Free THROTTLE: (A Stepbrother Romance) by Holly Stone

 
    2

 
 
    Had
it been eight years already?
    Most
days dragged by so slowly, it felt as though an eon had elapsed since Jared’s
incarceration began. At the same time, the events that led to his imprisonment
were as clear and fresh in his mind as if they'd occurred only the day before.
    He
hadn’t even known there was a word for what he did until he’d been dragged up
from the cells and interrogated by the police.   He’d kept his hands under the table in front of him because he didn’t
want them to see how much he was shaking.  
    No
one outside could imagine what it felt like to squeeze the life out of a man, to
feel the jerking and juddering as you throttled away their last breath.   Sometimes Jared found himself staring at his
own hands, marveling at what they’d done, disgusted at their violence but proud
of their ability to protect.  
    Eight long years.  
    Did
he regret them?  
    That
was hard.   It was impossible not to look
at the loss of so many years of freedom with anger and unhappiness.   When he thought of all the things he could
have been doing in his twenties he wanted to punch a hole in a wall from
frustration.   But he couldn’t regret what
he did because the alternative was unthinkable.   That filthy bastard hadn’t deserved to live another day with the power
to hurt and to abuse.   Jared wouldn’t ever
regret putting a stop to what he had seen.   Those memories couldn’t be erased, but he wished that they could.   He’d do anything to never have to remember
again.   He shook his head in an
instinctive attempt to clear his mind, not wanting to think about that night,
especially not on the day he was getting out.  
    He
flexed his fingers then put them behind his head so he could do another set of
stomach crunches.   One,
two, three.   He counted them off,
trying to hold his focus so he wouldn’t have to face seeing a flash of that
image again.  
    Emma.  
    Her
name was like a fire in his mind and a cool breeze to his soul.  
    Ten,
eleven, twelve…he wasn’t even feeling it yet.   There hadn’t been much else to do in the pen except build up his fitness
and strength.   He’d gone inside at eighteen
and learnt pretty quickly that a man needed to be able to protect himself.   That train of thought brought back more memories
he didn’t want to recall.  
    Twenty, twenty-one.   Jared had called Seth last week; he’d be
waiting outside to collect him.   Emma had
wanted to.   Her last letter had confirmed
it, but Jared couldn’t face her, not straight out of jail.   She’d already seen him reduced to nothing
more than a number.   He’d never wanted
her to see him dressed in orange, looking like the criminal he was.
    Twenty-eight, twenty-nine.  
    They
were letting him go.   That’s all that
mattered.   It was all he wanted to think
about.
    And
he was never going back.

 

 
    3

 
 
    "Did
you hear? Jared got out last week."
    "Really?"
Emma asked, feigning a look of surprise as she glanced toward her friend. It'd
been six days, nine hours, and thirty-seven minutes since his release.
    Not
that she was keeping track.
    "Yeah,
I heard about it from Seth. I guess Jared got in touch with him for a place to
stay," Nicky said, her eyes filled with concern. "So he hasn't come
to see you?"
    "Nope,"
Emma answered with a dismissive shrug. Or what she hoped was a dismissive
shrug, anyway. It was hard not to give away the anxious anticipation that
coursed through her at the very mention of his name.
    "Weird,
you'd think that'd be one of the first things he'd do."
    "Nah,
I don't think so," she said, shaking her head.
    "Really?"
Nicky's eyebrows rose in surprise. "After everything he did, you don't
think he'd wanna see you as soon as he got out? I
mean, it's been—"
    "Eight
years," she said, inhaling sharply. "I know how long it’s been."
    Emma
turned away, glancing across the empty field that stretched into the distance
beside them. Just saying the words left a