“Nobody understands your instincts when it comes to your girl more than I do, brother. Gotta tell you, though, Paisley isn’t like Lucy. She’s softer, and she’s been through some shit, making her wary.” He paused, but I knew he wasn’t done, so I just waited. “I’m not telling you how to handle your woman. I’m just making an observation. Seems to me, if the man who wanted her hung back a little and waited for the right time, he’d be able to go after her without worrying about scaring her off.”
I narrowed my eyes and shook off his grip so that I could fold my arms over my chest. “Not that I’m agreeing with you, but what exactly constitutes the right time to you?”
Dom shrugged. “If you step away from the desire and caveman shit, which I know is hard as fuck, you might be able to look at things logically and figure it out.” Then he held up his hands, palms out, and shook his head. “Just one man’s opinion.”
“Noted,” I grunted before stalking to the lobby of the hotel and checking into my room to be alone. I fucking hated that he was right.
1
Paisley
“The payment was rejected because the account isn’t active.”
After waiting on hold for more than an hour, I wanted to bang my head against my desk at the customer service representative’s non-answer. “Yes, I already knew that. The email I received said as much. But what I don’t know is why the account is inactive. Sarah isn’t up for parole for another three months.”
Although I didn’t know Sarah Weinstock, I’d been sending money to her every month since she went to jail for a crime she hadn’t committed. I felt a lot of guilt over the part I’d played in what had happened to Sarah, but I was too scared to try to set things right for her. When I’d given my statement after witnessing a guy beating up a woman in a parking lot, I’d been prepared to testify in court to everything I’d seen. But I hadn’t known that his dad was a well-respected police lieutenant with a history of covering up his son’s crimes. One who had no problem threatening to make my life hell so that I wouldn’t make my statement official.
He’d stared down his nose at me as he explained how simple it would be to plant enough drugs on me to ensure a charge of intent to sell, a serious offense that would be difficult to defend myself against if it was a cop who’d planted the evidence on me. I didn’t show up at the police station to sign the report, and nobody ever called to follow up with me. My guess was that the police lieutenant buried my initial statement at the scene, so it never saw the light of day.
“I can’t provide details for a specific account. It would be a violation of the privacy policy.” The representative sounded as though she was reading off a script, her tone coming across as bored.
The urge to bang my head grew stronger. “What are some of the reasons for an account to suddenly go inactive?”
“The most common is the release of the inmate.” Her answer gave me hope, which she promptly erased when she added, “Or if they passed away.”
I wouldn’t put it past John Clark to have arranged for Sarah’s death, and I had to swallow down a lump in my throat before I could speak again. “Do you know who I’d need to speak with at the jail to find out if she was released?” There was a tapping noise in the background, and then she rattled off a website address before asking if there was anything else she could help me with. “No, thank you.”
I hung up and stabbed my finger against the screen of my phone, praying the news would be good. I paced back and forth as I pulled up the site and set up a free account. Once I was registered, I selected the state and clicked on the button to find an offender. Then I typed in Sarah’s information and waited for the results to pop up. When I saw that she’d been released, tears of relief streamed down my cheeks. It was the best news I’d received in a long time, and her early release helped to lessen my guilt a little bit—and at just the right time. I needed to ace two final exams and three projects this week to get my associate’s degree in graphic design. I’d had a difficult time concentrating on my classes after the dickish lieutenant had threatened me, so my college grades weren’t much to write home about. But this semester was even worse.
Six months ago, a couple knocked on my door and asked for my help to keep David Clark and his father in line. I’d been horrified when they told me that the woman, Lucy, could place him at the scene of a murder thirty minutes before the victim had died. I couldn’t help but think about how she might still be alive if I’d come forward, but they kept assuring me that I would’ve paid a steep price for going up against his dad on my own. But with the Silver Saints MC behind me—Lucy’s boyfriend was a part of the club—I could take them on without ending up dead or in jail.