to jump to his defense if he needed it.
Less than thirteen hours and he could see Lucy. He hoped between the two of them, they’d find answers to get him out.
Mostly, he needed to tell her he was sorry. To tell her face to face that he was innocent. He knew she believed him, but explaining the situation over the phone wasn’t good enough.
The lights turned off automatically at ten P.M., only minutes after he was put in the cell.
He lay on his bunk in the seven-by-nine-foot room and stared at the dark ceiling. Sounds everywhere. Quiet talking. Snoring. One guy far off, sobbing. Steady footsteps of the guards patrolling.
The smell of fear, of acceptance, of despair.
His heart raced, knowing he was trapped, knowing he couldn’t leave if he wanted. He sat up on the thin mattress and willed his pulse to slow down. Panic wouldn’t help him.
You’re in prison. Your life is not your own.
He put his head in his hands and for the first time in years, Sean wept. Silently, his body shook as he fought to control his pain, his fear.
And the realization that he might not be getting out—on Monday, or ever.
* * *
Erica Anderson rolled over and wrapped her arms around the man she loved.
It was almost over. Three months of hell.
“What’s wrong, baby?” Tim turned on the nightstand light. “It’s late, I thought you were sleeping.”
She had barely slept this week. Hell, she’d hardly slept in months.
“Bill left three message on my voice mail today. A federal agent wants to talk to me.”
Tim sat up. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because what can we do? I talk to her, they’ll kill you, they’ll go after my kids.”
“Tell Bill to get the kids out of town. Maybe—”
“What? Maybe what? We got ourselves in this mess, we can’t talk our way out.”
She’d tried. When she realized what Elise Hunt was up to, she tried to get them out of this disaster. But they were already in too deep. Tim had committed a crime—a felony—because of her. She wasn’t going to send him to prison because he was trying to fix a mess she got them into.
But the bitch who ran the operation made it clear that there was no turning back.
So Erica and Tim took the money and worked any job required. She had no other choice. And it wasn’t like any of these people were saints. So what if a prick got jammed up for murder? From what she’d been told about Sean Rogan, he was no better than Elise herself.
At first, it was about the money. She was tired of being broke all the time, and what Elise asked her to do was no big deal. She’d opened up an account for the kids for college. Bill didn’t make enough money and her babies were smart. Smart enough to go to college—something neither she nor Bill had ever been able to do.
The jobs went from borderline illegal to actual felonies. But by that time, she and Tim were in way too deep to get out clean. First time she complained, the bitch in charge showed Erica pictures of her kids walking home from school.
She hadn’t said a word since. Just did what they asked. Everything, pretty much, short of murder.
“Tomorrow,” Tim said. “One last assignment and we’re free.”
“Are we? If her federal agent wants to talk to me, maybe she knows something…”
“No one knows anything.”
“You don’t know that.”
He turned her to look at him. Waves of emotion washed over her. She loved this man so much and he shouldn’t have to pay for her mistake. But he was, and she was, and that was fucking life. Because life sucked.
“When this is over, we go away. Disappear for a while.”
“My kids…”
“Just for a while. Just lay low and make sure everything dies down.”
“I’m scared.”
“I have it covered. I love you, Erica. I love you more than anything.”
She held him tight. They made love, hard and fast and desperate. Then slow and hard until she was so satisfied that she could hardly move. She had to remember every muscle in his body, the way he touched her, the groan he made when he was about to orgasm. She had to remember the way he made her feel because she feared this would be the last time.
Chapter Twenty
OUTSIDE SAN ANTONIO, TEXAS
Torture was mostly ineffective.
This was a truth Brad knew from a half dozen years in the military and nearly two decades fighting the drug cartels.
Mostly because human beings