“But I was wondering, what do you think?” I ask.
She gives me a hateful look, like I’ve seen on other criminals I’ve arrested before. “I think maybe you should shut your fucking mouth, and stop asking questions before you end up like her.”
“Whatever,” I sneer, and get up and walk off. I knew I shouldn’t have asked, but I couldn’t stop myself. I have to know.
I sit alone at a table, and Sammy quickly joins me. “Tell me about the Gladiator,” she asks, with her big brown eyes all wide like we’re talking about her favorite movie star.
“He’s mean. He hit me. He didn’t even want to have sex with me. I think he’s gay,” I lie. I don’t want any of the other girls asking to go visit him. Am I starting to feel possessive over Tony? Maybe. I just really don’t want the other girls talking about him like he’s a god. That’s reserved for my imagination.
“If he’s gay, why didn’t he ask for a boy?” Sammy wonders, as she shoves luke-warm spaghetti into her mouth.
“I don’t know. Maybe he’s too old to get it up. What is he, like fifty?” I take a sip of milk. Chocolate milk. Take that, Doctor Dad.
“Gross,” Sammy says. Hopefully she’ll spread that around to the other women. I smile as if I’ve accomplished something.
Since no one else is around, and the voice in the other cell isn’t listening, I say, “I’ll tell you something about the Gladiator, if you tell me something about Jenna.”
“What?” Sammy asks, excitedly.
“Did Jenna and her last cellmate get into a fight?” She squints her big eyes at me. “I’m just asking because she tried to start shit with me when we were in the car together.”
“Jenna?” She seems surprised. I nod. “That doesn’t sound like Jenna. She don’t fight with nobody. Now tell me the secret about the Gladiator.”
“He’s got a tiny dick,” I say. “Like, smaller than my pinky.”
“Ooohhh,” Sammy sighs.
“But don’t tell anyone,” I whisper. “It’s our secret.” That’s the perfect way to get a rumor to spread.
Tony
“Hey, there’s this gorgeous blonde they just booked into the jail. She’ll probably be in there for at least two months, bad checks or something. You want her on Saturday?” the guard asks me.
Saturday is three days from now. We’re outside, and I’m doing pull-ups while he’s smoking. “I don’t like blondes.” At least it’s not a lie. I prefer brunettes. And lately, for about two weeks, I’ve had a thing for copper colored hair with blonde highlights.
“Good. The last time we tried to serve a girl like that to Lucius, he killed her,” the guard says offhandedly, as if it happens every day.
“Really?” I ask. I think maybe he’s messing with me.
“Seriously,” the guard replies. “She was gorgeous too. I mean, young and beautiful. I bet she was so tight, if you shoved a piece of coal in her pussy you’d get a diamond back.”
I want to crack his bald head open, and find out if he has any brains inside it. What the fuck is wrong with these people? They have absolutely no regard for human life. Some young girl comes to jail, and ends up killed by a psycho prisoner? I’m glad I’ve already snapped his neck.
“We should be fine with your girl, until she’s released. She didn’t struggle or cry. Seemed almost like she enjoyed it.”
“She’s not my girl,” I reply sharply, as I jump down off the metal pull-up bar.
“But she is pretty though. I mean, not young, but still hot,” the guard continues, as he snuffs out his cigarette with his shoe. The guard is like, my age.
“What would you do with an eighteen year old? Give her cookies and milk and sing her to sleep?”
He laughs, like we’re best friends, and says, “I’d fuck her nice and hard, smack her ass, and send her back to her momma.” We arrive at my cell, just in time. Another day I don’t have to kill a guard. “Dinner’s in an hour.”
“It’s a date,” I say. He laughs again, then closes the door.
Now, I get to sit here for an hour and think about Lani. Hell, she is probably too young for me. If we were out in the real world, she wouldn’t look twice at me. She’s a goddess, and I’m a fucking ape.
I hope to God she’s still in jail on Saturday. That’s a horrible thought, but true.
Lani
I’m irritable, and I snap at Hughes when she comes to get me to take me to Medical. “The Gladiator asked for you again,” she says, and even that pisses me off.
“He’s not a fucking gladiator,” I reply, but then I immediately get quiet. I don’t want them to think I’ve gotten at all emotionally invested here. But I’m a fucking human being, unlike the people that I’m surrounded by. I need a vacation after this, somewhere that I can sit in a room, and cry and drink wine for two weeks straight.
“How are you today, Lani?” Doctor Dad asks when he sees me. He and Nameless were already chatting when I entered the room. If it wasn’t Saturday, if I wasn’t about to see Tony for probably the last time, I would tell him I’m feeling sick.
“I’m fine,” I growl, and hand him my hand. “Can we get this over with?”
Doctor Dad seems concerned. “Are you sure? You’re not feeling nauseous, or dizzy?”
“No, I’m just fine. Take my blood, and see for yourself.” This is really not me. This place has gotten inside my head. Maybe a mental hospital would be a good place to decompress after this nightmare. It’s another week that I haven’t figured out who killed my sister. It’s another Saturday that I have to watch Tony Roman kill a man with his bare hands.
He pulls a needle out of his bag, and says, “I’m going to do some blood work,” as he quickly inserts it into my arm. I’m so numb right now, I don’t even feel it.
He caps the needle, and places it in his bag. “Blood work,” he says to Nameless when she glares at him.
“Sorry for the inconvenience,” I say.
Then he pricks my finger, and says, “Her blood sugar is unusually low today, but not too low. If she seems grouchy, or confused, she might need another piece of fruit, or a glass of orange juice.”
“Or a Pamprin,” I sigh loudly. I am totally PMSing, which is not a lie, and explains part of the reason why I’ve been so grouchy today. PMS is part of it, the other part is the fact that I’m surrounded by psychopaths. It also means I will probably be all over Roman tonight, and then cry all day tomorrow. “It’s biology, Doc.” Nameless actually laughs.
“I’ll be back to check on you tomorrow,” he says, as he pats my shoulder.
“Don’t you have golf with my dad tomorrow? Let him know I’m fine when you see him. I’ll be here Monday. Bring me some Pamprin, and chocolate.” I’m really smiling now, hamming it up. Maybe he was right. Maybe my sugar really was low.
Doctor Dad nods. “I’ll see what I can do.”
Nameless leads us both out. When we’re out of earshot, she stops suddenly. “He didn’t even get that you might not be here tomorrow. You’re good, Vaden.”
“I do what I can,” I say with a grin.
“You must really want to see the gladiator. He really turned you out, didn’t he?”
“I just want to keep breathing,” I reply coldly. The grin is completely gone.
She seems stunned for a moment, that I can turn off my emotions that quickly. “Good, you’re smart. I knew I liked you,” she states, just as coldly.
Tony
“My hair is too long. It gets in my eyes when I sweat. I need it cut before the fight,” I say. I hope the guard doesn’t pick up on the fact that I want to look good for Lani. The last thing I need is for him to use that against me any more than he already does.
“Want to look good for your date, do ya?” The guard laughs. I give him my most intimidating stare. “Nah, I’m just kidding. You do kinda look like a sheepdog. I’ll see what I can do.” He takes me to shower after I spend my hour outside. I didn’t do a lot of exercising, I didn’t want to wear myself out. I did, however, lo
ok around at the other inmates in the yard, and wonder which one I’ll fight tonight. Now, I’m standing in the water, after I’ve had my hair and beard trimmed again although still not short enough for my liking, and I can’t help but think about tonight. All I have to do to spend another night with the girl of my dreams, is kill. Yea, I can handle that, and much more, to get my hands on Lani Vaden.
“Time,” the guard calls out. I turn off the water, and dry off quickly, then I get dressed in the clean scrubs he provided for me. I mean, what’s the use? When she sees them they might be all bloody.
Chapter Twelve
Lani
“Why am I here? You have to tell me where we’re going!” The other voice is obviously young. She’s a few steps behind me and Hughes. She must be dragging her feet, I hear a shuffling noise.
“Shut up,” a voice, which I believe is De Soto, says. She begins to make gargled noises. I assume he’s gagged her. Since they now know I won’t fight, they have not gagged me this time, but I am still handcuffed and blindfolded. We are thrown in the back of a car together. Two car doors close. I assume we both have guards with us. She is struggling. She begins to scream against the gag.
“I hate when they resist,” De Soto states angrily.
“She’s new, and young. What do they expect? She’s not a pro, like Vaden,” Hughes replies. I add that to the list of things that have pissed me off today.
De Soto chuckles. “Hey Vaden, are you a pro? Because when you’re released, I’d totally pay to hit that.” That comment, and this stupid bitch screaming beside me are going to totally ruin any excitement I have about seeing Tony.
“Please, just be quiet, and everything will be alright,” I try to reassure her. I use the voice I use with suspects. It’s the same voice I use when I lie to my parents, or my superiors, or dumb ass feds and lawyers. It always works. “I promise you, if you just remain silent, you’ll be fine, okay? I was here last week, and I’m fine. Just be quiet, and calm. You’ll be fine.” I continue to talk until the car stops. She finally calms down.
We are both taken out of the back, and brought into the big, empty building. We are led to the steps, and when she hears the crowd she begins to resist again. “You’ll be fine. Please be quiet.”
The guards decide not to remove her blindfold. They also don’t explain what’s happening down in the caged ring, surrounded by hundreds of cheering fans. This time, it’s Roman against a younger, light skinned black man with lots of tattoos. They look gang related, and they’re all one color as if they were given in prison. I assume the many tears on his cheek are supposed to represent the number of people he’s killed. There are at least ten. I’m a little nervous. I assume the younger guy has asked for the pretty blonde standing beside me, trying not to cry. Roman looks up at the glass, as if he knows I’m here. I remain silent, and don’t react. But in the back of my mind, I’m praying he wins. I’m praying he kills the young man on the other side of the boxing ring, just so I can spend the night with him.
And I’ve become just as sick as the rest of these psychos.
Tony
I have no idea who the kid standing across from me is. He looks like a killer, just like Lucius. Although he has some muscle tone, I have a feeling all of his killing has been with a gun. I don’t think he’s killed anyone with his bare hands.
“I’m gonna take you out, grandpa. You fucking old man. I’m the new generation. We’re takin’ over!” He exclaims.
I have a feeling it’s false bravado. I think he’s probably about ready to piss himself. I glance up at the glass again. I’m probably going to give myself away, but I can’t stop. I know she’s up there, somewhere. I can’t let her watch me die.
“Fight!” a man yells, as a bell rings, and the kid rushes at me in a flurry of punches that don’t land anywhere except my biceps. When I try to grab him, he scurries away. He’s fast, I’ll give him that. This time when he rushes me, he hits me in the stomach. He actually cries out when his fist makes contact. I reach out and grab his neck, and he tries to pull away and punches me again. This one lands a little lower, but not in my nuts, thankfully. It hurts a little, I’ll give him that.
I apply pressure to his throat, and lift him off the ground. He is almost at eye level when he realizes he’s going to die. He makes a futile effort to free himself by kicking and punching me wildly, but his strikes land harmlessly on my thighs and chest. He’s making gurgling noises now. His hands go up to try to pull my hands off his throat. When that doesn’t work, he desperately tries to scratch at my face and neck. I fucking hate scratches, unless they’re down my back, with well-manicured fingernails.
Finally, as he’s struggling for breath, he grabs my wrists and digs his fingers in. It’s his last ditch effort to save his own life. It doesn’t work. When he stops fighting I drop him, and he falls limply to the floor. The crowd is silent for several moments. I know it’s not what they want. I know they want a bloody battle, but I’m not going to give it to them, at least not against some punk ass kid. Grandpa, my ass.
I roar loudly, and kick his lifeless body. I begin to beat my chest, and stomp around the ring. The crowd cheers loudly. They want a show. I can give them that.
My guard lets me get out all the fake aggression, then enters the cage to handcuff me. He looks scared. “It’s an act,” I whisper, as I willingly give him my hands.
He doesn’t relax as he leads me toward a waiting car. I glance over my shoulder, and I think I get just a peek of light purple scrubs being led out of the arena. I smile, and walk calmly with the guard. “Can I get a couple of bottles of water, and some extra condoms?”
“Sure, whatever,” he says nervously.
I hear the door open, and I sit calmly on my cot and wait for her to enter. The door closes, and we’re alone. It’s almost like we’re the only two people in the world. My heart is beating wildly already.
When she removes the blindfold, she looks slightly disoriented. She searches the tiny room quickly, and stops when she sees me. She’s breathing heavily, as she just stands there. I try to show no emotion, but she looks like she’s going through each and every one of them, all at the same time.
She’s thinking something, and she’s afraid to say it. She doesn’t trust me enough to tell me what she’s thinking. I get the feeling again that she’s a cop. She doesn’t belong here. She’s been in jail at least two weeks, and she still looks like she’s stepped straight off a cover shoot, even in the prison scrubs. Finally, after going through all the thoughts in her mind, she settles on one.
“Are you okay?” she asks hesitantly, as her eyes fixate on my face.
“Never better,” I say calmly. Is she going to act like what happened last week, and the week before that, didn’t happen? “Are you going to play hard to get? Because I get the feeling you don’t play games.” I remain seated. She came to me last week, softly and gently, and calmed my raging emotions. The week before, I had to coax her. This time, though, she looks like she’s ready to claw her way out of here rather than stay the night with me. She’s definitely never boring.
But then her eyes focus on my cheek. “You’re bleeding again,” she says, as her breathing becomes more normal. She holds the bandana in her hand, and glances at the metal sink. I understand what she’s thinking, and I nod. She wants to take care of me again. She walks to the sink and wets the cloth square, then slowly approaches me. She’s treating me as if I’m a wild, wounded animal.
I don’t like it. I motion for her to come to me. “You know I’m not going to hurt you.”
She takes a step closer. “I’m just, I’m dealing with a lot of stuff.” She frowns, and exhales loudly through her nose several times.
“Tell me,” I order. She’s standing right next to my cot. I guess I bark a little too loudly, because she flinches. “Sit,” I growl, and point at the spot next to me. She does so immediately, but doesn’t touch me. I’ll never fucking understand women. “Oww,” I say, and reach up to my cheek to distract her
from whatever thoughts are running through her head. She quickly reaches for me, places her soft hand on my neck, and begins to rub the cool cloth over the scratches on my face, which do not hurt the least little bit. I forgot I was scratched the second she entered the cell. She’s searching my face, but avoiding my eyes. “Oww,” I murmur again.
“Shhhh,” she whispers. “Shhh, you’re okay.” She’s soothing me, but she’s holding back. I don’t want her to hold back. I want her to let go, and not worry, and enjoy the night, just like she did last week. I did have to coax her a little, at first.
I wince, and pull away. She holds me a little firmer, and moves closer.
“Are you okay?” She rubs the blood off my wounds, which actually does sting a little. I try to lock her eyes, but she continues to look at everything else. I place one hand on her cheek, and she gasps and closes her eyes. My other hand finds her soft, thick hair. She shivers, and her bottom lip quivers as she exhales. My thumb grazes it, and she moves slightly into my hand. Something is terribly wrong.
“Are you okay?” I ask, as I move closer to her. Instinctively she feels it, and spreads her lips. Maybe if I kiss her, and touch her, and fuck her, she’ll relax and tell me what’s wrong.
I look at her, really study her. Her cheeks are bright red. Her pulse at her throat is racing, I can see it. I’d like to think it’s because she’s with me, but I know it’s something else. She licks her lips, in anticipation of my kiss. When it doesn’t come, she opens her eyes and finally looks into mine. She’s scared, but not of me. My chest is burning, and it’s getting hard to breathe.
“Hold me,” she pleads, and wraps her arms around my neck. “I’m afraid they’re going to kill her.” She places her forehead on my shoulder, and begins to cry. Damn, I’m a melting puddle of emotion when I see a woman cry. I fucking can’t function when I see tears. I gather her into my lap, and I hold her, and rock her like a child. This is so not like last week.
Prisoner (All of You Book 1) Page 8
