Blood in the Water(57)
“You were having a nightmare.”
“Yeah.” Byron pushed his fingers through his hair. For once, he wasn’t quipping. She’d never seen him this quiet and contemplative. Byron always projected a tough front. She’d never seen the vulnerability lying beneath it, until now. It was surprising, refreshing. Unnerving.
Jane didn’t know if leaving it alone or talking about it was the more polite thing to do.
“Were you reliving your mother’s death?”
After a second, he nodded. “Yeah, it’s happenin’ a lot lately.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“Hell no.”
Jane couldn’t imagine the trauma he’d experienced.
The confluence of events never failed to surprise her—twists and turns which led to tragedy on an otherwise normal day. She’d seen it hundreds of times in her line of work and in her own life. What would’ve happened if her mother had refused to go along on the robbery? If Jed hadn’t adopted her? Those kind of questions could drive a person mad.
“Growing up without a mother must’ve been hard.”
“You’d know what it’s like.” His voice was rough, gravelly.
“Yes, but yours was taken away from you in a violent manner and you witnessed it.”
“Like I said, don’t wanna talk about it.” Byron blew out a rasping breath.
Jane felt useless. Georgia would know exactly what to do. “Sorry, I don’t know how to handle these situations.”
He squeezed her hand. “I think you did just fine. I appreciate the concern, darlin’.”
“You’re welcome, and if you ever want to talk, I’ll listen.”
“I’ll keep it in mind. Right now, I need…,” he trailed off.
“What?”
“Jane, can I hold you?”
It wasn’t a scandalous sort of request. She figured he needed to be close to someone, like she’d needed the security of a tight embrace after being both threatened and propositioned by Oscar Valentine.
Denying him the same courtesy was out of the question. Jane slid closer slowly, cautious about his nudity, but determined to comfort him.
He gathered her against his side, and she curled into him. His skin was warm, and he felt better than she’d imagined. Jane was back in his arms again, and she was struck once more by how good it felt, how right and familiar, as if she’d been cuddling with him for years.
Enfolded together, they drifted to sleep.
Chapter Thirteen
Grand Prairie Prison
The imposing structure looked the same to Byron—steely and foreboding.
The next afternoon, they’d driven to the prison to speak with Benjamin Jessup during visitor hours. Sniper towers surrounded the recreation yard, and razor wire wrapped around the fences.
Being here always rattled him. Byron had accepted he’d wind up here, or someplace worse, under very different circumstances. Probably because of that jackass lawman, Thorne.
Forget Beauregard Manor, this was home, his real home. The stench of sweat and piss, the clang of metal bars. The hard, cold concrete floor beneath his heels. How many Christmases and birthdays had he spent at a small, chipped Formica table with the man who’d murdered his mother?
The guards hassled him every time he visited his father, trying to listen in on their conversations, taunting him—telling him it was only a matter of time before they locked his ass up too.
Yes, Buckley Beauregard’s son had evil deep in his bones, in his blood—and he’d certainly lived down to the family name. He deserved no less. Byron had killed, assaulted, bribed, and blackmailed his way through life. One day he’d have a needle in his arm or a shiv in his back.
He supposed it was inevitable, but he’d give fate a run for its money. Better six feet deep than this godforsaken hellhole and better than death row. If Byron had his way, he’d go down fighting. Jon Bon Jovi style—“Blaze of Glory,” baby.
“You really want to do this, Jane?” They stood in line, waiting to be frisked by grim-faced guards before they headed inside.
While Jane had noble intentions, the only thing he gave a damn about was keeping her safe and safeguarding her professional reputation.
“Yes, and I’m not going to change my mind, so don’t even ask. Get your ID ready and don’t make any sudden movements. The guards are jumpy here.”
“I know the drill, darlin’. My daddy did his time here.”
Her eyes went wide. “Oh, right, so you’ve done this before.”
“Yeah, it ain’t my first rodeo. What’s the plan?”
“I’m offering to represent Jessup. I called the warden yesterday and asked for one of the meeting rooms.” Prisons had a set of conference rooms attorneys used to see their clients.