Cover

Prologue

Lincoln

There’s rock bottom, and then there’s the underbelly of rock bottom.

My underbelly?

Getting arrested and going to federal prison.

Today, I’m being released from the hellhole.

With my chin held high, I salute the guard and exit the place where I’ve been held hostage for two years.

There’s no stronger high than freedom.

No drug.

No booze.

No sex.

Nothing.

Everything I took for granted in the past I’m grateful for.

Hello, fucking freedom.

It feels damn good, being released from prison for a crime I didn’t commit.

I’ve been humbled like a motherfucker.

I went from owning a million-dollar penthouse to sleeping in a prison cell to crashing in my brother’s guest bedroom.

From being the VP of a million-dollar empire to broke.

The feds took possession of nearly everything with my name on it.

Underbelly of rock bottom.

It’s been a long-ass day. After leaving the prison, I was treated to a steak and lobster dinner, courtesy of my mother.

“I read that people like a nice, big meal after being released from incarceration,” was what she declared.

I replied with a forced smile and enjoyed the meal.

Who turns down a steak and lobster dinner?

I didn’t have the heart to tell her that all this guy wanted straight out of prison was solitude, peace and quiet. One more luxury I’d taken for granted.

After showering, I slide into the king-size bed—the silky sheets yet another relic of my old life—and snatch my phone. Just as I plug it into the charger, a text comes through.

Unknown number: It’s Isla. Can we talk?

My blood boils, and my grip tightens around the phone.

How’d she get my number?

I had my brother, Archer, change it, so I could have a fresh start when I was released.

Cursing, I delete the text, toss my phone onto the floor, and sigh as I soak in the silence.

Had it not been for Isla, I might not have been incarcerated.

Had it not been for Isla, my father might not be in a prison cell, awaiting his own freedom.

Chapter One

Cassidy

“Have you lost your fucking mind?”

Since I’m walking out of the county jail, my brother’s question isn’t a shocker. Barefoot with my heels in my hands, I hop down the concrete steps one at a time. Call me classy.

Don’t judge.

Get Arrested wasn’t on last night’s bingo card.

Kyle leans against his Jeep with crossed arms and a deep scowl. I gulp back the dread of the interrogation he’ll deliver on our drive back to my sorority house.

“Yes, you’ve definitely lost your mind,” he adds when I fail to answer.

I squeeze my forehead to ease my pounding skull while facing him. “Can you not be so loud?”

My head throbs.

My body aches.