“Almost.” Axel grinned. “Did you at least win?”
The corner of my mouth twitched. Truthfully, I appreciated Axel’s humor; this place was too dark and serious most of the time.
I tracked the guards’ movements with quick flicks of my eyes, cataloging their positions like I did everything else in this place. Guard by the door. Guard by the vending machines, flirting with the new CO. Perfect.
I rubbed a hand behind my neck. This was either the smartest or stupidest thing I’d done in months.
Probably the stupidest.
Axel sat across from me in designer jeans, a leather jacket, and that trademark smirk.
“I need something.”
“Happy to help.” Axel kicked back in his chair, balancing it on two legs like we were at a coffee shop instead of a prison. “But doesn’t Ryker come here, like, every other minute to help with your parole? Guy’s practically set up a cot in the parking lot.”
“Ryker would never agree to this.”
“Oh.” Axel’s voice pitched up an octave, and his trademark smirk spread wider across his face. “So, this is juicy. Whatever you’re asking for has got to be good if you’re going behind Saint Ryker’s back.”
The fluorescent lights hummed overhead.
“Before I tell you, I’ll understand if the answer is no.”
“Ooh, disclaimers. I love disclaimers.” Axel rubbed his hands together. “What do you need? A nail file baked into a cake? Want me to pull the fire alarm? Start a riot as a distraction while you tunnel through the?—”
“I need a cell phone.”
Axel’s chair legs hit the floor with a thunk. He blinked. Once. Twice. “That’s it?”
I nodded.
“Jesus, after all that buildup, I thought you were going to ask for something exciting. Like a helicopter. Or a bazooka. Or at least some decent whiskey.”
“It’s against the rules.”
Axel rolled his eyes so hard, I was surprised they didn’t fall out. “Please. We’ve smuggled cell phones in before.”
Yeah, but that was before Ryker laid down the law, saying I couldn’t violate any other rules.
A guard walked past our table. When he was gone, I leaned forward, dropping my voice. “I don’t want anyone else knowing about this.”
“Okay, now you’ve got my attention.” Axel mimicked my posture, our heads close enough that I could smell his ridiculous cologne. Of course he wore Tom Ford to a prison visit. Of course he did. “Why the secrecy?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
Axel’s grin turned wicked. “You’re gonna look at porn, aren’t you?”
“Jesus, Axel?—”
“What? It’s a legitimate question. You haven’t had your dick touched by anything but your own hand in, what, fourteen years? That’s like …” Axel counted on his fingers. “That’s like a hundred in dog years.”
“That doesn’t even make sense.”
“Neither does celibacy, but here we are.”
Despite myself, I felt the corner of my mouth pull up. I sighed and scrubbed both hands over my face, careful of the tender skin around my lips. “It’s not for porn.”
“But be honest.” Axel waggled his eyebrows. “It’s a nice perk, eh? I mean, come on. Fourteen years, Knox. Fourteen. Years. Your balls must be ready to file a formal complaint with HR.”
