Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 34926 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 175(@200wpm)___ 140(@250wpm)___ 116(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34926 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 175(@200wpm)___ 140(@250wpm)___ 116(@300wpm)
“Did you get extra time?”
She shook her head. “No. But, like I said, I never expressed remorse for my crime. Every time, I said the same thing. The son of a bitch deserved it. Finally, after ten years, the parole board changed or something. The woman who conducted the hearing recounted every single interview I’d had over the years with psychiatrists, their own board, and anyone in an official capacity who’d ever asked me about my crime. She noted I always gave specific reasons for killing Brandon, noted that his trial was riddled with questions that would never be answered, and made a vehement argument that I’d served enough time. I wasn’t a danger to anyone, I’d served way more than the minimum, and that I’d never been in trouble during my time in prison, even when I’d been bombarded with every disadvantage I could have had. She convinced the board to grant my parole and allow me to return to society. It was the first time since everything started that someone had taken my side, and the impact nearly caused me to have a breakdown right there in front of the board.”
Cotton took a deep breath. Before my eyes, her shoulders straightened, and color filled her face. I hadn’t realized how pale she’d been until that very moment. She seemed almost lighter. Like she’d just unburdened herself just by telling me, not only her version of events, but how she’d felt through each event.
“How did you end up here? In Somerset? Do you have family here?”
She shook her head. “No. I just wanted a place where I could disappear. Be left alone. The conditions of my parole said I had to stay in Kentucky, so I had them set me up with the parole office here. They gave me enough money for a room for a month and got me into that motel. They supposedly had a job ready for me, but when I showed up the owner said he didn’t realize I’d been in for murder. And, no, he wasn’t interested in the distinction between manslaughter and murder.”
“Probably told the owner some shit to change his mind about hiring you, and put you in the path of illegal activities so you’d have a parole violation and get sent back.”
“That’s what I thought, too,” she agreed softly.
“Cotton,” I said, waiting until she met my gaze. “You’re safe here. Yeah, we’re an MC, but we have close ties with the community and have more than a little pull with local police. Cain’s reach is long and enduring. We’re not always on the right side of the law, but he knows enough dirty shit on the right people to keep anything we do from coming to light. And we’re very careful. The club has your back. More importantly, I have your back. We’ll keep you safe, and there is no fuckin’ way I’ll ever let you go back to prison.”
* * *
Cotton
Chase held my gaze for a long time after that. I could see him practically willing me to believe him. To trust him. I’m not sure I’d trusted anyone since the day Mary had been killed. It seemed like the whole world had been against me. Like I’d never be free to live my life. My childhood had been abruptly cut off and I’d started fighting for justice for my sister, then for the health and sanity of my parents. Then just to survive.
I nodded at Chase, realizing that, for the first time in a very long time, I actually believed someone when they told me they had my back. “I can’t go back to prison. I’ve done everything I’m supposed to do since I landed in prison and got my parole. I’ve stayed out of trouble. I’ve kept my head down. I got a job.”
“You did, sweetheart. And you found Bones. You found me.”
“Why do you even care? For that matter, why would Cain risk his club? I’m not worth --”
“You’re absolutely worth the risk, Cotton! Don’t ever suggest otherwise.”
To my complete and utter surprise, Chase reached for me, pulling me into his lap where we sat on the couch. I gave a surprised cry but stilled when he wrapped me up in his strong arms. He didn’t restrain me, just held me comfortably. I was so shocked, I didn’t struggle. It wasn’t the invasion of my personal space as it was the sensation. A hug.
“How long has it been since I’ve been hugged?” I hadn’t meant to say that out loud.
“Too long, apparently,” Chase rumbled. I could feel his voice vibrating through his chest. Hesitantly, I rested my head on his chest next to his shoulder. His tantalizing scent had surrounded me in our close proximity, but now, with me cradled against his chest, his strong arms around me, I was overwhelmed by him. The scent was a combination of woodsy musk, gasoline fumes, and good, clean sweat.