“Wait.” I narrowed my eyes at him. “They made an offer?”
“That they did,” he said, producing a folder.
I opened the folder and laughed. Every staple and paperclip had been removed, leaving the top left corner of each page jagged and crimped. Accustomed to reading legal documents, I skipped to the good part.
“Full immunity,” I said, reading and re-reading the words.
“Yes. With witness protection.” He flipped the page and pointed to a section near the bottom. “You’ll stay with a contingent of Texas Rangers in a safe house until your testimony. Then we’ll look into moving you out of state.”
“When do I get out?” I asked, gesturing to the bruise on my face. “I can handle the occasional misunderstanding, but I’ve definitely got a target on my back.”
“There’s still some moving parts, so you’re gonna have to keep yourself alive in here for at least another couple of months. And the first step is a doozy. You’ll have to agree to give up every single person involved in the organization. Your dad, your uncles, everyone who is involved, even the runners. You can’t leave anyone off. Not even Kyler,” he said, raising abrow.
“Kyler isn’t involved,” I said, lying through my teeth. “Unlike me, he actually has a good father.”
That part was true. Kyler’s dad had refused to involve him in the operation until he was twenty-one, and even then, only allowed him to help with the digital work. Kyler—my best friend and practically my twin—was the reason APD hadn’t been able to crack the code to our finances.
Kyler was also the only family member who’d come to visit me in jail. I wasnevergonna flip on him.
Trent leaned forward, staring into my eyes. “You willing to stake your freedom on that?”
“Fuck yeah.” I tapped the table. “Give me a pen and paper. I’ll give you every fucking name but his.”
Kyler would have to forgive me for giving up his dad. There was no way to unlink my uncle from his dealings with my father. I would feel bad about that, but neither of those motherfuckers listened to me when I warned them about Jimmy Shoes. I wouldn’t be in here if they had.
Trent pushed the yellow notepad and the jail-approved pen across the table to me. It was annoying, having to write in handcuffs, but there was a lot I would do to get the fuck out of here.
Could I survive in here for the rest of my sentence? Probably. If I were willing to live with my head on a swivel for the next ten years or so. But I had a chance to create the life I chose rather than the one that had been chosen for me. I’d never be a hundred percent above board—fuck that, obviously—but I liked to helpmore than harm, and I missed my designer clothes, high thread count sheets, and not having to shit in front of other grown men.
Ten minutes later, I pushed the list back across the table to Trent.
“Are you sure Kyler doesn’t need to be on here?” he asked, skimming the names.
“Yep.”
He paused, re-reading the list before sending me a long look. “Kyler might not feel so generous about you leaving his name off the list while you added his dad and almost every other member of your family.”
“Maybe, but he’s clean, and I’m not letting him take the fall for the shit our fathers decided to do.”
Holding my look for another long moment, Trent nodded and went over the specifics with me one more time. There was a lot I had to do to ensure that the state held up their end of the deal, and I was going to dot every fuckingIand cross every fuckingTto get out of here and start over.
There was nothing left of this life that I wanted to go back to, save for my cousin. I’d miss Kyler, but in my heart, I knew he wouldn’t hold it against me.
Hell, maybe one of these days I wouldn’t need protective custody, and we’d be able to start a business together like we’d always wanted.
Trent shoved the signed paperwork into his briefcase, and we parted on finger guns. As the officers walked me back to my cell, I felt lighter than I had since I was first arrested.
That said, I was still a criminal, and I had some criminal shit to attend to.
After the officers left, I fished out the contraband cell phone and fired off a quick text to Ky.
Me: Need you to help me track down some pork. Rib-cracking good.
Kyler: On it.
Kyler: That mean you’re gonna be free to fry some bacon?
Me: Maybe.
