All Chained Up (10 page)

He nodded, the lump in his throat preventing him from saying anything more. Turning, he walked out of his cell with his small bag of items, every one of which he would probably burn once he was free of this place.

He passed a blur of steel bars and faces as he left the cell block. Only one face crystallized from all of those staring at him.

Reid watched him from a table on the bottom floor surrounded by the usual crew. Reid's words played over in his head:
Don't ever fucking come back here, you understand?

An ugly sensation twisted through him as it sank in that Reid would never have that. He would never get out. Sure, he had done bad things. He was a bad man. No one was really innocent in this place. Reid deserved to be in here like the rest of them, but Knox knew that without Reid, he and his brother would have been fucked from the very beginning. In every meaning of the word. As far as he was concerned, Reid was blood.

Reid nodded and sent him a wave, his lips lifting in a half smile of derision that told him he was at that very moment thinking about the chicken fried steak and ass he thought Knox would be getting.

Knox sent him a single nod, knowing this was the last time they would ever see each other.

The guard led him out of the cell bock, buzzing him through doors and down halls until he was in the admin wing and moving through the same processing room he had first arrived in eight years ago.

“Good luck,” an officer he had never seen before said blandly as she directed him to sign his name on the bottom of several release papers. Her expression was bored as she inquired, “You need transportation?”

He hesitated, thinking of his uncle. He hadn't seen him in five years. They only talked on the phone these days. He and North had demanded that his uncle quit visiting them because he'd hated seeing the old man's face . . . the lost look in his eyes as he sat across from him. He'd made the demand as much to spare himself as his uncle. No doubt the same reason North was doing it now.

“Bus station's not far,” he commented. “I can hike it.”

She grunted, clearly not caring one way or another. He doubted he was the first guy to leave these walls without a ride waiting.

She scratched at her chin and slid him his release papers and parole information. He gave it a cursory glance before taking it. Reading material for the bus ride. There would be rules, of course. As guilty as he felt for getting out before North, he didn't intend to screw up and lose his parole.

“Here's your account balance.” She slid him an envelope. He peered inside. He had over nine hundred dollars accrued. Some of it was money Uncle Mac or Aunt Alice sent him—­despite him asking them not to. The rest was from eight years of bartering.

He shoved the envelope into his bag and moved on. His heart started hammering faster in his chest as he was buzzed through another door.

He was finally escorted outside. He stepped into rippling waves of sunlight. August in Texas was no joke. Especially in the badlands. He felt his pores open wider, desperate for breath. For air that wasn't so sweltering hot. His T-­shirt stuck to his back like a sweaty hand he couldn't shake off. It seemed even hotter than in the yard. The sunlight glinted off the cars in the parking lot, waves of heat undulating over the metal hoods and asphalt.

“C'mon. Walk you to the gate.”

Squinting against the bright day, he followed the guard down the path and through the sally port. He could already detect a difference in the guard's manner. He didn't look over his shoulder to eye him. He wasn't worried that Knox was going to get the jump on him. Guess not too many inmates jumped a guard as they were being led
out
of prison.

He showed his papers to the guards on duty at the sally port. With a quick cursory glance at his face, they handed him his papers and nodded for him to go.

He turned and faced the final gate, waiting as it rolled open. He didn't so much as blink. His eyes watched as the gate parted, the gap to his freedom ever widening, yawning open to reveal the world outside. The life he had been denied for eight years. Freedom. It was his now. The gate slid home and came to a jarring stop.

With a deep breath, he stepped over the line.

BRIAR ENTERED THE
HSU along with Dr. Walker. She had more butterflies in her stomach than knots of apprehension—­which, considering the last time she'd visited this place, was really messed up. It had been two weeks, but she should have been filled with all kinds of panic and trepidation. Bad memories could cripple a person, but she could only think about seeing Knox Callaghan again. Telling him thank-­you. Staring into his intense blue eyes and seeing what she had seen in those cobalt depths when he was dragged away. That sizzling connection between them . . .

Shaking her head, she told herself to stop. There was no future in weaving a hero-­fantasy around an inmate. That could only lead to nowhere.

Thank you
. That's all she wanted to say. What she had to say. Two simple words and nothing more. She couldn't allow herself to feel more than gratitude toward him, and yet she did.

She viewed him differently now. What he had done—­at risk to himself—­changed him in her eyes.
Everything
had changed. He didn't scare her anymore. The appreciation she had felt for his body, his face . . . it almost felt okay now. He wasn't some evil person. He was a hero.

Josiah was already there. He rose from behind the desk to hug her. She hadn't seen him since that night in the hospital, and it felt good to touch him, to reassure herself that he was all right. Murphy had pulled through the worst of it, too, and was offered early retirement. Full pension. A new corrections officer stood at the door. A woman in her thirties. Briar couldn't help thinking she appeared both more alert and fit than Murphy ever had.

“Josiah.” Dr. Walker reached out to shake his hand when they finished hugging. “So good to see you again.”

“Thanks for coming back.” Josiah grimaced. “No one would blame either one of you if you didn't.”

“The same could be said of you,” Dr. Walker reminded him.

Josiah shrugged. “I've been here for ten years. Wouldn't know what else to do with myself if I wasn't clocking in.”

“An LVN as qualified as you could always find work elsewhere, but this place is lucky to have you.”

“Well, I heard the warden is interviewing new potential staff today . . . a PA that served in the army. Guess what happened in here really shook him up and made him take action.”

Dr. Walker brightened. “That's excellent news.”

Something inside Briar sank. It was just a fleeting sensation, but she couldn't deny it. She should have been glad her time here was coming to an end, but in that split second Knox Callaghan's face flashed through her mind. No doubt he would visit the HSU as regularly as before, but she wouldn't be here to see him . . . to put her hands on that big body that had filled her dreams and made her all jumpy inside. She wouldn't hear his deep voice roll across her skin.

She sucked in a deep breath and pressed a hand to one of her heated cheeks. Dr. Walker caught the sound and sent her a concerned look. “Are you all right, Briar?”

He meant was she okay to be here. He had thought it too soon for her to come back to the prison—­he'd even suggested she not come anymore at all—­but she insisted on joining him his first day back.

She nodded. “No, I'm fine. Should we look over the patient files for the day?”

Josiah nodded and motioned to the desk. “I have them pulled up right here.”

Dr. Walker moved ahead of them. Josiah followed at a slower pace, looking her over carefully. “You sure you're all right to be here? You know, no one would blame you for not coming back.”

She nodded again, maybe a little too vehemently. “Really, I wanted to come.”
I had to come back.

Dr. Walker sank into the chair behind the desk and started clicking through files open on the laptop. He adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose in that way he did when he was concentrating.

She crossed her arms over her chest and slid Josiah a glance. Attempting for subtle, she asked, “So, any word on what happened to the inmate that helped us?”
As if she didn't know his name.
“He didn't get in any trouble, did he?”

Josiah turned to stare at her. “Oh, Callaghan? No one told you?”

Dr. Walker looked up from the computer. Apparently he wasn't concentrating so hard he wasn't paying attention. “I forget to mention that to you, Briar. He was paroled for his actions that day. Isn't that nice? Something good came out of that horrible day, at least.”

Her stomach dropped. “Paroled?”

“Yes, well it appears he was eligible months ago, but denied parole. After a conversation with the warden, they agreed to move his next hearing up and approve his release.”

She stared at the doctor's smiling face before turning to face Josiah. He nodded at her. “That's right. They released him a few days ago.”

“Oh,” she murmured dumbly, hoping she didn't appear as shocked as she felt. “That's . . . good news.”

Dr. Walker's gaze drifted back to the screen. “The least of what he deserves for saving our lives.”

“Of course,” she whispered, wondering at the emotions tripping through her. Displeasure that she would never see him again. Happiness that he was no longer locked up in this place. Hope . . .
excitement
that she might see him again on the outside. The last emotion, she swiftly crushed.

There was no way she would see him again. He probably wasn't even local, and even if he was, it wasn't as though she would go looking for him. Nor would he look for her. That would just be creepy. She probably wasn't even an afterthought for him.

She glanced at Josiah and met the weight of his stare. His all too knowing stare. She blinked and forced a smile that hopefully conveyed blandness . . . that she was not reeling from the news that she would never see Knox Callaghan again.

That she was not disappointed to learn he was gone from her life for good.

 

TWELVE

S
LAMMING HER FRIDGE
SHUT
, Briar walked back to her living room and plopped down on the couch to glare at the television. It was a Friday night. She didn't have to get up for work tomorrow. She didn't have to do anything, really.

She had already refused Shelley's attempts to drag her out to a bar. The kids were staying at their father's for the weekend and Shelley wanted to cut loose. Briar, not so much. She hadn't felt like doing much of anything since her gig at the prison ended over a month ago. They brought in an additional part-­time nurse to help Josiah and a full-­time PA. Dr. Walker—­or she, for that matter—­were no longer needed.

Truthfully, she was relieved not to go back there. It reminded her too much of Knox Callaghan. Too often she found herself thinking about him. She wondered where he was. What was he doing? Was he abiding by the law and living a decent life? Was he back in the arms of some girlfriend? Or lots of girlfriends? She punched her elbow several times into the couch cushion to her left, trying to get it just right to rest her arm.

Eight years in prison. He had a lot of time to make up for. Lots of hot wild sex. Her skin flushed just thinking about. Hell, maybe he had a wife. She didn't even know.

A text beeped on her phone. She plucked up the phone from her coffee table and glanced down at the message from her sister.
Caleb got that promotion! Thinking of celebrating with a bbq.

She typed back:
Congrats! Sounds great. I'll be there.
☺

Setting the phone back down, she stared blindly at the TV until she couldn't ignore the growling in her stomach. The cheese quesadilla she made for dinner felt a long time ago. She'd gone to the store yesterday and had a fairly well-­stocked fridge and freezer, but somehow she had forgotten to buy ice cream, and that was the only thing she was craving.

It was a guilty vice for certain. One she shouldn't let rule her, but watching reruns of
The Big Bang Theory
without a pint of Ben and Jerry's Cherry Garcia seemed somehow criminal. The two went together like pot roast and Sunday.

Slipping into a pair of flip-­flops by her door, she grabbed her keys and purse. She hesitated and sent a quick look down her body.

She was braless, but going back into her bedroom to don a bra seemed like a lot of work. It was much easier to grab the soft cardigan hanging on a hook by the door and put that on over her T-­shirt.

Outside, the evening was much cooler than when she entered her apartment at five o'clock, but they'd had a rare rain shower so it was humid enough that the air sat on her skin like vapor from a sauna. It might be fall in the rest of the world, but this corner of Texas hadn't gotten the memo. Things wouldn't really start to cool off until Thanksgiving.

She hopped in her car and drove the three minutes to the corner store. She parked in front, at the far end, distancing herself from the trio of teenage boys hanging out, smoking cigarettes. One was holding a burrito and sucking down a big gulp. He eyed her over the cup that was bigger than his head.

She eyed them without turning her head to look. A trick she'd learned from working in the HSU, she realized. Tugging the cardigan closed in front of her, she hugged herself as she walked, regretting now that she had not taken the time to put on her bra. Covered up in her cardigan, she knew no one could tell, but she felt vulnerable and exposed anyway.

“Hey,” one guy called out in greeting, flicking the ash from his cigarette. He went on to say something else to her, but she ignored him and pushed through the chiming door.

The cashier sent her a cursory glance before turning his attention back to his phone. She walked down the candy aisle and paused, considering the assortment of chocolate bars. Tempting, but ice cream was indulgence enough for one night.

She kept going until she made it to the freezer chest of ice cream. Opening the lid, she picked out the Cherry Garcia and turned back down the aisle.

A man stood right there in the candy aisle where she had been contemplating Snickers or Twix only a few moments before. She froze, her lungs seizing tight and shoving out all air.

She couldn't see his face yet, but there was something about him. The set of his shoulders. The way his dark T-­shirt rested against his shoulder blades. The narrowness of his waist. She knew that back. Recognized the hint of sinew shifting beneath soft-­looking cotton. Remembered the torso beneath that she had touched on more than one occasion. So many times actually that she dreamed of it. Of
him
. Even without the scratchy white cotton uniform, she knew that body. She knew she was staring at Knox Callaghan.

She blinked and pressed her fingertips to her eyes, squeezing them shut. She was losing her mind. Why would he be here? It had been two months. Certainly he had left the area. She dropped her hand and opened her eyes again.

He turned in that moment, his fingers looped loosely above a six-­pack of beer. In his other hand he held a bag of M&Ms.

His eyes collided with hers. And that's what it felt like. A bone-­jarring collision.

Her lungs hurt but she couldn't breathe as they stared at each other. There was no ease to the pressure in her chest. It was like someone had pushed a pause button. Neither moved. Or spoke. He was even hotter than she remembered. Memory had somehow dulled the deep blue of his eyes, the sharp lines of his face, the well-­sculpted lips. Just like in prison, a few days' worth of stubble lined his jaw, adding to his edgy good looks.

She couldn't blink. He looked her up and down, but she couldn't tell what he was thinking. The stretch of silence got to be too much. The tension . . . too much. Someone had to move. Or speak.

“Hey,” she finally blurted.

“Hey,” he returned in that deep voice that fell like rain on sun-­parched ground.

She drank it up, lapping it greedily inside herself. Okay. So she wasn't insane. It really was
him
. He was here. And this was okay. The two of them staring at each other, talking to each other was okay. There was no prison caging them in.
Caging him in
. No alarm was going to go off. No guards would rush in.

Now what?

“I heard you got out.”

He cocked his head, his blue eyes glinting beneath the bright fluorescent lighting of the convenience store as he studied her.

“Congratulations.” Oh, sweet Jesus. Had she just congratulated him on getting paroled? Like it was his college graduation or something?

“Thanks.”

Her gaze flicked over him. He looked good in regular clothes. The dark T-­shirt and worn denim did amazing things for his body. Hell. Who was she kidding? She had seen him without his shirt on. He would look amazing in just about anything. A burlap bag with armholes wouldn't detract from his body or looks. “How are you doing? You look well. I mean . . . are you well?” Awesome. Apparently she forgot how to talk.

“I'm good.”

“You're working?” She winced. Now she sounded like his parole officer.

He angled his head, his eyes narrowing slightly as he nodded. “Most nights. I'm helping run my family's place. Roscoe's.”

She'd driven past the roadhouse bar just outside of Sweet Hill before. Rows of bikes were always parked out front. She knew it was an institution in these parts, but it had a rough reputation. It wasn't the kind of place she would hang out. Not that she frequented bars in general.

“Good.” She nodded dumbly. It dawned on her then that she could say the thing she had wanted to say that day she showed up in the HSU and learned he had been paroled. The two simple words.

“Thank you.” There. She said it.

He simply stared at her. Looking at her so blankly, so stoic. The same way he had looked at her when he was inside the prison. Hell, maybe he didn't even recognize her. That was a kick in the face. Frustration bubbled up inside her.

“I said thank you,” she repeated, her voice a little clipped.

He nodded slowly. His hair was a bit longer. Still short, but the dark cropped hair did not quite hug his scalp anymore. “I heard you.”

He was still cold. A damned robot. Was that all he would ever be? All he was? Disappointment bubbled up in her chest. She thought she had seen something in him . . . when those bullets had ripped through glass and he had thrown his body over hers, she thought there had been something between them. A connection that ran deep.

A man didn't do that for just anyone, right? She had been so certain she had seen something more in him. Heat in his gaze as he was hauled away from her in the HSU.

She had thought he would say something in that moment if he could have. Touch her. Claim her like some warrior after a near miss with death . . .

God
. She was reading too many romance novels to have such fanciful thoughts. This was reality. Not fiction.

She swallowed back against the hot lump clogging her throat. “I just wanted you to know that.”

“Okay. Sure.” He turned then and headed for the cash register, dismissing her like she was no one. Just some stranger. Not anyone that he had a bond with. Not anyone who mattered.

Watching him walk away felt like a slap in the face. Yeah, he was free now. Why would he want to waste time on her?

It took her a moment to make her feet move again. He was walking out of the store, not a glance over his shoulder for her as she stopped at the counter and paid for her ice cream.

The guys were still loitering in front of the door when she exited. Their gazes fell on her. The one that had tried talking to her earlier was ready for her. He pushed off one of the cement posts he had been leaning on. “Whatcha got? Some ice cream? I like ice cream.”

Rolling her eyes, she turned to head for her car. She definitely wasn't in the mood to suffer some delinquent's awkward attempts to hit on her.

Her eyes burned and she wished she had just stayed home. She wished she had never seen Knox Callaghan. Her last memory of him in the infirmary had been better than the memory of him turning his back on her at a convenience store. Almost to her car door, she fumbled with her keys to push the unlock button.

“You shouldn't stop at convenience stores so late at night.”

She jumped and swallowed back a squeak, dropping her keys. She hadn't even seen or heard him approach, but Knox was at her side, towering over her.

He glanced behind them and she followed his gaze, noticing that the boys were closer, the burrito-­wielding guy who claimed to like ice cream hovering at the lead. They'd actually been following her toward her car, and she hadn't noticed. She was too upset over her run-­in with Knox to even pay attention.

The boys stopped and looked between her and Knox.

Knox adjusted his stance, bracing his legs and looking even more imposing. He nodded once at them. “S'up?”

The leader of the group eyed him. “Nothing, man.”

“Yeah? Then turn around and keep walking.” Knox stared hard at him, his blue eyes flinty, his jaw locked tight.

The boy sank his teeth into his burrito almost defiantly and turned around, walking stiffly back to his post at the front of the store, his two friends sticking beside him, casting shifty glances at Knox.

Knox faced her then and she realized they were standing really close. Closer than they had ever stood before. The top of her head barely reached his chin. “Uh, thanks. I'm sure I didn't have anything to worry about, though. This is a pretty safe neighborhood.”

His lips twisted. “Never know what you'll run into late at night at a gas station.” His head dipped a fraction closer and she felt his breath on her cheek. “You could even run into a dangerous felon.”

She arched an eyebrow. “You trying to tell me I should be afraid of you?”

He released a short huff of laughter as if that was the dumbest question in the world with the most obvious answer.

She lifted her chin. “Well, I'm not.”

The laughter faded from him. His gaze flicked over her face, taking in all of her features, scrubbed free without so much as lip gloss. “You should be, Nurse Davis.” Yeah, he was definitely annoyed with her. “I'm still that guy you knew behind bars.”

“Yeah. I remember you. I remember what you did for me in there, too.” She moistened her dry lips and her stomach tightened, clenching as his stare dropped down, watching the slide of her tongue. She was suddenly tempted to take the ice cream she purchased and roll it down her overheated throat.

He moved in suddenly and the air sucked out of her in a hiss. Until she realized he was only bending to retrieve her keys. Not to touch her. Not to do anything else.

He held her keys out for her to take. “Don't confuse me with some hero. I'm as tarnished as they come.”

She opened her hand, palm up, and his fingers brushed her skin as he dropped the keys into it. He started to turn to go.

“Why did you do it?” she whispered so quietly she wasn't sure he heard her. “Why did you save me?”

He stopped and turned back. Another huff of laughter. “Hell, who knows why I did it? Just a whim. Who's to say I'd even do it again?”

“Liar,” she challenged, something prickly hot spreading through her chest. She didn't like his words. She refused to accept them. Refused to believe that they might be true and she was wrong about him. “You'd do it. For me. For Josiah and Dr. Walker. For anyone who was working in the—­”

“No. You're wrong.” His eyes drilled into her, moving left and right as they stared into her eyes, and he inched closer, invading her space, the immense size of him eating up all the air between them and filling her up with his heat. “I did it for you.”

Then he was gone. A stinging curse burned on the air in his wake. He left her gaping after him, her heart pounding like a drum in her chest.

She stalled from sliding into her car, the small carton of ice cream sticking to her fingers. She adjusted her grip slightly, feeling brittle sheets of ice slide between her skin and the cardboard carton. It was cold in her hand but she felt so hot and achy that it felt good. She was actually tempted to roll the carton against her feverish cheeks, her throat . . . lower.