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Gem Hunter: A Novella

By Janice Boekhoff

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At the sharp yank on the back of his prison jumpsuit, Ruger Westmoreland whipped around, arms curled, fists clenched, ready to fight.
"Afraid you won't make it out of here alive?" Jared chuckled.
Ruger scowled at his brother's accurate guess. Even though Ruger was scheduled for release in two days, part of him believed this place would reach out with slithering chains and drag him back into the depths of depravity. His time at Central Colorado State Prison couldn't end soon enough.
A muscular inmate with an intricate tattoo on his bicep passed within ten yards of them. Jared gave the man a warning glare. The man winked and sauntered to the other side of the prison yard. The rest of the men in the yard ignored them. Somehow, Jared garnered respect even in this crowd. Ruger had only survived in here because of him. Even so, Ruger's gratitude was constantly diluted by the injustice of being here. The least Jared could do was protect him.
"Hey, bro, I need to talk to you." Jared moved to put his back against the interior prison wall, his eyes tracking the movements of the general population.
Ruger moved to the spot next to Jared and he, too, stared out at the inmates. Some huddled in small groups, others loudly recounted the glory of their days on the outside, and others simply walked on the green grass, paying no notice to the barbed-wire-topped concrete wall that separated them from the real world.
"I need you to do something for me."
"The last time you said that, I ended up here." The familiar pulse of anger shot through him, but he pushed it down with practiced ease and kept his voice neutral. For the next two days, Jared was still his lifeline. "What is this about?"
An uncomfortable shifting on the wall. If Jared was nervous, this was bad. "Before I came to prison, I did something horrible."
Ruger let his shoulders slump forward. "Duh."
Jared shook his head. "Not that. Something worse."
Something worse than embezzlement? Silence fell over them as Ruger tried to guess what Jared meant. Maybe he's just messing with me.
As the prisoners in the yard grew louder, the silence between them dragged on. An old fear rose up, forming a hard knot in Ruger's throat. He might know exactly what his brother had done, but he couldn't ask. Not in this place. Not when he lived or died based on Jared's protection.
Jared pushed off the wall and turned to face Ruger, allowing Ruger to watch his back, a message of trust. "I know I have no right to ask this..." The muscle under Jared's left eye twitched. To cause such stress in Ruger's normally rock-steady brother, whatever this was had to be illegal. "I need you to get rid of something for me."
Ruger folded his arms over his chest. "What?"
"Evidence."
Tampering with evidence would land Ruger back in prison. How could Jared ask that? He knew what it felt like to fear the next hour, the next moment. To go to bed terrified each night and wake up to a nightmare every day. And yet, somehow the fear didn't tie Jared up in knots like it did Ruger.
Jared lowered his eyes briefly, then raised them, his brows arched, his mouth parted in a pleading expression. "The less you know, the better. For your own protection. I just need you to pick up a box and dump it in a lake or drop it down a mine shaft. Put it somewhere deep."
For your own protection. Like the day Jared had kept Ruger in the dark and gotten him arrested. Ignorance hadn't helped him then. "Tell me what's in it."
"Believe me, you don't want to know. I'm just afraid someone will find it."
"I'm not going after it if I don't know what's in it."
Jared nodded quickly as though Ruger's refusal was inconsequential. "It's buried in the old cave we used to play in. Do you remember?"
"Yeah." Ruger unfolded his arms and wiped his hands on his pants. "But I don't think I can find it."
A forced chuckle escaped Jared's lips. "You were always better with directions than me. You'll find it."
Irritation simmered in Ruger's chest. Jared assumed he'd go, assumed everyone would do his bidding. Worst part was, they usually did.
"Come on, bro." Jared swept an arm toward the prison yard. "You know I've taken care of you."
Ruger shifted his gaze to a scuffle between two meaty inmates in the far corner. The other inmates cast interested glances at the pair, waiting to see if it would develop into a real brawl. Just like his first time in the yard when a hulking bald inmate had shoved him to the ground. Everyone else stood around watching, expecting a battle, albeit a minor one since Ruger was no match for the guy. Until Jared came to stand behind him. Not wanting to fight the two of them, the man left after a swift kick to Ruger's stomach. The next day, Ruger heard rumors of the bald man being taken to the infirmary. Somehow, he'd broken that same leg after a fall in the hallway. Probably a coincidence, but since then, no one had dared to pick a fight with the Westmoreland brothers.
Jared prodded Ruger with an elbow. "So you'll take care of this for me."
That was Jared. The older brother by five years, but always asking Ruger to take care of things. At least in prison Jared had returned the favor.
After another nudge from Jared's elbow, Ruger nodded, silently asking God to forgive the lie. He had no intention of following his brother's commands. Jared wasn't due to get out for several more years, so he wouldn't know what Ruger did or didn't do. And if he did go after the box, it wouldn't be to destroy evidence. It would be to keep Jared right where he was.

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