All Chained Up (4 page)

Chester's lips fell into a mutinous line. He clearly wanted to argue, but knew better than to oppose the doctor. Especially a doctor who was so generously volunteering his time while they were short of staff in the HSU.

Dr. Walker turned back around and addressed Briar, a silent dismissal of the belligerent guard. “Why don't you go ahead and bind his ribs?” He glanced at the clock on the wall and shook his head with a grimace. “Hopefully, we can finally start on some of the appointments.” With a sigh, he rubbed the center of his forehead. “I'd hope to get more accomplished today. Josiah, can we go ahead and send for the first two appointments?”

Josiah nodded and moved to the phone.

Briar lowered her head, hiding a small smile as Chester swung around in clear displeasure at being dismissed by the diminutive man. He barked at the inmate who was well enough to leave. “On your feet!”

She knew Chester likely put up with all manner of abuse day in and day out on this job, but he struck her as a bully. She had never liked bullies.

The door buzzed open and shut as Chester and the other guard left the room with the inmate between them.

Soon, two new guards entered the room to escort the second inmate for transport, assisting him into a wheelchair. Josiah and Dr. Walker moved over to supervise, and Briar was left with Callaghan. She still needed to bind his ribs.

She reached for the gauze and unrolled it a fraction. Gripping it between her fingers, she faced the inmate, her tone all business. “If you wouldn't mind sitting up again.”

He obliged without a word, lifting long arms corded tightly with sinew out in front of him so she had room to wrap his torso. She began circling the gauze around him, leaning in and out, in and out, repeatedly. Her hands stroked the cotton, making certain it lay smooth against his firm flesh, without wrinkles or bunching. “It needs to feel a little tight,” she murmured, “but let me know if it's too uncomfortable.”

His breath fell in a steady cadence near her ear. She trained her gaze on his body. Not his face. Not the eyes that she felt moving over her. Touching him like this, being this close, she dared not look up.

Because his body was unnerving enough
.

She held in a snort. Just barely. His body was ridiculous. Honestly, there was nothing about him or this situation that did not unnerve her. The hard wall of him made her skin feel too tight. Too hot and itchy.

“You don't want to be here,” he said so quietly it was practically a whisper in her ear.

Her breath caught. Her eyes flicked to his. She couldn't help it. She had to take a quick peek. He was watching her like a hawk as she worked. She pasted a brittle smile on her face, her heart racing faster than a jackrabbit in the face of his scrutiny. “Why do you say that? I'm here, aren't I?”

Was she putting out an I-­don't-­want-­to-­be-­here vibe? If that was the case, she hoped Dr. Walker wasn't picking up on it. Of the eight nurses that worked under him and the other three doctors at the practice, she was the only one who volunteered to join him in this latest charity project. She wanted to be essential to the doctor and the practice. Especially since Nancy, the senior staff nurse, was retiring next year. Briar was gunning for that position, and she knew that having a good attitude was crucial.

Satisfied she had wrapped enough gauze around him, she snipped off the end and taped it into place. With a final pat, she moved back from the bed. “I'll get you something for pain.”

She didn't wait to hear if he thanked her. Eyeing the clock on the way to the supply cabinet, she told herself she only had a few more hours to go until she left this place. Then another week until she had to return. A week of normalcy. Back to her safe job with promising chances for advancement. Her comfortable town house. Her freezer full of Cherry Garcia and a DVD chock full of her favorite shows. That was the life she had created. This place didn't fit into that life.

By the time she had to return here, Callaghan would be gone. She probably wouldn't have to see him again. Who knew? Maybe they would find a full-­time physician in the next week and she and Dr. Walker wouldn't have to come back at all.

Glancing around the grim room with its gray walls and gray-­blanketed beds currently occupied by one fierce-­looking inmate with hard eyes that tracked her every move, that was just fine with her.

 

FOUR

E
IGHT YEARS, TWO
months and six days.

That was how long it had been since a woman voluntarily touched him.

The nurse wasn't the prettiest woman Knox had ever seen, but he could safely say he had not seen anything as attractive inside these walls. Ever.

Even though she downplayed her looks, she had a curvy body under the scrubs and so much hair his hands could get lost in it for days. The brown mass was shot with gold and russet streaks. All that hair exploded out of a tight ponytail that looked ready to bust out of the elastic band. Yeah, she had her assets.

His gaze followed her as she moved around the room, never once looking at him. And she wouldn't. Not unless she had to. He knew that much about her already. She was a good clean girl who wanted nothing to do with a filthy convict like him.

She had treated him civilly, but he knew what she thought of him. Her distaste was written all over her face, in the purse of her lips and the wrinkle of her nose. In the way her hands shook when she had to touch him.

He tried not to let it get to him. After eight years, his skin was made of thicker stuff than that. What did he care what one narrow-­minded woman thought of him?

He forced his gaze off her. Inmates soon started arriving in a steady flow. Two at a time. After their initial frisk, the nurse talked to one and took his vitals while the doctor conducted an examination of the other.

She was nervous. Her movements as fidgety as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs. He felt his lips pull into a frown. That would be her downfall. In a place like this, you needed composure. At least pretend you were fine.

The others sensed her nervousness, too. Their hard faces watched her. Hunger avid in their eyes, animals that had gone too long without meat. Even old Hatcher, who had spent the bulk of his life in here and walked with shuffling steps, his back stooped over, watched her like she was his next meal.

Knox's eyes drifted back to her. He observed her from where he lay in the bed, tension coiling inside his gut. News of her would travel fast. Like blood in the water, it would attract more of them.

A few women trickled in and out of Devil's Rock over the years. Personnel and staff. There had been that counselor, Dr. Sheppard, who interviewed him and a bunch of inmates, trying to get them to open up and talk about the things they had done that put them behind bars. Sheppard had been over fifty, but other guys requested meetings with her once they heard she had nice legs. Hood rats and skinheads alike, everyone suddenly wanted to pour out their hearts for a chance to check her out and catch a whiff of her perfume.

Not Knox. Those meetings had been a misery for him. All that talking. Why did he do what he did? Did he regret it? Would he change his actions if he could?

Christ. He didn't need that shit. He knew why he had done what he did, and yeah, he regretted it. He'd hurt a lot of ­people. He felt bad about that, but there was no going back, so why talk about it?

There was only moving forward. Surviving this place. Day after day after day. The end goal was to get himself and his brother the fuck out in one piece. That was the present. The past didn't amount to shit.

His gaze traveled back to the nurse. Her features were scrunched up in concentration as she fiddled with a package of swabs.

He'd had his fair share of ass on the outside. His high school girlfriend had been a cheerleader. The one that did the splits on top of the pyramid. Yeah. Those memories had helped sustain him. When he was hard up, the memory of Holly riding him in her cheerleading skirt served well enough. Or Jasmine. He'd been dating her when he was arrested. She had a penchant for miniskirts. He used to slip his hand beneath . . .

Shit
. He hauled in the train of thought. Now, stuck inside this infirmary, staring at the first female he had seen in weeks, wasn't the time to daydream about sex.

Jasmine had visited him twice after he got locked up, even hinting about them getting married. He shut that down fast. He told her to stop coming. That first month had been the hardest. He didn't need her making him long for what he couldn't have for another eight to fifteen years. And it wasn't fair to string her along and expect her to wait for him either.

Not that the rest of them—­the dregs of humanity that populated Devil's Rock—­wouldn't fantasize about Nurse Davis. Once word of her got around, the infirmary was going to be under siege. She was young. Younger than him. Although he felt ancient, older than everyone else in the world even if he was only twenty-­eight. He inhaled sharply and caught a lingering whiff of her. Her hair smelled like pears, for fuck sake.

Closing his eyes, he actually wished that they had let Chester take him to the hole.

IT WAS DARK
by the time they left the prison. Briar was grateful that Dr. Walker drove them today. She was exhausted in a way she never had been at the end of a workday at the clinic.

“I really appreciate your help today, Briar,” Dr. Walker announced as they drove the hour and a half back toward town, the sleek nose of his car cutting through the inky night. The desert mountains of the badlands rose up on either side of them, darker even than the night sky. “I know it's not the job you signed on for and certainly not a requirement.”

She nodded against the headrest. “Well, they're clearly understaffed. It's generous of you to offer your time.”

“One day a week hardly seems enough,” he murmured, frowning.

She nodded in agreement.

After several moments of mulling silence, he added, “I know I usually take Fridays off, but I'm thinking I might go back tomorrow and take care of some more of those long-­standing appointments.”

“Oh.” She held silent for a moment, staring into the vast desert night, suddenly feeling an uncomfortable weight on her chest. A car flew past in the opposite lane. There wasn't much traffic out here. Not much of anything at all. Just wilderness. Wide-­open mesas and stark mountains. She fiddled with the strap of her handbag. “I suppose I could accompany you again—­”

“You don't have to do that, Briar,” he quickly cut in.

“I don't mind,” she heard herself say, and then wondered who she had become. She could almost hear her sister calling her crazy again.

He glanced at her before facing the road again. “If you're certain. That would be much appreciated. Bless you, Briar. You'll receive full wages again, of course.”

She nodded, and waved a hand as though it didn't matter, but of course it did. She was saving to buy a house. A home of her own. The house was part of the dream she was working toward. Just one piece of it. The other piece was advancing in her career. Would she have volunteered to accompany Dr. Walker if she wasn't angling for that promotion? Especially considering how uncomfortable she felt working at the prison? Doubtful. Her less than altruistic motives didn't make her feel particularly proud of herself, but then it was the reality. She grew up watching her father mistreat her mother day in and day out. Why would she want to surround herself with men like him?

The rest of the drive passed in relative silence, and Dr. Walker was soon pulling into the parking lot of the clinic. “I'll pick you up here at seventy-­thirty again.”

She nodded her thanks and stepped out of the car. With a small wave at her boss, she slipped inside her car and started the engine. Dr. Walker waited until she had her seat belt on before driving away.

She followed him out of the parking lot, turning in the opposite direction. Dr. Walker lived in a big house outside of town. Her town house was five minutes away.

She appreciated living in close proximity to work, especially as bone-­tired as she felt. She just wanted to kick off her shoes, curl up on her couch and devour the leftover lo mein waiting for her. As much as she enjoyed puttering around her kitchen and cooking, tonight was definitely not a night to stand over a stove.

All the parking spots in front of her building were taken and she had to park a ­couple buildings down. It was a nice complex. Not luxury living, but then, there was no luxury housing in Sweet Hill. At least not among the apartments and town houses. Still, it was one of the nicer complexes in town. The tan stucco was clean. Cacti and Mexican heather served as most of the landscaping.

She was on the second floor. A fact she'd hated when moving in two years ago. Well, mostly her brother-­in-­law hated it, since he was the one who lugged all her furniture upstairs with the help of his brother. She wouldn't think of asking her dad. She didn't want his help with anything.

She was fumbling for her key when the door across from hers opened. Children's voices crowded the air.

“C'mon, Noah, get your flip-­flops on,” Shelley ordered, holding her three-­year-­old's hand as she waited on her five-­year-­old. “No, those are your brother's flip-­flops. Do they look like they fit you? Get the camo ones.”

Shelly looked up and caught sight of Briar. “Hey, there. How was your day? We're going to get something to eat. I'm in the mood for nachos. Want to join?”

Briar shook her head. “I'm beat. Maybe next time.”

Noah finally stepped out into the hall in the appropriate flip-­flops, and Shelley locked the door behind them.

“Beebee.” Tyler rushed forward and hugged Briar, wrapping his chubby arms around her legs and nearly knocking her over.

She patted the boy's head. “Hey there, sweetheart.”

“C'mon, Tyler, don't knock over Briar.”

The toddler looked up at her, a big grin creasing his plump apple cheeks. Shelley peeled one of his hands from Briar. “Come on, buddy. Let's go eat.” Her gaze locked on Briar and she stepped closer before Noah tugged her away. “I want to hear all about your day at the prison. I'm sure it's better than anything I've got on DVR.”

Briar rolled her eyes. “My life is not that interesting.” An image of Knox Callaghan flashed across her mind. She'd read his file. Knew all about his medical history. He was twenty-­eight years old. Six feet two. Two hundred pounds. Healthy. Surprising, considering the number of times he had visited the HSU over the years. All the result of fighting. “Trust me, it wasn't like
Shawshank Redemption
.”

“It's more interesting than cleaning ­people's teeth.” Shelley was a dental hygienist at one of two dentists in town. The other dentist? Her ex-­husband. It made for interesting stories. She stabbed a warning finger at Briar as she moved to the stairs with her kids. “I mean it. I want to hear everything.”

“We'll catch up this weekend,” Briar promised.

Once inside her apartment, she dropped her bag and keys on the side table and headed for the shower. After washing away the day, she slipped into an oversized T-­shirt, claimed her lo mein, and settled in front of the TV. For an hour, she lost herself in mindless television.

When her sister Laurel called, she didn't answer, not wanting to justify yet again why she'd volunteered to work at Devil's Rock. Nor was she in the mood to endure her sister grilling her for a recap of today. Tomorrow would be soon enough to give her an abbreviated version.

Shelley, on the other hand, didn't need an abbreviated version. She could handle all the details . . . including listening to Briar confess how uneasy the entire experience made her. Especially interacting with a certain steely-­eyed inmate.
You don't know fuck all about life in here
. Her cheeks flamed at the memory and she shivered. Yeah. Her sister would freak if she shared that tidbit with her. Shelley always listened. Without judgment. Laurel was another story.

By ten o'clock she was crawling into bed. She double-­checked her alarm as she settled into her pillow, her mind drifting again to Knox Callaghan. Her mind tracked over all those scars, big and small, riddling his hard body. She marveled at all the battles he must have fought to earn so many. Not for the first time, she wondered what he had done to end up at Devil's Rock.

She glanced toward the dark outline of her laptop sitting across the bedroom on her desk. A quick online search could answer that question. It was a matter of public record.

She started to push herself up on the mattress but then stopped. Sinking back down, she rolled over so she couldn't see the dark shape of her laptop, deciding there were some things she didn't need to know.

She stared at the dark wall of her bedroom, surprisingly awake, still thinking about her day. What drove men to do horrible things that ended with them getting arrested and locked up? Even if they didn't care about hurting someone else, who wanted that life?

Finally her mind relaxed enough and her muscles went limp. She drifted into a troubled sleep, only to wake up gasping in the predawn light, her chest aching hard with ragged breaths. She dragged a hand down her clammy face.

She had been running through a dark, unending tunnel, passing cage after cage of monsters, all snarling through the bars for a piece of her. At last the tunnel ended and she reached a cement wall. No going forward. No escape. She spun around, her back colliding with the cold wall, her breath crashing wildly in her ears.

A great, hulking shape advanced on her, hunting her, his face cast in shadows, his long legs eating up the space between them. Her fingers curled into the wall behind her, nails cracking from the force. He reached for her, clasping her shoulders, covering her quaking skin with his hard hands. He pushed his face close until she finally had a glimpse of him. Until his cobalt eyes devoured her, touching her everywhere.

Thankfully, she woke before anything else could happen, but she remembered it with such clarity that she could still taste the fear in her mouth. And something else. An unidentifiable emotion. It was weird. She rarely remembered her dreams.

Rising from bed, she started to get ready for work and tried to forget those eyes and the sensation of those hands on her,