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Along with a healthy degree of scantily clad women, threats and curse words, there are also a few truly gorgeous pieces of art. I stop mid step when my eyes land on one, a bird of some kind. Tilting my head to the side, I study it and how it looks as though it’s about to fly right off the walls. It’s saddening to think that someone so talented should be locked up in this place.
“You like it? It’s one of my favorites,” a voice says that sends shivers up my spine. My hand has a knife in it before I even turn around.
“You did this?” I reply to Desmond, who is leaned up against a pillar behind me. From the angle he’s at, he must have been following me. I mentally kick myself for not being more careful, especially now.
He grins cockily, pushing off the wall and stepping towards me. I involuntarily step back before stopping myself and glaring at him, pointing my knife toward him.
“Yes,” he says, still with a smile, though he stops coming at me. “You look surprised.”
“That a piece of shit makes shit on walls? No, not that surprised,” I retort and his eyes narrow at my low jab. He looks like he wants to come at me again, but his eyes flick down to my knife and I see the tiniest glimmer of fear. I’m once again super glad I stabbed him before.
“What the fuck do you want?” I ask, now that I feel I’ve gotten his full attention. I wish I had called Brutus now.
“I want you to stop being a prissy bitch and give yourself up before the guards kill us all.” He practically snarls, never taking his eyes off the blade in my hand. I move it a fraction of an inch closer as my nostrils flare.
“Watch yourself. I don’t like name calling.”
His lips turn up at the challenge.
“Littl—”
“Ana?”
I think I actually sigh in relief at the sound of Brutus’ voice behind me. He must have gone to my chambers and seen I was gone. I don’t turn around but feel him step up behind me. It takes Desmond a moment, but his eyes finally leave mine and flick up to the giant man standing behind me. Even with the dopiest expression I’ve ever seen on a grown man, he’s so fucking big it doesn’t matter. When he’s glowering, like he is now, Brutus is one scary mother fucker.
Desmond’s eyes meet mine once more, scowling at me before turning away. Just before he turns the corner he stops.
“You may not want to hear it, but we’ll all die if you don’t,” he says crudely before walking off. I stay in my ready stance holding my knife for a moment as I try to get my heartbeat under control.
“Thanks,” I finally say, turning to Brutus and flicking my knife back up my sleeve and into the scabbard. For a moment, I consider heading back to the room, but I still don’t want to sit around there for hours.
“Come on,” I say to Brutus, continuing my walk. If nothing else, maybe walking will keep my mind off things.
Seventeen
Ana
Walking isnotkeeping my mind off things. Everywhere I go, I see two things. Inmates filling buckets of water, or inmates glowering at me. Both only serve to remind me of our precarious position.
I’ve finally had it and decide I’d rather be holed up in my room when Emilio turns a corner, catching my eye.
“I was looking for you,” he says. “Come, have a talk with me.”
Part of me wants to object to his tone, the sort of condescending way he tells me rather than asks me to speak to him. The other part of me knows Emilio’s been pretty damn good to me since the beginning, and I really don’t need anyone else on my bad side.
We make our way over to his area in the west part of the prison. His men spread out over a dozen or so cells, claiming the area for themselves. Ax told me that before coming here, Emilio was a feared man. An Italian mafia boss who had a reputation for cutting off body parts of his enemies. On first glance, the old silver fox doesn’t look intimidating until you get a look at his eyes. It’s always the eyes that give someone away, whether they speak of love or untold amounts of pain.
“What do you need?” I say as soon as we step into his chambers. Emilio nods his head at a few of the men within and they all step out, leaving the two of us alone. I catch Brutus’ eye and nod my consent for him to step out as well.
I stand just inside the room as Emilio putters over to the table, pulling a ridiculous looking floral cozy off of a small pot.
“Coffee? It’s the last bit of the good stuff I have. After that it’s just instant nonsense.” His face distorts into disgust at the mention and I feel the corner of my mouth turn up just a touch. I don’t remember much about my parents, I was so young when they died, but that expression and affinity for good coffee somehow reminds me of my dad.
“I’d love some,” I say, relaxing just a bit and making my way over to a nearby chair. I wait patiently while Emilio pours two cups and brings one over to me. Inhaling deeply, I take a sip of dark liquid, savoring it. Through my lashes I see Emilio smiling at me and I put down my cup.
“Somehow I don’t think you brought me here just for coffee,” I say wryly. Emilio nods his head in acknowledgment.
“Astute as you are lovely,” he replies, and I snort as I look down at my filthy clothes. My hair is still only a few inches long and I’m sure I look like a total wreck.
