17. Isaac

17

ISAAC

T he large metal gate buzzed, causing Isaac to jump before watching it slide smoothly to the side. Isaac held his breath as he waited for the guard to give him the "go-ahead" to proceed.

Was he really ready for this? Was he ready to see the man who had caused him so much pain growing up? Who beat him? Who tried to sell his body to his friends for cash?

Isaac couldn't understand how his father and his uncle had been so different. His father had been kind and loving and never raised a hand to him or his brother. Meanwhile, their uncle had been an alcoholic, mean-spirited, bitter, and selfish.

Perhaps his uncle had been cruel because they weren't his own kids. He and his brother had been thrust into their uncle's guardianship when their father suddenly passed away. Overnight, their uncle had gone from single and carefree to suddenly being the guardian of two young boys. It would be a lot for any person to adjust to quickly.

Well, Isaac had been young; his brother, Declan, had been in his early teens.

Still, even when his father was alive, his uncle never really came to visit or bought them gifts for Christmas or birthdays. It was a rare occasion when his uncle came over for holidays, and when he did come, he spent the day sitting on the couch, beer in hand, watching the television.

So, was it really such a change from who his uncle had always been?

Isaac's mind came back into focus when he felt a hand slip into his. He glanced downward, happy to see Jared's rough fingers intertwined with his. He immediately felt his stomach begin to settle.

"I'll be right beside you the whole time," Jared whispered in that gentle, confident tone that always made Isaac feel at ease.

It was nice knowing that he had someone by his side, supporting him, being there for him, and ultimately ready to jump over the table and strangle the man who had brought him so much misery.

His emerald eyes found Jared's soft chestnut gaze. A calming confidence seemed to flow out of Jared and into Isaac himself.

Jared was his rock today. His firm, stable grasp on reality. He didn't need to fear the ghosts of his past. Jared was here to stand by him and protect him if needed.

Isaac gave the confident man beside him a half-smile.

"Thanks, Jare."

"Proceed. First door to your right," the angry-looking guard muttered, nodding toward the gray door marked "Visitors."

Swallowing hard, Isaac gently pulled his hand from Jared's and followed a second guard toward the door.

They waited as an electronic lock buzzed before the guard pulled the door open and gestured for them to proceed inside.

The room was gray and dull, which seemed to mimic the feel of this place. Stale and hopeless. Prisoners had nothing but time on their hands and limited stimulation.

It must be difficult waking up each morning and having absolutely nothing to look forward to. The repetition of each day and the knowledge that tomorrow would be the same did not inspire a feeling of hope and excitement in the lives of prisoners. And this room reflected exactly that. A lack of hope and joy.

The room was bare, except for a rectangular metal table that looked just as hopeless as the room with three matching chairs set up around it. At the center of the table was a large metal ring, most likely used to secure prisoners in place. This place was filled with rapists and murderers, and God knows who else, each vying for the opportunity to take out their aggression and anger on any unsuspecting person dumb enough to let their guard down.

Secretly, Isaac was comforted with the knowledge that his uncle would be chained to the table. Not that his uncle stood a chance against Jared if he decided to jump over the table and try something stupid.

Letting out a sigh, Isaac pulled out one of the chairs and sat himself down. Jared gripped his shoulder, no doubt trying to show his support, before pulling out the chair next to Isaac's and sitting down as well.

They both sat silently, watching the door at the other end of the room. Time seemed to slow as they waited. Five minutes became ten. Ten minutes became twenty, and just as Isaac's nerves were beginning to bounce back, the door across the way buzzed and then opened.

A tired-looking man with black and white hair—more white than black—stepped into the room, shackled at his ankles and wrists. He was wearing a deep green jumper with Prisoner marked across the left side of his chest. Not that Isaac would confuse the man with a visitor or a guard anytime soon.

The man grunted as the guard shoved him through the doorway and into the room with Jared and Isaac.

Once he regained his balance, he straightened his back as if he were someone important instead of the low-life piece of shit who was spending the better part of his life behind bars.

The man's mouth dropped open when he caught sight of who it was sitting on the other side of the table. He seemed confused as he locked eyes with Isaac initially. It was only after a few moments that his uncle's shocked expression morphed into one of a sleazy man's grin.

The guard escorted his uncle to the opposite side of the table, then handcuffed his wrists to the metal ring on the center of the table. The guard gave the handcuffs a quick tug to make sure that they were securely fastened.

"No touching the prisoner. Press the button on the table if you need assistance. I'll be right outside," the guard instructed before glaring at the prisoner and then exiting the room without waiting for a response.

Isaac watched through the small window in the door as the guard took his post right outside.

"Well, aren't you the last person I ever 'xspected to see here. Glad to see you're still alive," the man said with a thick Irish accent. His cold emerald eyes burrowed their hate into Isaac. "Where you been all this time?"

Isaac placed his hands on the table, interlocking his fingers together. He hoped this would keep his hands from shaking and give him a look of self-confidence and age.

While he hated this man to his core, part of him still felt like that scared twelve-year-old boy hiding in his closet while his uncle tore apart his room in a fit of alcoholic rage.

"That's none of your damn business," Isaac grumbled, jaw tightened and teeth clenched.

"Oh, looks like someone grew a pair over the years." The man sneered as he leaned back in his chair. His eyes drifted over to the man sitting next to Isaac. "Who's this? Your butt-buddy?"

Jared leaned forward, biceps flexing as he moved in closer to Isaac.

"I'm the man who's gonna knock your teeth in if you ever disrespect Isaac again."

Isaac's heart fluttered, hearing the sexy brute beside him defend his honor. Fuck, this man was sexy.

Something flickered across his uncle's eyes. Was it fear?

Isaac couldn't help but give his own smug smile. Now, it was his uncle's turn to fear him.

"So, what do ya want, ya little runt?" his uncle asked, trying to save face, but the shaking in his voice betrayed him ever so slightly.

"Declan, where is he?" Isaac asked, anger barely contained. He wanted to grab his uncle by his salt and pepper hair and smash his face into the table—see if that knocked that slimy grin off his face.

The man shrugged. "Don't know. Prison the last I checked."

"I know he's out. Where can I find my brother?" Isaac asked once again. He was gripping his own fingers so hard he could see his knuckles turning white.

His uncle noticed as well.

"If your brother wanted to see your wimpy face, he would have tracked you down by now."

Jared's body lunged forward, causing his uncle to jump back in his seat, startled.

Isaac managed to stick out his arm just in time to stop Jared from ripping off his uncle's arms—'cus, yes, that's apparently what army men can do… according to Jared.

"Easy there," Isaac said, glancing over at the guard, who didn't appear concerned that his inmate was about to get his face bashed in. He turned his back to the door once again and continued standing guard. "Has Declan been in to see you?"

The bastard sat silent, eyes focused on the wall behind them.

Perhaps he didn't want to look into his nephew's eyes and see the hate and contempt for him; maybe he just didn't give a shit and found the wall more interesting.

Either way, both scenarios made Isaac's blood boil.

"You're still the miserable, old cunt that used to pass out on the living room floor, then shit his pants," Isaac snarled. He didn't care if his uncle saw him losing his cool. The man was a worthless piece of trash and didn't deserve any of his respect.

The man snorted, remaining silent, acting as if Isaac's verbal assault meant nothing to him. It probably didn't. Assholes like him didn't care what others thought of them. They only cared about what they could get for themselves.

Isaac shook his head.

This was pointless. The man was a jerk and wasn't going to give him any information. He wasn't sure why he thought otherwise. They may as well head home.

"Come on, Jared. This was a waste of time. This asshole won't give us anything."

Miserable green eyes shot up and locked on Isaac's as he stood from the table.

"You should probably turn yourself in on your way out… killer. A tight little hole like yours would be very popular behind these walls. Perhaps I can even?—"

Blood exploded from his uncle's nose as Jared decked him in the face. The move was so fast Isaac barely had time to register what was happening.

"Fuck!" the miserable man shouted, cupping his nose while blood spilled over his fingers.

"I warned you what would happen if you ever disrespected Isaac again," Jared said with a tiny shrug of his shoulders.

Another piece of Isaac's heart broke itself off and jumped into Jared's pocket. Bit by bit, Jared was stealing every ounce of his heart.

The miserable cunt groaned as he tilted his head backward, blood trickling down his lips and neck.

The door from behind the prisoner opened, and the guard moseyed his way in. He didn't seem concerned or worried that the man in his custody was bleeding profusely.

He unlocked the man's shackles before glancing up at Isaac. "I'll get this guy cleaned up and log it as an accident. This guy just never stops walking into walls. By the way, tell M that Ares says hi."

Isaac and Jared exchanged a glance. What did Ares have to do with this?

Ares was an arms dealer and a friend… frenemy? Annoying acquaintance? Isaac wasn't sure what the man was to Matteo. All he knew was that every time someone mentioned Ares's name in the vicinity of Matteo, the man saw red and practically murdered whoever had dared to speak the devil's name.

"Thanks, man," Jared said, wiping the blood from his knuckles on the legs of his jeans.

It probably wasn't a smart idea to walk through a prison with blood on your pants. But for some reason, Isaac wasn't the least bit concerned. He had a feeling no one would touch them in this prison.

"Come on, Sally . Let's get your boo-boo cleaned up," the guard mocked Isaac's uncle as he walked him toward the door. "If you're a good boy, I'll let Lester kiss it all better for you." The guard gave a wink over at Isaac.

Isaac chuckled. It seemed that his uncle was being given the royal treatment here, in this place.

They both made their way to the opposite door before Isaac stopped one last time. He turned to face his mumbling uncle.

"You ever wonder why you're still in here after all these years? It was a smuggling narcotic's charge, correct?"

His uncle turned around, still clutching his bleeding nose.

That seemed to get the old bastard's attention.

"It's funny how your appeals for release keep getting extended."

Uncle Jed's eyes narrowed as he realized that perhaps his mysterious turn of unfortunate events wasn't so random after all.

"Hope things don't get too uncomfortable for you in here over the next few years." The door behind Isaac buzzed, releasing the locking mechanism. "It was great seeing you, old man," Isaac said, smiling before turning to exit the room.