Chapter 1
Jagger
THREE YEARS LATER
“Good morning, Mr. Hughes. My name is Claire Cunningham. Along with the rest of the Parole Commission, I have brought you in today to discuss the possibility of your parole. It is our job to determine whether or not you should be released from prison to parole supervision for the remainder of your sentence.”
I didn’t see any point in giving a response.
I could tell by the way my so-called “board of my peers” were looking at me that they’d already cast down their judgments.
The second they eyed my long hair, the ink marking my skin, and that fucking orange jumpsuit, they saw nothing but a criminal.
All I could do was sit there and try my best not to crawl out of my own fucking skin as they asked their tedious questions.
Ms. Cunningham studied me for a moment, then asked, “Why don’t you tell us all why you have been incarcerated? ”
“I’m sure you all are fully aware of why I’ve been locked up.”
“Yes, we have your records, but we would like to hear it from you, Mr. Hughes.”
“I killed a man,” I answered bluntly.
“Can you be a little more specific?” Cunningham pushed. “It’s important for us to know all the details concerning what transpired between you and Mr. Ortega.”
“He was my sister’s boyfriend. Apparently, he had a thing for knocking chicks around ’cause he did a real number on my sister.
” I thought back to that night, the way she looked when she opened the door—all broken and battered, and it brought bile to the back of my throat.
My sister had made her fair share of mistakes, but she didn’t deserve that shit.
No woman did. I swallowed hard, pushing back those feelings of rage, and said, “She called me to come to her place. Told me that she and Ortega had gotten into it. When I got there and he discovered she’d called me, he started laying into her again.
That’s when I intervened. We fought, and Ortega ended up falling backward.
His head hit the corner of the coffee table, and that was it.
He cracked his skull or something. Can’t say for sure. Just know he died soon after.”
“Were the authorities notified right away?”
“They were.” I gave her a slight nod. “I was arrested that night, and I’ve been locked up ever since.”
“Do you feel that your sentencing was fair?”
“I don’t see why it matters what I think.”
One of the men at the end of the table leaned forward as he demanded, “Answer the question, Mr. Hughes.”
“Yeah, I think it was fair.”
“What guarantees can you give us that you will not commit another crime?”
“I’m not a murderer. I didn’t set out to kill the guy.
” I’d been in fights before—more than I could count, but that night with Ortega was like nothing I’d ever experienced before.
I was completely consumed with rage. I wanted to make that asshole pay for what he’d done to my sister, but when I started plowing into him, I wasn’t thinking about killing the guy—even if the motherfucker deserved it.
I looked Cunningham right in the eye and told her, “I was protecting my sister, and up till that night, I’d never been in any kind of trouble.
Hell, I wouldn’t be sitting here now if he hadn’t hit his head on that damn table, but it is what it is.
I’m doing my time and trying to make the best of it.
But once I get out of here, I can honestly say I’ve got no intention of ever coming back. ”
“That’s good to hear, Mr. Hughes.”
One of the other men at the table looked at me and asked, “Have you taken advantage of the programs offered here at the institution?”
“I’ve done the required correctional counseling, and I’ve worked with the landscaping crew on the grounds.”
“I see.” Cunningham looked down at what I assumed was my file for a moment, then turned her attention back to me. “It says here that you’ve been undergoing anger management with Dr. Sophie Grace.”
At the mere mention of her name, warmth washed over me like someone had opened the blinds and let the sun’s heat shine down on me. Damn, I needed to get a fucking grip. I gave Cunningham a slight nod. “I have.”
“Her report says you’ve made great progress in your therapy, and she believes you are ready for release. Do you agree with her analysis?”
“I would say I’m more than ready.”
“So, you feel you have addressed the issues that caused you to be incarcerated?”
“Yes, I believe I have.”
“If released, will you take advantage of the halfway house or will you be able to manage a place of your own?”
“I have a place of my own.”
“And you will be prepared for home visits from your parole officer at any time?”
“Yes, ma’am, I will.”
They went on to ask about what I planned to do for work and informed me about the required weekly drug testing.
I didn’t want to get my hopes up, knowing there was still a strong possibility I’d be stuck here in this fucking prison until the end of my sentence, but the way Cunningham was looking at me, I couldn’t help but think she was in favor of giving me the early parole.
And then she asked a question that I prayed she wouldn’t.
“Looking back on the circumstances of what occurred between you and Mr. Ortega, would you change anything that transpired?”
“Honestly, yes and no.” I’d thought about that night a million times over the past couple of years and couldn’t deny I had regrets about how things played out.
“I would’ve still gone over there and given Ortega a taste of what he’d given my sister, but I wouldn’t have let things get so out of hand.
I would’ve gotten her the hell out of there and never looked back. ”
“Thank you, Mr. Hughes.” Ms. Cunningham looked down at my file once more, then said, “We will review what we’ve discussed here today and should have an answer regarding your parole by the end of the week.”
I gave her a nod, then waited as the two correctional officers came over and led me out of the room.
On the way to my cell, I mentally rehashed everything I’d said and hoped I hadn’t ruined my chance of getting the hell out of this place.
I was ready to get back to my life, to my brothers, and it gutted me to think it might not happen.
When I reached my cell, Tully, my cellmate, leaned up from his bed. “Well?”
“I don’t know, man.” I waited for the guard to close the cell door, then stepped forward to the bars as he unlocked my shackles. Once the guards were gone, I dropped down on my bed. “Guess it went as well as it could.”
“Bet you kicked ass,” Tully replied confidently.
He and I weren’t exactly friends, but we had each other’s backs, and in a place like this, that meant something.
Tully had at least five more years before he’d get his chance for parole, so it had to be hard for him to say, “You’ll be out of this joint before you know it. ”
“Certainly hope you’re right.”
“I am. You’ll see.”
The next couple of days were agony. Thankfully, I had my sessions with Sophie to help me through it.
I honestly didn’t give two shits about delving into my deep, dark thoughts with her, but after being locked up for months on end, it didn’t entirely suck to spend a little time with a beautiful woman.
As soon as I sat down in front of her, she gave me one of her slight smiles and tucked a strand of her jet-black hair behind her ear.
Pretending to be all business, she pulled out my file and said, “So, how are you making it today?”
“Better now.” Sophie Grace was in her early thirties, which made her a couple of years older than me, but there was an innocence about her, making her seem much younger.
She was wearing a snug-fitting turtleneck that hugged her breasts in just the right way with a pair of dark jeans and boots, and her glasses sat lower on the bridge of her nose, making her look like my next wet dream.
“I gotta say, Doc, you’re looking mighty good this afternoon.
If I didn’t know better, I’d think you got all dolled up just for me. ”
“Well, I hate to break it to you, but I’ve had several clients today.”
“So? Doesn’t change the fact that you got dolled up for me.” I winked at her, then said, “Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.”
“You need to stop.”
“What?” I had to give it to her. Sophie tried to keep things on a professional level, but over the past few weeks, it hadn’t been easy.
We’d both shared stories and had gotten closer, and there was no denying the unexpected connection between us.
She tried to pretend she didn’t feel it, worried about putting her career in jeopardy, but she had nothing to fret about.
The brothers knew how to keep a secret, so I made sure to goad her every chance I got.
I leaned towards her. “I’m just making idle conversation. ”
“Mm-hmm. You need to behave yourself, Mr. Hughes.” Her hazel eyes skated over me, and she let out a deep breath.
Doing her best to stay professional, she cleared her throat and said, “During our last few sessions, we talked about recognizing the warning signs you experience when your anger is triggered and how acknowledging those warning signs can help you improve your response to that anger.”
“Mm-hmm. We did.”
“We also discussed how important it is for you to use coping strategies when you feel like the anger is getting out of control.”
“I remember.” I studied her for a moment, then asked, “There a reason why you feel the need to give me a recap?”
“I just want to make sure you’re ready to face the world again.” Concern marked her expression. “You know, for when you get your parole.”
“I like your confidence, Doc, but you don’t have to worry. I’m more than ready to get outta here.”
“So, you aren’t apprehensive about going back to your old life?”
“What do I have to be apprehensive about?”
“A lot can change in three years.” She clicked her pen, then dropped it down on the table. “When you get home, things won’t be exactly the way they were when you were imprisoned.”