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As much as it aggravates me to acquiesce, I release Wilkes and get back in the breakfast line. “This isn’t over.” When I get out, this prick is mine, and he’s going to pay for this power move.
“Get yourself cleaned up, Wilkes,” the warden’s son suggests as we begin walking again.
Today is the last day I’ll be here, so I match Wilkes’ challenging glare with one of my own as he hobbles along, holding that wrist to his chest.
Pussy.
It takes twenty minutes to get to the mess hall, but I spot my target almost immediately. Garnett Fraser is an unimposing man. Barely six feet, maybe a buck sixty, and as skittish as the day he entered. I’m actually surprised he’s still alive. He’s squirrely and has the look of a snitch about him with the way his eyes shift from one table of inmates to the next. Always watching.
Even if I weren’t here to kill him, he wouldn’t last much longer on the inside anyway. Men like him never do. Eventually, he would turn into a rat for protection from another. I’ve seen it happen dozens of times before.
Waiting in line for the meal I’m not going to eat, I keep one eye on him as he sits at a table of obvious loners, arms wrapped protectively around his food to keep anyone from grabbing the slop. Holding out my tray, the guy on kitchen duty plops unrecognizable food in one of the sections with a muttered word about what it might be, but I seriously doubt it’s oatmeal.
Dished out, I make my way along the wall over to where Garnett sits, an open spot next to him. He jumps as I drop my tray on the table and turns his back. I sit for a minute before surveying the area, the men at the table, and watching where the guards stand. The warden’s son is supposed to be keeping an eye on this area, but his back is turned so I can do what I came here for.
“Magnolia Taylor.” I say the name that I’ve kept trapped inside for the first time since I met her, and I grow angrier about the fact that she fucking ran from me.
Garnett turns to stone as the name penetrates his tiny brain. “What did you say?” he seethes as he turns to me. When his gaze connects with mine, he swallows roughly as he gets a good look at me.
“Magnolia Taylor,” I repeat.
“What about her?” He spits out the question like she was the one who wronged him.
“She’s my girl.” He pales. “You nearly killed her. Took her from me.” Fury bubbles over and bleeds into my voice. “I can’t let that go.”
His eyes run around the room as fast as I’m sure he’d like his legs to take him. “What do you want?”
I draw out the penknife from my pocket without anyone the wiser and wrap an arm around his shoulders, dragging him closer and muttering in his ear like we’re old pals, “I want your fucking heart in my hands.” The compact blade jabs up twice, piercing his lungs, and blood spills like a small stream. “I want you to suffer every ounce that she has.” Reaching across his body, I dig below his ribs with the blade, thrusting it into his heart a handful of times. I watch as the life drains from his body, and he lays his head down on the table.
“Your life will do just fine instead.” Grabbing the carton of milk from his tray, I open it and use the liquid to wash the blood off my hand before gathering my tray and walking to another table.
It takes a couple of minutes before anyone notices the pool of milky red liquid spreading under the table and streaming against the wall. Satisfaction rolls through me as I see Fraser staring straight ahead, no life left inside him.
Now my mission can begin in earnest.
Magnolia thought she would escape me. I’m about to show that there is no running from me. Not when I want something as desperately as I do her.
She sealed her fate from the moment she didn’t run screaming from my erection after enticing it while in the middle of a crisis.
Innocent as a newborn lamb, I crave her spirited inhibitions and have a desperate need to keep them all for myself.
CHAPTER4
Magnolia
ONE MONTH LATER –PRESENT DAY.
Reading Jossilyn Marlowe’s latest book before she submits it to her publisher is one of my absolute favorite things about being her best friend and roommate. I get all the goodies before her adoring readers and demanding publishing entourage.
I thought she was crazy when she asked me to be a model for her last book. It took her weeks to actually convince me to do it. After agreeing to the photo shoot, I was still skeptical until her cover designer shared the final product with us, and then I couldn’t do anything but say yes to Joss’s pleading silver-blue eyes.
When I came home from South Africa, I stayed in Chester for all of two days before packing everything I needed and leaving. Driving from Arizona to Texas was an impulse move. I don’t know why I felt Texas was the right place, but that’s where I landed. Stopping in Fort Stockton, then San Antonio, I finally felt at peace when I arrived in Corpus Christi.
I don’t know if it was the ocean air or the laid-back atmosphere, but as soon as I got out of the car, a feeling of home settled in my chest. After staying in a hotel for a couple of days, I took to applying to middle schools again. My goal was still the same—to help the kids who needed me most—but I was more cautious this time. After a few interviews, I landed a job at Malcolm T. Brewer middle school.
Looking for an apartment was harder to do until I stopped in a cute little coffee shop and met Joss. She’d been reading a book I had just picked up, and I asked her how it was. Her blush glowed brilliantly, and she stuttered her way through explaining that she was the author. I had a hundred questions for her after that because I’d never met one in person before.
Turns out, there’s an entire online community of romance authors that I’ve been missing out on. She fondly referred to it as Romancelandia and filled me in on all the gossip. Which can be quite juicy.
