Lucas

Oliver paced back and forth across the cramped, dark, county jail’s tank.

Between the narrow, ass-punishing bench meant to hold ten men, which now held twenty, and the fact that the object of Oliver’s ire sat on the concrete floor not four-feet away, I couldn't blame Oliver.

I do wish he’d stop, though.

Oliver’s normally genial gaze filled with anger as he glared down at my kid brother.

“Chase, why’d you have to go and ...