CHAPTER 8
ONE YEAR AGO
Jasper Connor sat across from Darla Lovell and Whitey Smith. His normally chiseled face was sunken in from the stress of the trial. He leaned his elbows up on the cold metal table and rested his brow on the heel of his palms. Jasper was exhausted.
“Well Darla, you gave it your best shot. Hopefully we can appeal the case.”
Whitey was the first to speak at this meeting which was being held immediately after Jasper was fully processed.
“Don’t worry, kid. We’ll figure out how to get you out of this.”
Whitey draped his big tattooed arm across the back of Darla’s chair as he stretched his six foot long body out. His legs spanning across the floor under the table and bumping Jasper’s. Whitey shot Jasper a reassuring wink.
“Figure it out. Yeah.” Jasper just shook his head at the thought. He was found guilty and being sentenced to death but they’ll “figure it out”.
Jasper, however, wasn’t the kind of guy to just give up and even though Darla hadn’t done her best (and he knew it), he would find his own way out. Jasper couldn’t even look at Darla’s face. She threw that case like a boxer getting paid to go down in the 2nd round. The only thing he couldn’t figure out is why. Jasper knew there was more going on between Whitey and Darla than just attorney-client privilege. He also knew that Whitey was the one behind Lucas’ murder but what he didn’t know was why. Why had Whitey served him a death sentence over Lucas Jackson?
Darla spoke up now.
“I’ve already filed an appeal. Jasper, don’t lose hope. Sometimes these cases are complicated and they will not push the death penalty until there’s a body. I’ll make sure of that.”
Jasper looked up at her when she spoke the words, and in his mind he knew she was implying was that she would make sure they killed him. His eyes fell on her lips which were turned into a wry smile. He knew something more was going on. Jasper also noticed that when Whitey draped his arm around Darla’s chair, she seemed to settle back into it and she touched her ring, a large sapphire that glinted in the shitty green tinted prison light.
Jasper motioned to the ring with his finger.
“That’s pretty, Darla. Is it new?”
Whitey glared at Jasper knowing full well what he was doing. Whitey was a smart guy and he'd known Jasper since he was a kid. He practically raised Jasper himself. Whitey nudged Darla with his thumb against her back.
“Darla … let’s get out of here and go back to the office. Maybe we can put our heads together and figure out how to get this kid out of here.”
His eyes were on Jasper’s the whole time he spoke. Jasper knew how to translate those words. What Jasper really heard was: Darla … let’s get out of here and go fuck so I can get you to do all of my evil bidding, legally. Whitey had it all going for him, even at 49; he was good looking, rugged. He had enough tattoos to make him look tough but not enough to make him look like an outright criminal. He was still fit and he had a big cock that he knew how to use – and he used it for whatever he needed. That cock broke up many a marriage in this city and the men never came after Whitey. They would just leave their wives in the dust knowing they probably got off easy. It was usually a message from Whitey: “Just fucked your wife. Next time, it’ll be you.” For Whitey, it was like a fetish. He’d screw all the wives of the men that owed him something big – either money or a favor and he knew just how to scare them enough and mess with their heads before it got outright ugly.
Jasper just nodded as Whitey and Darla both rose from the table. He watched them go, and just before Whitey let the door close behind him, he stuck his head back in to speak only to Jasper. “Don’t fuck with me kid or you’ll find yourself a seat in the chair sooner than you know it. Now go make nice and find a wife.” Then he shut the door and disappeared.
*
Georgie, the prison guard and Jasper’s good friend, brought him back to his cell. It was a quiet walk. Jasper and Georgie grew up together. Georgie was even part of the MC, but he kept his involvement to a minimum, in order to keep his job. Anyone that knew him, knew he was part of the club, but only as a part-time recreational rider. The truth was that Georgie was a legacy. He had a line of family members that were deeply imbedded in the Brass Bond MC , but it worked out for everyone that Georgie himself kept a low profile. He was one of their tools inside the prison. Now, Jasper needed him just as much as the MC did, and Georgie did a good job walking a fine line between prison guard, MC Brother, and friend to Jasper; but it was getting tougher. Georgie fully expected that one day Whitey would make a call, and Georgie would have to fulfill a specific request when it came to Jasper … and he was not looking forward to that day at all.
Once Georgie tucked Jasper back in he looked around. Seemingly, they were alone with exception of the surveillance.
“You ok, Brother?”
Jasper looked up at Georgie and nodded.
“Hey, do me a favor. See if you can get me some paper and a pen or pencil, or whatever. I need to write a letter.” Georgie nodded and took off, leaving Jasper to formulate a plan. If he was going to get himself out of here without getting himself killed by the Brass Bonds Brotherhood, then he needed to think things through, and the first piece of the puzzle he had to figure out was Darla and Whitey.