Beth
Two weeks after watching Hank almost beat someone to death, Beth still felt haunted by it. She hadn't known what direction the evening would go in after taking him into the bathroom with her, but she certainly hadn't expected to see him fly into a frenzy and pummel a man mercilessly just twenty minutes later.
Beth had seen her share of bar fights—she spent most of her free time with the Carnage Warriors, and they hadn't exactly earned that name based on their skills in bake-offs and quilting bees. But she'd never seen such a savage and uncontrolled display before, and she knew that if the other bikers hadn't pulled Hank off, he'd have killed the man for sure.
She knew she should be frightened of Hank after seeing him like that, but the worst part was, it had made her feelings for him even stronger. She'd heard the conversation at the bar, and she understood the rage that had driven Hank to tear the man apart. She knew how horrible he must have felt, listening to someone talk about abusing their family on the anniversary of the night he'd lost his own.
The way he'd looked right through her before attacking the man had made her heart hurt for him. He'd been able to forget his grief, just for a few precious minutes. And then it had all come charging back at him when his defenses were down.
Part of her even felt responsible for what had happened. If she hadn't taken him to the bathroom, maybe he'd have gone home and slept it off instead. Or maybe he'd have stayed at his table, out of earshot from the men at the bar. Maybe, in trying to relieve his suffering, she'd only succeeded in making him more sad and confused and angry.
But no. Instead, she'd been too busy trying to scratch the itch she'd had for him since she'd first met him. And just when she'd finally done it—just when she'd finally felt real happiness, after suffering in silence for so many years—he was taken away from her to face a serious aggravated assault charge.
She'd wanted to visit Hank at the county jail, but Bib had strictly ordered her not to. She was afraid that Bib blamed her for all of this somehow.
And today, on her day off from the deli counter, Bib had called her and told her to come meet him at Tucker's Garage—the Warriors' unofficial club house. She agreed to see him, but as she hung up, she worried about what awaited her.
Would he yell at her? Accuse her of fucking with Hank's head and depriving the MC of one of its most valuable members? He'd encouraged her that night, but Bib's moods could be mercurial. Who knew what he was thinking and feeling now?
She walked into the cavernous garage, surrounded by the sounds of engines, power tools, and curses from frustrated mechanics. Bib saw her and immediately waved her into the back office. She followed him in, and he shut the door behind her.
“So first of all, how are you holding up?” he asked softly. “Still shaken up by the thing at the bar?”
His concern caught her off guard. “Yes, actually.”
Bib nodded. “I can't imagine how rough that must've been for you, hon. You finally get a little taste of happiness, and then you have to watch...that. You probably think I'm a real peckerwood for telling you not to visit Hank at the jailhouse, too. Do you still have feelings for him?”
Again, Beth found herself surprised by the question. “Uh-huh.”
“You want to see him again? Show your support for him through all this?”
“I do.” She wondered where this was going. She'd been prepared for a lecture, even a fight, but not this level of earnestness.
“Okay. Good. We'll get to that in a minute. Tell me—if you could find a gig that tripled what you make at the grocery store, plus full benefits, would you want that?”
Beth frowned. What did her job have to do with anything? “I guess I would. I mean, I'm pretty sick of working the deli counter, living in a shitty studio, and never having enough money for anything.”
“I thought so. See, I've been talking to our lawyer, and there's no two ways about it—Hank's going down for this beating. There's just too many witnesses, and zero chance of pleading self-defense, obviously. Worst of all, the judge and the State's Attorney know damn well what kind of shit Hank's done for the club in the past, even if he's never been arrested or convicted for any of it. So now that they've got him, they're gonna throw the fucking book at him. He's gonna serve two years, at least.
“The one piece of good news,” Bib continued, “is that we've got a guy on the inside at the courthouse, and he can tell us exactly where the judge will send Hank—specifically, Bluebonnet.”
Beth's breath caught in her throat. Bluebonnet was a maximum-security facility, known as one of the toughest prisons in the state. The thought of Hank spending two years there quickened her heartbeat with panic.
“We've got some Warriors who are already doing time up there, including Speed Bump, our former Sergeant-at-Arms,” Bib said. “But we've been thinking about having someone who's loyal to us apply for a job as a guard, just to help watch our guys' backs. With this whole Hank thing going on, you seem like the perfect person for the job. You'll be able to see him whenever you want, bring in stuff he needs, and report back to us on how he's doing in there. That's why I haven't wanted you to go visit him—so no one will know you've got any prior connection to him.”
Beth considered this. She had to admit that it sounded like a solid plan, and she loved the idea of being able to see Hank regularly and support him while he was serving his time. And if she could make his sentence easier by doing special favors for him, well, why not?
“Okay,” she said. “But what does it take to become a guard?”
Bib smiled. “Not a lot, as it turns out. You've already got your GED. Since Bluebonnet's not a federal joint, you won't need any college credits or special experience. You just apply online, and they'll interview you a couple of times. From what I understand, as long as you don't insult the interviewer's mother or accidentally set the office on fire, you'll get the job—they're desperate for corrections officers. Then you pass a drug test, take a three-week course which includes physical training, and boom, you're in.”
“Wouldn't it be scary, though?”
Her uncle shrugged. “What's to be scared of? The inmates are behind bars. You're the one with the badge and baton, so you've got all the power. Pretty much all the bad shit that happens inside is between cons. The last time a CO got seriously injured up in Bluebonnet was over fifteen years ago, and that was because of a riot, which almost never happens.”
The more Beth thought about it, the more the idea appealed to her. She wanted to be kissed and held by Hank again without waiting two years, and this seemed like her only chance. Tripling her current income was a nice thought, too. She'd be twenty-five before she knew it, and that felt a little old to still be wearing an apron to work and slicing lunch meats for minimum wage.
“But don't they run a background check on applicants? You and I are related, so connecting me to the MC wouldn't exactly be difficult.”
Bib grinned, reaching into the desk drawer and producing some paperwork. “Their background checks are half-assed. And you'll have these.”
Beth scanned the fake ID, birth certificate, Social Security card, and GED. The name on all of them was “Bethany D'Amato.”
She took a deep breath and nodded.
“Okay. Go to the application website on your computer, and let's do this.”
Hang in there, Hank, she thought. We'll be together again soon.