Page 4 of Hurricane Love

He just had to focus on getting through today, through the next five minutes. Life on the outside was similar to prison in that way.

“No, ma’am, not at this time.”

She tapped one fingernail against the desk. “There’s no reason why you can’t have a happy and productive life, Diego. You’re a young, able-bodied man with your whole future ahead of you. You just have to make the right decisions moving forward.”

Every single decision mattered, Diego knew that to be true. One wrong step could land him back in prison, or worse.

“I will, Officer Watson, and thank you for your time,” he said as a familiar mantra repeated in his mind.

Keep your head down, don’t take risks, and don’t fuck up.

CHAPTER 3

WYLIE

Diego was provingto be a tough nut to crack, and Wylie’s usual tricks weren’t working–showing some skin, eating a messy pulled pork sandwich while moaning and licking his fingers, slinging around heavy boxes to flex his strength. Diego had barely said a word to him in the entire two weeks they’d been working together, and whenever it seemed Wylie was getting somewhere with his stoic coworker, a damn customer would have the audacity to show up with a hankering for a pork platter and interrupt his flow.

But tonight was their first closing shift together, and Wylie had one goal in mind, to find out what kind of music Diego was into. Innocent, but telling.

“I got some bad news,” Hannah said to him that afternoon after he’d sat down to roll silverware with her before their shift started. He’d arrived at work wearing a clean shirt and a dab of cologne from a Coach sampler that Nancy had given him after a recent trip to Dillards. That woman loved free shit, and Wylie did too.

“Don’t tell me you’re pregnant?” Wylie said, only half-joking. Kayla was a delight, but one kid with Fuckface McPherson was more than enough.

“Oh my god, no. Don’t even speak that into the universe. No, this is something else, about your boo thang.”

“My boo thang? I wish. The man barely notices me,” Wylie griped.

“Well, did you know that your crush is Frank’s nephew?”

Frank was Diego’s uncle? There was a family resemblance–dark hair, thick eyebrows, bulky build, a generally grumpy aura that concealed a big heart, in Frank’s case. Frank was hot in a middle-aged, dad-bod kinda way, but knowing the man had a wife and kids had definitely put him out of the running for Wylie’s affections.

“Is that a problem?” Wylie asked. It wasn’t like he was proposing marriage or anything. At this point, he was just trying to get some lingering eye contact.

Hannah took a bracing breath and glanced around to make sure no one was close enough to overhear. Distractedly, Wylie admired her sharp, winged eyeliner. She was a fucking artist with that shit. Steady hands.

“He just got out of prison.”

Wylie focused his wandering attention on what his friend had just told him.Prison?Not jail, but prison?

“Are you for real?” he asked.

“Yes, and he was in there fora while,” Hannah added with emphasis.

No wonder the man had seemed so confounded by social media when Wylie had asked for his handles. “Well, that explains some things.” At Hannah’s confused expression he said, “I asked for his Snap, and he had no idea what I was talking about. Told me he didn’t do ‘all that,’” he said, making air quotes.

Diego was a ghost online–Wylie had checked–just an outdated Facebook page set to private. Wylie thought the man had been brushing him off, but it made sense if Diego been in prison for the past few years. He knew he shouldn’t go fishing for information, that he should hear it from the source himself, but the temptation was simply too great. “Well, what was he in for?”

Hannah grabbed her phone, did some stabbing at the screen, and handed it over to him. The first thing that struck him was how fine the man looked, even in his badly lit mugshot. “That bone structure,” he murmured. “Doesn’t have a bad side, does he?”

“Wylie Fox Sommers,” Hannah scolded, using his full name, a habit she stole from his late mother.

Wylie read the arrest report. “Armed robbery, possession of a stolen weapon, possession of cocaine. Sheesh.” He let out a low whistle. “How long was he in for?”

“Seven years. Brian went to school with him. Said he got heavy into drugs, dropped out of school, and then this happened. Brian hasn’t seen him since.”

Wylie scowled. The fact that Hannah’s asshole boyfriend knew Diego was somehow worse than the criminal record.

“Well, as long as it’s not pedophilia or sexual assault. Or murder,” Wylie said.