It smelled the same.

Six years ago he had spent the night in a cell much like this one. The cinderblock walls, the metal toilet, the uncomfortable bench that was meant to be a bed, it was all the same. Only this time he was alone in the cell. There was no one in the cell with him, no Randall, his supposed best friend, motor mouthing his apologies next to him. That night he had wanted to be alone. This night he had gotten his wish.

J. clenched and relaxed his fists, watching the wrinkles on his knuckles open and closed. Anger shrouded him like a cloud, random and displaced. The faces of those who wronged him flicked through his head like a movie projector.

Randall, his sister, his mother, the racist Storm Rider, and over all of them he saw the smug smile of Robert Whitestone III. He ached to sink his fists them into that blandly triumphant face. Robert had Emmy again, had held her back as she was forced to watch the cops knock J. to the ground and put him back in handcuffs. He had looked out over the top of Emmy's scared face and made eye contact with J.

And then he had smiled.

J. crunched his knuckles and worked his fists again. Counting backwards from ten wasn't working anymore. There was nothing in his head but blind, putrid rage. He would get out of here and he would murder Robert Whitestone.

A cop walked by, keys jangly at his pockets. J. swallowed back some of the choking rage and called out haltingly, "How long are you going to hold me?"

The cop looked at him contemptuously. "We can hold you for twenty-four hours. Best get comfortable."

Twenty-four hours. He leaned back and knocked his head against the cinder block wall. It had been the boredom that nearly got him in prison. The quiet ticking away of the minutes of his life as he stared at the wall with nothing to do but regret. Twenty-four hours and he could go free, he reminded himself. Because this time he hadn't f.u.c.king done anything wrong.

Kidnapping. Like he had stolen Emilia kicking and screaming from her home. The big bad black man sneaking in through the window and carrying off the beautiful white woman. Never mind that Emmy's apartment was twenty stories up. He knew that was what everyone could picture in their minds. The racist lobby guard could even add the nice little scene of Emmy helplessly drunk and stumbling in J.'s clutches. That would fit nicely with the whole narrative.

J. smacked a fist helplessly into his hand. They hadn't offered him a phone call yet. His brothers didn't know where he was. He grimaced as he remembered how he had left the club. The fight with the redneck, having to be held back by Case, Teach wading into the fray and shouting at him to stop. He hadn't been able to control his fury and instead of staying and settling it like a man, he had rode off like a p.u.s.s.y, running away from his problems instead of standing with his brothers like he had sworn to do.

His fury drove him to his feet with a roar. He whirled on his feet and sent his fist crashing into the bench with a loud, reverberating clang.

"Hey!" the cop shouted. "Keep it down in there, a.s.shole!"

J. snarled but bit his tongue, rubbing his bruised knuckles grimly. The pain gave him something to focus on beside the rage. He ran his fingers over the tender flesh, over and over, inhaling and exhaling, letting the dull throbbing ache set the rhythm of his breath. Ten, nine, eight, he breathed, I'm gonna get out, four, three, twenty-four hours, two, one.

"J.!".

He whirled at the sound of Emmy's voice and banged his sore hand against the sink. "Emmy?"

She was crying and laughing at the same time. J. could hardly understand her, could only clutch her hand through the bars as she bounced up and down in a frenzy. "I did it J. I fought back. Twist and punch right? Don't stop. Punch right through. He was so surprised that I fought back but I did just like you taught me...."

"Emmy, what the f.u.c.k?" J. didn't mean to swear, but she wasn't making any sense.

She nodded and took a deep breath. "Robert wanted me to press charges. He was ready to drag me back up here tomorrow to make me claim you took me against my will." She looked down and let out a hysterical noise that was halfway between a giggle and a sob. "But instead I f.u.c.king punched him. Knocked him right on his a.s.s and ran away."

J. clutched her through the bars. "You're kidding."

She held up her hand. Her knuckles were bright red and angry looking, the joints slightly swollen. He felt a rush of admiration flood through him and he grabbed that small, fierce hand and kissed it through the bars.

"Jesus, girl. I love you," he choked, the words catching him by surprise.

She stepped back and searched his face. She must have liked what she saw there, because the next thing he knew her lips were bruising his through the bars. "I love you too."

"Hey!" The cop came rushing up, keys jangling. "Back away..." he began but was immediately cowed by the sudden appearance of his superior at Emmy's side.

"Keys," the older man drawled, looking bored. "Mr. Johnson here is free to go."

The keys jangled in the lock and J. was through the door before it was fully open. The only thing that mattered was having Emmy's mouth on his again.

She kissed him back with all the yearning, all the hurt and all the fury he had felt in the past twenty-four hours. Her pain was as great as his pain and it made the pleasure of their kiss all the sweeter. He pressed himself close to her and felt his need begin to rise until in threatened to overpower every inhibition. Everything fell away. He would have her right there against the wall, in front of the watching police officers. J. would lose himself in her softness until they were no longer separate people. He would be with her forever.

It was only the sound of Case's voice that brought him back to himself. "Save it for later, Romeo," his best friend boomed across the precinct hallway.

He pulled himself away from Emmy's mouth and blinked in surprise. "You're here?" Shock robbed him of his normal jokes.

"Yeah and I don't mind just chilling here while you make out with your girl. Please go ahead and take all the time you want, there's nothing I like better than being this close to cops."

J. looked down at Emmy, who nuzzled into him. "I figured you'd want your back-up."

"Everyone?" he asked.

"They're all here," she nodded. "And I have to warn you...."

But J. didn't hear the rest of her words. As he stepped out into the parking lot, he saw for himself. The lights in the parking lot cast lurid shadows over the chasm in Teach's face. He gasped when he saw his mentor, and Emmy had to hold him steady.

"They fought for you," she whispered. "They fought hard. For you."

"I should have been there," he whispered.

She nodded in understanding. "I know. But then you wouldn't have been there for me."

He pulled her close, letting her take some of his weight and he descended the steps into the parking lot.

Teach was standing over MacDougal, who was tinkering with J.'s bike, injuries be d.a.m.ned. Doctor D. was deep in conversation with a police officer, his hands clasped stiffly behind his back as if he were trying to hide something. Crash was leaned up against a cop car, his stiff leg splayed in front of him as he put the moves on a heavily tattooed woman J. had never seen before. She was looking at Crash skeptically until she saw J. and Emmy emerge.

"Oh is that him?!" the woman called.

Emmy pulled him down the steps. "Sammie, this is J. J., this is Sammie."

J. shook her hand and looked at Emmy.

Emmy smiled at his confusion. "I bought my back-up, too."

Chapter 36.

J.

Everyone was talking too much. Their voices were echoing off the high metal ceiling of the club house garage, making it sound like there were a hundred people behind him, instead of only seven. The caravan back to the city had been whirlwind of triumph, careening down the emptied out highways with Sammie's rattling station wagon carrying all their gear. They had tumbled into the darkened clubhouse, tripping over each other and laughing wildly.

Crash was crowing loudly about beating someone's a.s.s, Teach was quoting some ancient philosopher and Case kept poking J. meaningfully in the ribs. Emmy clutched his arm and looked up at him, her eyes shining with exhaustion and relief.

It was all too much.

"Enough!" J. boomed. His voice reverberated through the empty garage and the rest of the club fell silent.

"I love all of y'all, and thank you for springing me, but all you f.u.c.kers need to get the h.e.l.l out." He looked down at Emmy's ripe raspberry lips. "At least for an hour."

Crash mumbled profane encouragement. Emmy flushed bright red. Case poked him again. "Only an hour?"

J. stroked Emmy's back and smiled. "Get the f.u.c.k out, Case."

The sounds of their voices still echoed as they left, fading quieter and quieter until it was only the two of then standing alone in the darkness. Even the traffic noise had died down. J. wondered how late it was.

"Were you scared?"

At first J. couldn't imagine what she was talking about. She was here, how could he possibly be anything other than happy? Slowly it dawned on him that she was asking about the arrest.

"I knew I hadn't done anything wrong," he exhaled forcefully. "But I kept losing hope, you know?"

"Why?"

He took another deep breath. It was time to stop running and face up to the truth. Whether she stayed with him or not, he could no longer lie to her. "Because it felt like nothing changed. Like the past six years didn't matter, all the work I had done was for nothing. It felt like I belonged there, and I hated it."

"Why would you belong there?"

"Because I've been there before."

"Jail?"

"Prison." He waited for her cries of dismay.

"Thank you for telling me," she said evenly.

J. flicked on the bunkhouse light. Her pale face slowly flickered into view as the fluorescent lights overhead sputtered to life. She was looking at the floor, studying her feet, careful to avoid his eyes.

"I spent six years in prison, Emmy. Then another year on probation. The night you met me, we were out celebrating my release from parole."

"Your graduation."

He smiled hopefully. "It was a graduation of sorts. You know, in the moving on to the next step sense of the word."

She made a noise that could have been a laugh. And then suddenly she snapped her head upright and looked him in the eyes.

"I thought Robert told me that to hurt me. But when he was yelling all these awful things about you, I decided that even if they were true, I didn't care. You're a better man than he is. You've treated me better in these past few days than he ever did."

"Good thing I did too," J. mused. "You've saved my a.s.s twice in a week. I think I need to keep you around.

She laughed, but his thoughts were a million miles away. "J.?" she prodded.

"I need you," he replied. "And I think I need you to save me again."

She threw up her fists. "Who do you need me to punch? I'm getting good at it."

He laughed. "No please don't punch my Mama."

She let her hand fall to her lap. "Your Mama?"

He sucked in his teeth. "Things are...bad. My sister. My mom. My...," he paused, tasting the words on his tongue before he spoke. "An old friend," he corrected. "I need to make them good again. But I don't think I'm gonna be able to do it without you." The old hurts p.r.i.c.ked at him, but he was surprised at how little power they held. "I need to deal with my past before it completely f.u.c.ks up my present."

She tossed her head. "I'll help with your past, J. I want to be part of your future."

Relief washed through him. She closed her small hand around his and they stood in silence for a moment, listening to the noises in the night. He ran his thumb over her bruised knuckles. He imagined the strength it must have taken herself so badly. She must have flattened that a.s.shole. He pressed his lips to each knuckle in turn. Pride bloomed in his chest, and with it something else.

"f.u.c.k the future, I want you now," J. growled. He couldn't wait any longer. Grabbing her by the arms, he backed her towards his bunk until her knees buckled and they both landed on the cot. "I don't think I'm ever going to stop wanting you."

He smoothed her hair away from her neck and buried his face into the softly scented skin. A small sigh escaped her lips, urging him onward. He tore at her shirt and she wiggled underneath him invitingly.

"And more than that," he slid his hand down, her soft skin, trailing his fingers down her belly to sneak under the waistband of her jeans, "I need you Emmy." He found the moist heat of her center and moved his lips down. "I need you now. And always."

Epilogue.

Emmy Sammie leaned against the doorframe. Her corseted top was dark with sweat, and her wildly teased beehive had deflated in the heat, sagging dejectedly to the side. "Of course it's this f.u.c.king hot today," she wheezed.

"Here, I'll take that." I rushed to grab the box of dishes before it slipped out of her sweaty hands.

"There's not that much left in the van," she chirped sarcastically.

"You're kidding." I looked around our tiny apartment. "Where are we gonna put all this stuff?"

"Hey, maybe you can ask the boys. They have that huge garage."

"You want me to ask a bunch of bikers if we can use their garage as storage?"

"Hey watch it." She bustled past me towards the creaky sink and ran a gla.s.s under the tap. "They're not just 'a bunch of bikers.' It's the guys. Besides," she c.o.c.ked a fiercely arched eyebrow at me over her gla.s.s of water. "I hear you've got an in with one of them."

I grabbed a piece of wadded up newspaper and chucked it at her in reply.

"More like an in and out!" she crowed, ducking nimbly. "I've barely seen you all summer!"

I blushed. "You've seen me plenty."

"Yeah, I've seen you," she crossed her arms appraisingly. "All love drunk and walking funny. Do you ever stop having s.e.x?"

I pretended to ponder. "We try to keep it down at his mom's house." She pulled a disgusted face and I laughed. "Yeah his mom would make the same face."