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“Don’t worry,” Rome mumbled as he caught the look of panic in my eyes. “This prisoner is different. Plus, he’s my brother-in-law.”
I frowned, unsure whether that was a good thing or not.
“I’ll stay,” he continued to reassure me.
I wasn’t sure whether I could believe him or not.
Which Rome obviously read on my face.
“Slate used to be a cop. Plus, the only reason he’s in here in the first place is because he killed his fiancée’s murderer. He’s set to get out in a year, six months if his parole goes without problem. He’s not going to do anything to jeopardize his chance to get out.” Rome paused. “Plus, I’m not leaving.”
I blew out a breath.
He must’ve sensed the panic on my face and thought to reassure me.
“If you say he’s okay, then I’ll trust you.” I paused. “But just realize that Bayou’s daughter is over there, and I’ll beat the ever-loving shit out of anything that seeks to cause her harm.”
Bayou’s daughter, oblivious to the tension in the room, continued to play with her puzzle game as if there was nothing in this world that could harm her.
And I had a feeling, now, that it was true.
Bayou, now that he knew about the little girl, would never allow her to come to harm.
No matter what he had to do, or who he had to go through, to prevent it.
Rome’s eyes narrowed on me. “Good.”
That was when the prisoner was brought into the room.
He had chains on his ankles and on his hands, and he was shuffling in about as fast as his chains would allow him.
He was bleeding profusely from a gash right above his left eye, and it was trailing down his face in gruesome rivulets.
I worriedly looked over to Isa, but she was so enraptured with my phone that she didn’t bother looking up.
“Sit him over there,” I indicated the very corner of the room, about as far away from Isa as I could get while still being in the room.
The guard that was escorting this ‘Slate’ man nodded once, and Slate turned to follow orders like a dutiful little boy.
“Sit.”
Slate sat.
Then there was some readjusting, and Slate was then chained to the bed at his hands, and at his feet.
“Thanks, man,” Rome said as the guard backed up. “I don’t mind staying.”
The guard looked at Rome, then shrugged. “Sounds good. It was my lunch break anyway.”
Then the guard was gone, and Rome was grinning like a goddamn loon at Slate.
“What did I tell you about getting in fights, bro?” Rome drawled.
Slate lifted his hand as far as the chain would allow him and flipped Rome the bird. “Fuck you.”
I walked over to the med kit that we used for cuts that would require sutures or glue, and picked it up.
Rome took it from my hands and walked it over to the metal table that was attached to the wall.
He set it down and opened it up before I could even walk across the room to his side.
“Slate, this is Phoebe.” He paused.
I turned to survey Slate and smiled at seeing that lazy grin on his face.
“Ma’am.” He nodded.
My grin grew. “Why does that voice strike me as sugary sweet only when you want it to sound that way?”
Slate’s grin grew, too. “Because girls say my voice is sweet as sin.”
Rome gagged. “That’s disgusting.”
“It’s true,” Slate shrugged.
I silently agreed with him.
My eyes drifted over to the little girl that was across the room, and Slate’s eyes followed my gaze.
“Ummm,” he paused. “You have a child…in a prison.”
I walked up to Slate’s side with some gauze in my hand and laid it over the cut. Then I walked back to pull out a set of gloves.
“You’re not allergic to latex, are you?” I asked.
He shook his head. “No. But…why is there a kid in here?”
“Bayou’s,” Rome said. “He found out he had it yesterday when social services dropped her off in his arms.”
Slate’s mouth dropped open. “No shit?”
“No shit,” I confirmed. “Are you allergic to anything?”
“About half the antibiotics you can name,” he paused. “Is the mom dead?”
“No.”
That came from not me or Rome, but the man that was all the way across the room. Bayou.
He was significantly less tense than he had been when he’d left the room, and he was looking a little wired now that I could study him. His eyes were also ringed with dark circles…as if he hadn’t slept last night.
Then again, who could blame him?
I sure as hell couldn’t.
“Do you want her to be? Because I know a guy,” Slate teased.
At least, I thought he was teasing.
“No.” Bayou walked farther into the infirmary, taking a wary glance at the little girl that had glanced up at him and dismissed him at hearing his voice. “But I could use a little downtime from the boys.” He gestured to the building around him. “What the fuck is going on lately? I’ve never had to send the place into lockdown twice in one month, but the guards are acting like it’s about to be Armageddon any day now.”
