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“Fuck, yeah.”
“Good. Eat this. Then you can go and do your job,” he says, attempting to keep me focused on what I need to do.
“What about Al—”
“She’s fine, J.”
“But—”
“Just give her time,” he says softly. Too fucking softly when it comes to our favorite inmate.
Is she even our prisoner anymore? She’s lying upstairs in a place no other woman has ever been before.
Does that change things? Or, once she’s recovered, will Reid march her straight back downstairs to continue punishing her for crimes she had no choice but to commit?
A plate slides under my nose and I reach out on instinct and lift the grilled cheese sandwich to my lips.
“What happens next?” I ask once I’ve demolished the entire thing like I haven’t eaten for a week.
“Honestly?” Reid says, resting his ass back against the counter, his eyes focused out the windows. “I’m not sure.” He swallows before his dark eyes turn to me again. “But one thing is for certain,” he warns, “the time for change is coming.”
“You ready?” I ask hesitantly. I know just how hard he’s worked to get all his ducks in a row, so he’s in the strongest position he can be to make a move for his father’s control over this town. But as far as I’m aware, he’s not quite there yet.
A smirk pulls at his lips, his chin lifting arrogantly. “I’m Reid fucking Harris. I’m always ready.”
“Fucking love you, man.” I laugh, making his smile widen and his eyes sparkle in a way most never see.
“Someone’s got to. Now fuck off downstairs and feed the rats.”
“And what about—”
“Do what you’ve got to do. We need him alive.”
“There’s something I never thought you’d say. You going soft in our old age, man?”
“Fuck you, bro.” He laughs. “Fuck you.”
I’m still laughing as I descend the stairs to the basement.
Fuck me, that woman upstairs has more fucking power than she could ever understand.
One day she’ll discover it, and fuck, that’s going to be even more dangerous than the three men she’s managed to wrap around her little fucking finger.
4
ALANA
Iwake with a start and the fear lingering from my nightmare only increases when the wall of heat at my back and the weight crushing my ribs makes itself known.
My heart races faster as my fight-or-flight instinct kicks in.
Throwing my free arm back, my elbow makes contact with something and the vise grip on my body loosens as a deep grunt of pain fills the air.
Scrambling from the bed, I back toward the window with my hands up ready to strike.
But the second my eyes focus and I find JD staring back at me with one eye—he has his hand covering the other, letting me know what my elbow collided with—everything in me relaxes.
“What the hell are you doing?” I shriek, wrapping my arms around myself as if they’ll help me keep my shit together.
