“For the love of Gods, Jolene, fuck off,” I snap, my face feeling like it’s actually on fire.
“Yeah, go vibrate somewhere else, Jo,” Layla mutters, giving the redhead a gentle but firm shove down the hallway. “The Boss doesn’t need a fortune-teller calling his action.”
“I’m just saying!” Jolene’s voice drifts back as she disappears. “The sacral chakra never lies!”
The silence that follows is thick enough to choke on. Tally doesn’t move. He finishes the knot he’s working on with agonizing slowness before finally letting go.
“I guess you’re picking out her fleas, huh boss?” Layla gives a half-grimace, half-smile, while her hand runs over her newly buzzed scalp.
“Looking good,” I croak. It’s true, she does. In fact she looks lethal, the fresh cut making her cheekbones look sharp enough to draw blood.
But her eyes are soft and dancing with amusement as she takes in the two of us, pressed close together, on the cot.
“Spigot always does a clean job,” Taliesin mutters.
Layla raises an eyebrow, her gaze flicking between my flushed face and Tally’s iron-cold expression. “Yep, clean as a whistle.But I didn’t come here to talk about my fade.” The humor vanishes. “Tindall is on the block.”
Taliesin is off the cot in a heartbeat. “Tindall? She doesn’t crawl down here unless the Warden is looking for someone to break.”
“Who’s Tindall?” I ask, trying to smooth down my hair and act cool.
“A bitch of a guard, The warden’s pitbull,” Layla tells me.
“Wait, broad shoulders, neck like a bull, iron gray hair in a tight bun?”
Layla’s mouth twitched. “That’s the one.”
“That’s not Tindall,” I laugh, “That’s Ms. Trunchbull.”
Taliesin looks confused but Layla lets out a genuine bark of a laugh. “Holy shit, Rory. That’s perfect.”
“Want to fill me in?” Taliesin asks, looking put out.
Layla grins. “Aw, boss. You butt hurt to be out of the loop?” She turns to me. “Do you think we need to start calling Tally ‘Harry’ instead?”
“As in Wormwood?” I reply. “Oh no. He’s actually Miss Honey.”
Layla and I are still giggling when a shadow fills the doorway.
“Get to your own cell,” a guard snaps. It’s her; fucking Tindall/Trunchbull.
She threatens Layla with her baton, who immediately raises her hands slightly. “I’m going, I’m going.”
Tindall watches her leave then turns back to me.
“Warden wants you.” Her voice a low growl that fits her fucked up personality. “Now.”
Taliesin stands, his hand going instinctively to his hidden weapon. “I’ll come too,” he says, casting a look in my direction that looks too much like genuine worry for my liking.
Agreed, T. The warden scares the shit out of me.
Tindall levels her baton at him. “I don’t think so, Bevan. You’re not the ‘boss’ of anyone but your filthy crew.”
He takes a step forward. “Listen, Tind—” His words are cut off as the bitch jabs him, sending volts through his body. It’s not enough to put him on the floor, but he doubles over, swearing and clutching his shoulder.
Fuck.
I lift my chin, trying to bring my Aurora Drakeward A-game. “It’s fine, Taliesin,” I lie as he gasps. “The warden is just a dirty old man.” I put as much false bravado into my tone as possible. “I’m used to that type. They’re all the same.”
