steady on the wheel, bracing myself.
If they won’t let me visit her or see her right now, then I’ll join her.
They can arrest me for attempted robbery, for… I don’t fucking know what and I don’t care. Either way, I’ll get to see her. I just need to get through those doors one way or the other.
My foot slams down to the floorboard of the car. The lights blur in front of me and my muscles tighten, ready for the impact.
The shatter of glass and jolt of the tires meeting stone don’t mean anything to me.
None of it matters.
The airbag goes off and slams against my face. My neck whips back, unprepared.
It’s barely anything. I’ve taken worse hits.
None of this shit matters, I think as I wait, letting the bag deflate, listening to the screeching of the alarms and then within minutes, sirens.
Arrest me, charge me, lock me up.
I pull my phone out of my pocket and text Jase: Just get me close enough to protect Laura.
The ringtone goes off within a few seconds. He’s calling but I put my phone back in my pocket, ignoring him as the sirens get louder.
Laura
“What about any brothers? Or sisters?” the woman asks conversationally. She finally told me her name is Jean. No last name, just Jean.
I have to swallow before I can answer, since my throat is dry from answering all her questions. Back-to-back she wants to know pointless details. Occasionally there’s a bout of silence, but I hate that even more. I can’t decide if she’s sadistic and wants to know particulars of my life before she ends it, or if she’s trying to befriend me as justification to her own conscience that she’s not a bad person and is just following orders.
“None. You?” I ask back. I’ve done this a few times, asking the same question in return. It’s mostly out of habit but Jean only shakes her head, either refusing to answer, or simply saying no. I’m not sure which. She could have a dozen brothers out there and still she shakes her head like she’s done every other time I’ve turned the question back on her.
I don’t know shit about her but now she knows all about where I grew up, what I do for a living, why I chose the East Coast. Mundane questions that amount to nothing more than small talk. I think it’s a bit tedious considering I hate her fucking guts.
Everything I told her was true, except for what happened yesterday. She got half the truth and half the lie I gave Officer Walsh. Just in case she knows about Seth, I told her I’m involved with him. I told her he took off yesterday after we got into a fight and that made her laugh. A deep guttural laugh that brought a genuine smile to her face. She’s missing two teeth, in the back upper right of her mouth. I’ve gotten a good view of her smile a few times now.