My hands immediately balled into fists down by my side as I rolled my jaw. Stretching my mouth out wide, I gathered up the blood that had collected there before spitting it out onto the floor. My teeth rattled, and I couldn't help but imagine the two of us in an underground ring, going pound for pound until the other one took his last breath as a man. That one thought excited me more than it should have and I suddenly couldn't wait to get back to that part of my old life.
“I dare you to keep fucking speaking,” Taylor snapped, all his clarity gone, replaced by his need to kill me for talking trash about his family. I couldn’t blame him. I’d have done the same in his shoes—only I wasn’t in his shoes, was I? I was in mine. And right then, I needed those injuries as much as he needed to end me.
Coughing up more blood, I started to croak out a strangled fit of laughter as I dragged in some heavy breaths.
“You make it too easy, Jonny boy.”
I glanced up and flashed him a wink, right around the same time I heard the heavy boots of the other prison guards entering the room and walking up beside the two of us. Taylor’s eyes burned into mine with a fire I’d seen on many a man before now. It was that look that told me he was going to fall asleep in his bed every night and plot ways to find me, then kill me.
“You’ll pay for this,” he whispered quietly through gritted teeth as he bent closer towards me. He stank like shit and his breath was so strong you could have made a roll-up smokefrom it and given yourself lung failure.
“Yeah?” I smiled up at him, both brows raised for just a second before I dropped every ounce of humor my face held and whispered back. “So will you. Keep your girls locked up tonight. Wouldn’t want anyone leading them astray now, would we?”
Before I could even register his response, the two guards by his side were whispering that he’d been seen on camera by the warden in charge and he had to get out of there fast. It only made my anger slip and my laughter fall free again. Damn, this was fun.
Straightening up, I pulled down on my white t-shirt and ran a thumb across both corners of my mouth, looking straight ahead as they began to walk him away. As tempted as I was to throw a few more insults his way, he’d given me what I needed and I was weirdly fucking grateful for it.
Rolling back my shoulders, I made my way over to the sign-out desk and took a glance at the woman sitting behind the wired panel. She was in her mid-to-late forties, her hair redder than a tomato and dragged back into a harsh woman-type ball thing that rested on top of her head and made her face pull up tight. Her eyes burned into mine as she shook her head and slipped her clipboard through the small gap in the frame that protected her.
“Drew Tucker. Read this, check your property list, sign on the first page at the bottom, second page half way down and third page in three places. I’ve marked them all with a cross in case that’s too difficult for you to understand.”
Grabbing hold of the pen attached to the board with a piece of dirty old string, I pulled it down and looked up at her through hooded eyes.
“You people in here have your personalities removed as soon as you get the job, or what?”
“Just sign.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“Not everyone wants to fight you, Mr. Tucker.”
“Is that so?” I huffed out a laugh, reading down the small list of shit I owned before signing the first page.
“I could never understand you men, no matter how hard I tried.”
I wasn’t looking at her as I replied. I could hardly be bothered speaking, so my groan sounded like I was half ejaculating and half falling the fuck asleep.
“Is that why you like chicks, sweetheart?”
I didn’t even look up as she laughed and her voice turned to a screeching type of noise that made me want to shove the clipboard in her mouth. “You think because I’m a prison warden that I’m a lesbian? How quaint.”
“That depends,” I answered quietly, flipping over the page, signing the middle sheet first and then the places she’d marked on the back sheet. “Do you assume I’m a bastard because I ended up in prison?” I dropped the pen down onto the paper, pushing it back through the hole before looking up at her again and smirking at the way her face dropped flat in less than a second.
“No, Mr. Tucker. I assume you’re a bastard because you killed a man.”
“Indirectly.”
“Murder is murder.”
“Unless it's manslaughter.”
“That person's family is still grieving their loved one because of your actions.”
“Ah.” I nodded slowly. “I guess that's a fair comment.”
“And I also assume you’re a bastard because of that little stunt over there.” My eyes fell to the pen trapped in her fingers as she swiveled the clipboard around in front of her and pointed to where I’d just taken a hit from Tantrum Taylor.
Both hands fell to the edge of the counter in front of me, my body leaning forward as I stared down into her eyes and whispered. “That wasn’t a stunt, sweetheart. That was a necessity.”
