Slammer

by Tabatha Vargo

  I laughed and shook my head. “You’re wrong. X doesn’t care about anything. Everyone knows he’s a monster.” The words burned the back of my tongue.

  He’d saved me, and I knew in the back of my mind that he was far from being a monster, but he was in prison for murder. There was more bad than good inside him.

  “You’re not very observant. Do you have any idea why X is in prison, Ms. Lyla?”

  “Yes. He slaughtered two people. He’s a murderer.”

  “Yep. He allegedly slaughtered two people with a kitchen knife. But there’s one common factor about everyday kitchen knives—they’re dull as shit. You’d have to be one strong son of bitch to cut through bone with one of those. I’ve seen pictures of X before he was put in prison. He might be a big motherfucker now, but back then, he wasn’t much bigger than minute. I find it hard to believe that he was able to cut off one body part, much less multiple off two people, with a dull kitchen knife. Look it up.”

  I’d had my own experiences with dull knives in my kitchen. I could barely cut a piece of chicken, much less a body part. But then again, I wasn’t X. However, if what Scoop was saying was true, then maybe it was something to look into.

  My dad worked for the police department for many years. Set-ups happened all the time. People were arrested for crimes they didn’t commit on a weekly basis. Who was to say that didn’t happen to Christopher as well? I’d had my own doubts about the man he was. I sat on the fence when it came to X, but I couldn’t deny the desire that swam in my stomach for him. Finding out he wasn’t the monster everyone thought he was would make me feel a lot better about that desire.

  Scoop smiled at me from across the room and nodded. “You’re getting it. X isn’t the monster. He does what he has to do to survive.”

  And then he was gone, leaving the room silent. For the first time since I started working there, I noticed I was completely alone inside the infirmary. How had that happened? How was Scoop able to get me alone without an officer present? Obviously, the little guy had more pull in the prison than I realized.

  I spent the rest of the time at work trying to figure out how to get Christopher’s file. I needed to read over it. If Scoop was right, and I had a feeling he was, something was definitely wrong.

  Had Christopher Jacobs been put in prison for a crime he didn’t commit?

  I administered meds and went about work in a zombie-like state, my mind running over the details of everything I’d heard about X’s crimes.

  Suddenly, the bars clinked open and the buzzer sounded as four COs came in carrying X’s limp body. They moved him through the room, struggling to carry his heavy weight, and then they laid him on the closest bed they could get to.

  Running to his bedside, I began to examine him. “What happened?”

  There had been no lockdown—no alarms or flashing lights.

  “Don’t know. Reeves found him this way in his cell.”

  Opening his eyes, I flashed a light in and his pupils didn’t change. Something was definitely wrong. Rushing to the phone, I plucked the receiver from the base and began dialing.

  “Transport,” the usual gruff voice answered.

  “I need an emergency transport STAT.”

  Dr. Giles came in then, his white lab coat flying behind him as he moved with a quick stride. “What’s going on?”

  I explained as he did his own examination.

  Finally, transport showed up and began to load his large frame onto a stretcher. Going to his side, my fingers ached to touch his face.

  Before they began to move him, his eyes popped open. I gasped as he took in my face, his eyes scanning me with worry etched deep into his brow.

  “Lyla.” My name crept from his lips in a whispered struggle.

  He tried to sit up before collapsing back onto the bed. I pressed my palms into his hot chest and forced him to stay down.

  “Shhh. Just relax. You’re going to the hospital. Something’s wrong. Promise me you’ll behave and I’ll be there as soon as I can,” I whispered in a rush.

  His eyes cleared before he nodded his understanding.

  At that, he was gone, transport rushing him from the infirmary. I had the strangest feeling that they’d taken a tiny piece of me with them, leaving me feeling incomplete and awkward.

  CHAPTER 12

  x

  THE MORNING WAS uneventful. Apparently, I’d been wrong about the inmates coming at me during my weakest point. I grabbed breakfast and ate in silence as Scoop ran his cocksucker about some shit going down on the block. I wasn’t all in the conversation—instead, my head kept swimming in the shit that happened over the last few weeks—drowning in Lyla. I was sure those thoughts had a lot to do with the headaches that kept me up at night.

  “So your girl’s back in the clinic,” Scoop said, finally catching my attention.

  I looked up from my eggs, and he chuckled. “I thought that would get your attention.”

  “Shut the fuck up,” I muttered, digging back into my breakfast.

  He laughed and shook his head. His eyes moved around the cafeteria, and his face cleared. Leaning forward, he cleared his throat. “Listen, maybe you should take a break from the infirmary for a bit. I know you want to protect her, but let the COs do their job.”

  I snorted. “Those fucks can’t protect their own asses, much less Lyla’s.”

  “That’s true sometimes, but the boys are talking, and I think maybe you should lay off on your visits.”

  Dropping my fork, I gritted my teeth. “What are they saying?”

  “Not much, but everyone knows you saved her from Carlos. They’re saying you killed him because he attacked her. You don’t want them connecting the two of you. That could be more dangerous for her.”

  He was right. I had to lay off going to the infirmary. Getting close to Lyla was dangerous for her. Instead of responding, I nodded my understanding and pushed my tray away.

  After breakfast, I always went to laundry to get my day started. The smell of death still lingered around the laundry room. I was sure they’d never get all of Carlos out of the dryer he’d died in, and when I loaded it every morning, I could still see his bent, melted body inside. It was a fucked-up way to die, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that he deserved it. I’d seen him do worse to other inmates.

  Today was different. Usually, I made plans to get into a fight so I could see Lyla, but I knew I couldn’t do that anymore. It wasn’t safe for her. I watched my back while I worked, knowing the inmates would pull some shit. The Mexican Mafia lived by the credo: An eye for an eye. I was sure they were going to try to kill me the same way Carlos had died. I wasn’t interested in taking a ride in the dryer.

  The rumors were still flying. Death threats had been carved in the cinderblock outside my cell. Word was getting around that I was weak just like I knew it would. I figured it wouldn’t be long before someone pulled some shit.

  I walked into the laundry, and my stomach dropped. Inside were three members of the Black Guerillas, and they were busy holding down one of the boys from the 803. He was young and new to the block, and he cried as they fucked him roughly in the ass.

  They had him bent over one of the folding tables while they took turns raping him. Blood seeped down the back of his dark thighs, glistening in the muddy light of the laundry room. He was beaten pretty badly. His lip was split and one of his eyes was swollen shut, but still, he begged them to stop.

  “Take it like a man, bitch boy,” the one of top of him whispered into his ear.

  I closed my eyes against the scene, the sounds of their bodies slapping against his echoing throughout the room alongside the sounds of the washers and dryers. Disgust rolled around my gut, sending spicy bile up the back of my throat.

  When I opened my eyes, his eyes were bugged while the one behind him choked the life out of him and continued to drill his hard cock into his bloody ass.

  I should’ve walked away. I should’ve minded my own business for once, but I couldn’t
. He was so young and defenseless. It was wrong to let this continue. I went at them with full force, ripping them away from him. They pulled up their pants with a curse. I shuffled the young boy out of the laundry, him dropping to the floor on weak knees, and then I stood there and waited for the three of them to attack me.

  “That was a bad idea, motherfucker,” Jerome said.

  We’d never really talked to each other before, but he was a big motherfucker… almost as big as I was. He moved toward me, his two boys flanking him, and I stiffened my spine. The room smelled of laundry soap, burnt flesh, sweat, and blood, which was smeared in a rusty mark of the beast on Jerome’s khaki pants.

  “You should’ve just minded your own damn business, white boy.”

  They cornered me; the one on Jerome’s right, I thought his name was Marcus, ran his palm over his thick, black cornrows and smirked. I tried to figure out which one would come at me first, but it didn’t matter. I was weak and tired, and I wasn’t sure I could take on all three.

  Jerome moved, almost putting a hole through my stomach he punched me so hard. I folded over and gasped, but before I could go at him, they jumped me. I blocked my head, knowing the headaches I kept getting meant I wasn’t fully healed from the beating I got from the COs.

  My fist connected with two of them, knocking them back and earning myself a second or two without hits. They moved in again, but before they could attack, a loud banging noise stopped them.

  We turned, finding Officer Douglas standing beside the metal folding table. Again, he slammed his baton against it.

  “That’s enough,” he growled.

  Great. Officer Douglas being there meant I was probably going to go back to the hole. That was the last thing I wanted, but I couldn’t just stand there and watch while some poor fucker got ass raped.

  But he surprised me. Instead of calling for other COs and throwing the four of us in restraints, he came into the laundry and nodded toward Jerome.

  “Get your boys out of here and don’t let me catch you in the laundry again.”

  Jerome promised me revenge with his eyes before the three of them left the room. Fucking awesome. Another lethal gang to worry about. My death was imminent at this point. The guy they’d raped had left without comment. He wasn’t stupid. He knew ratting on the Guerillas was like signing his own death certificate.

  I stood there, taking in Officer Douglas and trying to figure him out, but instead of staying for a talk, he nodded and turned to walk out of the room.

  “Try to stay of trouble, X.”

  With those words, he was gone, leaving me to do the laundry in peace until the rest of the laundry crew came in. I spent three hours washing, drying, and folding, all while sweating in the heat of the room. The humidity made everything sticky and wet. When I got back to my cell, my muscles were sore and my uniform was soaked.

  THE HEADACHES HAD gotten worse. Soon, they were accompanied by dizziness. I knew I should’ve gone to the infirmary, but I also knew going around Lyla was dangerous for us both. One minute I was standing in my cell, waiting for the Cos to run the line for chow time, and the next, I was waking up in the infirmary with Lyla standing above me. It had been so long since I saw her face that my heart rate instantly sped up.

  She was there. Scoop told me she’d came back, but I almost didn’t believe him. Now, I could see with my own two eyes that it was true. That was bad and fucking great at the same time. Seeing her there and knowing she was okay was like a rush. I wanted to reach out and touch her skin—feel that she was real—but I didn’t want to jeopardize her job or get my ass kicked by a CO for touching a prison employee.

  The ride to the hospital was spent replaying her worried face over and over in my mind. She acted like she cared about me. It was much more than the usual worry a nurse showed for her patient. She looked like a woman worried about her man, and something about that made a strange ache burn in my chest.

  I wanted her. God, help me, I wanted her. But it wasn’t because I hadn’t touched a woman since I was nineteen; it was because my body craved her—no other woman—just her.

  There were so many tests and scans. I was put in one machine after the other while armed officers waited. Being tested and scanned meant all restraints had to be removed and without restraints, I was considered a flight risk. They had no idea that leaving was the last thing I wanted. Sure, I wanted to be free, but I wanted to see Lyla again more.

  Once the doctors were finished with me, they put me in a room and cuffed me to the bed. The armed officers were posted outside my room, but I was left alone in a place of comfort with a TV. No wonder inmates liked a trip to the hospital. It was like a tiny vacation from our reality.

  After watching TV for an hour, I began to doze off. My body was more relaxed than it had been in years. For the first time in a long time, nothing hurt. Even the tiny headaches I’d been getting had decided to give me a reprieve.

  My eyes fluttered closed and sleep was moving over me when suddenly my door opened and Lyla stepped in.

  She was still in her scrubs, letting me know she’d come straight to the hospital after her shift. She slowly moved across the room toward my bed, her green eyes scanning my face with insecurity.

  “You’re here,” I said, sitting up.

  She nodded.

  She was so beautiful. So fucking beautiful, and it was wrong but it felt amazing knowing she’d came there for me. No other inmate—just me.

  “I knew you couldn’t resist me,” I joked, trying to lighten the mood.

  A tiny smile pulled at her lips, and then disappeared as worry lowered her brows.

  “I’m glad you came.” The words rushed from my lips, and I meant them. It wasn’t a hit to my pride to admit it. I was happy she was there, and I wanted her to know that.

  “Come here,” I said, reaching out my free hand. I didn’t want her to be afraid of me. She was the last person in the world I’d hurt. But I needed her close to me.

  She moved stiffly toward the side of my bed and swallowed hard, her throat bobbing up and down.

  “I’d never hurt you, Lyla. Not ever.” Truer words had never been spoken.

  Her eyes scanned my face once more, and then she moved closer, her thigh rubbing the rail of my bed. Slowly, I lifted my free hand toward her as if I were about to pet a wounded puppy, and when my fingertips met her cheek, she closed her eyes and sighed as if she felt as much pleasure from my touch as I felt from touching her.

  This was really happening. I’d dreamed about it for weeks, but she was really there and I was touching her. Letting my fingers linger on the side of her cheek and then down her neck, I watched as her eyes dilated and her cheeks flushed. I wanted to follow the flush with my fingers when it moved down her neck and into her top.

  Shaking herself, she reached down and plucked a clipboard from the side of my bed. I watched as her jade eyes scanned the document, and a tiny smile twitched her plump lips.

  “You’re going to be okay,” she said.

  She had no idea how right she was. I was definitely going to be okay. As long she was there and I had her full attention, nothing could hurt me.

  “I am now.”

  And I was. I was more okay in that moment than I had been in my entire life.

  CHAPTER 13

  LYLA

  I COULDN’T BELIEVE what I was doing. I was being as manipulative as the inmates. I was lying to get what I wanted, and I wanted to get to X.

  Seeing him cuffed to the hospital bed was unnerving. He didn’t look like himself. He wasn’t the X from the block. His usual dark nature had been wiped clean and all that was left was a pale version of him—weak and unsure of what was going on inside his body.

  But when he touched me and gazed up at me with warmth in his eyes, I wasn’t sure I wanted to acknowledge the emotions that moved over my heart. His promise to never hurt me had touched me all the way to the very depths of my soul in a place I’d never been touched. And even though everyone else was afraid of X
, I knew he was telling me the truth. He’d never hurt me no matter what.

  He’d had opportunities to over the last few weeks, and yet, he was the one person in the prison who’d gone out of his way to save me. Why would he do that if he had any plans at all to hurt me himself?

  His thumb shifted beneath my eye, the calloused pad rough against my cheek, and I melted into his palm. All my inhibitions lifted in that moment, and something unseen passed between us. He had somehow managed to make me his, and I wasn’t even sure he knew it.

  “How’d you get in here?” he asked, his big, warm hand engulfing both of my frozen ones.

  “I walked in.” I shrugged.

  I didn’t want to divulge all the manipulative things I’d done to sneak in to see him. It wasn’t something I was proud of, and trust me, the little angel conscience on my shoulder was bitching me out for it.

  I took a seat in the chair next to his bed and removed my hands from his. When he was touching me, I couldn’t think straight. All my focus went to the point where his heat met my cold skin, and that was all I could think about. The COs outside his door laughed out loud, making me startle. It wouldn’t be long before they were coming in to check on me.

  “Before I left work, Dr. Giles got a phone call from the hospital. I watched as he wrote your room number down in his files.”

  He listened, not saying a word as his royal eyes moved over my face, landing on my lips. They were so deep, pools of emotion that I wanted to dive into.

  “How’d you get past Ramirez and Reeves?” he asked, nodding to the door where the two COs were posted.

  Pulling papers from my purse, I held them out for him to see—papers I’d taken from the infirmary—with Dr. Giles’ signature, which I’d forged.

  “I showed them these and told them they couldn’t come in with me because of confidentiality. They’re outside waiting for my call. I’m supposed to scream if you try to attack me. Although…” My eyes flickered to the hand that was handcuffed to the bed. “I’m not sure there’s much you could do even if you wanted to.”