Emily didn’t want to go with him. She sure as hell didn’t want to help him escape. It went against everything she believed in, everything she’d been trained for. Worse, it triggered memories of what her father had done, and she’d sworn she would never disgrace herself the way Adam Monroe had.
She watched as he began searching through the coats hanging on the racks. Her eyes flicked past him to the alarm panel set into the wall near the door. Panic-button panels were located throughout the prison and available for officers to use in the case of an emergency or crisis—such as the one she was facing now. If she could reach it…
Emily stared at him, her heart hammering against her ribs. She was standing midway between him and the alarm. If she moved quickly, she could slam her fist down on the button before he could stop her. Within minutes a dozen corrections officers would descend, and this man would have no choice but to surrender.
Crossing him was dicey. There was the very real possibility that he would kill her. After all, the federal government didn’t put nice guys in the Bitterroot Super Max. This prison was reserved for the most violent, dangerous prisoners.
Her vision tunneled on the protruding red button. Her pulse skittering wildly, she sidled closer, one inch at a time. With four feet to go, she launched herself at the alarm.
An instant before her fist made contact with the button, viselike arms wrapped around her waist. “Code three!” she screamed and rammed her elbow into his gut.
A hand over her mouth cut off her words, then he pulled her away from the alarm and swung her around. Emily used every ounce of strength and every self-defense tactic she’d learned over the last three years. But he was incredibly strong and overpowered her with an ease that amazed her.
The next thing she knew, her back connected with the lockers. The breath left her lungs in a rush of air that was part growl, part scream. “Get your hands off me!”
“If you want to live, you’ll shut your mouth and listen!” Holding her against the lockers, he glanced over his shoulder toward the door, as if expecting someone to rush them at any moment. When he turned back to her, his eyes were dark with anger. “What are you trying to do? Get someone killed?”
“I’m trying to keep a dangerous convict from escaping,” she said.
“I’m not who you think I am,” he growled.
If she hadn’t been so terrified, Emily might have laughed. “Next you’re going to be telling me you’re innocent.”
“Honey, I’m a long way from innocent, but I don’t belong in this hellhole any more than you do.”
His voice was like the low rumble of thunder announcing the approach of a violent storm. Emily was aware of his body pressed firmly against hers. She could feel the tension in his muscles, the quiver of nerves raw with adrenaline.
The thud of shoes against concrete sounded outside the door. His body went rigid. “Not another word,” he whispered. “Or I swear I’ll kill whomever walks through that door.”
She could feel the butt of the gun against her belly. “Don’t,” she said. “I’ll do whatever you say.”
His gaze fastened on hers, and she saw a flicker of an emotion she couldn’t quite identify. Just as quickly as it had appeared, it was gone, leaving her to wonder how this was going to end. If he was going to kill her. If he was going to kill one of her co-workers. If she would have that death on her conscience the rest of her life.
He stared at her for an interminable moment, his expression a disturbing mix of fear and very dark intentions. “Unless you want me to pull this trigger, I suggest you follow my cue.”
Before she could answer, he slid his hands to either side of her face and lowered his mouth to hers.
Chapter Two
Emily was so shocked by the sudden intimate contact that for a moment she could do nothing but stand there and try to absorb what was happening. She was keenly aware of his mouth against hers, of the forbidden rush of pleasure that surged from her lips all the way to her toes.
Somewhere in the back of her mind an internal alarm wailed. Some small voice of reason telling her to shove him away. But the heat of the kiss was interfering with the synapses firing in her brain. Every impulse to scramble back and forget this had ever happened was tempered with a stronger impulse to kiss him back and worry about the consequences later.
His mouth was firm and breathtakingly talented against hers. She could feel the warmth of his breath on her face. The scratch of his stubble against her cheek. When she opened her mouth to voice the protest caught in her throat, he deepened the kiss.
Her protest came out as a sigh. She could feel her body melting. She knew it was the worst thing she’d ever done in her life. But the sensations coursing through her overwhelmed her, made her think maybe kissing him was a mistake worth making….
“Monroe?”
With a strength that surprised her, she shoved the inmate away, appalled by what she’d done, stunned by what she felt, mortified by how this would appear to a fellow corrections officer.
That officer was standing at the locker room doorway, his gaze sliding from her to the inmate and then back to her. “Is there a problem here?”