One Chance, Fancy (Bear Bottom Guardians MC 5)

Phoebe’s eyes shone with laughter. “She had some pretty good suggestions. You don’t want to be waterboarded with my pussy?”

The thought of her sitting on my face was quite the image.

But, since we were entering the front doors of the prison, where we would soon be in an entirely unsafe domain, I didn’t rise to the bait.

Instead, I put my game face on.

“It’s creepy how you practically change the moment you walk in this door. You’re so serious,” she teased.

I looked down at her and said, “If I’m not serious, then they think it’s okay to do what they want…and it’s not.” I paused. “And the state is here. About to leave from what I can tell. They’ve found nothing, according to my guards. If they can successfully leave in the next twenty minutes without any incidents, then I won’t have to deal with them for another year.”

Her snort had a grin kicking up the corner of my mouth. A grin that slid off the moment that I continued to walk through the front door.

There were a lot of people here for family day. More than there ever was.

Though, that likely had to do with the fact that family day had been canceled twice now due to riots and or fights that had broken out over the last couple of weeks.

Family day was a privilege. If the inmate population didn’t cooperate with me, then I wasn’t willing to give them anything for their bad behavior.

“There are a lot of people here,” Phoebe breathed.

“Yeah,” I said. “This is the first family day in three weeks.”

She made a sound under her breath.

I tugged on her hand and made my way to the front of the line, nodding my head at Wheeler, who was manning the first station that checked bags and personal belongings.

Everyone, even me, went through the entire process as they got into the building.

First, belongings were checked and tickets were given out for when they left and wanted to reclaim their items. Second, they went through a metal detector. Third, they went through the pat down.

Finally, they were allowed inside only after they passed through all three stations.

From there they were all allowed into a room that was separated by a bullet-proof, riot-proof, clear plexiglass-type barrier. Stations were all set up that had phones on either side of the station connected to long wires. There weren’t any chairs, though. At least not on the inmates’ end. The good end got stools.

There definitely weren’t enough stations for the number of people that were here, though.

“Boss,” Wheeler said, nodding his head. “Got anything for me?”

I didn’t. “Nope.”

“What about you, darlin’?” Wheeler asked Phoebe.

“I have some stuff you can check since I’m the one that’s been standing in line for the last thirty-four minutes,” a snotty woman who looked like she had seen a hard life said.

I gave her a look. “You’re also not staff here, so do with that what you will.”

The woman’s lip curled up, revealing stained, chipped teeth.

“I pay my taxes.” She sniffed.

“I—”

Phoebe interrupted us. “I don’t, Wheeler. Thank you.”

It was honestly easier not to bring anything in. The only thing I brought in with me were my keys and phone. Everything else I left outside in my saddlebags—and more recently, my truck.

“Bitch.”

I stiffened all over again and was about to respond to the rude cow of a woman a second time when Phoebe clenched her hand onto mine and announced loudly, for all three guards at each station to hear, say, “Bayou and I are engaged!”

I felt something in my chest soar at the excitement in her words.

I also liked the fact that each of my guards were fucking happy about it.

“Well, then.” Wheeler grinned as he gestured us to move along. “That right there deserves some cake in the breakroom, right?”

Snorting, I allowed Phoebe to lead me through each security checkpoint, receiving good-natured jibes as we went, and finally arrived at the long hallway that would lead me to my office, and Fancy to her hallway that would lead her deeper into the prison, to the infirmary.

Something in my gut clenched at the thought of her being too far away from me, but I put it up to worry at the few phone calls I’d received from Ilsa this morning promising retribution for the papers I filed against her for permanent custody of Isa with Ilsa’s termination of rights.

“Take care of yourself, baby,” I ordered, pulling her into my chest.

She pressed a kiss to my chin, then pushed away. “I will. You, too.”

Winking at her, I watched her walk away, then gave Rome, who was on infirmary duty today, a look that clearly said ‘take care of her.’

He nodded once, understanding the warning look in my eyes, and opened the bars that separated that wing from mine with a nod at the man in the guard station. Thomas waited for Phoebe to pass through and then closed them with a loud clang.