Despite the detailed fantasies and my increasingly chafed cock, I had a list of assholes who’d be dead on sight the second I got out of this place, and Detective Rafferty was at the top of that list.
If I survived.
Lots of guys were trying to make sure that didn’t happen. Call it daddy issues, but I was pretty sure Pops wouldn’t shed too many tears over my untimely demise.
I wasn’t entirely sure he hadn’t sponsored a few of those attempts, and it made me regret not taking the DA’s offer.
I’d only survived in here because people underestimated me, believing the social media hype, thinking that a few broken ribs made for easy pickings. By the time I left the prison hospital, I had a reputation formaking sure anyone stupid enough to come after me paid with an extended hospital stay of their own.
Sure, it had occasionally set back my recovery and, more recently, I got moved to a different hellhole, but it’d been two weeks since I’d had to fend off a murder attempt, which was a win in my book.
That didn’t mean I was gonna let myself get soft in this place, especially now that I could take a deep breath and lift my arms above my head. Fuck the hot weather.
Two officers, miserable in full gear and bulletproof vests, waited to the side as I grunted through set after set. Near the end of my third circuit, one of the officers got a call on his shoulder walkie, and a quick conversation ensued. He replaced the device, then gestured for me to finish up.
“I’ve got six more minutes,” I said, pointing to the cracked and faded clock near the door.
“Fine. If you don’t wanna talk to your lawyer, I’ll tell them to kick his ass out.”
I set the weights back in place, cursing.
Trent wasn’t scheduled to come out here for another three weeks. I doubted it was good news.
“No, let’s get this over with.”
I cooperated, letting them cuff me without issue, mostly because I didn’t need to make my time in here any more miserable than it had to be. They walked me, sweaty, through a series of locked corridors until we reached the room with my lawyer.
Trent sat at the table, his suit neat and his expressionunreadable. I paid out the nose for his time, but he was well worth it. Despite the guilty verdict, he’d smoothed over my courtroom indiscretion with the judge and somehow engineered a shorter-than-average sentence.
I was still looking down the barrel at a lot of years, but I wouldn’t need Viagra for my first post-jail fuck.
As long as I made it out of this stretch alive.
“Trent, buddy. What’s this about?” I asked, not bothering to wait until the officers cuffed me to the table and left.
Trent was a bit more circumspect, waiting until the door closed with a loud clank before leaning forward. He stroked his chin, examining me closely. I shifted, not sure what his deal was.
“Is that a new bruise?” he asked, pointing at my cheekbone.
“Just a love tap,” I answered. “Nothing to get your panties in a bunch about.”
He rolled his eyes and sat down, then said nothing.
“Is this a new way for you to bill me? Are we just staring at each other now?”
Trent kept staring, hoping to see what I didn’t know.
“Seriously, dude. Are they gonna tack on more years because I defended myself? And if they do, how much are we going to sue them?”
“This isn’t about that.”
I sent him a cuffed bird, then rattled my chains. “Say what you gotta say. And say it quick.”
After another moment, he nodded as though he’d decided something.
Finally, he smiled. “How would you like to be out of here by Christmas?”
Well…shit.
