The small room where they hold the parole hearings hasn’t changed; neither has the smell. The smell of the prison permeates every inch of the place. If there is one thing I fucking hate the most about this place, it is the stink of it.
I’m placed at a small table that will face the panel. It’s a familiar routine. There will be a bunch of tight assed, fancy dressed assholes, who look as if my presence offends them. Hell, they need to get in line. My presence offends my own damn self.
I’m waiting for everyone to show up when she walks in.
Fucking hell! Who let her in here? She walks through the door looking lost. She is. She’s a damned baby thrown into an angry tank of sharks. She’s going to get eaten alive. She has hair the color of coffee, creamy and rich. It’s pulled on top of her head and wrapped in a bun. I’m sure it was meant to give her a matronly appearance. It does not. It exposes her neck and makes the beast in me want to bite into it while I bend her over the damn table she just put the briefcase on. She’s wearing black, dress pants that hug her slim thighs and a red silk shirt. I can’t even remember the last time I had sex and one look at her, and my dick is ready to come for days. Come all over her, to be exact. A picture of her buck-ass naked and covered in my jizz, from her thick apple lips to her fuck-me stilettos, cements in my mind.
“Who the fuck are you?” I bark at her, annoyed at the way my dick is standing at attention.
“I…I’m Mr. Barger’s paralegal,” she stumbles, her eyes widen in surprise, with a healthy dose of fear mixed in when she looks at me.
“Who the fuck is Mr. Barger?” I ask, doing my best to ignore the way her shirt exposes the mounds of her breasts when she bends over to look through her papers.
“Your lawyer, he was unavoidably detained. I’m here to stand in…”
“I don’t have a fucking lawyer!”
“The court appointed Mr. Barger to appear on your behalf. Now, if you’ll give me just a few minutes, we can get started. There are some things I’d like to go over with you before I address the panel.”
“I don’t want you addressing the panel,” I respond, and when it appears like she’s going to argue with me, I look at the guard who stayed to monitor me. “I don’t want her talking on my behalf. I want her gone.”
“Really Mr. Kincaid, if you would just…”
“Lady, my name is Max or Inmate number 91428, not Mr. Kincaid.”
“Fine, Mr. Kincaid, I mean Max, if you will just allow me to…”
“I don’t want counsel! I decline it. Now get the hell out.”
The guard finally stands up. Maybe he’ll actually do something. I need this little lamb out of here before the animals start to attack and eat her alive. She needs to be gone before we go into a full-blown riot. It would appear my conscious is not totally dead.
“Is there a problem?” The guard asks. If I weren’t worried about getting this chick out of here, I’d stop to roll my fucking eyes.
“Not at all officer. Please have a seat,” the woman interjects. “Now as I was saying, Mr. Barger was called out of town with an emergency. I am the one in the office most familiar with your case, and he sent me in his place. I’m Tessa Oliver, now if we could get started.”
“It would appear that the prisoner does not want your counsel, Ms. Oliver,” the guard says.
Gee ya think? Dumbass.
“No, he just didn’t realize…”
“Damn straight I don’t,” I interrupt before she can finish.
She looks back at me with shock, and there’s a fiery glint in her eyes that tells me I’ve just pissed her off. That might have been interesting had the alarm not sounded right then. She looks in the direction of the noise.
“What is…?” She asks. The guard, who already knows what the alarm means, breaks every rule in his training and runs out of the small room, leaving me alone with the woman.
“What’s going on?” She questions again, and this time she looks pale and scared. She should. I take a deep breath.
I didn’t want this. I have no fucking use for the game that’s about to be played. It’s too late; the die has been cast. If I leave her on her own, she will be dead or wishing for death by nightfall. I stand up. I’d be lying if I said my dick wasn’t twitching at the way I tower over her small, delicate frame, or at the way her eyes widen in real fear as she tries to step back from me. My hands are in shackles so I do the only thing I can. I take them both and lift them over her head and pull her back into me, letting the heavy chains rest on her chest and against her neck.
“You have just become a prisoner in a prison break.”
Her cry of fear competes with my growl of anger.