Chapter Thirteen #2
Her arguments had me thinking maybe Ryatt had done something.
Why else would he stop calling? Neither Cruz nor I had heard from him since he let Cruz know the visit was canceled.
No phone call. No video calls. No rescheduled visits.
And his attorney was worthless. He couldn’t give me any information without authorization from Ryatt.
Circular logic because I couldn’t talk to Ryatt.
So, here I was sitting in the jail visitation lobby on a Friday afternoon, knowing they probably wouldn’t help either. But I had to try. Maybe if it was a simple clerical error, we could get a visit scheduled. Maybe they’d let me see him now because no one was going to do anything over the weekend.
“Ma’am.”
I lifted my head, glanced over to the man behind the glass, then grabbed my helmet off the floor, stood, and crossed the room.
“How can I help you?” he asked.
“I had a question about visitation. I was allowed a visit last week, but then this week, my visitation was revoked. Was a rule broken?” Although Ryatt, Cruz, and I hadn’t done anything but talk when we’d been here.
Now, I had nothing. “He’s here on a probation violation, waiting for a court date. ” It wasn’t as if he killed someone.
No, that would be my other boyfriend. Oh my god. My brain needed to shut up.
“ID and name of the inmate?”
I handed my driver’s license over. “Ryatt Donovan.”
He plugged the name into the keyboard. He scanned his computer, then handed my ID back to me. “The inmate removed your name from his visitor list.”
I had to have heard that wrong. “Excuse me?” There had to be a mistake.
“Why would he take me off the visiting list?” My chest tightened and fear that this wasn’t all a mistake bit painfully in my gut.
Ryatt was shutting me out on purpose. The thin thread I’d been holding onto began to fray. “I’m his girlfriend.”
He finally turned away from the computer, looked directly at me, and gave me a sympathetic smile. “Sometimes it’s hard for an inmate to deal with disappointing friends and family.”
But that wasn’t us. We were good. He wouldn’t do that. But he had. No phone calls. No visiting. I blinked to keep tears from my eyes. “Can I—” I sniffed and swallowed the lump lodged in my throat. “If I write a note, can you get it to him?”
“I’m sorry.” He handed me a sheet of paper listing the jail’s rules for inmates and visitors. The same list I’d gotten off the internet. “You can write to him. The address is on there.”
A tear escaped, and I quickly swiped it away. “Why would he not want visitors?”
“It happens. For some, it’s easier just to stop contact.”
“He wouldn’t have removed me,” I said again. “There has to be a mistake.”
The man sighed. “You’ll have to ask him why. But the removal request came from the inmate. There’s nothing I can do.”
“Can you tell me if Adan Cruz is still on the list for visits?” Maybe he was just over me. This was his way of breaking up with me. My heart hurt. Oh god, this hurt. I must’ve done something for him to shut me out. This was my fault.
“I’m afraid I can’t give you any other information.”
“I won’t need this.” I handed the paper back.
My body was numb, and my heart shattered.
I hurried out of the building, pulled on my helmet, and climbed onto my bike.
I barely remembered the ride to the MC as I pulled up to the code box at the gate.
I’d seen Cruz enter the code enough times to remember it.
I rode around back, parked my bike, and entered the MC. A few bikers sat at tables, but none were the Heller I needed. With the blackout curtains closed, Cruz’s room was dark as I entered.
“Micki.” His sleepy voice found me in the dark.
After I shrugged out of my leather riding jacket, I quickly unlaced my boots, tugged them off, and climbed into bed with Cruz. Slipping under the blanket, I curled into his warm body.
His arms came around me and pulled me against him.
“You okay?”
I barely shook my head, closed my eyes, and let my tears fall. Cruz’s fingers slipped under my hair and gently stroked my neck.
“I went to the jail,” I whispered.
He stilled. “Did you see him?”
“We won’t be seeing him. He removed us from the visitor list. He’s not calling because he doesn’t want to talk to us.” I choked on a sob. “He doesn’t want to see us.”
“Fuck.”
“I just want to ask him why.”
His fingers began to gently tickle my skin again. “You don’t have to ask him. You know why. He’s in his head.”
I craned my face to his, barely making out the hard clench of his jaw, and the dark fringe of lashes of his closed eyes. “Maybe we were too much for him.”
He was quiet. His chest rose and fell with even breaths. “Maybe we were. But not you. I pushed too hard. Rizz and I are too different. He’s good, you know. He thinks of others.”
Sometimes, wrong was right. Cruz didn’t fit with societal norms, but he’d proven what he was willing to do for those he cared about.
“He put up with me to be with you. Don’t doubt the way he feels about you.”
I leaned up and rested my chin on his chest. “But you wanted more with him.”
He brushed my bangs from my eyes. “Yeah. I did. We both fell for his rizz.”
I rested my cheek against his chest again. “I hate this.” I hated this emptiness inside me. I hated that he was alone. “I hope he knows how much this hurts.” That he knew how much I cared about him.
“There’s so much I want to tell him.”
I glanced up at him again.
“I need to tell him he’s a fucking fool if he misses out on you because of me.
He needs to know that I don’t have to fuck him for the three of us to be in a relationship.
I want to share a bed. I want to hear him whisper to you at night.
I want to smell him on our sheets. I’ve fucked my fist raw thinking about him in the room with us when I fuck you filthy. ”
I think my mouth dropped open.
“Fuck.” He shifted, sitting up, and crashed his lips against mine. He collared my throat with his hand. A whimper escaped my mouth as his tongue collided with mine. “I gotta get out of my head. Somehow, I know I fucked this up for you. I’m sorry, baby.”
My breath caught as he used the nickname Ryatt had hijacked from him. A fresh wash of tears filled my eyes. “You didn’t fuck us up. We all chose. It still hurts.”
We were quiet for a moment.
“Am I enough for you?” he asked.
I leaned up on my elbow, trying to make him out in the darkness, and my heart broke. I pressed my lips to his chest. “You’re everything to me.” I never wanted him to question how much I loved him. “I’m not me without you.”
He tightened his hold on me. “Want to get out of here?”
“You can’t leave. You have church tonight.”
He slid his legs out of bed, stood, and flipped on the light. “Let’s go for a ride. We won’t be gone long. Just long enough to let the wind dry your tears. And I always feel good with you riding behind me.”
I climbed onto my knees and scooted toward the edge of the mattress. “This is why I love you.”
“You still love me?” He stepped closer, and I wrapped my arms around his neck.
“Yeah, most days.”
He smacked my ass. “Get your boots on.”
I didn’t expect flowery words from him. Tonight, I wanted them. I wasn’t going to get them. That wasn’t this man. But he’d give me what I needed on the back of his bike. Speed, adrenaline, and the deafening roar of his Harley.
I crawled off the bed, tugged on my boots, and tightened the laces. Cruz quickly dressed, including strapping on his chest harness and covering it with his cut.
“Do you need a gun?” I quickly braided my hair.
Cruz handed me an elastic hairband. “I can’t take the chance of being unarmed. Too much shit has happened. With Ryatt. With the Kings. With the fuckers I work for. I’m not going down without a fight, but I promise, I’m not looking for trouble.”
But he was a Heller…
Voices sounded from the chapel. Friday nights in the MC were always loud. We left through the side door of the church and walked around to the front of the building.
Cruz threw his leg over the bike, and I climbed on behind him.
“Ready?”
I nodded, zipped up my jacket, and rested my hands on top of his shoulders. The engine fired, and he slowly rode down the line of bikes. The gates were open, and motorcycles rumbled into the parking lot.
Once we were away from the MC, Cruz rolled the throttle and surged down the road. I wrapped my arms around his waist. He was right. This was what we needed. Wind whipped across my face. Tears slipped from my eyes and dried on my cheeks.
This was enough. This was what we’d always been for each other. This was everything…except Ryatt.
Ryatt
I’d thought I had a good public defender for my initial charges. I only remembered his name because I couldn’t talk to him without thinking about coffee. His name was Ben Folgers.
He’d encouraged me to take the deal. Guaranteed probation versus a possible five-year sentence. I’d taken the deal because technically, I was guilty. I’d dabbled in drugs, sold to a few friends, and I’d trusted the wrong people.
Willy sat next to me as we waited for the judge.
Ted sat in the front row behind the prosecutor.
Willy had warned me not to look in his direction, but to focus on the judge.
Don’t smile, but don’t look pissed off. Don’t appear bored, but don’t stare.
Apparently, for this process, the judge didn’t need evidence.
He just had to have a belief that I’d violated my probation.
I was fucked. No way was I getting out of the five-year stint.
I had violated my probation, and my pervert PO had the receipts to prove it.
I had missed check-ins. Treena had submitted a document to the court about my time in the halfway house.
Three months of staying out of her way, taking care of my business, and a couple of Kings with guns had to fuck it up.