Megan Hetherington [Hetherington - Bad Ink

Contents

BAD INK

Megan Hetherington

Copyright @ 2019 Megan Hetherington

All rights reserved

This book is a work of fiction. Any reference to real events, real people and real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places and incidents are products of the Authors imagination and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, organizations or places is entirely coincidental.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording or other electronic or mechanical methods, without prior written permission. Apart from small excerpts that are used in book reviews.

ASIN: B07TY55CYD

Prologue

Isaac Winters

Seven Years Ago

You like it up the ass, Jay?

Laughing at Rorys joke, I strain my neck to glance over my shoulder to the rear of the camper van, catching him flick the back of his hand on to Jays bare thigh.

Screw you, Jay spits. He slides open the rear door, pulls his shorts out of his backside and slips out into another morning when the mercury tips one-hundred degrees.

Like the rest of us, the heat and lack of sleep this week have made Jay cranky and devoid of humor.

The original idea for spring break was as a tonic; a time to rejuvenate before a serious semester of exams but, like all college freshmen, we missed that memo. Desperate to cement our status as the bad-ass newcomers at San Diego University, weve been on an all-out jaunt to Mexico. And, yeah, we smoked too much dope and drank excessive amounts of Tequila. So, rejuvenated is not a word Id use to describe us right now as we yearn for the nearing comforts of home. More frazzled. Tetchy. Even paranoid.

Fidgeting in our sarcastically named Pussy Wagon, eyeing the border crossing ahead, its natural the five of us panic. Shit, were teenagers and watched too many drug-smuggling movies; its obvious our young imaginations shift into overdrive.

Henry glances across from the passenger seat with furrowed brows.

Prison, I explain to him. Rory thinks well get pulled by the Federales. I nod up the line to the Mexican militia, stalking the cars at the border control.

Henrys jaw slackens and instinctively he swipes his forefinger under his nose. Do you think so?

Lighten up, dude. I re-sit my ball cap on my head, prodding the annoying curls of my over-long hair behind my ears.

Im about to close my eyes and dream up a vision of Cate, my wholesome girl with her soft, creamy skin, mahogany-colored hair and lusciously plump lips. Instead, Im forced to acknowledge Carlos in the windshield mirror, lining up between the front seats.

He nudges his fake Oakleys down the bridge of his nose before thrusting his head through the seats to join in the conversation. Carlos isnt strictly on Spring Breakhe didnt enroll at college and bunked off most of high school toobut he convinced us we needed him on this trip for his local knowledge. It turns out his local knowledge is as extensive as ours. Sweet FA.

Fuck that. Theyre only for show. Carlos smacks his gum loudly in my ear. Theyre not interested whos coming in or out, its the US border guys who are and were US citizens. So, go figure. He throws himself back on the bench, reveling in his cocky surety.

Im not bothered who were hiding. Its what might be lost in here, Henry fusses.

Stop being a pussy, Carlos scoffs. Just because this rentals in your name doesnt make everything in here yours.

You better not have stashed any shit, guys. Henrys eyes redden as if hell burst into tears.

Fuck this. Im going for a piss. Rory joins Jay out on the melting asphalt, closely followed by Carlos, who, despite his nonchalant shrug-off, has left sweaty handprints on the worn-leather front seats. I angle to one side to avoid them.

Shut the door, Henry, its a fucking furnace out there. I blow out a breath and twist the grime-covered knob which sets the air-conditioning to stutter out dust-ridden air.

As requested, Henry squeezes through the front seats and, with a grunt, slides shut the door while I watch the other three saunter off toward the amenity block.

To calm the tension brewing, I crank up the volume on the radio and we sit tight, weighing up the soldiers ahead against a background of Maroon 5s One More Night. There are half a dozen guards, wearing dark-blue fatigues, punctuated with sturdy utility-belts and black combat-boots. Their menacing image topped with rifles held protectively across their armored vests. Two German Shepherds and their handlers circle a car ahead. The dogs suddenly pull onto their back legs and bark aggressively at a sun-bleached Dodge Journey truck.

Henry blurts out a nervous laugh. Seems their times up. He grasps the nape of his neck and wipes his palm over hairs which have likely stood on end. I figure this because mine have prickled too.

Flicking my eyes to the truck, I purse my lips and selfishly wish its exactly whats happening to the occupants.

Four of the guards move away to investigate the targeted car and, as I hoped, the line moves quickerthree cars being waved through in quick succession.

I clear my throat and thrust the van into gear so we can edge closer to the front. Two hours its taken to get to this point and now were only two cars away. Panic rises in my throat and an icy bead of sweat snakes down my spine.

A glance over at our friends laughing and joking as they exit the restrooms, has me for a moment, considering bailing out too. But thats plain ridiculous. As Carlos assured us well be fine . Were US citizens theyre not interested in us. The guards will apologize for holding us in this line.

As we inch closer to home, the needle on the engine-coolant dial nudges into the red. We dont need to break down hereother side and were fine. If the van gives out on the US side of the border, Ill hitch a ride home or call Cate to collect me. Ive spent enough time in this heap of crap and with its occupants to share another shit-show with them.

Now, theres only one car between us and the rabid dogs which have now re-joined the main check-point.

I gulp.

A solitary guard strides around the rest of his team and makes a beeline for our car.

He lifts his gun. My jaw slackens.

Then he repeatedly flicks his rifle from our car to the side of the line.

I cant swallow. My Adams apple swells in my throat.

Theres no mistaking what the guard means.

Hes indicating for us to pull over. Theyre going to run an inspection on us. And the van.

Isaac? Henry looks as if hell pass out, his face paling to a green-tinged white.

Fuck, I murmur under my breath, my chest tightening as I watch Rory, Jay, and Carlos turn away from us, disregard our plight and join the pedestrian line to cross the border.

I screw my sticky hands on the steering wheel. You got any dollars?

Why? Henry asks innocently.

A tingling sensation which starts as heat in my hairline travels over my forehead, stinging my eyes on the way to my heart, where Cate made me promise. Dont do anything stupid and come back to me the same man.

That was almost three thousand days ago. Shit, it seems such a long time, when said like that. Actually, its a long time whatever unit of measure you care to use.

So much has happened since, and none of it good.

My heartfelt promise to Cate was soon forgotten as I strived to survive the hell-hole of a Mexican jail.

Now Im back, not by choice. I couldnt pass on thisits the only reason Im still breathing. In those seven years, each breath was sucked in and blown out with this in mind. A debt I promised to repay.

Im not the same guy who went into prison, fuck, I was only a boy when Henry and I were turned away from the border and manhandled to a Mexican holding cell.