Hard Time (Hard as Nails #1) Read Online Free Page A

apartment from the pocket of my jeans. I can’t shake the tenor of her voice, or how goddamn wonderful she looked dressed casually, her hair loose and her curves noticeable in a way they hadn’t been in her prison work uniform.
    But most of all, I can’t shake the idea that there’s no turning back. Now that I’ve seen her up close, and felt her breath dance along my skin from across that fucking counter... Now that we’ve spoken and we’ve finally acknowledged each other’s existence …
    No, I can never go back.
    I twist the key into the lock of the thin, tattered door and push it partway open. I’m hit with an instant cloud of marijuana smoke, and my blood begins to boil. My heart begins to race. My hand rolls into a fist as I bang the door all the way open and see my piece-of-shit best friend Trevor choking on a hit from a bong as he cranes his neck to face me.
    He doesn’t live here. He’s just visiting. Only he’s not supposed to be visiting. He’s a fucking ex-con, just like me, and a term of my parole is to not hang out with any ex-felons, in particular the guy who I committed burglary with all those years ago. But Trevor is like a brother to me, and he’s trying to stay straight. He needs my help to do that. So I’ve let him crash at my place a couple of times, on the condition that he never stay long and that he stay clean. It’s a big risk—if my parole agent stops by for a surprise inspection, I’m fucked.
    I’ve never been able to do the smart thing when it comes to Trevor. But now that I have the promise of spending more time with Katie in my future, that has to change.
    “What the fuck are you doing?” I inquire, because it’s always best to ask a question or two before beating your friend’s ass. I’m under court-ordered sobriety, and one failed piss test from either drugs or alcohol will be enough to send me back to prison. A stranger would have already been on the ground with a broken nose. But this was Trevor…
    “What…” He coughs against a clenched fist. “What does it look like, Bro.”
    “Don’t call me Bro,” I say and slam the door shut behind me. I cross my arms over my chest. “What happened to staying clean?”
    “It’s just weed, man. Not even enough to charge me with possession for sale. It’s not meth or coke.”
    “Weed is enough to get my ass thrown back in jail, Trev. Just like associating with you is.”
    Trevor grinned. “Associating, eh? Careful, Street, you’re using them big words again. I might start to think you think you’re better than me if you keep talking that way. And maybe you are. But that hasn’t always been the case. I remember a time when I was better than you. Funny how that changed.”
    There it was. The same old shit. The hammer Trevor kept hanging over my head and has ever since we were kids. Because of it, I’d let him pull me into his shit over and over again. I’d even spent time in prison. But this was where it stopped. I’ve finally made contact with Katie, and the thought of going back to prison for a parole violation and never seeing her again is unbearable.
    “You need to leave. And I mean it, Trevor, this time you need to stay away. When I think it’s safe, I’ll come see you.”
    “And where are you going to do that, Bro? I don’t have any place to stay. The old lady kicked me out again. If you do the same, who knows what kind of trouble I’ll get into.”
    I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “Damn it, Trevor—”
    For seconds, I wrestle with feelings of loyalty and self-preservation.
    “I’m sorry about the weed, Street.” I open my eyes at Trevor’s quiet, serious tone. He’s sitting up straighter and he’s put down the bong. “I don’t want to get you in trouble. It’d kill me if you went back to prison. You’re all I have. I need you, man. And I need a place to stay.”
    I stare at him, feeling what I always feel when Trevor gets this way—a combination of affection and resentment. We grew