The man’s eyes widened.
“I said, give me the fucking money!” I pointed my pocket at him, threatening him the best I could.
The man started stuffing bills into a bag, and I started to get very nervous.
“Come on. Come on. I don’t have all fucking day.”
The man placed the bag on the counter, but before I could move to get it, I felt a strong hand come down on my shoulder, right before my face met the floor.
“GET ON THE GROUND!”
Heavy boots dropped on the ground, and I felt my heart stop when the guy in the bed above mine moved in front of me, a cigarette dangling out of his busted lip. There was a significant scar above his right eye, one that split his eyebrow in two. But underneath that hard exterior was fucking sex-in-an-orange-jump-suit. His shaggy, dirty blond hair hung dangerously over his eyes, shielding his brow in shadows and mystery. He was cut, every muscle deliciously developed. But at that time, I didn’t admire him the way I would have now. No, at the time I fucking feared the beautiful human, the one that changed me forever.
“Well, well, isn’t this nice?” His eyes perused my body, obviously noticing the shakes and shivers he was creating inside me. “You’re much better looking than my last celly.”
I gulped.
His eyes tracked the movement, staring at me intently.
“You ever been in prison before?”
I shook my head.
He laughed. “Damn, the bears are gonna have a field day with you. I hope you know how to fight.”
I didn’t. I never had to before. Not even in the club. Then again, I’d only been hanging-around it for a few weeks before Leppard’s bullshit initiation.
“That scared look tells me everything I need to know.” He stuck out his hand, offering it to me to shake. “The name’s Joaquin Jones, but the bastards around here just call me Jonesie.”
“Victor...” I said cautiously, not liking the firm, punishing grip he had on my hand.
“Well, Victor, welcome to Beaumont.” He gripped my hand hard, throwing me down on the bed violently until my face was smothered by the uncovered mattress. I felt something sharp pierce my side, and the heat of his mouth go up against my ear.
“Scream, and I’ll fucking slit your throat.”
My whole body stilled, hot tears spilling down my face as my pants were yanked down and a blast of cold air ran over my virgin hole and cheeks.
Holy shit! This shit was real. This was really happening on my first day behind bars.
“Now be a good little bitch and loosen up for Daddy.”
I learned to black out most of what happened to me while in prison. Eventually, I got over it, learning my place behind bars, and leaning on Joaquin to keep me safe and out of harm’s way.
He laid claim to me that first night, saving me from the brutal rapes and beatings I’d seen happening to other new jailbirds entering the clink. Mine was mild compared to theirs. It’s why I didn’t hate him for taking me the way he did. It was the only way—the only way I’d ever survive the time I spent behind bars. But I never forgot the fear I felt in that moment or the power Joaquin had over me.
Fuck, that day and the one where I got arrested and thrown to the wolves by a man I was supposed to trust, weren’t memories I’d ever be able to erase if I tried.
They were always there—lingering and waiting in the background for me to constantly remember.
If it wasn’t for Sabbath coming to visit me in the clink, I probably would’ve just walked out on the Outlaws forever, but Sabbath wasn’t a spineless weasel like his brother who ran away from the scene so he didn’t get arrested. No, he was a man—a man I’d follow wherever he led me.
There was a knock on my door, stirring me away from my thoughts. Anyone else could’ve been behind that door and I would’ve been fine, but it had to be him, that shaggy blond hair falling into those brown eyes that devoured my goddamn soul. My fingers twitched to brush those wayward strands away, but they stayed close to my sides, gripping my pant legs for support.
Why was he here?
Why was my dick suddenly rock fucking hard?
“Can we talk?” Skid asked quietly.