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“Not sure I like the look on your face, Buchanan,” he drawls.
“Then look away.”
The guard laughs. “Funny.“ His eyes narrow. “You’re not getting any ideas are you?”
“None.”
My flat responses get him to turn his attention elsewhere and I look out the window. We’re on a highway with spruces on either side. Soon, we’ll get to a curve near the lake and that’s where I’ll leak. Tightening my body, I take deep breaths to clear my head and I’ve already begun to pick my locks with a homemade type of needle. When nearing the curve, an inmate next to me, looks down at my hands.
“What are you doing?”
“Mind your own fucking business,” I growl under my breath, knowing I’ll kill him right here and right now if he does anything to stop or slow down my attempt to get to Porsha. He averts his gaze but it’s too late.
“Hey! No talking you two,” the guard yaps, rising and he lets out a sound of shock and falls on his seat when a bullet flies through the window, exiting another one. It’s my accomplice, a former criminal who agreed to do this in turn for a hefty payment. The truck circles, losing ground and the driver tries steering but fails and crashes into a tree. Freed from my cuffs, I grab the guard’s gun and shoot the backdoor open and jump out of the truck.
Some of the other prisoners yell for my help but I ignore them, racing into the woods. Bullets fly after me, hitting one of the trees and I duck, firing shots myself before running deeper and deeper into the forest. Adrenaline’s pumping, my muscles tenser than steel and I’m covered in sweat but I’m running...and running. The veil of freedom eventually comes down on me and a grin spreads across my face.
Porsha... soon we’ll be together...
But first...and that grin turns into a sneer...first there’s a hospital I need to visit.
****
It takes me nearly half a day to locate where Porsha lives, without getting caught. She doesn’t live on campus but a cottage looking house not too far away from her college. It’s green with white corners and there are neighbors but they’re not so close by, they’ll be an issue.
I’m out of my jumpsuit, wearing normal clothes that I picked up on the way and I drag a palm down my denims. It’s been years since I wore anything other than orange and it’s a welcomed feeling. Like this I feel a little more like a natural man and less like an animal in a cage. Rubbing a hand down my face, I stretch my neck to be able to see into the windows. I hope she’s not buying the lies they’re spewing about me. I know she’s not scared of me but media’s been running hot since the hours I escaped. They were quick with the story and they were quick with spinning it.
My face is all over the news and I’m portrayed in a less than flattering light. The way they’re talking about me makes me sound like I’m some madman violently lashing out in every direction. They’re wrong. I only respond with violence when Porsha needs me to.
Deep down, I know Porsha isn’t the kind who’d buy their lies but I don’t want to risk it and have her screaming and trying to run out of the house in broad daylight. I tense when I catch Porsha’s silhouette in one of the windows. She’s dressed in only what looks like a lingerie bodysuit, a lavender colored satiny thing and my mouth waters at the sight of her. Lifting her hair with one hand, she fans her neck with the other. Her face is turned toward the TV, a frown between her brows.
The news channel is on. Great...
Sitting on the armrest, she crosses her legs and my eyes immediately draw to her thighs. They look so damn edible that I’m gripped by an overwhelming urge to spread them. Those sunburned thighs are mine, what’s between them is mine. Soon...soon I’ll have her in my arms and at the thought my eyes flutter. I already know what it feels like holding her but that happened in prison and she was ripped from me too soon. Losing her like that...have her taken away from me while watching the distress on her face...it cut me up from the inside, distorted me almost and I wanted to slaughter every man on that facility.
In my embrace she was safe, so where she’s meant to be and then theytookher. Only a miracle will help the one who tries taking her from me again. I’ll never allow her to slip from me and I still remember the way she reached for me. Her slender fingers shivered like her whole body was in turmoil. Mine was in the same turmoil, my masculine instinct hating me when I was unable to reach her.
Never again. I’d rather die than be apart from her again.
The shine is back as always when she’s around and it puts a shimmer on my whole world, beautifies and makes it worth fighting for. Only a man who has something of substance would do what I’ve done, risk what I’ve risked. Even if law enforcement came right now it would’ve all been worth it just to catch a glimpse of her face one last time. Raising my chin, I frown when Porsha stands and she walks into her bedroom and reaches for a sundress, hanging on a hanger by the closet. She wraps it tightly around her until she’s enclosed in pastel yellow, before going over to her vanity. Looking at herself in the mirror, she brushes her hair and puts on some blush.
Who’s she dolling up for? Where is she going? Can’t be the grocery store or the gym...
Grinding my teeth I drag a deep breath. She’s probably going for a coffee with a friend. It’s what college girls do, don’t they? Yeah, but they also party hard and they tend to be surrounded by guys. My eyes squeeze and if Porsha is trying to look pretty for another guy, then I’m gonna have to add college boy murder to my list of crimes. Straightening, I clench my fists.Relax, don’t get pissed.I told her not to replace me with another man ever and I know she listens to me. Knowing how loyal she is, gives me peace but I’d still prefer it if I knew where she’s going.
And there’s a way to find out. By tracking her every move.
5.
Porsha
It’s hotter than a sauna today...and I feel like my thin cotton dress is too warm. I would’ve preferred not going anywhere at all and just sit at home, tracing an ice cube along my neck until sundown but I was invited and my mom always told me that declining invitations isn’t polite, unless you’re poorly.
Though, I guess I am poorly...Does heartache count?
Walking into the living room, I get shivers down my spine when I glance at the news. He escaped. Hours ago, Giggs managed to make himself a free but hunted man and I wring my hands. Cops were here earlier, asking questions and they told me to call if I hear or see anything.
As if I would do that. As if I would ever do anything that would harm Giggs. Questions torment my mind and the worst part is that I won’t be able to get an answer.
