Precarious(4)

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.