Page 1 of Promised To A Menace

Twenty-Five Years Earlier

Iwiped my sweaty palms down the front of my pants for the third time since I'd sat my ass in this chair. I wasn't scared of too many people.

I'd done enough shit in my life and seen enough bodies drop to know fear could get a man killed quicker than a bullet if he let it show. But tonight? I couldn't lie and say I wasn't nervous.

My eyes drifted toward the closed double doors across the room before I checked my watch. I'd been sitting here for damn near twenty minutes, waiting on a man who knew good and well I was here.

That was the point, though. He wanted me to wait and think about what I was asking before I got the chance to ask.

I leaned back and released a slow breath through my nose. None of that shit mattered. My mind was already made up. I wanted out. Matter of fact, I needed out.

I'd given too many years of my life to this shit already. I'd done things I couldn't take back for people who wouldn't think twice about putting me in the ground if I ever became a problem.

I was tired of looking over my shoulder and sleeping with a gun close enough to grab before my feet touched the floor. I couldn't remember the last time I woke up without wondering if that would be the day some shit I'd done finally caught up with me.

I wanted a fucking life. A real one. And if anybody had the power to give me that, it was the man on the other side of those doors.

They finally opened, and my back straightened as footsteps filled the room.

“Barrett.”

My jaw tightened as I lifted my eyes to him. “Jefferson.”

He took his time walking around the desk before lowering himself into the chair across from me. Neither of us spoke. He just sat there, staring.

That was another thing about this motherfucker. He didn't have to say much. He'd let the silence work on you until you got uncomfortable enough to start talking just to fill it.

Not tonight.

I waited him out, keeping my eyes on his until the corner of his mouth eventually lifted.

“I hear you want out.”

“I don't want out.” I leaned forward, resting my forearms against my thighs. “I'm getting out.”

His smile disappeared, and right then, I knew I'd chosen the wrong fucking words.

“You seem to have forgotten who the fuck you're talking to.”

“Nah.” I held his stare. “I know exactly who I'm talking to. That's why I'm sitting here instead of disappearing.”

Disappearing wasn't an option. Not from these people. I could leave Corvessa, leave Texas altogether. Hell, I could leave the fucking country. But if they wanted me found, somebody would eventually come knocking.

Jefferson leaned back in his chair. “And what makes you think I'm going to release you?”

“I've done everything that was asked of me.”

“That's not what I asked.”

My jaw flexed. “I've been loyal.”

“So have a lot of dead men.”

I stared at him, and he stared right back. He reached for the glass sitting near his hand, took a slow sip, then set it back down like we were discussing some regular-ass business deal.

“You want your freedom?”

“Yeah.”