Dark Destiny by Avelyn Paige
StoneFace
Layingeyes on Elscher for the first time was like being dunked in a pool of ice water. Every bit of rage and disdain, and pure, unbridled hatred I have for that man came bubbling to the surface and nearly boiled over.
It may well have to. If that brunette chick with the nice rack hadn't been there, it likely would have.
I don’t know what it was about her. Her soft voice? Her southern twang, perhaps? Whatever it was, I’d been working out a plan on how to break away from those guards, and Elscher right there in front of everyone. It was her saying my name that broke my train of thought.
I could’ve done it too. Those guards were fucking nothing compared to eighteen years of pent-up rage. And the other inmates? They would’ve been fine as long as they stayed out of it. Otherwise, I’d have ended those motherfuckers too.
“Rocco sure does like those bacon treats,” Buddy says, grinning to himself as he fills out his commissary order form. “He practically ate the whole bag. Miss Lilah told me next time to only give him bits at a time, but that doesn’t seem fair, does it? He’s a big dog. He needs big treats.”
I grunt and look down at my form. Fucking commissary. I could not care less about the mundane tasks of this damn jail. Who needs chips, deodorant, and ramen fucking noodles anyway?
People in here act like getting commissary is Christmas goddamn morning.
A large hand clamps down on my shoulder. “Visitor. And I suggest you don’t blow this one off. Judge wouldn’t like that.”
I look up at the guard’s face, and am surprised to see that I recognize him. I don’t remember his name, but I’ve seen him around the clubhouse a few times. A friend of the club, and apparently, a guard at Travis County Jail.
I look back down at my commissary form. “Not interested.”
My ass is out of the seat before I can say another word, and I’m suddenly standing nose to nose with the guy. He’s just as big as I am, and he looks pissed.
“Listen, man. Judge is done fucking around with you. He said to let you know that you owe them an explanation, and if you don’t go, there will be hell to pay.”
Fuck.
I’m not afraid of Judge necessarily. I’m not really afraid of anything at all. But I have a mission, and if Judge gets his balls in a twist over me ignoring the club, he might make it difficult for me to complete it.
Sighing, I nod once and tell Buddy I’ll be back.
The guard leads me out of the unit and down a long cement hallway to an elevator. Once inside, he pushes the button for the third floor, and we begin our descent.
“How do you know Judge?”
“Not your business,” is all he says. Ballsy motherfucker.
The door opens, and he leads me to a room where there are booths with stools, a telephone, and a glass window showing an identical booth on the other side.
And there at the third booth sits GreenPeace, one of the Black Hoods, with a smirk on his face the size of Texas. “Surprise!”
I don’t hear the word, but I know exactly what he’s saying by the way his lips move. In his shoes, I’d make a shitty joke too, but he’s on that side of the glass, and I’m in here.
I sit, my arms folded, and glare at a spot high above his head. I see him motioning for me to pick up the phone receiver in my peripheral vision and feel instantly torn.
GP has been my brother for years. We have had each other’s backs. He doesn’t deserve this. None of the Hoods do.
Groaning, I snatch the receiver off its cradle and press it to my ear. “Go home, GP.”
GP’s brows lift in surprise. “Not even a ‘Hi, GP? I’ve missed you, GP’? Pretty harsh, don't you think?”
“Go. Home.”
GP stares at me then, his posture going rigid, his eyes flashing with anger. “You know what? Fuck you, man. That’s not how this works, and you fucking know it. You’re a member of a club, asshole. A brotherhood. And you went and did something stupid as fuck—hilarious, mind you, but still, it was stupid as fuck—and then you go fucking radio silent? That’s not gonna fly. Not gonna fly with me, and sure as hell not with Judge.”
I hold his glare. He’s right, that much I know, but he doesn’t know the whole story. He doesn’t know why I did what I had to do.
“Tell Judge I’m out. Take my patch. I don’t want it anymore.”
GP gapes at me. “You don’t want it? You don’t fucking want it? What the fuck, man? You don’t get to make that kind of decision. That’s not how it works.”
I lean forward. “I had a life before the Black Hoods, GP. A really fucked-up life. There was some unfinished business from back then, and now it’s time to finish it once and for all.”
GP throws a hand up in the air. “Let the club help you, asshole. That’s what we do.”
An ache rips at my heart, but I ignore it, burying the emotion down deep. “This doesn’t touch the club. I’ll deal with my shit, alone.”
“What shit, man?” GP’s face is red, and I can see one of the little veins at his temple throbbing as he squeezes the phone receiver tighter in his hand. “What shit are you dealing with?”
“See ya, GP.”
Placing the phone in the cradle, I turn to walk away, while GP’s muffled voice screams from the other side, “What shit? StoneFace! What shit?”
I don’t look back.
Walking away from the club is the only way I can do this. I need to keep them clean. I need to end this once and for all, even if it means walking away from them.