The prison guard walked past Chief on the other side of the Cyclone fence blocking off the hallway leading into Section B. Chief stood with Graham next to the pull-up bars, hoping nobody would notice he hadn't taken his turn on exercising his upper body. He'd fucked up his shoulder putting a beat down on one of the inmates trying to fuck up Graham's release on Monday.

"I need another phone." He ran his hand down his beard, a habit he'd started over the last three years since he'd stepped behind bars and had no access to a trim.

Graham's body remained tense. "I'll tell Keeffe."

Understanding the stress Graham dealt with over the last month trying to stay alive and not get set up to add more time to his sentence, Chief tried to protect his MC brother any way he could. Without Leech, who'd walked out of prison eleven months ago, it was imperative that Graham receive his walking papers.

Every convict and his bitch tried to fuck up a rival's day of freedom. Fights were common, and contraband planting in the cell happened on a daily basis. Graham needed to stay aware and make sure he and his cage remained clean until he walked through the door.

"Are you calling your woman after yard?" Chief crossed his arms, taking the weight off his shoulder. "Tell her the good news?"

Graham exhaled loudly. "DeeDee's gone, man."

"No shit?"

Graham shrugged. "Three weeks ago. Told me she'd moved on, found someone new, and wanted to make a decent go of it. Supposedly, she'd been fucking the guy for the last year. She asked me to stop calling."

"Another Brikken member?" asked Chief.

"Nah, someone outside the club. Probably met him at the bar she works at. I didn't ask. Didn't care. I've been locked up a long time, man. I don't expect anything when I get out."

"Brikken will be there." Chief gazed around the yard.

Life on the outside was tough for those counting the years. Not many people made it out with the person they loved welcoming them home again. He masked his own worries. Over the last year, conversations with Johanna became more routine, and she'd gone back to work at the coffee house despite him telling her he wanted her home and using her energy at the club.

She'd claimed the days were too long with all the free time and keeping her mind occupied helped her deal with waiting for him to gain his freedom.

He called bullshit and put two more Brikken members on her ass to see what or who entertained her. All he'd gotten in return was info that she worked and went out with Lindsay and Ashley every Friday and Saturday night. The girls enjoyed dancing at a couple of the clubs in Tacoma.

So far, Johanna went home alone every night but the thought of someone else giving her conversation, giving her good feelings, rubbing her while dancing, giving her happiness, put him in a bad position.

If his worries materialized, he wouldn't see daylight. He'd work his rage out on every fucking inmate in Seattle Penitentiary.

The bell rang, signaling everyone back inside. He walked with Graham across the yard.

"I probably won't see you before you leave." Chief kept his stride and spoke low. "Don't take any fucking chances. I want you outside, brother. Business is picking up again. The others, they've remained steady. You take your time and then fit in where they need you. Don't get out and do something stupid. Rely on Brikken."

He stopped in line with the others. Graham held his gaze and dipped his chin. "Watch your back, Chief."

"Plan on it," he said.

Once inside, they separated without a word or look. Being the last remaining Brikken member in Seattle Penitentiary filled him with pride for his club. The captain goes down with the ship, or some such bullshit brought satisfaction.

Almost three hundred members, carrying on business, breathing fresh air, and he was the only one locked up. His sons were free and taking on club responsibilities that if he'd been on the outside, he would've handled himself. He was proud of his boys.

He turned down the hallway and lined up to make a call. There were three pay phones lined up on the wall. Each prisoner received fifteen minutes per call. If he got in line early, he had a chance to get back in line, wait his hour, and make another call. It seldom worked out, but he always tried. Running a club from inside the prison meant constant contact with his men. Going two or three days between contact brought more problems. He needed another cell phone brought in for him to use. He'd burned through at least eight of them over the last three years.

Thirty minutes later, he stepped up to the phone. Behind him, fucking Alvarez reached around him and grabbed the receiver before he'd even raised a hand. Not wanting to draw attention from the guard, he said, "Keep your hand there, and I'll stick a fucking knife in your heart when you sleep."

"You and who else?" said Alvarez. "The way I see it, your motivation is walking out the door on Monday."

He reached up and covered the man's hand on the phone and squeezed. Alvarez's grunt of pain reached his ears. "I'm going to let go, and you're going to walk off."

He squeezed hard, feeling a snap, and let go. Sure that Alvarez carried a broken or dislocated finger with him when he walked away, he lifted the phone and made his call.

He counted the rings, knowing Johanna's cell phone voicemail picked up on the fifth ring. After the fourth, he turned his face toward the wall to hide his anger when a breathless Johanna answered.

"Busy?" he asked, irritated.

"I was blow drying my hair." She breathed heavily over the phone. "It's A's birthday tomorrow, so L and I are going to take her out to the club tonight to celebrate."

"Make sure you call V.P. and have him send someone to escort you home," he said, knowing she'd already be covered, but needing her to think about what she was doing.

"Mm-hm."

He waited, and she stayed quiet. "Bug?"

"Yeah?"

"Monday, G's coming home. It'd be nice if you planned something later in the week for him with the family."

"That's right. I almost forgot." Her voice picked up in volume. "I'll do that. I bet he's excited. Did you hear that, um, his woman, left him?"

"He told me."

"Such a bummer. I liked her. She used to hit the coffee house a couple times a week. Her daughter, I think she's around fifteen, looks exactly like her. Have you ever met her? Was she living with her mom when you were around or still staying with her dad?"

He closed his eyes almost able to imagine her putting on makeup in front of the mirror, the phone at her ear, and her mouth open as she put shit on her lashes. "I've met her."

"Oh. I forgot to tell you last time I talked to you. NN—that NN— has been staying at the club with...shit, I forgot. NN has been staying at the club with S...I don't know his last name. I think it starts with an H. Do you know who I'm talking about?"

He gritted his teeth, picking up on the clues. Nene was staying at the clubhouse with Skidd. "They're free to be with who they want."

"I didn't know if that still went for NN." She paused. "She still lives in one of your houses when she's not at the clubhouse."

"It's her right." He planted his hand on the wall and leaned over the base of the phone, lowering his head for privacy. "Bug, stop for a second and listen to me."

"Okay."

"What do I ask you to remember?" he whispered.

"That you love me."

He swallowed. "What do you say?"

"I love you, too."

The recording picked that moment to break in with the warning that the call would be disconnected in five minutes. He fisted his hand. If he only had five minutes, face to face, he'd make sure Johanna understood how much she meant to him, and that nothing had changed during his incarceration.

"Are you there?"

"I'm here." He straightened. "I'm working on making this happen more often. You and me talking. You need to hang tight for a little longer."

"Okay."

"Do me a favor and have V.P. transfer whatever is left in G's JPay's account over to mine. I don't want the fucking prison getting the extra," he said.

"Sure, do you need anything else? I can order some more books for you."

"Nah, I've been working out more lately." He'd kept news of his injury away from her.

Silence fell between them. She wasn't only his taste of freedom, but his spring, summer, fall, winter. His fresh air in a world where taking his next breath wasn't guaranteed.

Greedy for conversation, he said, "Are you taking care of yourself?"

Biting back the real questions about if she was thinking of him, if she fought her doubts and still believed in them, he gritted his teeth. Sweat coated his back under his rank prison uniform. He needed to know if she still loved him as much as she had before the handcuffs were slapped on his wrists.

"Between work and dealing with the problems that arise with the women of the...family, I fall into bed each night." She laughed softly. "Only three more months of working at the coffee house and I've earned three days of vacation time. They don't even give me a week for being there a year, which is crazy unfair. Oh, and I don't get to add on the time I worked before I quit. They started counting fresh when they rehired me, so it all kind of sucks."

A rush of urgency hit him knowing the phone would disconnect, he said, "Be careful tonight, bug."

Fuck. He worried. Losing herself. Losing him. He couldn't let that happen.

"I will."

"Watch how much—"

The dial tone of the disconnected call filled his ear.

Son of a bitch. He hung up the dead receiver and walked straight to his cell. There was no use standing in line tonight for another chance at the phone. Johanna would be gone with her girlfriends, and in two days Graham could inform Keeffe of his message.

He couldn't fucking wait to get out of here.