“Your hair’s getting pretty long,” I found myself saying. “Can you cut it here? Is that allowed?”
“There’s a barber here, so yes,” he answered. “But I’m not really keen on getting it done by someone I don’t trust, so other than a couple of trims on my own, it’s just getting long.”
Meaning he hadn’t cut it in almost two years.
I kind of liked it, really.
It looked good.
Really good.
Sexy good.
So good, in fact, that the longer it got, the more I wanted to sink my fingers into it. To use his hair to pull him close.
I mentally berated myself for losing track of what I was doing, then got back on point to cover my tracks.
“So let me tell you about the dogs…”
• • •
HUNT
Nine months later
The moment I walked into the room and saw her face, I felt things inside of me clench.
God, she was fucking beautiful.
And when I say beautiful, I mean, she took my breath away beautiful.
Then she turned, realizing that the prisoners were being let in the room, and my breath left me in a rush.
I wasn’t aware that I was pushing people out of the way, men that could make my life a living hell, until I’d already made my way to Wyett.
My hand slid up her throat until I could get to her face, and then I tilted her chin up so that I could see her cheek. My thumb rested just underneath of her chin while the rest of my fingers rested over the bounding pulse in her neck.
Goddamn, but she had one hell of a shiner.
“No touching, McJimpsey,” one of the better guards ordered.
And when I say better, I mean he ‘didn’t try to fuck me over’ better. The guard, Tetters, was probably a decent man outside of the prison. But inside, he got all hyped up with the rest of the guards and ended up being a piece of shit still. He just didn’t kick me or bash me in the head with a baton when nobody was looking.
He always waited until someone was looking to do anything because otherwise he would lose face with the rest of the guards.
Well, so far he wasn’t on my list of people I was going to fuck over when I got out of prison, but he could be.
Oh, would he be, if he ever fucked me over like the others.
I let go of my wife and stared down into her eyes.
One was the bright chocolate brown that I knew and loved. The other was brown, but it was surrounded by bloodshot whites, and then a black eye. A really bad black eye.
“What happened?” I growled.
She narrowed her eyes. “It doesn’t feel good when I’m hurt and you can’t figure out how, does it?”
I narrowed my eyes. “What happened?”
“So about the dogs…” She ignored me.
My growl of frustration was cut short by her continued diatribe.
“Calm down, McJimpsey, or I’m going to have to take you back to your cell early.”
The snotty, sugary sweet, asshole of a guard…
“He’s not uncalm,” Wyett snapped. “At least, he wasn’t until you came over here and told him to calm down. He was actually doing quite well considering I wasn’t telling him how I got a black eye. A black eye and the poor guy can do nothing about it because he’s in here in this joint cooped up with the likes of you. Now, please kindly get the fuck away from me.”
And, surprisingly, Breen did.
I looked at her with narrowed eyes. “What the hell was that?”
“That was me getting really tired of that asshole talking to me every time I come in here,” she growled. “I don’t know what his obsession is, but I only have enough time for one crazy person in my life.”
I gritted my teeth. “Your aunt?”
She snarled in frustration. “My aunt.”
CHAPTER 5
Optimist: the glass is half full of white wine.
Pessimist: the glass is half empty with white whine.
Realist: that’s pee, isn’t it?
HUNT
Twelve months later
The new prison in comparison to my old prison felt like I’d moved from a hovel in trailer town to a mansion in Bel Air.
No more daily fights. No more random attacks in the middle of the night from my roommates. No more guards beating the shit out of me for no reason.
No more random shanking in the lunchroom.
No more accidentally losing an ear at the barbershop.
Honestly, I could do a lot with what I was given here.
If only my first three or so years had been like this, I wouldn’t have hated it so much.
And, on top of it all, I had access to computers.
Access to computers that I’d already used to do basic searches into assholes’ lives that decided to make my life a living hell over the last two plus years.
One man in particular.
Breen.
The doors slid open, allowing us to enter into the visiting area, and there she was.
This time, her eyes didn’t have the same dark circles indicating that she’d gotten up early to drive the four hours to get to me.
This time, she had makeup on, looked fresh-faced, and had a smile on her lips that was aimed directly at me.
When I sat down, she pounced. “This place is so much better than the last. It’s like ten times better. And I don’t get groped on the way inside!”
Something sour filled my stomach. “You got that at the other place?”
She grimaced. “I didn’t want to tell you.”
“Why?” I asked carefully, trying to control my temper.
“Because I didn’t want to make it any harder there than it had to be,” she explained. “There was one guard in particular that always used to make me feel so grossed out.”
She shivered, and I knew right then and there what her reaction was about the last time she was visiting me at my former prison.
Breen.
He’d touched her.
He may not have done it in an obvious way, but he’d touched her and made her feel enough disgust that she’d reacted in a way that should’ve sent red flags
