Chapter 60

The One With A New Boss

NATE

I stand at the gate, waiting for the buzzer. I drag on my cigarette as I wait and eventually after maybe a minute and a half, I hear the familiar noise and the gate begins to slowly move before me. I kill the cigarette against the pavement, carefully holding my bag of belongings close to my body.

A smile stretches across my lips as I admire how blue the sky is today and I take a deep inhale, somehow feeling as if the air is suddenly fresher. It doesn’t make sense, I know that, but it just does.

I guess it’s one of those things built into the whole being a free man thing.

When the metal in front of me has finally ceased movement, I take a mere three steps forward until I’m on the opposing side and turn to watch as it starts up again. I’m now facing the prison I called home for nearly two months as a man who has been cleared of all charges and let go to be a normal citizen once again.

Let’s just say, it’s a far fucking stretch from a week and a half ago when tear-drop tattoo and his mates beat the piss out of me, nearly breaking my nose in the process.

I open my bag, picking through some of the items. The first thing I grab is my phone and I attempt to turn the device on, but of course, the battery has died after all this time. I stuff it into my pocket, along with my wallet.

The next thing my fingers find is the ring box. I open it for a second—a large diamond gleaming back at me—before shoving that into my jacket pocket. I don’t want to think about it, about where things stand between Arielle and I.

How I’m finally free from prison and she isn’t here waiting for me because I forced her not to.

A horn honks and I turn on my heel to see who’s arrived to pick me up. I’m shocked to see a sleek, black limo park and I observe as the driver removes himself, scurrying to the back door to open it. “Mr. Carter,” he greets me, still holding the door ajar, “Please, have a seat. We have a long drive ahead.”

A shiver runs down my spine, having a feeling I know who is sitting in the depths of that limo. It’s like the driver is beckoning me through the gates of hell to meet with the devil himself.

However, it’s not exactly like I have much of an option, here.

I carefully crawl into the depths of hell, sitting myself inside. I place my bag of belongings at my side, and look up at the man sitting across from me.

Ezra’s cold, blue eyes find mine behind a cloud of cigar smoke. He grins, evilly so, and adjusts himself on his seat as he waits for the driver to close the door. When he does, Ezra speaks up, “Nate, I’d say you look good coming out of a two-month prison stint but you look a bit worse for wear.” He signals to his eye as he talks, reminding me of the fact that I have two black eyes still fading from my attack.

“Kinda’ part of the whole prison thing,” I explain as I attempt to decipher where this is going.

I mean, I have a faint idea, but you never know with Ezra Sullivan. It’s possible I’ve just willingly walked into the place where I’ll die.

“Mm,” he hums in agreement with the cigar between his lips. “You think it was just a random thing? Squabble between inmates?”

I cock my head for a moment, suspicious. “What are you expecting me to say, Ezra?”

He shrugs his shoulders. “I’m not expecting anything, Nate. Just asking a question.”

My eyes narrow and I run a hand along my jawline. “Probably ‘cause I’m brown,” I admit to him. “My cellmate and his mates didn’t exactly like me.”

He nods his head, as if his white, rich, old man self could ever relate.

He studies me, crossing one leg over the other and then proceeding to fix a wrinkle in his slacks. “Let me ask you a question, Nate.” He pauses for effect. “Do you think I’m the reason you went to prison?”

I’ll admit, I’ve had my suspicions. I mean, who wouldn’t with a guy like Ezra around? The dudes a living, breathing piece of shit.

However, ever since I’ve been in here, I’ve had this premonition that it was fucking QuickDraw. He’s the one with a close relationship with cops—he is one, for fuck’s sake—and he’s the one that has the biggest bone to pick with me. Arielle chose me over him and he’s never been able to get over it. He’s been obsessed with her ever since. It seems more than simply coincidental that right after Arielle ceased all contact with him, I end up in prison for seven fucking years.

He’s a coward, we all know that. And what’s more cowardly than sending me off to prison? Instead of dealing with this shit face to face, he snuck behind my back like the snake he is. He knew if we fought, I’d beat the fuck out of him for ever doing anything to Arielle.

However, even if I did think Ezra was the reason I lost two months of my life, I’d never tell him to his face. Lucky for me that I don’t believe he had anything to do with it.

“No,” I admit. “It was Hayes.”

“Ah, so Arielle told you everything then?”

I pause, confused. Obviously, Arielle learned something after I completely broke it off with her. Of course she did, she probably never gave up.

“No,” I tell him.

“She never told you about Langley’s journal? The break in? The photo with the judge?”

I immediately sit up straight. “What fuckin’ break in? Did someone break into her house?”

“No, Hayes broke into your house. Before you went in,” he informs me.

The panic I was feeling subsides. However, the rage, does not.

“The fuck are you talking about? Why would he break into my place? How would he have even done it when you had Langley watching my ass nonstop so I couldn’t leave the house?”

Ezra doesn’t answer my questions. He simply reaches over to a compartment and opens it, removing a small journal. He tosses the item at me and tells me to flip to a certain date.