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 start a fight?"
Chase pulled the paper cup filled with cool water from his swollen eye, the closest thing the jail would give him to an ice pack. He glared back at Oliver until the pain got to him and he reapplied the ice pack.
“Nothing to say for yourself? Who cares if you get another misdemeanor on your record? I'm supposed to be training police dogs, man. I
