“I think we’re about done here,” Marcum says, and the irritation in his voice is clear.
“No, it’s okay, Marcum. The detective here is just doing his job,” I interrupt, and this time I don’t back down from the asshole. I’ll give him my story one more time, so that it’s on record again, without any changes. When they realize that I’m not going to deviate from it, then perhaps they will let go of it and the wheels will slowly start turning. I need Max home. I need him home, now. “I told you, detective; I was terrified. I was in the middle of a prison break. The prison’s guard left me unprotected. Completely unprotected. Max stepped up and saved me. I shudder to think, exactly what would have happened to me if he hadn’t. As it was, the Hernandez brothers tried to get to me. If Max hadn’t rescued me from the state’s negligence of having one, lone guard, and that guard being ill trained. I would have died—or worse. The looks you read on my face were exactly that. Max saved me that day.”
“Are you so naïve that you expect us to believe you trusted a man, a convicted felon, a murderer; to protect you, Ms. Oliver?”
“Yeah, I think we’re done here,” Marcum says, and his voice would be enough to make me back down. I’m not sure Detective De Luca is smart enough to know how close he is to danger. Then again, I’m kind of done here too. It’s clear what this detective thinks of Max. So, I decide to let him have some hard truths. Fuck this shit. I stand up, take a breath and decide to show him just a slice of the real Tess. The Tess that only Max has ever nourished and touched. The Tess that belongs to him and no one else.
“I trust Maxwell Kincaid with everything inside of me. Have you ever been in love, detective?”
Something flashes in the man’s eyes, but he makes no move to respond.
“Let me tell you exactly what kind of man Maxwell Kincaid is. He’s the man who protected me when the Hernandez brother’s tried to attack me. He’s the man who kept me safe through the swamps and kept me protected in an underground bunker while numerous convicted felons, murderers, as you so colorfully put it, were running around looking for blood. He’s the man who risked his life, to get me to his father. He’s the man who stitched my arm and saved my life after the officers that you work with, shot at me, not Max. Me. Most of all he’s a man who could have run. Who had the means and the finances to skip the country, and instead turned himself in. He’s an honest man. He’s a good man. He’s my man. So yes, detective, I not only fucking trust him, I would fucking die for him. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go to the doctor and make sure my child is healthy so that when the state of Florida gets off their ass and lets my man free, we can finally live happily.”
Marcum and I are to the door, and my hand is on the knob when the detective speaks up, and I stall for just a moment.
“That’s a pretty speech, Ms. Oliver, if I could discount the fact that Mr. Kincaid murdered someone in cold blood…”
I turn on him then. I want him to look me in the eye.
“Max is a war hero. A hero, detective. All he has ever done is shield people in his care. He went off the rails when his child was taken from him. True. I’m not denying it. He killed someone who murdered his unborn child. A child he couldn’t protect. He killed a monster that was a waste of air, and he has spent years with that knowledge, and he’s done his time. Why don’t you get off your high horse and put yourself in my fiancé’s shoes for a change, detective? I wonder, what you would do if someone you loved was ripped away from you, by a monster. What laws would the sanctimonious Detective De Luca enforce then, I wonder? Because I’m pregnant, and I know that if anyone tried to take my baby from me, I’d kill them, and fucking rejoice while doing it!” I take a deep breath, ending my ill-planned, rule-breaking speech with Max’s own words. I understand them now. I believe in them, because this man in front of me, and his colleagues, are trying to destroy my family.
The detective doesn’t say anything else. He looks almost repentant for a second. Then he moves around me and opens the door.
“I could almost agree with you, Ms. Oliver. I’m doing my job, and I could almost agree with you. Except for one small thing. We’ve had another witness come forward. Her story differs from yours, quite drastically.”
His words make my heart flip over, and fear threatens to overtake me. What is he talking about? It’s then he opens the door, and I come face to face with the woman on the other side. Jenna.
“That’s her! That’s the woman that came to the club a month ago. They’ve been living there. They paid the club a ton of money for safe passage out of the country! She was bragging how Max used the Hernandez brothers to orchestrate the prison break and then murdered them in cold blood! She even laughed about it, talking about how easy it was and how her and Max would be living the high life in Aruba in no time. That’s her, detective! That’s her!” Jenna spews at me with a self-satisfied smirk on her face. Maybe Max and I will get to stay in cells next to each other because I’m going to fucking kill her.
Marcum and I stand back as Jenna, the cum-guzzling, gutter slut sashays in, wearing more skin than clothes. She’s looking smug, and I do my best not to let my fear show. She could put a kink in our entire plan. She could very well fuck it all up, and get Max taken from me. I need to play this cool. I need to find out exactly, what the cops are up to and then when I figure out a way to fix all of this; I need to fucking end this bitch. I know why Max is the way he is. When someone threatens your family, you do what you have to do to protect them. I get it. I don’t care what society says about it.
“If we could all have a seat, I was hoping we might clear up the discrepancies between the stories. Ms. Oliver?” Detective De Luca motions me back to my seat. I sit, even knowing what this is. Cops don’t just put people together like this. They don’t trust Jenna’s story, but they have given it enough merit to start a gigantic fishing expedition, which is dangerous enough on its own, without Jenna’s added fuel. Marcum sits beside me, but he’s dangerous now. There’s a whole different vibe coming off of him. Before he was upset with the cop. Now he’s furious, and it’s all directed at one person, Jenna. She might be too stupid to know exactly, what kind of trouble she’s buying, but I’m not. Marcum might be in his fifties, but he has not mellowed one bit from the man who started the Vipers. He’s deadly.
“I’m surprised that you are listening to a club whore that’s got an axe to grind because she was tossed out on her ass,” I tell him, my mouth getting the better of me.
“Club whore? I didn’t spread my legs for a man I just met, who was locked up behind bars!”
“No, you’re right. My bad. Max turned you down. You just spread them for everyone else,” I snap back, knowing a moment of regret. I really need to get my tongue under control. I have to help Max.
“You bitch! I’ll…”
“Ladies, please,” Officer De Luca interrupts. “If we could concentrate on the matter at hand, please. Speaking of which, you seem to know an awful lot, about what is going on at the club, for a woman who wasn’t living there, Ms. Oliver.”
Shit. Shit. Shit!
“Tess is now my daughter. She lives with the club; and her and my old lady, Cherry, have become close. She knows everything that went on with Jenna. Including, that I booted her lying ass out. If this is all you’ve got detective, I think we’re done here,” Marcum says, coming to my rescue.
“Ms. Michaels is merely a person who came forward. We have to do our due diligence to solve all cases. I wasn’t aware that she had been banished from the club, however, I’ll make note,” The detective answers, not looking up as he goes back through his file.
I’m waiting for Jenna to respond. She doesn’t. I figure I know the answer when out of the corner of my eye I see Marcum raise his hand in a gun like fashion and aim it at Jenna. He acts as if he pulls the trigger and lifts his hand. Jenna goes white. Perhaps she’s not quite that clueless now. A pity she couldn’t have smartened up beforehand.
“My problem is the bodies of the Hernande
z brothers,” the detective begins again.
“I wasn’t aware they died?” I ask playing stupid. Marcum starts rubbing my back again, and I let his warmth ward off the chill surrounding my heart.
“Well, we were working under the opinion that they too had escaped and disappeared, especially after your statement. However, Ms. Michaels does paint a colorful tale about what might have really happened after the prison break when you and Mr. Kincaid were walking through the marshes. She seems to be under the impression that Mr. Kincaid shot the Hernandez brothers in cold blood. Interesting, don’t you think?”
“I think Ms. Michaels has a very colorful imagination,” I tell him standing up. Detective De Luca is definitely fishing, and I’m not about to take the bait. This interview isn’t about me giving my statement again. This interview is a straight-up witch hunt. I need to leave before I mess something up unintentionally. “I imagine when one spends the majority of their life on their back with their legs spread they have to dream up fantasies, Detective De Luca.”
“You cunt! I’ll destroy you! You think you can waltz into my old club and take everything from me that I spent years working for? Max is mine!”
I shake my head. The only good thing is that her rant just now added credence to my story. I can tell that by the look that the detective shoots her.
“I’m late for a doctor’s appointment now. If you’ll excuse me, detective, I think I’ve donated enough of my time to this.”
Marcum helps me up, and we go back to the door, not bothering to wait for the man’s response. The door is open, and I’m outside, finally breathing air that doesn’t contain Jenna when the guy finally responds.
“We’re probably done, Ms. Oliver. My men are combing through the marshlands outside the prison today. I’ve instructed them to pay close attention to areas close to your fiancé’s land.”
“It’s sad when state agencies waste taxpayer’s money, but by all means search away. Goodbye, Detective De Luca.”
I hold it together as we leave the station. I even manage to keep my cool outside of the station. It’s when we make it to Marcum’s car that I let my fear bleed through.
“Are you sure they won’t find any sign of the Hernandez brothers, Marcum?”
“Positive. Got it all handled. How about we go to that doctor’s appointment now and check on my granddaughter.”
“It could be a boy,” I tell him trying to shake off my fears.
“It could, but it won’t be. It’ll be a girl with her mama’s grit.”
I think on his answer and smile. It’s a huge compliment. Marcum likes me. I suddenly get a vision of a little girl with her daddy’s dark locks and eyes, and I like it. I like it so much, I kind of hope Marcum is right.
It’s a fucking free for all. I’m being sentenced for my escape. Nothing is going according to plan, and that’s because of one woman. Jenna. The bitch is laying low again, but only after tipping off the local news stations about the connection between the Vipers and our governor and how a deal was being brokered to get a pardon for me because I was Marcum’s kid. The governor had been steadfastly denying it, but the fucker had also kept a journal. Fucking moron. I figure my shot at getting out of here in a month, to be with my family, is gone.
I’ve seen Tess twice since I’ve been locked up and each time kills me. She visits through glass on a damn phone. I can’t touch her. I can’t hold her and every time I see those damn tears in her eyes I want to scream. Marcum is scrambling, trying to find another angle to help us, but with the governor already in hot water, that’s a long shot at best.
“After considering the facts in the case and the jury recommendations. This court is left with a conundrum, Mr. Kincaid.” The judge begins. Tess is sitting behind me. It’s the closest we’ve been, in what seems like forever. I can catch her strawberry scent in the air, and it makes me ache. Jesus, I miss her. “The court puts a lot of credence in the testimony of Tess Oliver, but the unveilings by the story and subsequent investigation that is still ongoing in the governor’s office cannot be ignored,” he continues, and it feels like my heart stops. This was what Marcum and I were both afraid of. “At the same time, upon review of not only your military record, but that of your prison record, I can’t find anywhere in there that reads you are a danger to society. But in consideration, the seriousness of your previous crime cannot be overlooked.” What the fuck does that mean? I question to myself, trying to stomp out the hope inside of me.
“Fucking hell,” Marcum mumbles behind me, and I hear shifting of bodies too. When the judge starts again with more gibberish, I look down and close my eyes…and wait for him to tell me what I really need to hear.
“I sentence you, Maxwell Kincaid, to an additional year for fleeing custody and evading arrest. To be served in addition to your previous sentence.”
I hear the cries in the courtroom, mostly Tess’s, and I hear Marcum’s cussing, but it’s all from a distance. A year in addition to my previous sentence. It might not sound like a lot of time to someone else but to me, it sounds like a fucking lifetime. A year or longer away from my child, away from Tess. Hell, my baby will be walking before I get to lay eyes on it, and there’s no guarantee it will be that soon. They had turned me down for parole repeatedly before. With this new sentence, I’m not even sure how soon I can get a parole hearing, let alone if Marcum and I can fix it, so I get parole. I can’t even marry Tess unless I do it inside a jail, and that’s not happening. Regrets are burning a hole in my gut. If I could just go back…
“Please rise,” the bailiff calls out, and I stand as if on autopilot. Tess is reaching out to me; I feel her touch on my shoulder. I’m handcuffed; I can’t take her in my arms. Her beautiful green eyes are filled with tears, and she keeps repeating how much she loves me. The deputies come to get me. My lawyer, Tracey McDonald, might look good in heels but is useless. She is spouting nonsense about appeals, and all I can do is stare at the woman I love.
“I love you, Tess,” I tell her. I do. I should have told her before now. I should have told her anywhere, but a crowded courtroom where they are dragging me away from her, and her tears and cries are between us. I should have told her sooner. It’s just another failure. “I love you, Tess,” I tell her, one more time before I turn away.
A little over four months later
Letting Max go was the single hardest thing I’ve ever done. It felt like I was cutting out my heart. It felt like I was dying. When I watched them drag him away, a part of me did die. Being without him is like losing a part of myself. I exist without Max, just going through the motions. It’s miserable.
Marcum and the club have been my lone source of sanity. Marcum moved me into the beach cottage that Max and I shared together before. He offered me Max’s house, but that wasn’t where I wanted to be. This place has memories, good memories, of my time with Max. Cherry had the boys work like crazy to fix everything the baby or I could need. We turned one of the spare rooms into a nursery, which I decorated in pinks and browns with baby animals as my theme. My favorites were the baby giraffes and hippos even though Marcum said the hippos were going to scare the hell out of his granddaughter.
Over the past few months, I’ve managed to turn this place into a home. It feels good, except Max isn’t here. It’s been hard going through this alone. Not money wise, because apparently Max fixed it so I didn’t have to worry about working. That takes some getting used to, but it’s been good. I’m not sure where I’d find the energy to work right now. The most difficult thing to experience without Max is the pregnancy. From the morning sickness to the swollen feet and bloated feeling, all the way to the increased sex drive and being tired all the time—all of that I’ve dealt with okay. It would have been nice to have Max with me though, to complain to and hold my hand. Marcum and Cherry have gone with me to every doctor’s appointment. Their support has been invaluable, but again, I wanted Max by my side. He’s missing so much. He hasn’t even got to feel the baby kick.
I kn
ew it wouldn't go as easily as Marcum and Max believed. I knew it. Life just doesn't work that smoothly. It never has. It has been almost four months since Max was sentenced. I get to see him for thirty minutes every two weeks. That's it. It's a special kind of hell being so close to him but never getting to touch him.
Max is miserable; I see it in his eyes. Sometimes I think I make it worse. With each visit, he gets more sullen and withdrawn. Today is special though. I get to see Max without the glass division between us. It took some major work from Marcum and him finessing government officials, but I get an hour to touch and hold Max. He can finally feel his daughter move. As the guard leads me to a small closed off room, I am filled with excitement and nerves. I need this to work. I need this to get through to Max; to give him hope.
The door opens, and Max is sitting at a table, looking angry. He always looks angry these days.
“I'll be right outside, Ms. Oliver. I told Marcum I'd do my best to give you an hour but if the men can't keep the supervisor busy I'll have to come in and get you early. The warden only gave us the go ahead for fifteen minutes,” the guard says.
“I understand. Thank you, Andy,” I tell him, wishing he would leave already.
“What's going on Tess?” Max asks, his voice darker than I remember.
“Marcum fixed it so we could spend our time today just the two of us.”
“Why?”
“Gee, Mad Max. I've missed you too.”
“You shouldn't be here. I told you last time, to quit coming. There's nothing here for you, Tess.
“The man I love is here. The father of my child is here, Max.”
“We were wrong, Tess. There’s no guarantee of when I’ll get out of here. Hell, our child could be in high school. Do you seriously think you can continue living like this? You need to grow up.”
“It’s just a year, Max and then…”
“And then, nothing. Don’t you get it, Kitten? I murdered someone with my bare hands. Then, I escaped. That’s all they see. That’s it. I’m just a number, another worthless piece of scum in the system. The year will come and go and then it will be just like before. A parade of parole hearings where nothing changes.”