Chapter 30

CHAPTER THIRTY

Michael

McCallister couldn't stop apologizing when walking me into the station. Repeating how he had no choice. He had a job to do, and the feds trumped him.

Whatever.

The man did gain a few points for being careful to only hold the cuffs as he walked me in. I appreciated that.

This cell, not so much.

Five burly bikers dominate the space. You know a town rarely has crime when they have one large cage tucked away in the corner for everyone to share.

Nothing ever happens in Cromwell Town, not that the police know about anyway.

Leaning against the bars, I look into the cell, refusing to turn my back on them. The front door opens noisily behind me.

The five bikers stand to attention.

Daniel.

Only my brother could make a grown man look like he's about to piss himself that quickly.

I'm big, and my size is intimidating, but it's not the same. Daniel's dark soul shines through.

Relief fills me. I could have done this alone, but I'm glad I'm not.

Turning, I face him. "No cuffs?"

Daniel shrugs.

"They don't make them in giant size," McCallister quips.

Poor Jake, a junior officer, looks terrified as he unlocks the cell.

"What happened?"

Daniel shrugs. "Punched Cooper."

"Why?"

He shrugs again. "Needed to be here. He needed a punch."

Fair.

"The girls?"

"Kaleb."

Good, that's good.

Daniel walks farther into the cell. "You need to rest."

"I'm okay." I brush off his concern.

"They can take you for questioning any time. Sleep while you can," he insists .

My brother approaches the two bikers sitting on the lone cot. "Move," he orders.

They look at each other but quickly move. Tension fills the cell. A few feet away, the cops remain oblivious to what's happening in the secured cell. Looking at one of the computer screens that faces us, I roll my eyes.

I guess solitaire is more important than keeping their prisoners safe.

Daniel sits on one end, the metal groaning as it takes his weight. He gestures for me to take the rest of the bed.

Together, all five bikers move to the other side of the cell, none willing to get too close to us.

Shaking out of my jacket, I ball it up, lying down with it under my head near Daniel's thigh. My long legs hang off the end, but it'll do. Anything is better than standing all night. Not a second later, another jacket covers me.

"Sleep, Mikey. I got you."

The words from our past, spoken in a voice that is no longer that of a child's, cracks my chest open.

"Still?" I whisper.

A heavy hand lays on my chest, over my heart.

"Always," he swears.

I feel my eyes filling. Fuck!

Turning to my left, I face the back of the cell, blinking fast. Tucking my legs up onto the cot, I get comfortable. Now is not the time to be emotional .

The hand I just dislodged by turning adjusts his jacket.

Twenty years after joining the Cromwell family, I'm no longer that terrified seven-year-old boy, but Daniel is still here, tucking me in.

"Did Cooper cry?" I whisper.

"Too busy being unconscious," Daniel replies, the smile in his voice clear.