grunted. “Few people, that’s for sure.”
“We’ll work on that, too,” Jamison added. “Take care of things out there and then get your ass on that motorcycle. I’ll talk with you next Monday. Don’t make me call twice. I’ll charge you double.”
“Heaven forbid,” Jeremiah drawled, but he laughed for the first time since… He snapped his attention back to the conversation, not allowing his mind to travel down that road again. “Hey, Jamison. Thank you.”
“You’d be there for me.”
“I would.” Jamison was a good friend; he’d move heaven and earth to make sure the man had what he needed.
“If you get to a point where you need to talk, if shit gets heavy…”
Jeremiah sighed. “I’m not suicidal. Did what Macmillan do fuck with me? Yeah, but that isn’t a road I’m going down. I don’t even see the signposts for it.”
“Cyrus Macmillan.” Jamison spat the name.
“Yeah.”
“How in the hell did he end up without restraints or without a guard?”
“They had him up in the medical wing to run some tests. From what I’ve learned, his doctor and three nurses are dead. He was wandering the halls when the riot broke out and initiated a lockdown. If the alarms hadn’t activated, I would have walked right into him.”
“You have a guardian angel, my friend.”
He shook his head even though Jamison couldn’t see him. “What I have are nightmares and probably PTSD.” He swallowed hard. Even though Cyrus was locked away in a supermax facility, there wasn’t enough distance in the world to tamp down the memories of that madman or what he’d done.
“Put in for a leave of absence. If you decide not to go back, you can send in your resignation. Then hop on that deathtrap of yours and head to see your sister.”
Jeremiah leaned back and cast his gaze around the tiny apartment. Why not? At a minimum, it would be a break and he’d get to see Genevieve. He had some things to clear up first. He drew a deeper breath and felt some weight fall from his shoulders. “I’ll do that.”
“We talk once a week, or I’ll damn sure come find you.”
“I can do that.”
Chapter 3
Jeremiah pulled into the parking lot of the Bit and Spur Bar which sat on the junction of the road a few hundred feet before the town of Hollister, South Dakota. He turned his bike off and put the kickstand down. After pulling off his helmet, he sat for just a moment. No movement, no roar of his engine, just the distant sound of music coming from inside the small bar. He’d traveled through vast empty expanses, just him and the road. The time to think was a blessing and a burden. There were times he could forget the recent events, but the lingering fear persisted. No, the sensation was more akin to a hyperintense saturation of everything he saw and heard, almost as if his body was in a constant fight or flight response.
He hung his helmet from his handlebar and stretched as he un-assed his bike. With several slaps of his gloves, he blasted the road from his leather pants and jacket. He rolled his shoulders and pushed his fingers through his hair. A scuffle at the door to the bar drew his attention.
Jeremiah ambled toward the building, holding back until whatever was happening settled. He saw two men stagger out of the door. A third followed them out and yelled, “Get the hell out of here and don’t come back, even when you get sober. I’m sick of you Klingler boys. I’ve called the deputy. If you don’t want to land in––”
The smaller man in a baseball cap twisted suddenly. Years of watching inmates had honed his instinct. Jeremiah sprinted forward. Baseball cap thrust forward with a knife and shoved the damn thing into the man throwing them out. The third man laughed and kicked him when he hit his knees.
Jeremiah ran through the smaller man, knocking him to the gravel. Mr. Laughing-Like-a-Loon got a right hook to the jaw and dropped like a bag of cement. As the first man got to his knees, Jeremiah kicked him in the ribs, sending him to his side, curled into a ball. The distinct sound of ribs cracking would keep the fucker down for a while.
The man who’d been stabbed held the knife in his hands.
“Hey, no, no, no. Dude, you don’t want to pull that out. Come on, let’s get you settled. Did you call the deputy?”
The guy looked at him,