convince my brothers to let me leave home to begin with.
“Trav knows what’s going on, but nothing about Garrett. I don’t really know how he’ll react to that. You know he can be a bit hard-headed. At the very least, he’ll be pissed we kept this from him,” I warn Owen, and that will be an understatement. Travis will flip his lid.
“Let Trav work the case like he would any other. We need to keep your suspicions about Garrett between us until we can prove his involvement or absolve him.”
“Yeah, but that only works so far. When Trav came yesterday, he brought Garrett here, Owen, to my freaking home,” I remind him.
“Don’t worry about that. I’ll let Trav know that the pervy captain is trying to get in your pants. If nothing else, it will stop him from leaving you alone with the guy if you do, for some reason, find yourself in the same room with him.”
A car’s horn cuts off anything else he might have said. Walking to the window, he peers out before turning back to face me. “That’s Johnson. I’ll have to catch a shower at the station. I have a spare uniform there anyway. Your legs look fine, but just to be sure, leave those towels on for another five minutes. I’ll call you if I find something okay?”
“Okay.” I nod. He stalks toward me and wraps me up in a hug before pulling back.
“Remember to call me if something feels off. Don’t try and be the hero, that’s my job,” he says with a wink, making me laugh. Cocky bastard.
“Okay, I have to go. See you later, Raindrop.”
“Later, loser,” I shout as he leaves and closes the front door behind him. I slip off the counter and set the alarm before checking my legs. They look fine, no redness or anything now, so I toss the towels in the sink and head to the shower, determined not to let this whole fiasco ruin the rest of my day.
Chapter Seven
Saint
I lay on the piss poor excuse for a bed, tossing the balled-up sheet of paper into the air and catching it. As monotonous as it is, it’s far more interesting than staring at the bleak gray walls until my eyes blur.
I get why people struggle in here. There is a lot to be said about spending an infinite amount of time with only your thoughts. Thoughts and regrets that play over and over in your head nonstop, like a fucked-up movie montage of your life. And there’s no escape, you have no choice but to relive it all, trapped inside these walls where your life is stuck in an endless circle of self-condemnation.
Moving to sit up, I hiss as the stitches pull on my stomach.
I turn to swing my legs off the bed before standing and working out the kinks from lying still too long. I hate not being able to work out. Keeping in shape has been a godsend and it’s helped keep my mind occupied while I’ve been locked up. I’ve bulked up so much I barely resemble the man that walked in here.
Leaning against the bars, I close my eyes and let the cold of the metal seep into my skin, enjoying the jarring sensation, happy to feel anything at all. This place tends to hollow you out. Emotions make you weak and paint a target on your back. To survive, you need to shut down everything that makes you feel, because if these fuckers sense weakness, they’ll pounce.
It wasn’t so much an issue for me as some of the newbies. Hell, I could have taken over as the top dog if I had wanted to, but why change the hierarchy when I’m doing a quarter of the time the reigning king is? It wasn’t necessary anyway. As a member of the Kings of Carnage MC, I was virtually untouchable in this place. Or I had been until I stepped in front of the warden, taking a blade that was meant for him.
Some might think of me as heroic, but I’m about as far from a hero as you can get.
I made a conscious choice, playing the card I’d been dealt. I knew full well who the warden’s daddy was, and what do you know? I’m getting out of here early as a thank you. If they want to call me a hero for it, so be it, but really it was just a calculated move, a quicker way to get me