Precarious Read online

  The words still give me the chills, and it breaks my heart to know that a child of only five could be treated so badly.

  “I’ll talk to Mandy, okay, Jimmy?”

  He nods. “I like Mandy.”

  “She likes you, too. Have a good day,” I say, staring at him for a second longer before leaving.

  We continue down the halls. We finish up with the last six prisoners in the ward. By the time I’m done, it’s already lunchtime. I make my way into the break-room and see Tristan right away, coffee cup under the machine. My stomach grumbles as I walk up and stop beside him.

  “Do me one while you’re there,” I say.

  “Ash,” he murmurs, turning to look down at me. He looks edgy about something; his jaw is tight and his eyes fly past me a few times before he focuses. “How’s it going?”

  I shrug. “The usual day. How are you? You look stressed.”

  He shakes his head. “Just a stressful day.”

  “Hey,” one of the newer guards says, turning up the television. “Check it out.”

  I turn and watch the screen. There are police cars and crying people standing outside a building. I squint and see it’s a local café, just down the road from my house. My heartbeat picks up as I listen.

  “This afternoon, tragedy broke out in a local café. A gunman, believed to be from the Jokers’ Wrath Motorcycle Club, killed four innocent people who were enjoying their lunch out. Witnesses say it was a bloody massacre. Security cameras were down, so information at this point is still sketchy. It is said the victims were a family, the father being multi-billionaire businessman, Johan Reed.”

  My throat tightens as the reporter goes on.

  “Nobody else was hurt and investigations are underway.”

  “Shit,” the guard at the table says. “What the hell would cause someone to go in and kill an innocent family?”

  I shake my head, still staring at the screen. “The question is, why only the one family? It’s as if he knew them.”

  I turn to Tristan, who is still staring at the screen, his jaw tight. Luke enters the room and the two give each other what seems to come across as a secretive look – their eyes are stern and their mouths are tight. Tristan even gives a sharp little nod. I narrow my eyes and step closer to Tristan. “Is everything okay?”

  He jerks and turns to me. “Fine. I just hate fuckers like that.”

  My eyes widen. “Ah, yeah, it’s never nice.”

  “No,” he mutters. “I gotta run.”

  That was weird, but I shake it off and turn to the other guards. I don’t feel hungry anymore. “Well, back to work, then.”

  “Later, Ash,” Jock, one of the other guards says as I exit the room.

  Just another hectic day.

  ~*~*~*~

  I spend the remainder of my afternoon in the dining hall with the prisoners. It’s fairly quiet and my shift ends on a good note after the disturbing news earlier.

  After I’ve packed my things, I make my way out. Commotion catches me at the exit, and I turn to see guards bringing in a new prisoner. I step to the side, making sure I’m not in anyone’s way. Tristan approaches me as six guards lead a handcuffed man down the hall.

  “That’s the shooter,” he growls, glaring at the man.

  As they approach, I catch a glimpse of the man head on, and my breathing stops. I’ve spent a lot of years in this prison, but I’ve never witnessed a man as beautiful as he is. Criminal or not, it jumps out and screams at you to look at him. He’s tall, at least six feet, and is a hard wall of muscle. Thick shoulders, a lean narrow waist . . . he’s all male, strong and sturdy.

  That’s not where his beauty lies, though. His beauty is in his face: a pair of stark grey eyes, a slightly crooked nose, big, full lips, and a square, masculine jaw. He’s got a rugged face, yet it’s so incredibly handsome. His hair is dark brown, maybe even black, and it’s a few inches long and messy, strands of it fall over his forehead. He’s got a tattoo running up his neck, and piercing in his lower lip.

  I’ve no doubt this man is a bad, bad boy. It’s written all over him. He’s powerful, he’s scary and he’s utterly mesmerizing. I quickly drop my eyes to his attire. He’s wearing black boots, black jeans with chains dipping off the sides, and a heavy leather jacket that has numerous patches on the front. The one that stands out is one that says 1%.

  As the guards pass Tristan and I, the man’s eyes meet mine and I forget how to breathe. He’s got a few days’ growth on his jaw, and fierceness in his eyes that tugs at me. How can someone that looks like him go into a café and kill an innocent family? He holds my eyes as he passes, sharing something with me, only I can’t quite decipher what it is.

  “Piece of shit shouldn’t even live for what he’s done,” Tristan mutters as he gets closer to me.

  I turn to him. “You’re not usually so vocal. Is everything okay?”

  He shakes his head, as if righting himself. “Fine, just a long day. You can leave now.”

  I nod quickly and turn to rush off, staring down the hall again before I go. I see the back of the man, and I can read his jacket from here. He’s got a massive patch with a picture of a scary-looking joker skull. In bold, white letters are the words Jokers’ Wrath MC. I stare at it for a long moment before turning and rushing out.

  He’ll be the first biker I’ve ever had to work with.

  I won’t say I’m not curious.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Unlocking my front door, I step into my large apartment. I have two housemates, so I got myself a bigger place. I enjoy the company, and could never seem to accept a small, one-bedroom home that I could only share with . . . well . . . maybe a goldfish. If I were lucky.

  We managed to get ourselves a fully furnished apartment for a little extra per month. The furniture is nice and fairly modern, so it seemed like a better deal. I occupy the main bedroom, and my housemates, Leo and Claire, occupy the other rooms.

  I get along with both of them exceptionally well. Claire is a gorgeous, fun-loving blonde who is somewhat like my light after a dark day. She’s bubbly and carefree, and extremely refreshing.

  Leo is broody, sexy as hell, and runs his own tattoo parlor up town through the day, and is a fighter at night. He’s a bad boy, but he keeps to himself, and having him around is like having a guard dog.

  “I got milk duds!” Claire squeals, skipping into the kitchen just as I place my purse down.

  “You and your addictions.” I grin at her.

  “I can’t help it. I’m so damned in love with them. Can you tell?” she asks, twirling around, and twisting to stare at her ass. “Is it fat?”

  I roll my eyes. Claire has the kind of ass most men would drop to their knees for.

  “Why don’t you ask Leo?” I chuckle.

  She slaps my arm as she passes me, heading towards the fridge. “Quit teasing me about Leo. So what he walked in on me showering? He’s got a bevvy of babes, and I’m sure seeing me naked was the equivalent to a gynecologist seeing a vagina—an every-day occurrence that is barely worth batting an eyelid at.”

  I snort and laugh softly. “God, you give the most . . . interesting descriptions.”

  She slides her backside up onto the counter and crosses her legs, popping a milk dud into her mouth. “Did you see the news?”

  “About the shooting?” I ask, pouring myself an orange juice.

  “Yeah, it’s so sad.”

  I can’t give Claire any information from my job, but I do tell her, “I saw him being brought into the prison as I was leaving.”

  Her eyes widen. “Really?”

  I nod, stealing a milk dud for myself. “Yep.”

  “What was he like?”

  My cheeks heat as I think about the gorgeous, rugged biker. “He was, ah, just a normal criminal.”

  “I just can’t believe he killed that family. So cold and twisted.”

  I nod. “You’re right about that.”

  The front door slams and we both turn to see Leo chargin
g in. Damn, he’s good looking. Even Claire’s eyes move over his body. He’s built; I mean, mega built. He’s all muscle. His shoulders are broad and he’s got abs that go far and beyond a six-pack. His messy brown hair often falls over his face, sometimes getting too long and covering those stunning hazel eyes.

  He’s covered in tattoos. They run up his arms and over his shoulders. He’s got one down his belly that snakes around to his back. He’s even got a few on his thighs. The man is an ink machine. His hazel eyes, which are more yellow than green, swing to us and narrow. Claire looks to me, then back to him.

  “Problem, Leo?”

  He grunts, and walks past us.

  “Good to see you, too,” I yell out after him.

  We hear him throw his bag down with another grunt, and we both turn back to each other and giggle softly.

  “He’s such a stiff sometimes. He needs a good woman to get him out of his shell. Maybe you can work your magic on him?”

  I shake my head. “No thank you; been there, done that, Leo isn’t the man for me.”

  “Ah, the drunken night between Leo and Ash.”

  “Shut up.” I smile. “Don’t remind me.”

  She jumps off the counter and wiggles her hips. “Oh, la la.”

  I roll my eyes. I used to have a major crush on Leo; something to do with the silent, angry type. My crush only lasted for about six months. The reason for that is because one night we both got drunk, really, really drunk, and ended up in bed. I was in a low place and it wasn’t the best choice I’ve ever made.

  It’s not that Leo wasn’t great in bed, because he was. Even drunk, he blew my mind. It was just that things got awkward—like, super awkward. We have nothing in common, and it just made things weird between us. It took a few months for us to be able to look each other in the eye again, but we’ve managed to get there.

  “I’m going to shower before you spontaneously combust,” I chide her, disappearing down the hall.

  “Ohhhh, all nakie and wet,” she sings.

  I laugh and walk towards my room. I stop when I see Leo in his, the door just slightly ajar. He’s pacing backwards and forwards, running his hands through his hair. I can’t help it; I stop walking and knock on his open door.

  “Leo?” I ask, stepping in.

  He stops pacing, and turns to look at me. “What do you want?”

  “Don’t be an ass. I’m just seeing if you’re okay.”

  He stares at me, then sighs loudly. “No, I’m not fuckin’ okay.”

  “Want to tell me why?”

  “Don’t talk to me like I’m one of your prisoners, Ash.”

  “Okay . . . What’s happenin’, yo?”

  His lips twitch with a smile, and I give him a full-blown one in return.

  “It’s Evelyn,” he mutters.

  Ah, Evelyn. The girl he’s been dating on and off. She’s easy, she’s expensive and she’s up herself, in a big way. She’s bad for him all round, but she’s gorgeous. So he keeps going back.

  “What’s she doing now?” I ask, sitting on the small sofa in his room.

  He raises a brow at me.

  “What?” I say, throwing my hands up. “I’m trying to help.”

  He starts pacing again. “It’s fucked up.”

  “And . . .”

  “She’s saying she’s pregnant.”

  “Oh boy,” I say, letting a puff of air whoosh out of my lips. “That is bad.”

  “You’re fuckin’ tellin’ me. I got shit in my life. I’m a fighter. I don’t have time for babies.”

  “Okay, take a few steps back. Are you sure it’s yours?”

  His eyes flash to me. “You sayin’ she’s fuckin’ around?”

  “What I’m saying is that unless you’re sure she’s not, then you might not be the father.”

  He mulls this over. “How am I supposed to find out?”

  “Simple. If she’s really pregnant, ask for a DNA test.”

  “If she’s pregnant?”

  “You need to see proof, Leo. You’d be crazy not to ask for it. Women make that stuff up all the time.”

  His eyes widen. “Why?”

  I shrug. “Because they’re desperate.”

  A look of disgust contorts his features, causing his lips to purse and his eyes to narrow. “That’s fuckin’ sick.”

  I laugh softly, standing. “Women can do crazy things if they fear they’re losing something they want.”

  “Would you do that?”

  I snort. “Oh no. No, no, no, I know how it ends.”

  “How?” he says, taking the hem of his shirt and pulling it off.

  I stare for a moment before feeling heat creep up the back of my neck. I stare down at my hands. “I’m a girl. I’ve seen it go down plenty of times. I’m sure you can figure out how something like that would end.”

  “Yeah,” he says, pulling on another shirt.

  “Well.” I clap my hands together, and turn towards the door. “Good chatting.”

  He chuckles. “Yeah, always fun.”

  I flash him a smile before exiting his room. I slip into my own room and sigh as my eyes go towards the shower in the en suite. Oh, I need one of those. I kick my door closed behind me, strip off and walk towards the shower. After turning the water on, I tuck my hair up and step in.

  Heaven.

  I sigh loudly as the warm water slides over my body. I wash my hair, shave my legs, and then reluctantly turn the shower off. I dry myself and then throw on a pair of grey sweats and a tank before joining Claire and Leo in the kitchen. They’re arguing over what to cook for supper.

  “Steak,” Leo growls, shoving her out of the way and taking out the steak.

  “Chicken,” she snaps back, shoving him. He doesn’t move.

  “How about,” I yell loudly, causing them both to turn, “you have both.”

  Claire rolls her eyes. “That ruins the fun.”

  Leo gives her a lusty expression, one that she always seems to miss. I don’t miss it; it’s loud and clear to me.

  “Stop being difficult,” I chastise her playfully.

  “Fine,” she sulks. “Let the Incredible Hulk have his steak.”

  Leo snorts and turns to her. “I’m glad you’ve finally learned your place.”

  Claire opens her mouth to respond, but I put my hand up. “Children, that’s enough.”

  They both give me pouty expressions that have me smiling. I wave my hand. “Carry on, then.”

  I turn and walk out of the room, deciding to find a good book and curl up on the couch while they battle it out in the kitchen.

  That’s just a normal day for me.

  Just how I like it.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The prison is quiet this morning. People are fluttering about, keeping to themselves, and the inmates aren’t saying a great deal. They’re all in their cells, most of them staring blankly at walls. The very idea of being trapped in a space like that for years on end has my heart tightening. It’s one of my biggest fears.

  There are a few prisoners in here who are wrongly convicted; it happens. It’s a sad fact of life, but it’s just how it goes. I don’t see it a lot, and even when I do there’s nothing I can do to help – after all, what could I do? It’s not my job, and it’s something that can’t be changed. I just can’t imagine how horrible it would feel. To be forever trapped for something you didn’t do.

  “Another early one, Ash?” Tristan says, appearing beside me as I reach security.

  “You’re here early,” I say, checking the time. He doesn’t usually do the morning shifts.

  “Yeah. Just wanted to make sure the new prisoner was secured.”

  “Right.” I yawn. “How’s all that going?”

  We reach security and start the long process of going through.

  “You will see him today. You can check it all out when you go down there. He isn’t saying a word.”

  “He doesn’t really have to. Well, not to us, anyway.”

  “No, but i
t all helps,” Tristan mutters.

  “That’s true. You want me to see what I can get?” I ask, shrugging off my jacket.

  “Yeah. He won’t speak, and I’m trying to assess him. His court appearance isn’t for another few weeks.”

  “What have you got on him so far?”

  “Not a great deal,” he says, stepping through and stretching his arms out for scanning. “His name is Beau Dawson. He’s the vice president of the Jokers’ Wrath MC. Not married. No family. His sister died when they were both fifteen. They were twins.”

  “That’s interesting,” I say, stepping through after him. “Do you know what happened?”

  He shakes his head. “Details are sketchy at this point, but I’ve got someone looking into it.”

  Someone looking into it? It’s not really his job to have someone look into details such as that.

  “Who is looking into it?” I ask.

  He stiffens and shakes his head quickly. “Oh, just some other guards.”

  Something doesn’t feel quite right, but there’s nothing obvious enough standing out that I have the grounds to do something about it.

  “Fair enough. Well, I’ll stop by and see if I can get anything else.”

  He pats my shoulder. “You’re awesome. Thanks.”

  I go through my usual routine of changing, logging in and pairing up with some other guards. Then I begin my rounds. We stop at Beau’s cell first, because Tristan wanted me to see his reaction. I peer in, and my lips part as I suck in a breath, God, will it get easier to look at him? Surely it will?

  “Beau,” I say, though my voice doesn’t come out as firm as it usually would.

  Beau lifts his head, revealing those incredible grey eyes. They’re lighter grey, like a storm cloud that has given off all its rain and is fading into the blue sky. His black hair drops over his forehead and his expression is almost murderous as he glares at me. They don’t like being here; it’s not abnormal.