“Why?”
“I don’t know. Maybe because of Church, and because you gave me that note telling me to stay away. You tried to warn me, didn’t you?”
“Yeah.”
“I should have listened.” Regret filled her voice.
“Yes, you should have, but it’s too late now.”
“I know. My family will be worried sick.”
“They’ll get through this, and you will, too. If you let me get some sleep.” Ice took his arm away, rolling over to give her his back.
“I’m going to hold you to that promise.” She stared at the tattoo on his back, Predators was inked in bold letters with a large Grim Reaper underneath. Grace wasn’t reassured by his promise.
“You do that.”
Grace closed her eyes. This time, she managed to fall asleep.
Sometime later, she woke when a tiny flicker of sunlight shown on her face. Sitting up on the matt, she heard the men talking and moving around the room. She got to her feet, coming from behind the barrier to see Max and Jackal were both standing nearby.
“I need to use the restroom.” Jackal turned his head.
Ice, who was talking to Fade, broke away and came to her.
“She needs to go to the restroom,” Jackal told him.
“Okay.” While Ice walked across the room with her, she felt the prisoners’ eyes on her with greater intensity this morning.
She paused before going into the restroom. “Did something happen while I was sleeping?”
“No. Why?” Ice’s voice was curt.
“The men are all staring at me.”
Ice surveyed her critically. “Your hair came loose while you slept, and you took off your jacket. You look like you’ve just been fucked. The men haven’t had a woman in a long time, so they’re going to stare. As long as they don’t touch, you shouldn’t have a problem with it.”
Grace went inside the restroom, shutting the door. She had a problem with it. She learned a long time ago men eventually grew tired of just looking. Women could look at something they wanted and dream about it, work for it, and save for countless days to have it. Men wanted things immediately. If they couldn’t buy it, they would borrow, bribe, or bargain for what they wanted. Eventually, they would grow tired and try to take it. That was what Grace feared the most.
She noticed Ice’s circle of friends consisted of six men who were loyal to him and followed his lead. However, there were over thirty men in that room, and Grace didn’t want to be trapped there when Hell broke loose and a confrontation from the two groups occurred.
She had thought Ice was behind the prison escape, but he had led them down to the cellblock instead. He and his men could have used the food delivery truck and possibly managed to get away. Could someone else have been behind the prison break and Ice was only trying to protect his men? Something was off to her, and she couldn’t figure out why.
She quickly used the restroom, washing her face and hands. Then she put her jacket back on and buttoned her cream blouse to her throat. She fixed and straightened her hair as best she could without a brush before opening the door.
Ice’s lips twitched when he saw her. “Very professional.”
Grace avoided staring at several tattoos across his broad chest.
“Why don’t you put on a shirt? Aren’t you cold?” The building was frigid.
“I’m fucking freezing,” he snapped back at her. “They turned off the heating. My shirt, if you can call it that, is over in the door where we jammed them at the bottom to keep out the tear gas. Would you rather I wear the shirt instead of not choking to death on that shit?”
“Never mind,” she said, irritated at his comeback. The bastard knew he had an amazing body, and she was having trouble keeping her eyes off it. Why couldn’t he be a normal man, working a normal job? She didn’t care what profession a man worked as long as he wasn’t behind bars.
“Want something to eat?” he asked when she took a seat at one of the vacant tables.
She folded her arms across her chest. “No,” she answered grumpily.
He raised a brow at her response.
“I could use something to drink if you have it.”
When Ice nodded, stepping away, Max and Jackal took seats next to her. She gave them an aggravated look, getting tired of having them surrounding her so closely. Instantly, she changed her mind when a fight broke out between two prisoners in front of the table she was sitting at. Max stood tossing both of them away, before retaking his seat.
“You're not exactly a morning person, are you?” Max asked as if he had just thrown the men several feet like they were toothpicks.
“I need my caffeine.” Every morning, she would always stop by Starbucks and get her Café Mistro and oatmeal. Sometimes, she would vary the meal, though never the coffee.