Ready or not, Sophie was going to start building her life back, trying to make sense of the mess it had become. If yes, please explain. With the help of a supportive friend and hopefully a good psychologist, she was going to explain how she’d gotten here.
And as those beguiling turquoise eyes flashed through her mind once again, she hoped maybe she could explain why she was immediately attracted to another criminal.
Or maybe the explanation was that the man was fucking hot.
4. Solitary
Joe Madsen thought he’d heard a sob, and when he realized his shoulder was damp from accumulated tears, he knew for sure the strong man he held in his arms was crying. He also knew Grant would be embarrassed as hell to be weeping in public.
Gently he pulled out of the hug, looking away while Grant stared at the sidewalk outside the courthouse and furtively wiped his cheeks. His nephew nervously kicked at the concrete with the toe of his shoe, reminding Joe of when eight-year-old Grant and his mother had come to live with him. It was a full minute before Grant slowly looked up, meeting the worried gaze of his uncle.
“You’ve lost some weight,” Joe observed.
Grant sniffed and nodded.
They stared awkwardly for a few moments until Grant finally found his voice. “I didn’t think I’d see you again.”
“Well, you sure didn’t make it easy to find you. I figured you’d have to meet with your parole officer at some point, so I’ve been camped out here for a while.”
“Sorry.”
Joe had waited long enough to ask the question that had gnawed at him for two years. “Why the hell wouldn’t you let me visit you at Gurnee?”
Shooting a culpable glance at his Uncle Joe, Grant sighed. How could he explain his failure to stand up to his own father?
Miffed, Joe continued. “I couldn’t believe it when they said you took me off your visitor list. I thought there had to be some mistake. I begged for leave time, and then I couldn’t even use it.”
“Did your captain approve your leave this time?”
“I’m due back in Virginia tomorrow. But don’t change the subject, Grant. Why wouldn’t you allow me to visit you? Did I do something wrong?”
Grant snapped his head up, startled. “No! No, sir, it was nothing you did. It was …” He sighed, knowing he would never escape his destructive family, no matter how hard he tried. “It was my father.”
“Enzo? Oh, shit. I should’ve known. Of all the bad luck, to be thrown into the same prison as that gangster. What did he do to you?”
Grant stared into the distance, eventually mentioning with a slight smile, “He doesn’t like you very much.”
“Yeah, well, the feeling is mutual,” Joe said. “I hate Enzo for what he’s done to your brother Logan. And for what he did to your mother as well, God bless her soul.”
An unspoken sadness crossed Joe’s face as he remembered his beautiful sister, Karita, who’d been left alone to care for two boys after her husband was sentenced to life in prison. Enzo had summarily abandoned his wife and sons, and Joe had tried to assemble a new family for his sister. But when Logan had run away and Karita fell ill with cancer, the patched-together family was destroyed. Yet Joe was determined to help Grant get his life back together.
“She deserved a better husband,” Grant said softly.
Joe’s eyes narrowed. “I never wanted her to marry that bastard. Did Enzo hurt you?”
“It was my first day at Gurnee,” Grant explained, thinking back to the abject fear he’d felt at being caged in a state penitentiary for three whole years. It was day one of a 1,095-day sentence, and he’d been scared out of his mind.
It was a chilly March day out on the yard, and cons mingled in their dark-gray jackets. Grant stood alone, leaning on the fence, nervously scanning for any sign of trouble. That was when he noticed the charcoal eyes staring him down from across the way. His father’s jet-black hair had grayed, and he’d lost perhaps an inch in height as he aged, but his eyes had not changed one bit—deep, black, Italian eyes that seared into his son as he strode toward him.
As the group of men approached him, Grant stepped forward. Naturally his father had an entourage with him—men who protected and deferred to their leader. Grant recognized a couple of the Mafia thugs from his childhood. Maybe the big guy had babysat his brother Logan and him once or twice?
“I heard you were coming,” Enzo Barberi said evenly. “What’s it been, Grant, twenty years since we’ve seen each other?”
Grant remained silent, feeling the suspicious stares of his father’s men coat him like olive oil in a skillet.
“You got three years?”
Grant gave a slight nod, wishing his throat had not constricted with fear in his father’s presence.
“Three years is a long time to be alone in here,” Enzo said coolly.
“I don’t want anything to do with you.” Fierce determination flared in Grant’s eyes.
“That is a very unwise approach, Grant.” Enzo glanced around in the yard. “There are lots of cons licking their chops, eager to get to you. There’s a buzz about a handsome young fish arriving at Gurnee. The talk of the block is about a new, fresh, pretty con.”
His father’s emphasis made Grant’s throat run dry. His eyes drifted in the direction his father had just nodded, and he noticed several men edging closer, leering at him.
“Join us, son. Let me protect you in here.”
“Why do you care?”
“Hey.” Enzo’s eyes narrowed with steely rage. “Even though you abandoned me in here—even though you didn’t visit me once in twenty years—I can forgive and forget. I can be the bigger man and offer my hand to you now that you need it.”
Grant knew there would be strings attached. His father was a businessman at heart, and it did not take long for the terms of the deal to be revealed. Grant tensed as his father warned, “But if you so much as say one word to Joe Madsen while you’re in here, all bets are off. If you want my protection, you choose to be with me now, not him. You can’t have us both. That fucking man has led you astray, and you need me to set you straight. But I’ll only do that if you cut all ties with your uncle.”
Grant knew his father was jealous of Joe’s influence over him, but he had not expected an immediate standoff on the issue. His nostrils flared, and he seethed, “Joe is a better dad to me than you’ll ever be.”
“No wonder you got caught in that two-bit robbery. I see you’re as dumb and naive as ever.” Enzo glanced at his men. “Let’s go,” he ordered. He then looked back at his son, shaking his head. “Have it your way, Grant.”
Enzo and his posse skulked off, clearing a path for a new predatory group to approach. The leader was tall and solidly built, blond with icy blue eyes. His two equally blond companions, who appeared quite young, walked a deferential step behind him.
The leader’s calculating stare roamed over Grant’s fine physique. “Fresh meat, boys,” he crowed. One of the underlings smiled lasciviously.
Grant took a slight step back.
“Aw, nothing to be scared of, sweetheart,” the leader assured him. “We just want to get to know you.” One of the accompanying youngsters began to hum “Getting to Know You” from The King and I, eliciting a grin from the leader. “What’re you in for?”