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obligations and debts to deal with before getting out…starting with
warning Oscar about Beck. “Nobody said anything about me going into
segregation.”
    She picked up her briefcase. “It’ll be several days before I
can make this deal happen and we can’t risk your life by putting you back into
the general population.”
    “But putting me in segregation will risk my life.”
    Her brow wrinkled. “That makes no sense.”
    “Not to you, but it makes perfect sense to me, and to every
other convict. No one’s been to see me since I got here and now suddenly my lawyer…”
He mimed quotation marks in the air. “…pays me a visit and then I’m put in
protective custody?” He shook his head with a humorless chuckle. “There’ll be a
torpedo gunning for me before supper tonight. Ad Seg or no Ad Seg.”
    “That’s preposterous.”
    He hitched his shoulder. “That’s prison.”
    She paused then shook her head. “It’s too dangerous. I won’t
endanger this operation on a hunch.”
    “It’s not a hunch. It’s reality. But…” He stood and nodded
to Morgan who moved to the door. “…it’s your decision. Too bad I won’t be
around to tell you I told you so.”
    Jarvis huffed a breath. “All right. Fine. You go back to
your cell, but,” she jabbed her finger at him, “so help me God, Callan, you end
up dead, and I’ll kill you.”
    Lynch exited the room, a grin on his face. “I’ll keep that
in mind, counselor.”

 
    Chapter Three
     
    WITH
THE WIND cooling the sweat on her skin, Shasta Albright Dupree ran.
    She often claimed she loved running because she needed the
exercise and it gave her time alone to think. But the truth was she ran for the
simple, sheer joy of it.
    The isolated desert landscape of her favorite trail passed
in blurry focus. The crisp spring air burned her lungs as her footfalls against
the hard-packed dirt reverberated up her legs, through her torso and into her head.
Her fanny pack bounced rhythmically against her hip. Nothing compared to a
good, long run. It rejuvenated her soul. Granted her freedom—if only for a
short period. The restrictions of being a mom and wife could be smothering at
times.
    It wasn’t that she didn’t dearly love her six-year-old son,
Wyatt, because she did. She’d give her life for him. And then there was Graham,
her husband, a truly awesome guy.
    She’d known Graham her whole life, seeing he was her dad’s
best friend. He’d been the DA when her dad held the sheriff job. For over
twenty years, they doled out their brand of law and order justice, with her
father the law and Graham the order…
    And when her world had careened dangerously out of control,
Graham stayed right by her side. He’d been her rock. Her savior. Plus, he loved
Wyatt like he was his own…
    Shasta couldn’t ask for a better life. She had a roof over
her head, food in the fridge, a great kid and devoted husband. If not for the
car accident shortly after their wedding, which left Graham paralyzed from the
waist down, everything would be perfect.
    Disgusted with her selfish thoughts, she raced up a
sagebrush covered hill. She needed to stop complaining, even to herself. She
should be grateful for what she had. Because she had a lot.
    Her hands shook as her legs protested the uphill strain. But
rather than decreasing her pace, she tripled her effort. By the time she
reached the top, her brain was thankfully blank.
    She danced in a circle, fist-pumping her hands overhead…her
version of Rocky scaling the museum steps. She giggled at her silly antic.
    A loud whinny halted her jubilance. She crouched low then
scampered to the side of a boulder and peered into the ravine on her right. A
small herd of wild mustangs grazed about sixty feet away. A roan-colored
stallion stood watch over three mares, two of which looked pregnant. The
stallion’s ears jutted forward, his eyes wide. He pranced, his snout in the air
trying to smell her location.
    She immediately skulked along the rock