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“I know you’re innocent of the crime of which you were accused, and for which you have lost three years of your life,” Mad tried again.
Will’s eyes flared bright blue. Sweet blue, Mad thought to himself.
“I’m still wearing handcuffs, so you can’t think I’m that innocent.”
The first words Will granted him were smart mouthed. Unsurprising. He was a smart man. Sensitive too. Maddox was certain that prison was hell for him.
“That’s because you haven’t agreed to my deal as yet. I cannot overturn your conviction. I am not a lawyer, and I am not a judge. I work within the corrections system, pursuing alternative treatments for antisocial disorders. I also look for ways and means to turn what society considers to be undesirable traits into useful ones, working with various branches of the government and military.” The spiel was designed to be specific enough to be convincing, but vague enough to convey plausible deniability.
“You’re a psychologist?”
“Psychology is one of my interests,” Maddox allowed. “But that is only part of what I am.”
“If you’re looking for a psycho to use, why choose someone who you believe is innocent?”
“I know you are innocent of the crime you were convicted of. But I believe you are capable of much, much more. I am looking for young men who want to reach their full potential. Are you such a man?”
William laughed. Maddox had been right. He did look cute when he laughed.
“Really. Three years into this sentence, and the spooks send a recruiter in a cheap suit?”
The barb nearly struck home. Maddox’s suit was not cheap. Not by any measure. It was a bespoke piece of tailoring, using fabrics unattainable by most people. If William had any concept of the materials used in the jacket alone, he would not be making smart remarks of that nature. But he was innocent of that knowledge, and for the moment Maddox let the attempted insult slide. There would be plenty of time to teach him manners later.
William looked at the man in front of him and felt flushes of hatred rushing through his body. He saw a suit with authority sneering at him quietly, treating him like a pawn. The man was older than him by a few years, maybe a decade. William had a problem with authority. The man across the table knew that, no doubt. He had the expression of someone who thought he knew everything. The file was probably full of what people considered to be facts about him. But if anybody knew the truth about Will, they would have bled him out, not sent him to prison where his hunger ran almost entirely out of control.
But the smirking expression, the fancy clothes, and the irritatingly incorrect file were not all that was sat before him. The man, Maddox, was also handsome, muscular, and rich. He was everything people were supposed to aspire to be. He had smooth dark blond hair swept back from his forehead, and noble, Nordic features. His eyes were dark and knowing, full of calculations. His hands were large and well manicured. William had a mental flash of those hands gripping his ass. He pushed the thought away. The last thing he ever allowed himself to indulge in were thoughts of men. Especially not in this place.
“I can’t tell you where you’ll be going, or what you’ll be doing. I can tell you that you will be handled by, and answer to me.”
“That’s it? That’s all the spiel you’re going to give me?” William snorted. “That tells me absolutely nothing.”
“It tells you enough if you think about it.”
The man sitting across from him was clearly a master manipulator. William was suspicious and mistrustful, but he was also curious — and an opportunist. With a choice between rotting behind bars for the rest of his life and having a chance at something that might be closer to freedom, the choice seemed clear. Then again, this could easily be a frying pan/fire sort of situation.
He already knew what his answer was going to be. But he wasn’t done asking questions.
“You think you can walk in here like you own the place, and your sheer force of personality is going to make me agree to whatever it is you want me to do? You think you’re that fucking charming?” Will swore and noticed Mad flinch as he did. There was everything Will needed to know. His interrogator was a prude, stuck up, too good for what he’d probably refer to as the F word.
“I think the possibility of leaving prison is all the reason you need.”
“Will I be leaving prison?”
“You will. Sign the paper, and tonight you will be as free a man as you have ever been. Hot, private shower. Freshly cooked food. A bed made with Egyptian cotton, and a room without bars on the windows or locks on the door.”
