After using the app on my phone to make sure the house was locked down tight—and knowing that Bruno would do the actual checking of the locks and windows—I crawled into bed beside the slumbering woman.
Just as I gathered her into my arms, my chin going to the top of her head as I thought how fuckin’ nice it was to hold someone, she stirred.
“I need to go home,” she mumbled, pressing even closer so that her lips were touching my chest.
“You need to stay right where you are,” I disagreed, moving my leg up and over to pin her to the bed.
“I need to go home,” she repeated. “You probably have things to do tomorrow.”
I did, actually.
“I have to meet with a few men tomorrow at the prison,” I told her. “But other than about an hour out of the day, I’m free and completely clear. That means that there’s no reason I can’t get this done in the morning, and you can just wait for me.”
She made a skeptical sound. “As long as you can get there and back before I wake up, I’ll stay.”
Challenge accepted.
Also, best night’s sleep ever.
CHAPTER 14
Who sprinkled the bitchy dust?
-Six to Lynn
LYNN
All the men were led in, sans chains around their feet, but still with handcuffs around their wrists.
Bayou gave me one ‘hurry’ look and left.
I waited for the men to settle into their seats before I looked each of them in the eye to gauge their willingness to be here.
“Do you know who I am?” I asked.
None of them spoke a word.
“I’m the man that got y’all transferred to this particular facility,” I continued.
Still, none of them spoke.
There were five men in total.
Patrick ‘Trick’ Wheat, thirty-five, ex-military.
Patrick was sent to prison for purposefully beating a man to death that’d tried to rape a young girl under his protection.
My eyes turned to study Hunt McJimpsey—the hacker. Hunt was thirty-four years old and was in prison because he was caught dabbling in peoples’ money and redistributing it how he saw fit. Again, unlucky for him, he’d been caught. Not because of his inability to hide his tracks well, but because he’d allowed authorities to catch him.
I still wasn’t quite sure why.
He’d been in the free and clear.
Absinthe Solomon was the next man that met my eyes. He was thirty-eight, dishonorably discharged from the Army, and the man responsible for nearly beating his fellow drill sergeant to death for terrorizing, nearly raping, and physically beating a recruit under his command. A recruit that Sin just so happened to be in love with—but hadn’t acted on.
My next eye-lock went to Zach Caruso. He was thirty-two, and a former doctor. He’d been sent to prison for purposefully killing a patient. That patient who’d just so happened to be the reason his girlfriend at the time had been put into a coma. The kid had hit her with his truck while she’d been out running and had left her for dead.
My final eye contact came from Trouper ‘Troup’ Aoki.
Trouper I had the least information on. Thirty-five. He was, by my guess, ex-FBI. He was also a fighter pilot, could fly the hell out of any machine you put him in, and had the world’s worst attitude.
He was my Hail Mary.
My ‘I’m not sure but I hope my gut is right about him’ guy. The guy that had been brought to my attention by a friend of a friend. The guy that had a girl that was just as smart as he was, and I knew that I could utilize if Troup allowed it.
Troup’s entire demeanor didn’t change in the least.
Of them all, he looked like he was doing the worst.
Though, that was likely because he had a baby right after he was put into prison and hadn’t been able to see that baby since except for once a month visits that his wife had arranged with the previous warden.
“You’re the man that is responsible for my jail transfer down here to Texas,” Troup said, surprising me.
I nodded once.
“I was able to see my son while in the other prison, but now my wife is closer to her family,” he paused, voice rough. “Thank you.”
I nodded once.
“When I pull you out, I own you,” I said to them. “You can have your lives. You can find girls. You can spend time with your kids. But when I call, you come. I’m not asking you to totally drop them, nor will this be anything like a deployment you’re all used to. All of our jobs will take place on American soil. In our own back yard at first until we can clean it up. Every one of you has skills that I either need or want.”
Patrick, the tattooed one, crossed his arms over his chest and stared.
“Why would we?” he asked.