“For both of us? You’re planning on attending the interview?”
“Yes. Seems like the perfect opportunity to see how you handle yourself in high-profile cases.”
Well, shit. Why do I suddenly feel sick?
“Sounds good. I’ll get right on it,” I say with a curt nod, never having felt more motivated to spend the day working. Although judging by the tasks Jedd just handed me, it sounds like he’s more interested in exploiting Stone’s privacy for ratings than finding the truth. Either way, he’s going to be reviewing my work, and I can’t afford to screw this up.
Turning on my heel, I take off for the main office to get started, but Jedd calls after me. “Aria, have Janette fetch me a coffee.”
I grin. Nothing would make me happier. “Yes, sir,” I say, before pausing and glancing back. “Oh, . . . speaking of Janette. She might be on the warpath, clutching those little yellow slips like they could solve world hunger. Though I really don’t understand. I’m an absolute peach to work with.”
Jedd sighs with exasperation. “Jesus Christ, Aria. What could you have possibly done now? It’s barely nine in the morning.”
“Oh, it was nothing. I was just exercising my right to freedom of speech, but apparently, Janette was offended. I can’t imagine why.”
Jedd groans. “Alright. I’ll handle it. Just get to work. We can’t afford distractions when it comes to this interview.”
“Will do.”
Stepping out of Jedd’s office, I stride back across the scratchy carpet to find Janette leaning against my desk, and despite how frustrating it is to find her hovering in my space, nothing could possibly wipe the smile off my face.
“What do you need, Janette? I’m busy,” I tell her, scootching around her to sit down. “I have an interview to prep for.”
“An interview?” she scoffs, gaping at me. “You?”
“Yes, me,” I confirm, grinning wider. “I know you only see me as a glorified ass wipe, but despite what you may think, I’m actually a qualified journalist—a damn good one at that.”
Janette scoffs again. “If I were you, I’d wipe that smile off my face.”
“Not gonna happen,” I say, focusing on my computer screen and getting busy typing. “Maybe you should try it sometime. You know, offer a smile every now and then. Maybe you’ll even get laid every once in a while. God knows you need it.”
She gasps loud enough for the entire room to hear, and if I were to look up, I can guarantee she’d be clutching her pearls. “Mark my words, Aria Ashford. Your days here are numbered.”
“Good to know,” I chime, my grin widening. “Oh, and Jedd requested that you fetch his coffee. You remember how he likes it? Black, just like my soul.”
2
STONE
The blazing sun bores down on my skin as I push the weighted bar high over my chest, maxing out my limit. My jaw clenches, and I breathe through the pain before lowering the heavy bar back down. My arms shake as I finish the last rep of my set.
Beads of sweat dance across my skin as I push the bar up to re-rack while inmates awkwardly hover nearby, ready to claim the bar the moment I get up.
I take a breath, reveling in the hot Hartley Creek sun. I’ve been locked up in this hellhole for seven long years, allowed only a maximum of two hours of sunshine per day. It’s a fucking nightmare. Only another hundred and eighty-five years to go. But who’s counting?
Slowly sitting up, I stretch out my chest, feeling pretty fucking good about myself. Well, about as good as one can feel in myposition. I keep to myself. I don’t give a flying fuck about the bullshit hierarchy or politics the other prisoners have put in place. I proved myself long ago, and these assholes have more than learned I’m not to be fucked with, and because of that, they leave me the hell alone.
Call me cocky, but I put myself above their shit. But, every now and then, some moron comes along with a pair of balls bigger than Texas and a brain smaller than a fucking pea. I have to show them exactly why I’m serving four life sentences. But I get it, they want to be seen as a threat within these walls, want to be seen as someone that’s not to be messed with, but stepping up to me isn’t the way to do it. They will lose their lives, and I won’t lose a wink of sleep over it.
“Blackthorne.”
My head snaps up when my name is hollered across the yard, and I find Jensen, one of the guards, waving me over.
“Fuck’s sake,” I mutter to myself, pushing up from the bench, only to watch Knox Mercer, otherwise known as Hartley Creek’s most notorious rapist, rush in to steal the bench, ignoring the line of men who’ve been hovering since the moment we got outside.
My hands ball into fists as I make my way over to Jensen. This guy is an asshole. He’s the first to pit prisoners against each other, making bets with the other guards to see who’ll crack first. And while I usually don’t give a shit about what the guards do to keep themselves entertained, there’s just something about Jensen that makes my skin crawl.
“Visitor,” he informs me.
