Bede had seen Kell in the prison yard, the first day he’d been let out from mandatory three-day solitary. And then looked away.
It wasn’t his business to interfere with other people’s lives. It wasn’t his business that Kell was chatting with Ryan like they were old friends, as if Kell was unaware that Ryan was a full-on, foam-mouthed skinhead. Trouble. Something to stay away from, like a rattlesnake in the grass.
Except the next second, Bede had seen Kell walk away, which meant that he was smart, for all he was so young.
That hadn’t kept Kell out of the stench of trouble that Ryan dragged around with him everywhere he went.
Quite soon, in the yard once more, Ryan and his buddies were all over Kell. Ryan had thatI want youlook in his eyes, and he wasn’t the kind of guy to take no for an answer.
Kell had been doing his best to stand up to the onslaught. It had been about to turn ugly, with older cons taking small bets whether Kell would say yes or no to being Ryan’s sex slave. Or whether he even realized what Ryan was truly offering him.
Which was nothing good. But did Kell know that?
It had gotten as far as Ryan hauling Kell up out of the mud after having slapped him.
Bede had stepped in. Did the prison yard power dance to show Ryan that he was not boss.
Then Griff, a cornerstone man with a life sentence for ending a brawl in a Cheyenne truck yard using a piece of metal to cave in at least half a dozen skulls, had stepped in and called the shots.
Griff had made Kell decide between Ryan and Bede so that Griff could more peacefully sun himself in the prison yard without a fight going on. Griff was old. Had done his crime and was doing his time, and he practically ran the yard.
Up close, in those green eyes of Kell’s, Bede had seen an old soul. And an expression a little like Winston’s, which showed Bede that Kell had seen some shit.
That shit could have made him bitter. But instead, beneath the surface, and not very far, lay a warm sweetness that needed only a bit of kindness to come out. A small brightness against the gray backdrop of prison walls.
There was a scarcity of kindness in prison, but that was self-evident, simply because of the high-tension environment.
There wasn’t much kindness in Bede’s old life, either, though he had fond memories of the party to celebrate his first real drug deal, standing in an abandoned house north of Five Points inDenver, holding out a plastic-wrapped burrito of white powder in exchange for a bundle of cash.
In the prison yard, the crowd that had gathered around Kell and Ryan waiting for blood, or something juicy to watch, had not seen Kell’s expression, as Bede had. Nor would they ever know of the twinge in Bede’s chest at that expression. Wise and frightened and brave, all at the same time.
When Griff had told Kell to choose between Ryan and Bede, Bede had thought for sure Kell would be taken in by Ryan’s sudden sweetness. And that Kell would be put off by Bede, muscled, tattooed, grim.
To Bede’s almost-surprise, Kell had chosen Bede. Kell wasn’t a fool and had seen beyond Ryan’s facade.
In their cell that night, Kell, subdued, shoulders slumped, had offered a blow job in payment for Bede’s protection services. Bede had turned Kell down, of course. Kell was way young, and, as Bede found out, a virgin.
The tumble of Kell’s offered innocence struck Bede to his core. Unsettled him. Made him want to rage at everything in his life that had brought Kell to that point.
But he didn’t say it. Rather than telling Kell how much he reminded Bede of Winston, Bede dismissed Kell’s offer, and casually allowed that it might be better if Kell was not so forthcoming about his virginity.
From that point forward, Bede protected Kell without telling him why. He shared his books. Gave him pointers. Went with him to the showers.
He even had a bit of fun pretending they were lovers, just to show Ryan what a loser he was. To which Kell responded like an old hand at improv. Looking up at Bede adoringly. Fluttering his eyelashes. Flirting in the food line.
And, in return, Bede had a shadow that almost never left his side.
Bede’s situation could have been worse. He could have ended up with dull, rage-filled Toby as a cellie, or the snarl-mouthed Owen, rather than the bright-faced, quick-learning Kell.
This blessing turned into a curse, for just about as soon as Kell had applied for and been accepted into the Fresh Start Program, he started bugging Bede to also apply.
Frequent phone calls during Bede’s phone time brought Kell’s voice into his ear, describing the delights of the valley where he now lived and worked. How much fun it would be if Bede was also there.
There was also chatter about some guy named Marston, who, according to Kell, was so amazing. So handsome. Such a great kisser.
Bede did not care that Kell had found someone to be with, someone who took his virginity with what sounded like the utmost gentleness.
He was not jealous, not of Kell’s happiness. Not of Marston. Though, if Marston harmed a single hair on Kell’s dark head, Bede discovered he’d willingly do another stint in jail, just for the pleasure of skinning Marston alive. Nobody, butnobody, was going to take the shine out of those old-soul eyes.
