I grunted, acknowledging him as a nervous tremor rolled through me. It was approaching midnight. This plan needed to work. I couldn’t let the prick leave here alive. Not after all the pain he had caused so many. Particularly my woman. If I took matters into my own hands, I could spend life in prison. Storm would go nuts over the betrayal. My brothers would hate me for going rogue.
I’d never see Tara again…
My Roja’s doe-eyes flashed in my head. I wanted her so fucking much. Wanted to taste her red lips and touch her soft skin. Every inch of me ached for her.
It had taken every bit of strength I could conjure to not let myself dream of a life with her. To not hope for anything with her.
But I couldn’t deny my feelings.
Couldn’t keep lying to everyone, including myself. Repeating like a goddamn broken record that Tara wasn’t mine. She most undoubtedly was. I’d just been a pussy about it. Guilt-ridden over Monica and my son. Too terrified of claiming another woman… Of destroying her.
The second I put my mark on Tara, a target would be on her back. I could lose her like I had Monica from blowback with the club.
What in the hell was I to do?
“Hey… Hey Hero, did you hear me?”
“Hmm?” I shook myself back to the present. I’d zoned out yet again and wasn’t sure for how long.
“Come check it out. Shit’s going down, man,” Ryder whispered, waving me over.
I hopped off my bed and went to the window on our door. We couldn’t see anything down the hall where Rudy’s cell was located.
A tall, lanky DO trotted by. I dialed into the crackling sound of his radio, straining to make out the words.
“Main control, all units, cease all non-emergency radio traffic—”
Jesus, this is it.
Another followed, his radio louder than the last. “We have a medical emergency in Delta twenty. Nine hundred control, please have the cutdown tool ready for the response team.”
Cutdown tool?
Oh, fuck. Dutra did it.
I cut my gaze at Ryder. For a young guy, he didn’t appear all that fazed by the events unfolding. It told me he’d seen or done some shit in his life. Or, like Boxer, he just loved this sort of thing.
We peered out our window like all the other inmates. A nurse ran by, then EMS minutes later. Shit, it suddenly hit home. A man took his life four units down. Even if I’d wanted this—along with several other people, Ava being one of them—the whole scene turned my stomach.
What if Dutra had failed? What if they revived him?
I closed my eyes, gripping the top of my head. Again, the waiting drove me crazy as my mind raced with different scenarios, all ending with me getting life in prison.
The sheriff, and who looked like the coroner, had arrived a while ago. What was taking so long? I was about to turn away from the door to bang my head on a wall when the sound of a squeaking wheel made my eyes flash open.
A rickety stretcher approaching our room whined in my ears. There were only two outcomes. Dutra was either dead or alive.
He needed to be dead.
Fuck, I dug my nails into my scalp. I saw his still form under a white sheet covering his head. The hairs on my arms flared. My heart jackhammered against my ribs. For some reason, seeing it all go down like this affected me more than pulling the trigger of my 9mm to kill the motherfucker.
Insanity.
“It’s done,” I muttered, returning to my bunk. Suddenly I felt exhausted. The letdown from the adrenaline pumping in my veins hit me hard. “Thanks for the help, kid.”
“Anytime, brother.”
I froze, then turned toward Ryder. His eyes were fixed on me.Brother. It fit. So would he in the club. More than ever, I wanted to sponsor him. When the time was right, I’d talk to him about joining the Knight’s Legion MC, where he’d have a real family. Dozens of brothers who’d respect and take a bullet for him.