I gotta get out of here. This jail stuff ain’t for me. The sound of steel aggressively meeting steel echoed painfully in his ears, and the smell that assaulted him was a mixture of disinfectant and desperation. Jesse had cleaned up the best he could in a tiny sink at the food mart convenience store restroom, vowing to never again take a steaming shower for granted. He was so tired from the lack of sleep, and his fingertips were so cold he was beginning to think they’d soon snap and fall off.

  Jesse searched around him, not liking all the cameras and watchful guards. It took ten minutes to get through security, and he was especially worried about having to leave his bags outside by the front door. He was positive all of his belongings would be gone before he returned. But he needed to hear Worm’s plan, and then he was out of there. The doors opened again, and a busty, female guard pointed to Jesse’s window. Worm winked at the woman, and to Jesse’s amazement, she actually winked back.

  When he saw his friend’s Cheshire grin, Jesse couldn’t help but shake his damn head. Hell, he was just so glad Worm was okay and not looking all roughed up or strung out. Worm sat on the low stool in front of the Plexiglass and lifted the receiver hanging on the wall beside him, and Jesse did the same.

  “Hey, bro. So how mad are you at me this time?” Worm’s smile fell slowly. He moved his hand as if he was about to run it over his buzz cut, but the handcuffs stopped him. “Worse than when I cheated off your midterm in ninth grade and they failed us both, or am I at the level when I ruined your autographed *NSYNC poster?”

  “Nah. I don’t think you’ll ever top that. But you’re damn close,” Jesse growled. True, he was mad at his friend, but this was their situation, and bitching about it for the few minutes they had to talk wouldn’t help them.

  “I never meant for this to happen.” Worm grimaced. “I can’t stand knowing you’re out there all alone.”

  “I’m all right, Worm,” Jesse lied. “I’m twenty-four years old, not twelve. I’m not exactly a runaway, okay? I’m a grown man that can figure out his own shit.”

  “No. Not out here you can’t. You’re too damn kind to survive on the streets, Jesse. I’m telling you, Atlanta is not at all like the Clemmons suburbs that you’re used to,” his friend warned. “Don’t trust anyone, and I mean no one. Not even the police.”

  All Jesse could do was nod because he’d already learned that important lesson within twelve hours of being there.

  “I was finally supposed to be able to help you. You’ve never asked anyone for help in your life, and as soon as you did… look what I…”

  “Worm. Stay focused. I don’t have long because I have to get back outside to my stuff.” Jesse tapped his knuckles on the glass, causing his friend to raise his head and look him in the eye. “What’s your plan?”

  “There’s these narcotics detectives that’ve been leaning on me a while. They’re some real scary motherfuckers,” Worm said with his voice lowered. “Everyone knows I was picked up by two of them. If I’m seen back out on the streets in a couple days, free as a jaybird, then God’s team makes a huge bust, everyone will know it was me. And then… I’m a dead man walking.”

  Jesse ran his hands through his hair, grimacing at the texture. He wished he’d been able to use his shampoo and conditioner, but he didn’t want to wet his hair and step back out into the cold. The last thing he needed was a cold or worse, the flu. “So what’s the plan?”

  “I need you to just stay in the neighborhood a little while longer. Don’t go far. Don’t venture into downtown, and please, whatever you do, stay away from the fuckin’ westside. I know I can cut a deal with God; it just has to be enough to get me out of here but not enough to make me look like a snitch.”

  “Holy shit, Worm.” Jesse’s knee began to bounce, and he was already dreading going back out into the cold morning air with a plan as shaky as this one. “How long are you thinking? Two… three days?”

  Worm sighed, appearing uneasy.

  “How long?” Jesse asked more firmly.

  “Three weeks. Tops.”

  “Damnit!” Jesse hollered.

  Another female guard opened the door and barked a sharp “Time’s up!”

  “Be careful, Worm,” Jesse said softly.

  Worm stood with a phony grin on his face that he used to paste on when he was trying to convince Jesse that everything was all good. “Don’t worry about me in here. You be more careful out there. I’m gonna make the deal, okay? I just need a little time. I swear.”

  Jesse watched the guard take his best friend away and lock him back behind bars. Great. Happy freaking New Year to me.

  Jesse

  Jesse quickly walked through the crowded lobby of visitors, hoping he’d never have to come back again. Outside, he hauled ass around the corner, holding his breath until he saw his book bag and duffle still lying intact against the side of the building. But his smile dropped faster than a tramp’s drawers when he noticed it was surrounded by at least six men. Six very intimidating men.

  Jesse approached as non-threateningly as possible and pointed to his guarded belongings. “Um, excuse me. I don’t mean to interrupt your conversation, but that’s my bag. So, if I can just…” Jesse inched forward, but the tallest of the group with the long blond ponytail brought his heavy black boot down on top of it.

  Jesse blinked at the man as he eyed him right back twice as hard through sharp green eyes. He had on dark denim jeans and a midnight-colored ribbed turtleneck under his knee-length leather coat. A gust of wind whipped around the building, raising one side of the jacket, displaying a formidable chest and a gun holster that held not one but two mini hand cannons. Jesse swallowed down a lump of fear when he noticed the gold badge suspended from the man’s neck. Not another cop.

  “I found this,” the man said, his voice deep and gravelly enough to give Jesse goose bumps along his arms. He spoke in a tone that sounded as if his every sentence, his every thought was final.

  “I was visiting a friend—I didn’t particularly have a choice but to leave it out here?” Jesse eyed the men standing around, each of them menacing in their own right. He didn’t know why he kept attracting trouble.

  “Well, I just found an abandoned bag in a county jail parking lot. It needs to be checked for ID.” The officer reached down with one swift, fluid movement and flung Jesse’s duffle—as if it weighed less than a newborn—toward one of the other men, who caught it effortlessly.

  Jesse scowled at the one rummaging through his bag. He had on skinny jeans, a parka, and a goddamn bow tie peeking out the top. A bow tie. Though he looked like any other nerd with his black-framed glasses, and parted hair, there was something oddly dangerous about him.

  But I got caught and damn near strangled by a detective in a bow tie.

  Jesse gasped, his eyes widening. These were the narcs. The men standing around, each with their badges visible, wore street clothes that would make them blend easily into any gang. Typical bad boys in all-black gear, ass-stomping boots, and leather coats.

  “Nothing in there, God, but clothes, books, a laptop, and toiletries,” the geek said and placed the bag at Jesse’s feet.

  Oh God… not the God. Jesse scooped it up and tried to leave, but they’d somehow—without him noticing—formed a tight circle surrounding him enough to where he’d have to physically move one of them to get by. The big one they’d called God closed in until Jesse had to tilt his head back to hold his gaze. Unable to do so for long, he eventually dropped his eyes to the thick butt of God’s gun handle under his armpit.

  “My guys have tossed Worm into lockup twice for his dealing on my streets. He’s never once had a visitor. Not even his father. Now he has someone dedicated to him enough to take a shitty, ten-hour bus ride in the middle of the night to come visit him.” God glared as if he already had a concrete theory and was simply goading Jesse to see how much he’d offer up. “I’m only going to ask you this once, kid, so you better give me a straight fucking answer.”

  Jesse trembled slightly, and it wasn’t from the cold.

  “Who are you to Felix? And what the fuck are you doing wandering around my city?”

  How did they know me already and where I’m from? Worm said these narcs were the best and almost impossible to fool. One of the detectives standing closest to the nerd was eyeing Jesse so intently he wondered if he had some kind of mind-reading or lie-detecting ability like he’d seen on some police television shows.

  “Stop trying to figure me out, because you won’t,” God growled. “Now answer my damn question.”

  Instead of pissing these men off and mentioning his rights, he figured he’d get away faster with good old-fashioned honesty.

  “I’ve known Felix most of my life. We grew up together in Baltimore. We were childhood friends until I moved to Winston-Salem a few years ago to live with my aunt, and Worm followed his dad to Atlanta. I just finished school, and I thought it’d be nice to see my friend again.” Now it was Jesse’s turn to glower. “But he never made it to pick me up.”

  God’s expression was hard as stone, his strong features appearing chiseled into his face. Yet he was still devastatingly handsome. “You eyeing me, boy, like you think that’s my fault.”

  Jesse didn’t make a solitary move, only murmured a low-toned “No.”

  “Good. Because I’ve given Worm one chance too many.” God graciously gave Jesse a little more breathing room, but not much.

  Jesse could still smell the coffee God must’ve drank recently on his hot breath mixing alluringly with the spicy scent of his cologne… or maybe that was the original scent of masculinity.

  “In my world, it’s three strikes and you’re out,” God added.

  Jesse chuckled anxiously. “I’m pretty sure that’s in the baseball world too, not only yours. It’s rather common knowledge.”

  There was a long, awkward pause where they all stared blankly at him as if he had a tail attached to his forehead. Okay. It’s clear these guys have no sense of humor.

  “Does it look like I wanna play with you, kid?” God asked in a tenor so low it vibrated inside Jesse’s chest like thunder.

  He shook his head frantically. “No, sir.”

  “And you don’t want any problems with me or my team, right?” God grumbled as he casually tucked his right hand in his pocket, kicking back one side of his leather coat to give Jesse a full view of his gold-and-black handgun. Certainly not standard police issue.

  “I’m sure you don’t. But if you came here to join Worm’s little operation—” God took one step and towered over him again with those threatening green eyes. “—then I’m gonna put your funny ass in a jail cell right beside your childhood friend.”

  Jesse blinked, feeling as if he were in Oz—not the magical wonderland, but the fucked-up prison series. Worm had an operation big enough to attract this guy’s attention? Fuck! Jesse stood his ground because he’d done nothing, absolutely nothing wrong. “Look. I’m not into any illegal activities… hell, I didn’t even know that Worm was. I freakin’ hate drugs, and he knows that, which is probably why he didn’t tell me.”

  “Then get him to talk to us.” Another detective that stood a few feet to the right of God spoke up for the first time. His voice was calmer, and his light-colored eyes seemed kind. “If you’re really his friend and you hate what he’s into… then help save his life.”

  Worm said his plan was risky and he could be retaliated against if he wasn’t careful. He also warned Jesse that not even the police could be trusted. It was all too much for him to fathom, and frankly, it all scared the shit out of him.

  “My name is Lieutenant Leonidis Day—you can call me Day. This charming man standing beside me is Lieutenant Cashel Godfrey. We head up a narcotics task force that takes a lot of those really bad guys off the street that sell and kill for those drugs that you freakin’ hate so much.” The shorter officer nodded at the other men. “Part of our team that stands behind you are Detectives Ruxs, Green, Steele, and Murphy’s in the bow tie. We call him Tech.”

  “So nice to meet you all,” Jesse gritted out, sure that these intelligent detectives were picking up on his sarcasm.

  Day smirked, the gesture adding some sexiness to his welcoming personality. “Likewise.” Day reached behind him and flipped open his wallet with his police-issue ID and badge. “You guys show him your IDs,” he ordered. “We already know who you are. Jesse Holstrom from Baltimore. Who do you think approved you as a visitor for your friend?”

  They all did as Day instructed, except God. Jesse really didn’t need to see his identification anyway. He believed who the man said he was. Now he realized their motive for stopping him, and also that unhelpful citizens made their jobs difficult. But Jesse also understood that Worm had committed a crime and had to suffer those consequences, whether his plan worked out or not. All Jesse wanted was to stay the hell out of it.

  He spoke directly to Lieutenant Day, because, well, it was better than the alternative. “While I don’t think it’s the police’s fault that Felix is in jail, I do believe it’s your problem now.” Jesse picked up his duffle bag and hefted it onto his shoulder, a telltale sign the conversation was over. “I’m sorry, but if you want information from him, then you’re going to have to get it yourselves.”

  God visibly stiffened; his jaw clenched tight enough to take a punch from Mike Tyson. It was obvious he was a man in charge that wasn’t used to being told no. His partner, Day, placed his hand in the center of God’s chest and—to Jesse’s utter shock—he somehow simmered down.

  “Understood. You have a good day, Mr. Holstrom.” Day smiled, and Jesse thought it was a bit too saccharine to be believable. The tightly packed man seemed just as formidable as his larger counterpart, and Jesse just wasn’t sure if he could trust any of them with his best friend’s safety.

  This time when Jesse turned to leave, the four men parted into twos, almost instinctively, and allowed him passage. It wasn’t until he was four blocks away that his breathing leveled out.

  Mason

  Mason finally climbed out of bed around noon. It was his day off, and he typically liked to go to the precinct’s gym and get in an early workout before heading to Erlene’s shop for brunch, but he wasn’t feeling up to any of that. His body was weary, but mostly his mind was spinning. He’d resolved himself to not letting Jesse consume his every free thought, but he hadn’t been successful. Now on his rare time off, he was battling against doing what his soul was telling him to do versus doing what his badge said he should. It’d be reckless of him to make an advance on a homeless drifter that’d breezed into town. A young one at that.

  There was no way he could leisurely drive around his neighborhood, enjoying the last remnants of Christmas decorations and deciding where he was going to eat a nice hearty, comfort dinner, when the most in-need-of-help man he’d ever met was stuck out in the cold. Alone. He didn’t—couldn’t—keep seeing Jesse out there on the dangerous streets, looking afraid and guarded.

  Instead of going to the gym, Mason put on a thick sweatsuit and decided to go for a run. He knew exactly what his intentions were when he made a left out of his neighborhood instead of a right. Jogging—or more like sprinting—toward the community recreation center on Logan Street. It’s where a lot of people with no particular place to be tended to migrate. The entire park on the opposite side of the gated overpass was a safe, neutral gang zone, so it made sense why many chose that area. The center also provided hot meals on occasion and had a clothing pantry for anyone not lucky enough to find a bed at the Mission shelter.

  Mason wasn’t sure why Jesse stayed in the area, never venturing too far from Grant Park. It was clear he stuck out like a sore thumb with his monogrammed leather bag and politeness. The wolves would smell the fresh meat in the pasture, and it wouldn’t be long before Jesse was prey. Mason jogged faster as he thought the worst. Did the guy have family in the area that he was trying to reconnect with? He must. Maybe he’s waiting on someone to come home. One thing Mason did know about Jesse, he wasn’t a criminal.

  Mason saw quite a few people milling around, some in groups, some isolated and to themselves. And that’s how he found Jesse. His tall frame crouched against the base of a wide tree with his duffle looped through his arm and tucked tightly under his head. He wasn’t moving, but he wasn’t asleep either. He was… reading. Mason smiled thoughtfully. Feeling as if that was as good an icebreaker as any, he approached Jesse carefully.

  “Hey, Jesse,” Mason whispered.

  Jesse jumped as if he’d been kicked, his wide brown eyes darting around before noticing who’d spoken his name. “Officer Mason?” Jesse croaked. He sounded as if he hadn’t spoken in days, like his vocal cords were rusty.

  There weren’t as many people as usual in the park, but that’s probably because most of them were starting to form a line across the street in front of the recreation center, where Mason assumed they were about to serve lunch. Yet, Jesse sat there alone, trembling in his thin leather jacket, watching Mason with pleading eyes whether he meant to or not.

  Jesse sat up taller and brushed his shaky hands down the leg of his jeans. “Hey, umm, good morning.” He shook his head, and several dark blond strands of hair fell over his ear before he tucked it away. “Or is it afternoon?”

  Another fraction of Mason’s resolve broke. He checked his watch. “It’s almost one.”

  “Oh.” Jesse stood up slowly, as if he was either hurt or bone-tired. By the time he was completely upright, Mason was staring up at him.

  Damn he loved a tall man. “What are you reading?” Mason smiled and pointed at the novel Jesse had shoved back in his book bag.

  He frowned like he wasn’t expecting that question but answered it anyway. “It’s Doomsday Book by Connie Willis. My ummm…” Jesse swallowed hard, his eyes closing briefly before he reopened them. “My book club is reading it this month. But I uh, I’ve missed the first two discussions, so… I’m pretty sure I’m no longer in it.”

 

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