Page 18 of Caretaker

He turned his head slowly, and a whisper couldn’t have gotten between our lips.

“As I can’t resist yours.” And he brushed his lips across mine.

The thrill of that touch lit up my entire body.

“That’s enough,” Beardy said. “Back away from the inmate, Sinclair.”

I didn’t want to back away. Angus was mine. That was how I felt. He was mine, belonged with me, and the guards were keeping him from me. It pissed me off.

“I said back away.” Beardy tapped Angus on the shoulder with his baton, gently, but Angus sucked his breath through his teeth and his body tensed in preparation for a familiar zing of electricity that didn’t come. But the threat of it was enough.

Shane tensed to grab the baton, but before he could do something reckless and get us all killed, I backed away from Angus, my hands up. “Sorry.”

Beardy’s narrowed stare went from me to Shane, and finally, he nodded and lowered the baton. “It’s for your safety. Those are the rules.”

And he was eager to enforce those rules.

Asshole.

I met Angus’s stare, and my entire body shook with the need to touch him. I doubted he’d been touched with kindness in six months. I could barely stand it.

I twisted my fingers together to keep them where they belonged. “I’ll be back,” I whispered.

His face softened. “I know.” Then he looked at Shane. “Take care of her.”

Shane grunted.

Then I walked away. It was hard.

But I did it.

I stopped at the door and looked back once, but the guards were already busy loosening the various cuffs and straps and my view of him was blocked.

“Soon, Angus,” I couldn’t help but call.

He didn’t reply.

Then the guards ushered me through the doorway and hurried me down echoing, dirty hallways, eager to get me and my friends out of their way. Beardy stayed behind with Angus.

“Where is Angus kept?” I asked my escorts, as we waited for Shane to retrieve and stash his many weapons. “Where is his cell?”

“Back in BSec,” one of them answered.

“I’d like to visit that section.”

“Not going to happen.”

“I’m not surprised,” I muttered.

“You can tour the island, though,” he offered, as I was handed my cell phone. “It’s a nice place.”

“Not today. I’m in a hurry.”

“Next time, then,” he said.

I looked at him, a little surprised. He was only an inch or two taller than me—at five feet nine inches, I was rarely towered over by men—with thick, dark brown hair and blue eyes. He wore a pair of black-rimmed glasses, and the standard Byrdcage guard uniform of dark blue pants topped with a blue button-up shirt.

I lifted an eyebrow. “I hope Beardy is absent next time.”