Free On Best Behavior (C3) by Jennifer Lane Page B

Tequila.”
    His smile was hopeful. “Body shots?”

6. Contempt
    “O PEN O N T WENTY !” the guard barked to the control booth. Enzo Barberi stood in the hallway and watched the bars of his cell slide open.
    Squinting against the harsh fluorescent lighting, he forced his head up as the guard unlocked his handcuffs. Without a word, Enzo stepped inside the cell.
    “Close on twenty!”
    He heard the clang of the bars behind him. This cell was brighter than the one in solitary confinement, but it was still a cage. A human cage. A cage he could’ve escaped from if not for the FBI busting up his beautiful plan.
    Setting aside his muscle magazine, Jewels Monroe looked up from the bottom bunk. “You don’t look so good, boss.”
    “Fuck you.” Enzo went to the filthy sink and splashed some water on his face, then peered up into the cloudy reflective surface passing as a mirror. Hard contours lined his ashen face, and his eyes had sunk into his skull. “You try staying in the hole for two months, see how you look.” He patted his face with a stained gray towel.
    Jewels slowly stood, waiting until he looked him in the eye. “Want me to start with old or new business?” he asked in a low voice.
    “I’ve been holed away for ages, Jewels. What do you think?”
    He cleared his throat. “There’s a fresh fish now claiming Gurnee as his address. Just like you predicted after things got busted up.”
    “Only one, huh?” Enzo’s jaw clenched. “A fat fish or a tall fish?”
    “Tall. And scared shitless.”
    “You got it all set up?”
    Jewels nodded.
    He smiled. Time to pay, Tank . Then his smile vanished as he remembered the feel of the soft leather belt folded in his hands, watching Logan tuck a trembling Grant behind him, a defiant set to his mouth. Logan had been one brave boy.
    His face hardened. Time to pay for killing my son.
    ***
    Pungent chlorine assaulted Sophie as she entered the windowless high school pool. She closed her eyes and inhaled a big whiff of the familiar smell. Memories of summer league swim meets tumbled through her mind: cheering parents, warm nacho cheese on crunchy tortilla chips, bouncing behind the starting block as she watched her teammate race the girl in the next lane. She smiled.
    “Hey, Sophie!”
    She opened her eyes to find Ben waving at her from one of the lanes. “’Bout time you got here! I was starting to think you chickened out.”
    Tucking her towel more tightly around her waist, she approached the pool edge. “Sorry, a student needed to talk to me after class.”
    “Where’s Uncle Grant?”
    She hesitated. “He couldn’t make it. Um…I’ll tell you more later.”
    Ben did not look happy.
    “I know practice is over already because I saw the girls in the locker room, but where’s your coach? He knows you’re doing this, right?”
    He gestured to an office off the pool deck. “He knows. He’s in there.”
    “Good.” The fewer witnesses, the better .
    “He said he could only stay about twenty minutes for our race.”
    Her heart fluttered. “But I need to warm up!”
    “Better get busy then.” He grinned and swam down to the other end of the pool, where he hopped out and mounted the block to practice his starts.
    After she tucked her long hair into a swim cap, she strapped on her goggles and curled her toes over the edge of the pool. She fiddled with the straps of her black racing suit, then took a deep breath and jumped in. She gasped at the cold water. This wasn’t some overheated recreation pool with old ladies doing sidestroke. This was Illinois high school swimming, and she’d better get focused fast.
    Five minutes later, her labored breathing after just one length of butterfly alarmed her. The soothing water welcomed her back to her childhood sport, but her endurance and form were no longer a twelve-year-old’s. She wished she could back out of this harebrained duel. Why did she have to be so competitive?
    Hoping to practice a start or two before their