And Bess got my beard in between her thighs. Tickling her in all the right places.
Jake
Meanwhile ... a few days later
The metal door clanked shut, the sound of its lock slamming into place echoed off the cold wall I currently leaned up against. As I pressed my back against the coarse cinderblock, reality hit me smack in the chest like a bullet train barreling through my heart.
Christ. Look at where I fucking landed after a whole goddamn year of trying to get my life in order, to heal past wounds and move forward.
Shit.
Did they hold mass in the slammer? Not that I was religious, but I would need someone like God on my side, because there was no way in hell Lane was coming to get me. Actually, for the first time ever, I told myself I wasn’t calling him. I’d leaned on my twin brother for two decades too long. I’d only deserve whatever wrath he served up if I called him from the clink.
Again.
Forget it being fucking Christmas, he’d finally gotten his life together. He had a gorgeous wife, cute little baby daughter, a big house in the country, huge career, and lots of cash. He deserved to be left alone.
Me, I deserved this. I’d get to make one phone call, and it looked like it was going to be to that little wench—the same woman who landed me behind bars.
My frayed jeans tightened around my thick thighs as I slumped to the floor. I tilted my head back against the wall, rolling my neck. Taking a long breath, I noticed the guy opposite me—he was big, tattooed, hairy, and snarling at me.
I could fucking take him. Let him just try to approach me.I own a gym, for Chrissake.
“Jake Wrigley?” the guard yelled as he approached the holding cell. “Which one of you fools is Jake?” he asked as he shoved his key in the keyhole, eyeing me up and down. Nothing like a big-as-fuck black dude with his biceps bulging through his polyester uniform looking at me like he was thoroughly pissed.
Who shit in his eggnog?
I stood. “That’s me.” I ran my hand along my buzz cut and smoothed out my beard. “Time for my phone call?”
“Nah, man. DA’s here to see you.”
“Oh, good. Maybe he wants to go home to his family, and I’m gonna get out of here in time for the holidays,” I said, then chuckled to myself.
“I wouldn’t hold your breath, my man,” the guard said, shoving me toward the next set of locked doors.
“Thanks, Paul, I got it from here,” a soft feminine voice called out from behind us.
Sweet...a female guard.
“That’s okay, Ms. Road. I’ll make sure he gets to the interview room. This one here’s a live wire,” he said, keeping his hand on my arm as he escorted me forward, not allowing me to turn around.
