The line beeped, and the operator’s robotic voice told me to leave a message.
I choked back tears and took a deep breath.
“Sam, hey, It’s Briar. I’m at the correctional facility.” I licked my lips. “Come visit me for the story.” Giving a lot of information on the recorded line was too dangerous. Even calling him was risky, but there was no way I was going down without taking the Bourne’s down. I placed the phone back in its cradle.
“Down the hall,” Mustache ordered. I peeked at the name tag. L. Cumy.
What an unfortunate last name.
I started walking before he shoved me again.
“In here.” He guided me into a room with a bright fluorescent light beaming down. There were more lockers and another bench, the setup similar to a gym.
Another officer was there, her arms crossed as she stood near the door. Cumy undid the cuffs and stepped back.
“To the line,” he instructed, and I hastened to the yellow line near the wall and beside a metal table.
“Strip.”
“Strip?” He couldn’t mean?—
“Now, inmate,” he shouted. I jumped and began to pull off the leggings and T-shirt until I stood in panties and a bra. Cumy yanked on some gloves. “Everything.”
His no-nonsense voice left me with no room but to follow his orders. I shucked off the rest of it until I was bare.
And I’d thought the pat down they’d done before shoving me in the cell was invasive.
He reached forward and ripped the bandage off my arm, exposing my scabs, and tossed it in the bin.
He stepped forward, and his gloved hands shoved into my hair, rubbing against my scalp. They traveled down, grazing my sides and sliding between my armpits, then lower, grazing across my sex. I sucked in a hard breath, every part of me tensing. Cumy remained non-reactive and straightened, stepping back.
“Bend over.”
Oh, hell, no.
His face was screaming how serious he was.
My face was so hot it burned. I must not have done it fast enough because he grabbed my shoulder, bending me until I was folded in half. He let me go and stepped back.
“Cough.”
My face almost melted right off, but I did as he ordered. I kept my focus glued to the rubber floor.
How dehumanizing.
“Done.” He yanked off the gloves and nodded at the female officer. “I’ll send Sergei in to take her to her cell.”
He left, and she approached, carrying a grayish-blue jumpsuit, and pressed it into my hands. I didn’t waste time putting it on. It fell over my body, the boxy fit covering everything.
A hard knock on the door later, and a man walked in. Visibly younger.
“Take over,” the woman barked, jerking her head at me while looking at the officer on my left.
“Ma’am,” was all he said, but it must have been enough of an agreement because she nodded and left, keys jingling in her path. As soon as her footsteps retreated, his focus swung back to me, and a wide smile crossed his lips. Thin mouth, high arched nose, and a laughing gaze. He had to be close to my age. Not overall bad-looking, butnothingclose to my Scent Matches.
I ground my molars. Fat lot of good that did for me.
Maybe if they weren’t so fucking sexy then . . .Here I go, trying to make sense of the situation. There was no point in tormenting myself even more. I was ready to find out my fate.
