“I’m weak? You’re taking steroids, and you have the nerve to call me weak? I knew you were irresponsible and immature, but a cheater?” His eyes travel from my bright orange shirt to my hair. “I can hardly stand to look at you.”
I shrug. He’s not the only one. I can hardly stand to look at myself. It’s no use telling him that I’d never do steroids. I’d be wasting my time explaining that I think the UFL doctor poisoned me. Shit, it sounds stupid in my head. Saying it will only give him more ammo in his character assault.
“I’m done. Good luck with your life, Blake. I give up.” He slams the phone into its cradle, and the looming presence from the other side of the glass moves away.
“You gave up on me a long time ago,” I whisper.
Hanging up, I push from my seat.
“One more visitor.” My escort hollers down from his position at the door. “Take a seat.”
Another visitor? I don’t want to see anyone else, but I drop back down and wait. Movement on the other side of the glass brings my eyes to a pair that matches my own.
Holy shit. I rip the phone from the cradle and press it to my ear. My brother, Braeden, sits and raises the phone to his ear.
“Brae, man. Hey.”
His hair is darker than mine and cropped in a military high-and-tight. And he’s huge. Twice the size he was when I saw him last. Looks like he’s been hitting the gym hard. I guess he found a way to channel the caged feeling that accompanies being the son of Duke Daniels.
“Hey, bro,” he says, his smile genuine, but concern in his eyes. “They treating you okay in here?”
“Yeah. How are you?” For the first time in I don’t know how long, the tingle of a smile touches my lips.
“I’d be better if we were sitting at a bar having a beer and not separated by glass.”
Smile erased, I nod. “Sorry you have to see me like this. I fucked up.”
“That’s not the story I heard.”
“No? Well, you need better information.”
“Talked to Jonah and Raven. They told me everything.”
That’s about as accurate as he could get. “Oh, okay.”
“I just have one question.” He leans in on one elbow, putting his face close to glass. “Please tell me you didn’t fuck a stripper on Valentine’s Day when your girl was being held by her ex.” His green eyes dance with humor, and a grin pulls at his lips.
“That’s the shit you want to ask me? Really?” Damn, I miss my little bro. “No. I didn’t. It took me about eight seconds of being in a dark room alone with her to realize I was fucking everything up.”
“I knew it. Jonah owes me a hundred bucks.”
It’s nice to know someone still believes in me.
We chat for a while, small talk that revolves around him and doesn’t touch my jacked-up situation. The guard calls down that our time’s up.
“I better go.” I tilt my head toward the guard. “Captain Powertrip gets pissed if I don’t jump every time he calls.”
“Sounds good.”
“You leaving town soon or…” I don’t know what to say. It’s not like he’s going to stay for a week just so he can visit his big brother in jail.
“Yeah, I’ll be here for a few days.”
“Oh, really? So I’ll—”
“See you tonight.”
“What?”
“Oh, did I forget to tell you?” He scratches his head and takes an exaggerated look around. “I guess I did.” His lips curl into a full smile. “Jonah posted bail.”
My jaw goes slack. Bail was set at fifty thousand dollars.
He taps the glass between us. “Hang in there, bro. I’ll see ya later.”
Thirty-one
Blake
It’s after nine at night when I’m finally released. After a process that included a meeting with my lawyer and a series of signatures, I’m walking out of the jail’s release wing and into a dark parking lot. A familiar black pickup truck is parked and idling.
I should be overjoyed to see Jonah’s truck, but disappointment smothers the good feelings.
Holding on to the hope that I’d walk out and see Layla’s Bronco was a mistake. And daydreaming that she and Axelle would run to me so that I could crush them in my arms wasn’t smart.
With a firm shake of my head to rid it of the hopeful hallucinations, my empty chest echoes with what could’ve been. I mourn the loss of the dream.
“How’s life on the inside?” Jonah asks through the open truck window.
I shrug, swing open the door, and climb in. “Sucks.” But something tells me it’s a whole hell of a lot better than the shit I’m going to face on the outside.
He throws the truck in drive and maneuvers it out of the small lot. Silence fills the cab as if he’s waiting for me to ask the question and allowing me to take my time to do so.
I clear my throat, hoping to hide the emotion that’s riding so close to the surface. “How are they?”
He shakes his head. “Don’t know. Last I heard? Not too good.”
My gaze slides to the scenery flying past my window. “Fuck. They must hate me.”
“She doesn’t hate you, dude. If she did, she would’ve told the cops all that happened that night. She defended you. Down to the last second.”
Fuck. Why does hearing that make me feel worse? I should be happy that she covered for me. It’s what I’ve always wanted, right? I’ve been carrying resentment around for almost half my life because my mom didn’t protect my music and me.
Sitting in jail these last few days, alone with nothing but my thoughts, I contemplated all the reasons why Layla kept my attack on her a secret. She had nothing to gain by protecting me, and accepting that gift from a woman who’s been programmed to cover up her pain makes me want to throw my ass back in jail.
I rub my temples. My gut churns at the combination of conflicting feelings.
“She stopped answering her phone,” Jonah says. “Won’t answer the door. Killian said he can’t get in touch with Axelle, either. Only thing I’ve heard is that Gibbs gave her a few days off so she could get her shit straightened out.” He exhales a deliberate breath. “That’s another story.”
Consumed by the situation with Layla, I haven’t given much thought to Gibbs or how I’m going to take Doctor Motherfucker down. “Let’s hear it.”
“Your story’s national news. Gibbs is rollin’ like a pig in shit with all the attention the UFL’s pulling in. And now that Doc Z ran, he’s—”
My stomach drops. “Ran? Ran where?”
“Gone, man. Fucking ghost. Day after that shit went down. Office cleaned out, apartment he was renting vacated. Poof.”
A tingle creeps along my skin. The only chance to clear my name is gone. Poof? I rake my fingers against my scalp. “Jonah, you know I’d never do steroids, right? That fucking pussy shot me up, or put it in those pills I was taking. Fuck, man, the fact that the asshole ran proves it.”
His eyes stay forward, his jaw ticking.
“Don’t tell me you think I did it.” I can take my fucked-up dad not believing me. Layla’s mistrust is expected, considering what I’ve done to her. But after everything Jonah and I have been through, if he doesn’t believe me, I’m totally fucked.
“It’s a hard sell, dude,” he mumbles.
Burning rage flares in my gut. “I don’t fucking believe this shit.” I punch his dashboard hard. A crack slices through the plastic.