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I turn and do as he says, feeling my black sheath dress rise when I lean forward.
“Not many people come in here without notice, so when the warden called to say you were coming, I was surprised.” He fishes for information as his hands slide over my body, checking me for weapons. He doesn’t abuse the position by grabbing more than he should, but his fingers do linger a fraction longer than they need to. When he steps closer to run his hands around the underside of my bra, I feel the unmistakable bulge in his pants.
“The governor and I are old friends. He was the one who told me about this case, and I volunteered my services.”
“Hmm,” he hums, I suspect wanting to say more, but he bites his tongue.
“What can you tell me about my new client?”
“Not much. He keeps to himself, but not because he is afraid. It is the opposite. Everyone here is wary of the man they call the Carver.”
“Well, the name doesn’t suggest sunshine and roses, so that’s to be expected, no?”
“Perhaps, but everyone in here is a little bit…” he taps his head as he trails off. “What does it say about the man when even the crazies are fearful of him?”
I smile at him sweetly before leaning up and pressing my lips against the shell of his ear. “That he’s the smartest person here.” I pull back and continue on, pretending I don’t see him adjusting himself. “Tell me, how many fights has he been in?”
“Since he has been here? I was not here in the beginning, but as far as I know, only one. He carved up the man’s face and genitals before skinning him.”
“And yet no time was added to his sentence?”
“He was already deemed insane and locked up here. If anything, that just proved it. A judge said he just doesn’t know the difference between right and wrong and that it is not safe for him or anyone else outside these walls.”
“He was given a twenty-five-year sentence to serve here in a mental health facility for the criminally insane. The governor explained that he will stay longer though if, after his time served, he is still considered a danger to others. I understand the legal system is a little different over here than it is back home, but that seems strange to me. If he was deemed insane at the trial, why was he found guilty?”
He shrugs as he opens the next gate with a clang. “Some people are special that way.”
I turn to face him and move closer to him. “You’re not saying my client is being treated differently because of his bloodline, are you?” I run my fingers across the collar of his shirt and let my breath skate across his lips. “Because I’d hate to have to submit a report. I do so hate paperwork.”
“I’m not saying anything.” He gulps, leaning a little closer. “But if you’re hoping to get your client free, I’d tell you to stop wasting your time and find another client instead. The only way that man will ever see the light of day will be if he gets a full pardon from the governor.” He chuckles at that.
I shrug before stepping away. “Stranger things have happened.”
I walk away, putting some extra sway in my hips as I go, until I reach the next checkpoint. The guard there looks at me for a second before unlocking the gate without a word. He slides it open wide enough for me to slip through before closing it behind him.
I follow his lead and keep my mouth shut. Silence can make some people feel uncomfortable, so they start talking to fill the silence, which is when they tend to say things they perhaps shouldn’t have said. Silence never bothered me. It has always been somewhat of a comfort.
The man doesn’t speak until we reach the holding room, and when he does, he doesn’t speak English, and I don’t ask him to. I simply offer him a nod as he opens the door and ushers me inside.
I walk over to the chair meant for visitors, then look over to the table in the middle of the room and the chair on the opposite side. There are heavy-duty leather straps on the arms and legs, as well as chains bolted to the floor.
The guard points at the white line dividing the room, disappearing under the table, and emerging on the other side. He shakes his head in a do-not-cross warning.
I nod and sit, crossing my legs and resting my hands in my lap. He leaves the room, keeping the door open. I casually glance around the room, looking for the cameras, and spot them in opposite corners. Both turned off thanks to the warden, who agreed to let me have an hour with the prisoner in exchange for a night in which he could do whatever he liked with me.
I twist my earring, which is fitted with a signal blocker just in case and inspect my nails as I wait for the prisoner to arrive. I purse my lips when I realize I need a manicure.
When I hear the jingling of chains and footsteps approaching, I brace myself. Visibly, nothing is wrong. I’m the picture of calm and collected, but looks can be deceiving because inside, my stomach is tied in knots, and I’m ready to run.
I stare at my hands as the guard brings the prisoner into the room and straps him to the chair opposite me. The only sound is that of the chains. I wait for the guard to leave and close the door before I lift my head and stare at a man I haven’t seen in more than twenty years.
I barely manage to hold back my flinch as his cold, arctic blue eyes stare into mine. Memories slam into me, thrusting my brain back in time. I can hear the screams, smell the blood, and taste the fear on the tip of my tongue, but that was before I realized how bad it would become.
At six-four, he was always tall, though, to be fair, most people are tall to me at five-foot-nothing. His height, however, is the only thing that hasn’t changed. His once lean swimmer’s physique is long gone. The man must be two hundred and fifty pounds of pure muscle. He could probably bench press me one-handed. His size alone should scare the shit out of me, but it has the opposite effect.
He once resembled the monster I knew. Now he’s something else altogether. His short black hair curls at the ends and looks like it needs a wash, and his beard could do with a trim, but overall, the man looks good considering where he spent the last twenty years.
He cocks his head, his eyes moving over me, assessing me, trying to figure me out.
