What did cause me concern was seeing her in my prison.
The female officer at the speaker’s side flinched, her hand going to the baton at her side.
But the woman that I was currently staring at with narrowed eyes didn’t so much as recoil.
She knew that I wouldn’t hurt her.
Hell, I was in here because of her, after all.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” I all but snarled.
She couldn’t be here.
Not in this place, among these men.
Murderers. Rapists. Child molesters. Robbers. Burglars.
Men that had done the unthinkable.
Men that I would kill if they harmed one hair on her head.
Did she know the kind of power that she held over me?
I didn’t think she did.
I doubted she knew that all she had to do was point and say ‘kill him’ and I’d do it.
I’d fallen in love with a twenty-one-year-old recruit. I’d fallen in love with her from afar. I’d admired her daring will. Her bravado. Her utter confidence in every single thing that she did.
She would’ve made one hell of a soldier.
The Army could’ve used a woman like her.
If anyone could’ve made it to the top, it would’ve been her.
Only Brees, the POS—piece of shit—had ruined it for her.
I hadn’t seen her in years.
Ages had passed, yet the way I felt about her hadn’t changed.
I still wanted her with a viciousness that might scare her if she knew.
“I work here.” She pointed her finger at me. “What are you doing here?”
I had a feeling she knew exactly why I was there.
I narrowed my eyes. “How long have you worked here?”
She grinned at me, her perfectly white teeth no longer fucked-up from taking a punch straight to the mouth. “A week.”
Exactly the same amount of time that I’d known that I would be coming here.
How convenient.
I gritted my teeth and tried not to allow my eyes to roam.
But that would be like telling water not to flow.
It just wasn’t possible.
My mind and eyes were starved for her.
They hadn’t seen her in so long that just having her in front of me was like getting the first breath of fresh air after being buried alive.
Her long blonde hair was once again up in a bun. I’d never gotten to see it down.
I had a feeling that if I had, I wouldn’t be able to stand seeing it up ever again. So that was probably a good thing.
Her bright blue eyes were intoxicating. I couldn’t look away from the depths.
“You know him?” the other female guard asked, sounding worried.
“I do,” Blaise drawled. “We’re old acquaintances.”
I nearly snorted.
Luckily, I was able to control myself.
Acquaintances my ass. We were never that to each other.
I knew she had no clue that I had the kind of feelings that I had for her. Just like I knew that she didn’t realize that Brees had only taken an interest in her because of me.
A long time ago, in our late twenties, Brees and I had both been awarded the rank of drill sergeant. Me because I’d wanted it. Brees because he’d been forced to do it.
See, all of my brothers had been drill sergeants.
Coke. Jim. Jack. Tom. Bronx. Bellini and Ale—all of whom were either currently a drill sergeant or had been one in the past.
We were all there because we wanted to be.
Brees? Not so much.
He’d hated being forced to do it, and that had left him bitter.
What made him even more bitter was my obvious desire to be exactly where I was at.
That’d pissed him off, made him mad, and ultimately started the anger that never seemed to go away no matter how much I tried to distance myself from him.
What made it even fucking worse was the fact that we always ended up at the same damn place.
Seriously, I swear to God, it was like Brees was being placed in my path to test my patience.
Then Blaise Mackenzie had lit my world on fire.
All it’d been was one phone call from a friend—keep an eye on her.
Wanting to make sure that I gave that to her, I started to take an interest. Showing no favoritism, but also just keeping an eye open to ensure that she was okay.
And she had been. Until I started to look at her as something altogether different. Started to stare a little too long. Started to want her in ways that a superior officer shouldn’t want someone lower rank than him.
See, the Army seemed to frown on things like that.
Until Brees had realized my obsession, things had gone well.
Then he’d started to treat her badly. Doing things that he knew would provoke a reaction out of me.
And shit had just degraded from there.
“Don’t make us break up a fight between you and another inmate again, or you’ll have to visit your cell for longer than you’d find comfortable,” the other guard with Blaise ordered.