Furore (The Night Skulls MC #1)(21)

He wasn’t injured or sick or anything. He was smiling and talking to the other biker without a care in the world. “How? How could he just…?”

He forgot all about me just like that. He tossed me away like a whore he was done with. Even worse. At least, whores got paid for their services. Perhaps, they got a goodbye every now and then, too. I wasn’t even worthy of that. I was nothing to him when he was everything to me.

Shaking with more tears, I spun, wishing I’d been dead. I was supposed to be fifteen years ago, but I fucking lived. For what?

Go talk to him. He must have an explanation.

No. I wouldn’t make any more excuses for him. He had months to reach out and explain, but he didn’t. He chose to leave in that disgusting way. What was left to explain?

I moaned in silence as I dragged myself back in, thankful for the sunglasses that hid my pain from the world. Not that I cared anymore. Let them see. Let them know. Let them fucking find me and end my pitiful life.

But no. I’d live. I’d find a way to forgive myself and start over. No one was worth destroying myself. I’d survived for twenty-three years. I’d survive some more because I wouldn’t let any of those fucking bad guys win.

I grabbed my purse and headed out with one thought in my head. I had to leave and never come back. Nothing tied me to this city anymore. A clean slate was in order. For that to happen, there was something I had to do first at San Quentin.





CHAPTER 12


Jo



“Good afternoon, everyone,” I said as my inmate students took their seats. I didn’t bother greeting them one by one, each by their name, to maintain the rapport I strived to create. There was no point anymore.

“Hey, Miss Jo,” Laniakea answered with a huge yawn. Then he stopped in his tracks when his stare landed on my outfit. I wasn’t in my regular suit today. A pink, knee-length, summer skirt and a white blouse replaced it. “May I say how nice you look today?”

“Thanks.”

He smiled wryly. “Special occasion?”

My final act before I disappeared. My farewell gift. Besides, if they were fucking their filthy fists to me anyway, I might as well choose how I looked when they did.

“Take a seat, Laniakea, please.”

“Ohhhh, someone is going on a date,” he teased, seating his huge body on the chair that barely fit him. I gave him a warning gaze until he wiped that grin off his face.

“A date? What fucking date?” Connor, an all bark no bite student, asked with a frown. “C’mon, Miss M. you’re breaking my heart.”

I was in no mood for any silly banter, so ignoring him, I rolled my eyes toward my desk. That was when I clashed with Furore’s smoldering gaze. He looked at me as if he was going to kill me, but not before he fucked me with his eyes. My whole body flushed under his inappropriate gaze.

“Answer the man. What fucking date?” he seethed.

Why the hell did he care whether I dated or not? Did he still think I was buying whatever he was trying to pull off to get what he needed to know about me? Drop the fucking act, Furore. The game is over. You lost.

“Get. To. Your. Seat.” I yanked my gaze and darted it at the rest of the students. “Everybody. Now.”

Furore’s stare snapped at me, flickering with fire. I pressed my mouth into a hard line, daring him to defy me.

He twined his fingers together and moved them inward and upward with pop sounds, as if he was getting ready for a fist fight. Whom was he going to beat almost to death? He wouldn’t dare come near me here. Right?

He switched his stare toward Murphy. “You going out with the guard? Prison teacher and guard, how fucking fitting. You read that trope in one of your cheesy porn books and thought why not try it yourself?”

“Lazzarini, zip it and take a seat,” Murphy said in warning.

Furore slammed the desk surface as he sat down, glaring menacingly at Murphy.

I was sick of his bullshit. “You don’t know the kind of books I read, but even cheesy porn books with that trope are much better than others like, let’s say, prison teacher and inmate.” They usually ended up with him using her to break out of jail or giving her as payment to whomever helped.

“Davvero? Why, Miss Meneceo? I bet the inmate can last longer than the guard, make the teacher come much harder. Several times.”

“That’s it!” Murphy dashed toward Furore, baton in hand.

Panic jolted through me. Furore was an asshole who wouldn’t give a shit about anyone but himself, but he, fake student or not, was still my responsibility. I didn’t want him to get hurt. Not with a freaking baton that could smash his bones. My fists clenched as I darted to stand between the two of them. “HEY!”

Rendered speechless, everyone stared at me as my yell ricocheted around them. Murphy, who pushed me to his side to shield me from whatever shit that was about to hit the fan, blinked in disbelief. “Step back, Miss Meneceo.”

“No,” I dared. “I can handle it on my own. I didn’t ask for your help.”

Anger flashed on his face. “This is a prison, ma’am. I don’t wait for you to ask for help to maintain order.”

“It’s my classroom. I—”

The door flew open, and the warden stormed in. “What the hell is going on here?” he roared.