Chapter 12
Dean’s been back in the pod for twenty minutes, and everything is different.
There’s an electric undercurrent flowing through the space. People whisper and send sideways glances, all huddled in groups. No one has paid him any attention, not even Jaxson.
Being ignored is a welcome, if unexpected, thing. He could hardly enjoy the last few hours in the infirmary with Ava because his mind swam with possibilities of what could be in store for him back at the pod. Turns out, anticipation of the unknown was wasted energy.
He finds Clyde leaning up against a far wall and beelines for him, rubbing his wrists from where the cuffs bit hard into his skin. The new guard, back from training at the academy, was the one to transport him. That extra training made itself known in how he snapped those restraints in place.
“What the hell’s going on?” Dean whispers.
Clyde huffs, glancing around like a nervous junkie. “Better you don’t know.”
“The fuck does that mean? Something’s different. People are acting weird.”
“Gonna be a riot.” Shivers shoot down Dean’s spine, making the hair on his arms stand on end.
What he said can’t be what he really means, but when Clyde doesn’t laugh it off as a joke, a sense of dread settles into Dean’s stomach. A riot is the last thing any of them need. He has visions of tear gas exploding and inmates turning on each other and fighting the staff. Nothing good can come from this, but it’ll happen whether Dean wants it to or not.
“When?”
Clyde shrugs. “Not sure. Soon. Any minute now. Heard Jaxson talking earlier, don’t think he knew I was around. Said somethin’ about plan A being back in place, that plan B wasn’t needed no more and to gear up for a fucking riot before the day is done.”
Dean squints. Plan A. Plan B. It doesn’t make any sense, but he isn’t part of the in-crowd in the first place. Still, it’s odd, too much of a coincidence that Jaxson is planning to fuck shit up on the very same day Dean gets back from the infirmary.
The very same day the new guard returned.
Shit. There is something there, but he can’t put the pieces together yet. He has half a mind to stay in his cell and barricade the door with his bed frame until the whole thing is over. Six months can turn into six years in a flash if he’s caught participating in whatever the hell is happening.
Then, he remembers that the infirmary hall isn’t far from the pod and it wouldn’t be difficult for the other inmates to reach Ava.
“Welcome back. You enjoy that view?” Jaxson passes by with a knowing smile. He doesn’t wait for an answer, only laughs and saunters to the other side of the room.
The suspicious silence among the inmates should be enough to have a guard investigating. They watch on the cameras from their cozy little rooms, but Dean supposes that they’d have to give a shit in order to pay attention. The pod reminds him of the woods right before a predator attacks. The birds go quiet and time slows to an eerie stillness right before some unfortunate small animal meets its untimely end.
‘Enjoy the view.’Dean turns the phrase over in his mind, watching the hands of a caged-in clock tick above the doorway.
The first time Jaxson said it, he assumed that Ava was the view. Now, he remembers all the bets he made with her in that back room, watching people coming and going from office buildings. All the traffic jams he saw on the freeway and buses on their commutes. Dean can only see a small part of the outer fence from his cell through the window no bigger than a microwave. All the other cells face the same direction and have the same small, useless openings. Not much of a view at all, nothing like that full-sized window in the infirmary.
That’s where they’re going. Maybe not all of them, but the riot could be a cover for what Jaxson plans to do while everyone else is busy. He has a life sentence. Nothing to lose and everything to gain by trying to escape.
Normally, Dean wouldn’t give two fucks about this. Let Jaxson screw himself even further, no skin off his nose, but there’s not a chance he’ll allow any of the inmates into that infirmary with Ava. Not a chance in hell. There’s little time to form a plan before the red light on the outer door turns green and everyone sprints toward the exit like a herd of wild animals.
“He’s got someone on the inside…” Dean mumbles.
People bottleneck at the door in a swirl of chaos. No one has any idea what to do or where to go except Jaxson, who runs past the mess and down the hall only to get hit in the face by a guard’s baton. Dean takes the opportunity and bolts toward the infirmary, shouldering people out of the way like a linebacker. The open hallway is filled to the brim with prisoners. The swirling red light on the wall signaling an emergency is enough to give someone a seizure, and it only stirs up the others even more, providing a nightclub visual to encourage their aggression.
He knows the way like the back of his hand after multiple visits. Two turns and one long hallway later, he’s greeted with the sight of that new guard opening the infirmary door with shaky hands and rattling keys.
There is a flicker of Ava’s shocked face over the other man’s shoulder right before Dean grabs him by the shirt collar and flings him back into the hall. He lands a punch to his nose, hearing a satisfying crack as those tiny bones crumble, and then grabs the dropped keys off the ground.
“Dean? What’s going on?” Ava calls out.
He looks to his left to see her in the doorway, speaking through a crack, ready to shut it. Then, he looks to the right and finds Jaxson and three others at the end of the hall running straight for them.
“Inside, go, go, go! Help me shut it!” He rushes past her and into the infirmary, turning on his heels to shoulder the door closed while she attempts to latch the deadbolt and safety lock.
The others are fast and four fingers get caught in the doorframe, prompting a scream. The metal rattles on its hinges as they try to break through, bouncing against Dean’s shoulder. He turns to brace both feet on the end of the bed that’s shoved up against a far wall, using it for leverage to overpower the effort on the other side. He slides down to the ground on his ass once Ava flicks the locks shut.
“Anyone else in here?” he asks, getting to his feet again with a hard exhale.
“No. It’s just us. What’s happening out there? Why did you punch the guard?”
She saw him knock out that little shit and still didn’t shut the door in his face, but she’s second-guessing her choices right about now if the way she looks at him, all wide-eyed and panicked, is any indication.
Adrenaline does him no favors when it comes to the harshness in his voice, but he tries to calm himself. “There’s a riot, and he’s in on it. Jaxson and his men really, really want in here so they can escape out that back window.”
He moves past her to find the bars still locked, just as they should be.
“I’m the only one who has the key,” she says quietly. “The guards can get in the room but I keep the key to the bars in my bag…”
That sniveling rookie was about to take those keys from her by force if he had to, and that makes Dean want to go back out and punch him a second time.
“What if they get in here? Should we barricade the door?” She glances around the room to assess what furniture they can use as a barrier.
“Hey, hey, it’s alright. No one’s getting through that now that it’s shut.” He lands a gentle hand on her arm, stopping her in her tracks. “I’m not letting anything happen to you.”
“That’s why you came here?”
“Of course it is. You think I care if Jaxson escapes? I’d be happy he’s gone. Came here for you.”
There is no telling if the others would have ignored Ava in their escape attempts or made a side mission out of hurting her, but he wasn’t about to take the chance and the reality of what could have happened swells tears in her eyes. She’s been attacked here before, right in this very room, and she would have every right to be afraid of him too. He is a loose inmate in her personal space, locked in here with her for who knows how long.
She isn’t afraid of him, though. The situation has her close to hyperventilating, no doubt reliving long-buried memories, but she doesn’t move away from him, only closer.
They are alone and relatively safe and so he does what he’s wanted to do almost every time he sees her. He opens his arms in invitation.
She steps into his embrace without any coaxing, nestling against his chest and holding him tight. The slight tremble in her frame quakes between his arms, her hair soft where he rests his chin atop her head.
Dean still ain’t good at this sort of thing, but she is safe and whole right here under his fingertips, feeling every bit as good as he always imagined she would. It’s a gift to hold her after weeks of wishing he could and he won’t waste the chance. The pounding on the door continues to thump in the background. Shouting on a bullhorn and gunshots of rubber bullets mix with the music of the warning siren. It all fades to the background, nothing but white noise unable to compete with the cacophony of his heartbeat.
“I’m so glad you’re here.” Her words disappear into the fabric of his shirt as she melts into him.
“Me too.”
She is warm and soft and he can’t help but inhale the scent of her, like vanilla and sugar, wondering if she might taste as good as she smells.
He fantasized about her a hundred times, usually in the shower, but he’d always been too disgusted by his surroundings and lack of privacy to do much about it. He thought of sweeping his tongue into her mouth and then working his way down between her legs to taste her there. He’d wonder if she would come quietly with a whimper, or if she’d gasp his name with wild abandon as he worked her with his mouth. He always felt guilty for thinking of her like that, but never had the willpower to stop.
He rarely, if ever, wants to hug anyone. Only now, feeling her so close to him like this, her fingers curling into the back of his shirt and her breath warm on his collarbone, it’s enough to make him a convert. Slowly, her trembling dwindles as he runs a hand up and down her back. He is tentative and slow, always waiting for the moment when she’ll realize she’s made an awful mistake in allowing him so close, ready to back off and leave her be, but she is receptive and supple, soaking up his affection.
He didn’t realize how starved for contact he’s been until he had her in his arms and now he’s certain that he needs only this chaste touch to be the happiest man on this godforsaken planet.
She lifts her head to meet his eyes, and the sight of her beautiful face sparks arousal deep in his nerves, spreading like wildfire until he begins to harden in his pants. Fuck, he wants her. Wants to lift her onto the bed and part her thighs, push into her until she’s clenching around his cock and whispering sweet words into his ear. He wants to know what her face looks like when he’s inside her and maybe his thoughts are written all over his expression because hers darkens in response, and her tongue snakes out to wet her lips.
“Dean,” she says carefully, reaching up to palm his cheek. “I don’t know how long it’ll be until I can do this again. So…”
She moves toward him at a snail’s pace, maybe offering him a chance to say he doesn’t want this, but nothing could be further from the truth. Instead of making her come to him, he meets her halfway, dipping his head and gathering her up with both arms around her waist until she’s on her tiptoes.
Their upper lips brush in a touch so slight it’s barely there at all, but then she warms his mouth with her own in a gentle press that leaves no room for doubt. It’s cautious and filled with the same fear he harbors himself but no less sweet than he dreamed it would be. No less brief either when he pulls back to check her reaction.
They watch each other in a game of hooded-eyed chicken, waiting for someone to call this off but now that he’s tasted her, felt her, he only wants more.
When they connect again it is far less hesitant. This is what skydiving or bungee jumping must feel like. They’re taking a leap that could easily bring tragedy but trusting a thin line to keep safe. There is something so delicate about her that he worries he’ll be too rough no matter how gentle he tries to be but she welcomes the tease of his tongue into her mouth, presses her body to the hard outline of his crotch, and gasps into his kiss when he trails a hand down to squeeze her ass.
He’s so damn nervous. Everything between them feels precarious, so easily broken by a wrong move and all he makes are wrong moves, but being with her is easier than it has any right to be.
Only a loud thump on the door can remind him that they are in the middle of a riot. Judging by the shaking hinges on the frame, Jaxson has recruited a few others to pound against it.
They spring apart and Dean moves past her to search the drawers, looking for anything sharp and coming up empty. They’re not allowed weapons beyond the front lobby and that includes non-security staff. “Anything we can use in here? Anything heavy?”
“No, but—” She opens a bottom cabinet stuffed with medical supplies and pulls out a small spray can. “It’s for the wasps. We get so many in here.”
She somehow got them to allow her a can of wasp spray and he’s guessing that shit would fuck someone up if they got a face full of it.
“You keep that,” he replies. “Stay behind me.”
The locks are made to withstand reasonable amounts of force but this is an old building with old doors and despite the steel safety lock across the middle, Dean has doubts about the frame holding up.
He rips the metal rail off the bedframe, ready to beat whoever walks through next.