Chapter Three

"Hi."

I shake my head like maybe I can get rid of this disturbing hallucination that feels as if an icepick has pierced straight through my heart. Did she just say… "Hi" to me?

"What the fuck?" I repeat my words except, this time, they're stronger, edgier, as I take a step back from what can only be proof that I'm losing my fucking mind.

"You need to calm down or else they're going to end the visit," she whisper-yells.

Is she fucking serious right now? She's scolding me?

Burying my hands in my overgrown hair, I pull on the roots, only two seconds away from ripping every strand from my scalp.

"I need to calm down, she says." I freeze and stare at her, wondering if I'm sleeping. Dreaming? Am I? Dreaming, that is. If so, why am I wasting precious time questioning it all?

"They took your tongue piercing." Shaking my head at the randomness of it all, I scoff at her words.

"Yeah, well, that's what happens when you're arrested." I fucking hate it, too. The piercing was the first thing I got done when I patched in so I've had this one for almost nine years. It's weird and disturbing not having it and when I get out, I'll have to get it pierced again since I can feel it closing up. But that's completely off topic and she fucking knows it.

With only two steps, I'm facing her again, my palms pressed against the table separating us. Closing my eyes, I inhale long and deep until the sweet, sweet scent of my babydoll invades every single molecule in my body. Cherries. My addiction, my salvation. My pain and my destruction. She's all of these things. Where only a few months ago, smelling the comfort of cherries was a balm to my soul, today, it also brings with it the memories of losing her.

"Aleko, please. Sit down." I raise a brow at the bossy edge to her voice and I swear to fuck I'm about to have a Groundhog's Day in this very visiting room with the same fucking chair flying at the same fucking wall.

"How is this possible?" I shake my head again because it is not fucking possible. "You died in my arms. You weren't breathing. You were cold and… and dead at the morgue. I fucking saw you there."

"Yeah, that wasn't supposed to happen." Narrowing my eyes at her mumbled words, I feel like I'm in some poorly written television thriller where the main character shows up completely fucking fine after being dead for months.

This is my life. This isn't some cookie cutter daytime soap opera. So I say the only thing that makes any fucking sense.

"What the actual fuck, Mackenzie?" My arms are wide open, my chest heaving and my brain on the verge of shutting down.

Blue eyes the same shade as the rolling waves on the Carolina shores dart from me to the door and back to me, pleading. She's right, if I don't calm down, Shane will come in here and put an end to this visit, and fucking hell, I can't let that happen.

Dropping my arms back down my side, I take a seat across from the love of my life. The love of my life who's supposed to be dead. Who has presumably been dead for over two months now. How am I supposed to make sense of this?

Reaching out to place her palm on the back of my hand, I jump from my seat at the spark that runs through my entire body.

Holy shit, what the fuck?

"Sorry." Pressing her ruby red lips together, she looks up through her lashes, the corners of her mouth pulling up just enough to make my blood boil.

I don't know if I should throttle her or kiss the fucking breath out of her.

"Sorry? For what, exactly, Mackenzie? What exactly are you sorry for? Because I've been slowly dying without you. I've been planning a lot of shit before putting a bullet in my own brain so I don't have to live without you. Are you sorry about that? Or is it the fact that you were able to walk away without a fucking ounce of regret? No, that can't be it." My fingers are tapping against the plastic table, faster and faster, in rhythm with the cadence of my words. "You're here, so maybe it wasn't all that easy."

"This isn't the place to talk about this, Aleko, but I heard about what happened with Gobli—"

"Fuck no. You don't say his name. His scum name does not come out of your mouth." My vision is going back to red at the thought of any of those fuckers who made this happen.

"All I'm saying is that you need to keep your head down. Don't do anything stupid that'll keep you in there for the rest of your life. Can you do that?" Holy shit, her backbone just stiffened the way it does when she's being the boss of me.

Two months ago, it would have made my dick instantly hard, but right now? I'm too confused to understand any of what's going on.

One thing I do understand is that this better not be a drive-by visit.

"Why are you here?" What I really want to know is… are you staying?

"To warn you. To…" The confidence dripping from her very pores fades away slightly as she slices her gaze to the side, unsure of herself, before hitting me with her blues again.

Fuck me, I missed her to the point of agony.

"To what?" My fingers are clutching the edge of the table as if her next words will have one of two effects. Either I snap the plastic in two or melt at her feet.

"To give you a reason to survive this."

It's then I do snap a piece of the cheap, plastic table with my death grip because how fucking dare she?

"I did have a fucking reason." Spitting out my words through clenched teeth, it hits me that I've never spoken to her in this tone. In all of our time together, she's never seen the real psycho in me, at least not directed at her. Then again, it was never warranted… until now. "A whole fucking lot of them, to be honest. Justice and retaliation just to name two."

"And now you have me."

I blink at her words, the red veil of anger dissipating just enough for me to realize that my Cherry Pie is sitting right here with me. Just inches from me, barely an arm's length away.

Then I remember what she is capable of doing and now it's my turn to steel my spine.

"I'm getting out soon. Go to the club and wait for me there." Looking over my shoulder at the door, I can see the clock on the wall. We've barely got five minutes left.

"I can't do that. No one knows I'm… here." The fear in her eyes is palpable, and I get it, but also, I don't. I don't fucking understand why she's doing all this.

"What do you want from me, Mackenzie? What am I supposed to do with all this?" Oh fuck, is she going to leave me again? Disappear from my life? I suppose knowing she's alive somewhere is at least better than thinking she's dead.

"This isn't the place but I'll explain everything next time we meet." Her eyes dart over my shoulder, no doubt checking the clock.

"When the fuck is that going to be, huh?" I won't survive losing her a second time.

"Soon." Her hand reaches out again and this time I don't jump or feel electricity. No, this time, I feel warmth and life and a love so fucking strong it can destroy buildings and sever the heads of our enemies.

Then she's up, walking away in heels so fucking high I'm surprised she isn't falling all over herself as she reaches the exit door and walks out without a backward glance.

I just sit there, dumbfounded, wondering if this was all a dream.

Or a nightmare.

Or some kind of mental breakdown.

It doesn't take Shane very long to escort me back to my cell. The heavy door with a long rectangular window and a slit for the food tray slides open, revealing the mind numbing quiet of my temporary home. Where most of the other inmates have to walk around with handcuffs to and from the visiting room, I'm offered special privileges for a hefty price.

"Bet you wish you could have conjugal visits, huh? That tight little ass must be something sweet." I'm about to redecorate my cell with Shane's brain matter when a sweet little voice echoes in my mind.

"To give you a reason to survive this."

I stop moving, my jaw clenched so tight the pain travels down my neck to every muscle in my chest.

This motherfucker is going on my list for disrespecting my woman.

The sound of the metal door slamming shut brings me back to my reality. In the span of forty-five fucking minutes, everything I thought I knew about my world has been shattered into a million tiny pieces of who I used to be.

Without a single fuck flying anywhere near me, I turn on my heel, rear my arm back, and punch the concrete wall once, twice… five times.

What. Punch. The. Punch. Fuck. Punch. Just. Punch. Happened. Punch.

The cell door slams open again, and when I look up all I see is Shane's mouth hanging open as he reaches for me. My first instinct is to paint his face with my blood by getting my knuckles acquainted with his nose but that same voice stops me.

"To give you a reason to survive this."

"Jesus Christ, Kastellanos. You tryin' to piss me off, today?" This asshole has no idea how close he is to meeting his maker. "Come on, you need to get to the infirmary ‘cause we ain't allowed to have you bleeding like that."

I look down, and yup. My knuckles are dripping with blood. Silver lining to this mind-blowing day is less time in a cell.

We head to the nurse's station in silence as we pass door after door of prisoners awaiting their trials or doing short time for a lesser crime. Shane waits with me for the doc to come back as I lie down on the narrow examiner's bed covered in a strip of paper for hygiene.

Closing my eyes, I think back to how my world was completely turned on its axis. Again. A-fucking-gain. Two hours ago, I was planning the murder of every motherfucker who hurt Mackenzie and set her on the path to death. Two hours ago, I was ready to die so I could be with her, in death the way we were in life.

Except, I'd be alone in death, wouldn't I? Because she's not fucking dead. Every thought of her makes my blood pressure rise and rise until I'm breathing hard again and ready for round two with my cell room wall.

"Sorry about the wait, had a little complication next door. Inmate didn't see my foot and tripped. Poor guy fell on his already broken arm. Oops."

Funny, dude doesn't sound sorry at all.

I crack open an eye, turning my head to the side to look at the doc. I'm met with familiar green or light brown eyes. I think there's a name for that color but I can't be fucked to concentrate on the appropriate vocabulary. My brows slant down and my eyes narrow at what can only be the second weirdest shit to happen to me today. Obviously, Mackenzie in the visitation room tops that list like an overachiever.

Spencer gives a subtle shake of his head, silently telling me to shut the fuck up.

"I've got it under control here, Officer." Shane nods at Spencer, who's not even pretending not to scan his body from bottom to top and back down again. It's only when he's gone that Spencer blows out a breath. "He'd be pretty if he didn't look like a hateful sack of shit." I want to grin at his jab but I remember that I'm pissed off.

"What the fuck is going on, Spence? I just saw a ghost and now you're here? I don't believe in coincidences—at least not ones this fucking obvious." I grit my teeth as he pours sterile water over my open wounds then inspects my knuckles like they hold the location of hidden pirate gold.

"I've been here for about two weeks, volunteered at Mac's request so—" Everything goes flying as I sit up, my healthy hand fisting the fabric of his scrubs.

"You've known this whole time?" My voice is so low it almost scares me and I'm the one fucking talking. Spencer though? He just places a thumb and forefinger on my wrist and pulls it away like it's covered in shit.

"First of all, I do not need prison germs on my clean clothes." I scoff, dude is brave. Or stupid. I mean, to be fair, I wouldn't hurt a hair on his head… again. Last time I did, I had to grovel like a weak fucker to get Cherry's forgiveness. "Second, she's my best friend, which trumps our barely-there acquaintance." Narrowing my eyes, I start to speak, but he just shushes me. Goddammit. "As I was saying… she asked me to keep an eye on you and what you did to Goblin was stupid and dangerous."

"Pfft, bastard got off easy if you ask me." My anger deflates as Spencer picks up all the shit I made him drop. I'd apologize, but fuck that.

Spencer doesn't react right away, just looks at me, almost dissecting me.

"I don't give a fuck about that rapist piece of shit. Your actions were careless. I care about Mac and she cares about you. Ergo…" Without finishing his phrase he returns to his bandaging, making sure I'm not bleeding through it. "Give me your other hand."

"All right, so you were here. What? You felt sorry for me and called her?" I'm staring at his face, scrutinizing his every tic and feature.

"Yeah, figured you were going to get yourself life in prison for murder. Let's just say, men like you are better controlled when you've got something to lose." He shrugs like he didn't just reduce me to some kind of Neanderthal. Okay, fine, he's not wrong.

"I can't believe she's alive." I freeze and he notices, looking at me as he presses gauze to my second hand. "She is alive, right? I didn't hallucinate her?"

The soft chuckle he lets out makes the bandage dance in his hold as he applies it to my knuckles, wrapping it around my hand four or five times before checking it like before. "She's alive but she's not living." Closing the plastic bottle of sterile water, he shakes his head as his lips drop into a frown. "She misses you, you know?"

No, I don't fucking know!is what I want to scream at him but I can tell he has something else to say to me, something important.

"She's battling her demons, and until they're gone she can't step back into life." Taking a deep breath, he puts the material away before crossing his arms and looking down at me. "She may never truly heal from what happened to her, what's been happening to her, but one day she's going to need you and you're gonna have to step up."

My lip curls into a snarl because now I'm pissed all over again.

"I did step up. I was there for her. Hell, I would have slit every one of those motherfuckers' throats for her, but whatever this"—I wave my hands all around to signify this and him and her here today—"shitshow is, I wasn't privy. She. Didn't. Trust. Me." I poke my index finger to my chest over and over again, punctuating the words that really hit home.

In that moment, I realize I'm hurt because she didn't think I could handle her problems or didn't trust me with her solutions. Not sure which it is, but neither bodes well. No doubt a shrink would have a field day with me and my need to control and protect.

"Hmmm, you're butt hurt. I get it. But see…" Uncrossing his arms, he slides his hands into his pockets and takes on a fatherly posture that truly makes me uncomfortable. "Your temper and your anger issues could have thrown her entire plan in the shitter. Also, she was protecting you."

I scoff. What a crock.

"I don't need protecting." I get up, ready for some solitude in my cell, but I make the mistake of looking at Spencer, who's staring pointedly at my knuckles before raising his gaze up to mine.

"Clearly."