Protective Secrets (The Protective Series, Book 3)

Chapter Ten

[Jarmo's P.O.V]

The three of us walked down the narrow hallway in unison, keeping to the left of the shiny white linoleum floor as a small group of police officers passed by, meeting our eyes with a friendly incline of their heads.

I gave a small nod right back, averting my attention back to the row of inbuilt cells straight ahead. A tall bald man was pacing back and forth inside the first cell as we approached, squaring his broad shoulders and glaring down at the concrete floor beneath his giant lace-up boots. On the side of his veiny  neck was a tattoo of barbed wire, snaking its way down into the collar of his orange jumpsuit. He looked really intimidating, like he had been the hitman of a big crime organisation. It wouldn't have come to much of a surprise to me if he had been arrested running away from a bloody crime scene, or stealing bags of money from one of the major banks.

The second cell that we passed was completely bare - the only indication that it had actually once been occupied the names scratched into the peeling creamy white concrete wall, dating back to as early as 1989.

"He's in this cell," Izzy announced, coming to a stop in front of the last cell. "Greetings, Mr Dan Fisher."

A crumpled figure slouched in one of the four corners of the cell slowly lifted their head up, drawing their thick dark eyebrows together at the unexpected sight before him. "Who the hell is this queer?"

"He is Izzy Spacey," Asko scowled, narrowing his eyes at Dan indignantly. "And he is our new manager. He's done a way better job over the past two years than you ever did in the first month that you knew us."

Dan straightened himself against the two walls, drawing a ripped and torn blue duvet over his lap. It must have been well below ten degrees inside the cell; I could feel the icy breeze blowing through the bars and around the rest of the space we currently shared.

"I may not have met you until just now," Izzy began, crouching down level with Dan and knotting his thick fingers in front of his knees. "But I don't like what they've told me about you, nor do I like the sob story you tried to sell to them. These boys are like my family," he paused, furrowing his thick eyebrows intently. His gaze remained fixed to Dan's face, as if he could tell the story of our past just by making eye contact. "If you truly are sorry for mistreating them, then why were you hiding out at a stranger's house and trying to steal from an old man? It just doesn't make sense to me."

Dan snorted, tearing his gaze away from Izzy's. "I needed a place to stay. Ever since I lost my job being their manager, I've been a homeless disappointment. No other bands or singers will sign me up as their manager."

"Gee I wonder why," I stated dryly, rolling my eyes as I placed my knuckles against my sides. "I've got breaking news for you Dan; you've never been popular. Not once. When you stomp all over a band who helped your name get recognised, and who did every little thing that you asked, of course the world is going to hate on you."

Asko nodded in agreement to my right, folding his toned arms across his chest. His hair looked chocolate brown in the dully lit hallway, standing up in messy tufts now after being gelled through prior to the gig. Every time we were on stage, we rocked out hard as one single unit, all dancing and playing in perfect synch. It was always fun to notice how different the others looked after the show had reached its climax, because I loved poking shit at them.

"I do what I can to get by," Dan sighed woefully, ignoring Asko altogether. "I'm not proud of what I do, okay? So I don't need either of you ratifying it for me."

I looked away from Dan for a brief moment to Asko, hoping he would pick up on my sudden state of silence. Usually I was the one to keep firing back words as fast as they hit me, but I was not buying any of what he was feeding us for a second.