How West Was Won (Haven, Texas 7)

he wouldn’t fail Flick. So, yeah, when he’d first seen Flick’s bruised face, when he’d realized she’d been hurt, he’d known he was going to help her. Because of Lana. But hearing her story, everything she’d been through, and knowing that even after all that she could still walk around with a smile on her face shocked him. And it had shown him how strong she was.

He admired her.

He wanted to help her.

And he was never going to let some bastard hurt her again.

Jake looked up at him. There were dark marks under his eyes.

“Shit, didn’t you get any sleep?” West asked, taking the seat across the desk from him.

“Could ask the same of you,” Jake replied. “Coffee?”

“No. All cop station coffee I’ve ever had tastes like shit.”

“Not going to ask how you have firsthand knowledge of that,” Jake muttered, standing and walking over to the coffee machine. He poured himself a cup and turning, leaned against the counter behind him.

“Can’t let you see him, West.”

West crossed his arms over his chest. “You can.”

Jake sighed, ran his hand over his face. “He’s got his bail hearing in a few hours.”

“You and I both know he’ll easily make bail,” West said. “So I can have this conversation with him here or wherever he goes when he leaves here.”

Jake leaned forward at the threat. “You cannot seek him out once he’s out of here.”

“Then let me talk to him now. There are a few things I need to make clear.”

“Fuck,” Jake said under his breath. “I let you in there, you’ve got to promise me you won’t contact him later. You could damage the case against him.”

“You let me talk to him, he doesn’t go after Flick, then I won’t go looking for him,” West replied.

“You’re gonna talk to him through the cell bars. I won’t have him touched.”

“He deserves it. He deserves to feel the pain she has over and over. Every time he hit her.” His hands clenched into fists.

“That, right there, is why I don’t want to let you near him.” Jake pointed a finger at him. “Rein it in, West. You can’t go in there like this.”

West smiled. It wasn’t a nice sort of smile. Jake’s eyes narrowed.

“Consider it reined in,” West told him smoothly.

“Yeah, right. Only reason I’m agreeing to this is to keep you out of further trouble. Got it?” Jake ran his hand over his face. “Fucking Malones, all a pain in my ass. Give me a few minutes.”

West waited in the office until Jake came back for him. It was still early enough that most of his deputies weren’t in. He followed Jake down the hallway to where the three cells were. Most of the time, there was no one in them.

He didn’t have long to talk, he needed to get back to Flick and take her in for an X-ray on her shoulder. She’d still been asleep when he’d left. He’d asked Mia to check in on her and help her get dressed.

He would have helped her do that himself, but he knew that definitely wasn’t a good idea, for either of them.

“Back cell, five minutes, I’m waiting right here,” Jake warned from the doorway at the end of the corridor.

West just nodded. He only needed two minutes. He strode down until he reached Spencer. Flick’s brother had her hair. It was dark, slightly messy, and in need of a cut. There was stubble on his cheeks, and he was going gray.

He sat in his wheelchair, facing West. “And who might you be? The sheriff’s letting in visitors now? How kind of him.” His voice was calm. But West could see a fine tremble in his hands as he wheeled his chair closer.

“Bet you’re dying for a drink right about now, huh?” West asked. He leaned back against the opposite wall, arms crossed over his chest. His relaxed attitude was all an act, and it was taking a great deal of control to pull it off.