By: Bella Jewel

I grin at her, but choose to say nothing more. I wish those two would pull their heads out of their backsides and see that there’s a serious sexual connection there.

“Did you get to see the crazy gunman today?” she asks, turning towards me with a curious expression. Her eyes are wide, her lips pursed.

“I did, nothing major happened,” I sigh, leaning my head back.

“Your job sucks.”

I laugh. “Some days I could agree with you.”

“You up for pizza and movies tonight? I’m too lazy to cook.”

I groan, kicking my shoes off. “Absolutely. I’m stuffed.”

“I got that new movie, The Fault In Our Stars.”

“Oh no,” I groan, pressing a hand to my cheek. “I heard that one will make me ugly cry.”

“Ugly, snot-pouring-out-your-nose, wailing kind of cry,” she nods.

“Can’t we watch something happy?”

“Trust me,” she says, standing and skipping into the kitchen. “It’ll be fun.”

It’s not fun.

Halfway through the movie I’m blubbering, clutching my wine to my chest, and wishing I had protested harder. This movie is so beautiful, but so incredibly heartbreaking. I can’t deal with this sort of emotion. It’s ruining me. Claire is sitting beside me, making the occasional sobbing noise, her hand pressed to her mouth.

Damn her and her sad movies.


“In a better mood today, are we, Beau?” I say, leaning against the cell door and staring in at the broody biker.

It’s the third day, and they’re still trying to figure out what happened—there really aren’t enough details around it. He’s up for a sentence, but witnesses are being very unclear. Apparently one said Beau was arguing with the man, but didn’t shoot him. Another is saying that there was another man with him, and that he couldn’t pin who it was. Security cameras went down before the shooting, so it was absolutely planned.

Beau is saying nothing. His club is saying nothing. Beau rarely speaks at all, and if he does it’s to spit curses. Mandy said she couldn’t get a word out of him, that he won’t give her anything. He’s protecting himself; I get that. But I also think it has a lot to do with protecting his club.

I don’t know how, but it would make sense for him to keep quiet if they were trying to do something to change his sentence. After all, if he speaks, it could ruin anything they come up with. So, I continue on each day doing my rounds. Beau gives me the same, angry expression every time I stop at his cell.

I keep stopping there, though. Because, for some reason, I truly believe he likes it.

“The guards told me you don’t sleep a lot?” I say leaning against his cell door, “You bein’ picked on, Beau?”

He glares at me, and surprises me by muttering, “Do you ever go a-fucking-way?”

“That’s not a word,” I point out. “And no, it’s my job.”

“So I hear, Wildcard,” he sneers.

“It appears you have a problem with me, Beau.” I smile sweetly.

He smirks, his eyes growing even colder. “I have a problem with the fuckin’ law.”

“Well, that’s apparent.”

He shakes his head and turns away. “Maximus fuckin’ makes a lot of noise at night. Go and sort that shit out.”

“I’ll talk to him.”

“Do more than that, eh?” he grunts.

“Are you always so mean?”

He narrows his eyes and crosses his big arms. “Are you supposed to talk to me like that? Pretty sure you ain’t.”

I cross my arms, too. “I’m not disrespecting you, am I?”

He studies me. “What’s a girl like you workin’ in a place like this for, anyway?”

I tilt my head to the side. “I like it. It gives me something different to an everyday office job.”

“I hear you’re feisty,” he murmurs, letting his gaze travel down my body. “I like them like that.”

I shiver. Oh boy. I straighten and uncross my arms. “Good for you. I like mine outside of a cell.”

With that, I walk away.

Concentrate. Focus. Remain professional.


I’m not meant to be here. My shift is over, and it’s just past midnight. I’m running late, because I got caught up talking to Mandy about Beau. It seems to be a good thing, though, because if I wasn’t here I would have missed the commotion that starts as I’m leaving. It begins with a faint noise, and it grows louder and louder as I near.

I step around the corner and into Ward D. I see Luke, Tristan and another guard named Peter in Beau’s cell. They are holding him down, and Tristan lifts his hand and drives his fist into Beau’s face. I yell out, not even thinking, and he spins around quickly, panting with rage.

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