Without Consequence
Page 2
CHAPTER TWO
Drew
“Fucker, you’re up.”
My head swung lazily from side to side, my arms hanging over my knees and my hands clasped together in front of me while I sat on the hard bench and waited for my release. By some miracle, I’d slept pretty well. I’d never been a religious man. Not even in here where I’d taken up bible readings just to get out of kitchen duties on a Sunday, when all the bastards inside seemed hungrier than ever. God, to me, was nothing more than a state of mind, not a being. If ever I’d worshipped anyone, it had been Pete, not some creation with thorns around his head. But for some reason, I was starting to think that there might be someone up there that was looking out for me and preparing me for what I was about to do and the world I was about to re-enter.
Whoever that guy was, I owed him.
“You gone deaf now, Fucker? Or does the thought of leaving me make your pansy ass want to cry?”
It’s hard not to hurt people when all your brain is telling you to do is smash your fist across their jaw. I found it hard not to hurt people in general. It’s what came naturally to me, especially since Pete. But patience was a virtue, or so they said, and it seemed I was feeling pretty fucking virtuous, which served this prison guard well.
For now, anyway.
Lifting my head up as slowly as I could, I glanced at the man that had tried to make my life a misery since I got pushed through those iron bars, all that time ago: Prison Officer Jon Taylor. Ex semi-professional boxing champion of Texas, and all around badass wannabe who thought that because he once took a hit to the jaw with a crowbar and somehow remained standing, he was eligible to claim indestructibility.
Curling my lip, I raised both brows in his direction, practically whispering to save myself wasting energy on this asshole.
“You should know one thing, Taylor. I never forget a face.”
“Is that a threat?” he asked, drawing out his accent to try and make himself sound like Clint fucking Eastwood before taking a step closer to me.
“Cowards make threats.”
“And this is where you tell me you only make guarantees, right, Fucker?”
I huffed out a small laugh, shaking my head in amusement as I dropped my hand back down and started to rise to a stand. “Tucker.”
“You haven't been released yet. While you're still inside this building, you're under my watch and my rule. I can call you whatever the hell I want. Think of yourself as my bitch boy.”
“Why you gotta be like this, Taylor? You got daddy issues?” I spoke quietly, my lips twitching as I sauntered closer.
“I've got Drew Fucker issues.”
“Tucker,” I reminded him quietly.
“Fucker.”
“Your wife? I already did.”
It took a few seconds for the insult to filter through the walls of his thick head, but when it hit, his eyes popped and he clenched his teeth together in anger. It amused me more than I wanted to admit. I enjoyed nothing more than watching him turn from white to pink to red, then to fucking purple. A big man he might have been, but everyone inside knew about his family. We all knew about his ex-playboy wife and his two daughters. We all knew that one word against them and it usually resulted in a metal pole being smashed across the back of our knees – but he couldn’t do that inside this release room, and we both knew it. There were too many cameras and not enough dark corners. I was at an advantage for the first time in years. That feeling of power returned to me like an old friend I hadn't acknowledged in far too long. I'd missed it.
Lifting the waist of my jeans up, I ran a hand through the side of my long brown hair and stepped up to him, my smirk growing bigger as I lowered my voice and ducked my head to look up into his big, old, beady eyes.
“Or was that your daughter? I can’t remember. They look alike, don't they? I should look them up once I’m outta here… maybe hit up the missing piece with baby girl number tw-”
I heard his fist flying through the air before I felt it across my jaw. The metallic taste of blood immediately filled my mouth, and that blessed white noise rang in my ears as my head whipped to the side. I had to hand it to the guy, he knew how to make his shot count. Every part of my face froze as the pain spread out through my senses like some junkie had injected the best drug on the planet into my eyeballs. It was a beautiful state of numbness that I had craved since I was old enough to remember. The injuries were never what I struggled with. Not one little bit.
Not retaliating was where I faltered the most.
My hands immediately balled into fists down by my side as I rolled my jaw. Stretching my mouth out wide, I gathered up the blood that had collected there before spitting it out onto the floor. My teeth rattled, and I couldn't help but imagine the two of us in an underground ring, going pound for pound until the other one took his last breath as a man. That one thought excited me more than it should have and I suddenly couldn't wait to get back to that part of my old life.
“I dare you to keep fucking speaking,” Taylor snapped, all his clarity gone, replaced by his need to kill me for talking trash about his family. I couldn’t blame him. I’d have done the same in his shoes – only I wasn’t in his shoes, was I? I was in mine. And right then, I needed those injuries as much as he needed to end me.
Coughing up more blood, I started to croak out a strangled fit of laughter as I dragged in some heavy breaths.
“You make it too easy, Jonny boy.”
I glanced up at him and flashed him a wink, right around the same time I heard the heavy boots of the other prison guards entering the room and walking up beside the two of us. Taylor’s eyes burned into mine with a fire I’d seen on many a man before now. It was that look that told me he was going to fall asleep in his bed every night and plot ways to find me, then kill me.
“You’ll pay for this,” he whispered quietly through gritted teeth as he bent closer towards me. He stank like shit and his breath was so strong you could have made a roll up smoke from it and given yourself lung failure.
“Yeah?” I smiled up at him, both brows raised for just a second before I dropped every ounce of humor my face held and whispered back. “So will you. Keep your girls locked up tonight. Wouldn’t want anyone leading them astray now, would we?”
Before I could even register his response, the two guards by his side were whispering that he’d been seen on camera by the warden in charge and he had to get out of there fast. It only made my anger slip and my laughter fall free again. Damn, this was fun.
Straightening up, I pulled down on my white t-shirt and ran a thumb across both corners of my mouth, looking straight ahead as they began to walk him away. As tempted as I was to throw a few more insults his way, he’d given me what I needed and I was weirdly fucking grateful for that.
Rolling back my shoulders, I made my way over to the sign-out desk and took a glance at the woman sitting behind the wired panel. She was in her mid-to-late forties, her hair redder than a tomato and dragged back into a harsh woman-type ball thing that rested on top of her head and made her face pull up tight. Her eyes burned into mine as she shook her head and slipped her clipboard through the small gap in the frame that protected her.
“Drew Tucker. Read this, check your property list, sign on the first page at the bottom, second page half way down and third page in three places. I’ve marked them all with a cross in case that’s too difficult for you to understand.”
Grabbing hold of the pen attached to the board with a piece of dirty old string, I pulled it down and looked up at her through hooded eyes.
“You people in here have your personalities removed as soon as you get the job, or what?”
“Just sign.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“Not everyone wants to fight you, Mr. Tucker.”
“Is that so?” I huffed out a laugh, reading down the small list of shit I owned before signing the first page.
“I could never understand you men, no matter how hard I tried.”
“Is that why you like chicks, sweetheart?”
I didn’t even look up as she laughed and her voice turned to a screeching type of noise that made me want to shove the clipboard in her mouth. “You think because I’m a prison warden that I’m a lesbian? How quaint.”
“That depends,” I answered quietly, flipping over the page, signing the middle sheet first and then the places she’d marked on the back sheet, last. “Do you assume I’m a bastard because I ended up in prison?” I dropped the pen down onto the paper, pushing it back through the hole before looking up at her again and smirking at the way her face dropped flat in less than a second.
“No, Mr. Tucker. I assume you’re a bastard because you killed a man.”
“Indirectly.”
“Murder is murder.”
“Unless it's manslaughter.”
“That person's family is still grieving their loved one because of your actions.”
“Ah.” I nodded slowly. “I guess that's a fair comment.”
“And I also assume you’re a bastard because of that little stunt over there.” My eyes fell to the pen trapped in her fingers as she swiveled the clipboard around in front of her and pointed to where I’d just taken a hit from Tantrum Taylor.
Both hands fell to the edge of the counter in front of me, my body leaning forward as I stared down into her eyes and whispered. “That wasn’t a stunt, sweetheart. That was a necessity.”
“Getting smacked in the face is a necessity?”
“No.” I half smiled. “But this isn’t about male bravado, Miss…” I glanced down at her badge. “Garside. This is about survival. Not all of us have a metal cage around us to keep us safe. For some, pain is the only way.”
“Did you really sleep with his wife?”
“Probably. At some point.” I shrugged. “I get around.”
I didn’t miss the heaving of her chest and the way her mouth parted in wonder as she stared back up at me, completely clueless as to what to say. Dropping my feet back onto the floor, I let go of the ledge, slapping both hands down on it once before bouncing back and pointing to the side.
“I’ll be over there, waiting for my things.” I grinned.
“I…”
“Will be five minutes? Sounds good to me.”
I took off slowly, not particularly eager to make my way to a chair or bench or anything that required me to sit down and wait patiently. My moment of being virtuous was over before it ever really began.
The game was beginning all over again and the thought of winning was providing me with so much adrenaline, I already felt like I was flying higher than I had done in years.
Drew Tucker was back.
Huntsville Prison of the great state of Texas was already feeling a million miles away as the heavy soles of my boots crunched along the gravel pathway that led me out between two cross-wired fences. At the end of the small walkway, I knew who and what would be waiting for me. I could already see the elbow of one of the fat fuckers as it stuck out from the metal pole, and I swear I could practically smell the hut on him from where I was. It was my favorite scent of all time – the only home I'd ever really known.
Slinging my black hoodie over my shoulder, one finger keeping a hook on it as it slid down my back, I dropped my chin to my chest and shook my head. The swollen smile was there, but I didn't want them to see me walking out and showing emotion. They'd all have changed since I left them – all grown older, experienced more shit, drank more and gained more scars – but I'd changed, too. That was an inevitability of prison life for you.
Scuffing my shoes across the surface beneath me, I rounded the corner and took one look at the first of my brothers.
Harry Rogers.
Fat, bald and shorter than a fucking field mouse, Harry had tattoos that crept up all the tires and creases of his neck before they spread out into the shape of a claw up the back of his head. His eyes were like piss holes in the snow and he had the facial hair of a teenage boy.
But man was he loyal as hell.
And that's all that mattered to me. To him, it didn't matter that he was twelve years my senior or that I was just a twenty-nine year old kid with ideals in his heart and plans in his mind. To him, my badge was enough.
“Well, I guess I know who's been eating all my food portions since I've been gone.” I grinned, my eyes lifting up to meet his and watching as he kept his cool, hiding behind his heavy, black shades.
Pushing himself off the wall, Harry stepped forward and did a quick assessment of my body from head to foot and back again. “Yeah, and I can tell someone's been skipping leg day in the prison gym for far too long.”
“Still lifting over twice my body weight,” I answered roughly, watching him as he reached out to pinch my bicep between two of his fingers.
“And what's that? Fifty pounds, tops?”
“Fuck you.” I laughed out loud, the hand that wasn't securing my hoodie over my shoulder reaching out to jab him.
“Damn, it's good to see you, bro.” He launched at me, both his arms flying around my back as much as they could, considering his build up against mine. I was six foot dead, stocky by nature rather than much effort and, according to some of the women I’d been with, pretty fucking ripped.
My smile grew wider as I returned his back pats and briefly dropped my cheek to rest on his head. Affection wasn’t something we, as a group, showed to the other people around us. We were to look a certain way and walk a certain way while always remaining polite enough to the residents of Babylon. But with each other, we celebrated our bond and we clung onto it as much as we could. There was no shame in showing unity and love. Without it, there was no way we would be able to make it through the darkest moments that inevitably ran through the seconds, minutes and hours of this club life. The words didn’t need to be said.
Pulling back, I raised both brows and sniffed up, looking all around me as I did.
“Where are the others?” I croaked, seeing no one else here but Harry. “And where the fuck is my bike?”
He pointed behind me, forcing my head to swivel around until I was looking over my shoulder. “It’s just the van today, pal.”
“You gotta be kidding me?”
“Nope.” He laughed roughly, digging in his jeans pocket for the keys.
My hand dropped down as I swept it out to my side. “Lead the way.”
Harry began to walk past me, pointing casually at the red swelling on the left side of my face and the slight crack in my lip. “Parting gift?”
“Something like that.”
“Glad to see you’re still good at making friends.”
His raspy laugh was soon followed by a coughing fit. Harry's cigarette habit was pretty damn bad when I left him, but I was guessing from the tight wheezing of his chest that it had gotten even worse. “Still doing thirty a day, old man?”
“More like forty since you’ve been inside.”
“Lay the guilt on, why don’t you?” I smirked, kicking a stone that was in my path out of the way. “And here I was expecting balloons and shit when I got out.”
“We’ve almost five years of abuse stored up, just for you. Now hop in the front and quit whining before we get back to the hut. I’m the nice guy, remember that.” His smile disappeared around his end of the van as I went to the passenger side, clipped open the handle and threw my hoodie across my seat.
With one hand positioned on the door and the other on the frame of the van, I lifted a leg onto the ledge and took one last look over my shoulder at the place I’d lived in for longer than I’d hoped to. It didn’t look as fucked up out here. Just a red and grey box with wire all around it and towers that stood high as though they saw and owned the entire world. But I knew better. I felt the cold in my bones as I stared at it before I gave it a wink – a silent promise to never return befo
re I groaned low in the depths of my throat and hopped up into the front seat.
Simple things like this were what I couldn’t wrap my head around. For so long, my feet had been the only thing to transport me anywhere. Now I was back on wheels again, in the hands of someone and something else, doing something the others took for granted. I couldn’t tell Harry that it made me feel weird for even a second, so I shuffled in my seat, sniffing up and leaning forward until my elbows were resting on my knees and my face was in my hands.
“Feel good to be out, Tucker?” he asked quietly as he shoved the key in the ignition and kept his voice traveling forward. He’d known more than anyone that I just needed a moment. He’d done time as a young man himself.
My head began to nod slowly before I dragged both rough palms down my face and over my lips until my mouth was held open by the tips of my fingers. “You could say that.”
“The air feels cleaner, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“The sky brighter, the silence louder…”
“Yeah.”
“Muscles stronger.”
I nodded again, not turning to face him as I stared out at the open road in front of us. “Warmer…”
He twisted his wrist and the judder of the engine brought the van to life around me. The hood rattled and the vibrations ran through my body quickly. “I remember that feeling.”
“I’ll be good in a minute.”
“I wish I had a minute to spare you, Drew.”
“Just tell them we got stuck in traffic.”
“Don't make me lie to the family so soon out of the joint.”
“Fine, I'll tell them myself.”
“Think you already did.”
I turned my face to stare up at him, both my brows raised as I tried to assess that dodgy look he was wearing. The only disadvantage Harry had with being loyal was that he couldn't hide anything or lie for shit. When I saw his eyes flicker nervously behind him, I knew.