Page 8 of First Chance

“He’s been here a long time. He was friends with my grandfather before I was ever born,” Lochlan informs me. “If you have questions or need anything and I’m not around, then Seiver is a good person to ask. He knows the ins and outs of this place as well as I do.”

“Boss man has tried to get me to retire, but I’ll wait and do that when I’m dead. I like this place too much.” Seiver bumps his fist against Lochlan’s shoulder, earning a glare, but I can see there isn’t much heat behind it.

“Seiver and Hayes are the only two that work here without a commitment to the state. They aren’t on parole and have freedoms the other guys don’t. I just can’t get rid of them.”

“You’d be even more miserable if we weren’t around, boss,” a man says from behind us at the bottom of theporch steps. Hayes, I assume.

He is younger than Lochlan but looks just as intense. I guess that’s normal for someone who has been to prison.

The tattoos scattered down his arm are all in black ink with snip-its of more visible under the collar of his white T-shirt. He’s lean with muscle, stealthy even, and even though he’s as foreboding as Lochlan, he’s not nearly as wild or rugged looking.

Hayes’s dark blonde hair is buzzed short and tapered on the sides, and his smile is charming.

Lochlan is a brute force of nature.

“Hayes started here as one of the first parolees that we worked with. Once he was free and clear, he decided to stay on to help out. He keeps an eye on the guys when I’m not around. He knows what I expect, and they respect him. If any of them give you any trouble and I’m not around, go to Hayes. He’ll take care of it.” Lochlan looks at me seriously, letting me digest that information. I glance at Hayes, and he winks at me, but it’s not flirtatious. It’s a confirmation.

That rock in my gut settles heavier. I wanted to dip my toe into the real world, but I think I accidentally stepped into the deep end here.

Chapter Four

Jo

“Lochlan, this is terrible. It’s not going to work,” I admit, pacing back and forth in his kitchen.

“I warned you,” he reminds me.

“I know, but no one can work under these conditions. I don’t know how you’ve survived this long.”

“I avoid it,” he shrugs, shaking the mouse of his computer for the twentieth time. We’ve spent an hour attempting to log into his email because the computer lagged so long while booting up.

It’s only my second day on the job, and I’m ready to throw the ancient device out the window.

“My laptop is in my car, I’ll use it while I’m working. I’ll accomplish everything ten times faster.”

He sighs and leans against the counter. His air of confidence is completely different in here, around the paperwork, compared to how he holds himself outside in front of his men. He doesn’t act like he has everything under control in here like he does outside.

“You’re asking me to do a job here, and I can’t do it on this computer. Let me use my laptop, it’s no problem, really.”

“Fine.” I move to go get it, and he holds up his hand to stop me. “I’ll get it. Where is it?”

“It’s in my backpack, in the passenger seat.” He nods and goes outside to retrieve it, and I move his notepad of logins and passwords over to the kitchen table from the computer desk.

“Why is your backpack so heavy?” He asks, setting it in one of the empty chairs.

“I have all my textbooks in there.” I pull out my laptop and fire it up while he stands a few feet away watching me.

“Why don’t you leave them at home?”

“In case I need them.”

“You need all of your books every day?”

“Well, no. Not usually.”

He looks at me curiously, but doesn’t push it. We’ve only exchanged surface-level conversations for the past two days, nothing past the information I need to do my job here. A part of me is bursting to tell him the real reason that I needed this job, but only because I have no one else to talk to about it.

“Oh my God,” I mutter once I’m logged into his account.

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