Chapter 7

So, Dylan had said something about the guy’s name being Butch. Riley couldn’t say that he knew every guard in that place by name, but it wasn’t like he could ask, or he’d set some alarms blaring. That was the last thing he wanted; however, the asshole that had dared to put his hands on his woman had to be taught a lesson. Hmm, it looked like he had to remind himself where he had come from and some of the things he had done to get as far as he was today. It couldn’t be hard; teaching bad men a lesson or two was like riding a bicycle – once learned, never forgotten.

He teased a rebel strand of Dylan’s hair and pushed it behind his ear. Then, he snuck one hand to grab the guy by his round ass, all the while his eyes roaming the place like he was bored. Dylan made a small sound in his throat, most probably not knowing what to make out of that open display of physical attention in a space as open as that.

Two guards snickered and looked at them, but it seemed like they couldn’t be bothered to move their fat asses and break them up. Except for the sometimes planned, sometimes random acts of violence erupting now and then, prison life tended to be dull and subject to routine. Especially guards couldn’t be made to do more than their usual load of work.

Dylan tried to push against Riley’s chest for a moment, and then he thought better of it. His heart was beating fast, and Riley could feel it as he held his prison bitch close to his chest. Any moment now, someone was bound to intervene, and then he’ll know.

“You two, break it out,” a nasty voice called out to them.

Dylan’s startled reaction was one sign, but Riley needed more than that. “Yes, sir,” he drawled and pushed Dylan slightly away.

The gorilla that came marching straight to them used his baton, resting it against Riley’s chest. “O’Connor, I don’t care what kind of big shot you think you are outside, but now, you’re inside, and you need to fucking behave.”

Riley put both hands up and offered a plastic smile. “Duly noted, sir. Just got carried away for a bit, is all.”

The gorilla tapped the baton on Riley’s chest, hard enough to make his point. “Well, make sure you don’t get carried away again, or we’re going to put you in the hole, with nothing but your hand as company. And who knows what might happen to your bitch while you’re away?” The guy turned his head to look at Dylan.

The blond’s face told him everything he needed to know.

“I could take care of her for you, you know.” The guard’s voice dropped, and Dylan pulled away when the man tried to touch his face. “For the right price.”

“It’s alright. We’ll stick to the rules from now on,” Riley said in a cheerful tone while eyeing the man’s name on the tag carefully.

The guard finally moved away. Dylan threw him a murderous look.

“What?” Riley asked and made an innocent face.

Dylan pouted. “Don’t ‘what’ me, asshole. That was--”

“Don’t say it, sweetie. For the outside world, you’re a dumb bitch, remember?”

Dylan stared him in the eye and then nodded. “Yeah,” he said softly and looked away.

Cashel dragged his feet and fiddled with his suitcase, stopping to push his glasses up on his nose a few times, the picture of clumsiness incarnate. Riley observed his old-time friend without saying a word while Cashel pulled some papers out and spread them on the table. Within earshot, it was easy to observe a few guards.

“Give it to me straight, man,” Riley said, making a face like he was worried. “How long am I going to spend in this hellhole? Lola keeps pestering me that she’s not going to wait forever.”

“Miss Jones needs to be patient, just as you,” Cashel offered and examined his papers with so much pedantic attention that it almost fooled Riley, too. “I told you from the start that was all I could do for you.”

“Bah.” Riley leaned back in his chair. “I have no idea why I’m paying you so much. It’s like the only thing you’re good at is taking my money.”

“Mr. O’Connor,” Cashel said with a suffering sigh, “I believe it’s time to accept the situation. And, as far as your business is concerned, your manager is in charge of everything, right?”

Through the glasses, Cashel’s eyes seemed comically large, but that shrewd look told Riley that he hadn’t been wrong about Lola. Hmm, so she and the manager. Go fucking figure.

“Yeah. Listen,” Riley moved closer and leaned over the table, “about Angel’s Wish. I need you to put together all the paperwork needed so that I can sell it.”

“Sell it? Are there any problems I should be aware of, on the business side of things?”

“Eh, I need the funds.”

“What for, if I may ask?” Cashel pursed his lips like a schoolmarm displeased from the moment of birth.

“Lola wants a ring. It’s time for me to grow up. Angel’s Wish was the first club I’ve ever opened. I just want to move on. And give Lola the wedding she’s dreaming of.”

Riley could tell, without looking, that the guards were listening in to every word exchanged.

“That sounds commendable. Of course, as your lawyer, I’d like to warn you against making a sale right now, but who am I to stand in the way of you finally turning into a family man? Alright, I’ll talk to your manager if you haven’t already.”

“Please, do it for me,” Riley said in a sugary voice. Someone was about to understand what it meant to overplay his hand. That fat motherfucker had always skimmed the milk, but to think that he was also porking Lola on the side, that was damn brazen. One thing Riley couldn’t stand was a man who didn’t know his fucking place.

“Well, I understand that this is actually why you wanted to talk to me, not your stay here. You could have done it over the phone, though.”

“What can I say, man? I’m a romantic at heart. And, you know, you’re invited to the wedding.”

Cashel shook his head, took off his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose as if he was overwhelmed by sudden feelings, and then put them back. “That’s very nice of you, Mr. O’Connor.”

“Now, about my relatives. I want to make the big announcement, but I want to take them by surprise, too. I mean, I want to put things in motion while I’m still here, but it’s still a while until I’m out.”

“Very good, very good, it goes without saying,” Cashel hurried to say and began to gather his papers. “I’ll see to it in complete secrecy. Are you going to tell Miss Jones about your plans?”

“The next time I see her.”

“The next conjugal, right?”

Riley winced. “I haven’t been the nicest boy, so I don’t dare to ask for more of those. But she’s going to come visit soon. I’ll tell her.”

“She’ll be very happy, without a doubt.”

“Over the moon. It’s nice to know I can make her happy for a change.”

Oh, yes, that was exactly his plan. Bitches should have known better than try to fool him out of his money. Dylan was a much more honest bitch than those who he had been supposed to trust. All in due time. He wasn’t called Cobra for no reason.

Dylan tried to keep a low profile as much as he could. After that incident when Butch had intervened to push him and Riley apart, he had been looking over his shoulder more often than not. Just the day before, he had offered Martinez the info Riley had told him to say, something minor but true, and the guard had seemed pleased. At least, he didn’t have to deal with the warden. Dylan was scared of the man; Riley had told him how the warden had threatened him, and he couldn’t stop thinking that there was something Riley was leaving out for his sake.

It took him a couple of moments and the special sense he had come to develop since he had been locked in there to realize that someone was standing in his way. When he raised his eyes, his breath caught in his throat. Because of his position as Riley’s personal toy, most inmates left him alone, which meant that he could walk almost everywhere without fear that he would get jumped. Well, that was the theory, because Dylan knew better. While he had much preferred to stay glued to Riley’s side all the time, he understood why they needed to show that Dylan wasn’t Cobra’s underbelly.

James, his former owner and still the head of The Niners, measured him with cold eyes and smiled. “Your lover boy is getting married, people say.”

“That’s his business,” Dylan said and tried to move past the guy. Married? What was this fucker talking about?

“That means that your loose cunt convinced him for good that he shouldn’t have even considered giving up on real pussy for the likes of you.”

It had to be some sort of lie, but Dylan still felt the insult going through. “Think whatever. Now, just let me pass.”