Fury of Desire (6 page)

The asshole had one. Guaranteed. Otherwise he wouldn’t have pulled guard duty at the hospital. The question now? How far would he go to keep her quiet? No doubt all the way. She knew it from the look in his eyes. Smug. Victorious. Bastard to the absolute core. And as he squeezed the cuff a notch tighter around her wrist, J. J. gave ground and flinched, shifting sideways on the mattress. The plaster cast dragged at her calf, weighing her leg down and…

God. She hated that he stood so close. Despised the warm rush of his breath and sound of his prison issue boots. And in that moment, J. J. almost made a deal with the devil. She wanted him gone. She needed to get away. Couldn’t stand the cloying scent of his cheap cologne, or the—

“For the love of Pete, Officer.” Tone rift with disapproval, the nurse gestured to the handcuffs. “Is that really necessary?”

“Don’t let her baby blues fool you.” Expression impassive, he hooked his thumbs into the prison issue utility belt. As far as moves went, it was a good one. With his hands locked on the thick leather, he looked the part—poised, authoritative, and intimidating—with an added bonus. The pose drew attention to the gun holstered at his hip. “She’s a stone-cold killer.”

J. J. clenched her teeth to keep from retorting. Nothing good would come from mouthing off. Besides, it wasn’t as if she could call him a liar. She’d done what she’d done. Taken aim and pulled the trigger. And as recall dredged up the past, her regret sank deep. It always did when she remembered that awful day. The memory was a permanent implant. Unshakable. Undeniable. The ghost she carried with her everywhere she went, so…

No. Little sense existed in fighting Griggs. Arguing—stating her case and all the extenuating circumstances—wouldn’t change the facts. J. J. didn’t want them to either. She’d understood the consequences. Had gone in with full knowledge, and regardless of the nagging guilt, couldn’t deny she’d killed a man to save her life, but mostly to protect her sister. J. J.’s ex-boyfriend hadn’t been bluffing. He’d meant every word. Would’ve made good on his threat. Forced her to watch as he put a gun to Tania’s head and pulled the trigger before turning the revolver in her direction. Two dead for the price of one, except…

She hadn’t let it happen. Had countered before he’d gotten his act together.

All of which landed her here… injured and alone in Swedish Medical with Griggs and an angry nurse facing off across her hospital bed. Yet as Ashford dug in, glaring at the weasel, J. J. couldn’t help but be grateful. No one other than Tania ever championed her. It felt good to find a friend, even one as fleeting as a temporary caregiver. The gesture rated as sweet. Brave as well, considering the mean streak Griggs carried around like a club.

“It’s all right, Nurse Ashford,” she murmured, hoping to diffuse the situation. Angering Griggs wasn’t a good idea. Keeping his pride intact amounted to the safer solution. “The cuffs don’t bother me.”

A lie. Boldly said and beautifully delivered. But honestly, she didn’t want the nurse getting into trouble. Not on her account.

Eyeballing her, Ashford pursed her lips. She paused, indecision written all over her face, then—

“Prison protocol, ma’am,” he said, brushing off the unspoken protest.

“I didn’t catch your name, Officer…?”

“Griggs, ma’am.”

“Well, Officer Griggs, find the key and
un-protocol
her.” A determined look on her face, Ashford stared at him from the opposite side of the bed. J. J.’s gaze ping-ponged, jumping from Griggs to her would-be savior and back again. Oh boy. Not good. The nurse was itching for a fight, one that would get them both bruised in the end. “I need to check and redress her injuries. I can’t do that with the handcuffs in place.”

Blond brows collided over his narrowed eyes.

“You can lock her back up after I’m done, but for now…” The nurse pointed her finger at him in warning.

J. J. swallowed a huff of laughter. God love the woman, she epitomized tough. Toss in stubborn. Add single-minded to the mix and… yup. It was a whole new ball game. One that left the weasel out in left field, trying to catch a line drive without a proper mitt on his hand. She could feel the sting coming. Could practically see him backpedaling in the metaphorical sense, and as the nurse shook her finger at him one more time and turned toward the table next to the bed, J. J. said a silent “thank you.” The weasel might be a first-rate bully, but Ashford topped him, bringing kick-ass to life in a contest of wills.

Excellent for J. J. Not so great for Griggs.

The delay gave her what she needed… time. An extra ten, maybe fifteen, minutes to come up with a game plan. Griggs might be an asshole, but he wasn’t stupid. He’d figure out a way to get what he wanted and exploit her sister. So, first things first. She must protect Tania by warning her. Tell her to stay away until the shift change and Griggs went home for the night.

“You hang in there, J. J.” Reaching out, Ashford patted the back of her free hand before turning to grab a plastic cup off the bedside table. “I’ll get some water for your sore throat and be right back. After that, I’ll get you sorted out, okay?”

One eye on Griggs, J. J. nodded. “Thanks.”

“No sweat, kiddo.” Ample hips swaying, Ashford strode toward the bathroom door. Her hand jostled the cup. The straw rattled, pirouetting around the plastic rim as she glanced over her shoulder. Her gaze locked on Griggs, she arched a manicured brow. “Officer? I don’t hear any keys rattling. The cuffs, if you please.”

Ashford crossed the threshold into the bathroom. A tap got cranked, and the rush of water drifted through the quiet.

“Pain-in-the-ass woman.” Murder in his eyes, Griggs flicked at a button on his belt. The case that held his cuffs flipped open. “Stupid nigger needs to be put in her place.”

The slur drew J. J. tight. Her fingers flexed in the sheet. The racist Podunk. She wanted to hit him for insulting Ashford. Just once. Okay, maybe twice. It would feel so good to crank her fist back and let it fly. A knuckle sandwich would smarten him up. Well, at least that was her running theory. Too bad she never got to test it. Punching a guard ranked as stupid, perhaps even suicidal. And yet, the dream lived on, circling inside her head, bringing a certain amount of satisfaction as she imagined him out cold on the floor.

Minus his two front teeth.

“What are you staring at,
Injin?
” His lip curled as he sneered at her.

J. J. reined in a sigh, hiding her reaction. Nothing new about that… or the magnitude of his bigotry. He’d taught
her well over the last five years. Reacting with outrage didn’t work. It simply stoked his fire, feeding him the power to hurt her. A card-carrying member of Haters R Us, Griggs never missed a chance to disparage her heritage. Or insult the Cherokee blood in her veins. It made her less human in his opinion. Disgusting? Absolutely. Rage worthy? No question. Sad in this day and age when skin color shouldn’t matter? Without a doubt. But that didn’t stop Griggs from spouting his racist views whenever he thought no one else could hear.

The fact she was half white—with blue eyes and light skin—didn’t matter to him. A half-breed equaled dirty, less than… unworthy of his notice. Too bad the same couldn’t be said for Tania. Griggs dismissal of her sister would’ve solved a lot of problems, ’cause… yeah. Had she and her sister shared the same father, Griggs would never have given Tania a second look.

Never mind become obsessed with her.

“Fucking redskin.” His low tone set off a buzzing inside her head as Griggs planted his hands on the bed-rail. The bar shifted under his weight, jarring the handcuffs. As the steel shackle tugged at J. J.’s wrist, the panic she’d been trying to hold at bay punched through. She shuffled sideways, inchworming beneath the cotton sheet, desperate to maintain separation. It didn’t work. He invaded her space, bringing the stench of cologne with him. The muscles along her abdomen clenched in protest. Pain skittered up her side, tightening its grip on her rib cage, pulling at the stitches. “You think you’re home free or something? Just because that coon nurse has taken a liking to you?”

J. J. drew in a choppy breath. The guy was beyond sick. A real candidate for the nearest mental institution. “I want my phone call.”

“Jesus.” With a huff, he pushed away from his perch. As he straightened, rehooking his thumbs in his belt, he shook his head. “You just don’t get it do you,
Injin?
”

Fear circled, taking an ugly turn. “I have a right to call my lawyer.”

“Bullshit. You have what I give you, nothing more. So listen up,
Injin
… and listen good.” A nasty gleam in his eyes, his mouth curved, the smile half-smug, half-snarl. Pressure snaked around her torso. As it tightened around her, she breathed in shallow bursts, struggling to keep her expression neutral. The second she let go, gave in, and showed fear was the instant he won. And foolish or not, J. J. refused to hand him a clean victory. “You try anything. Make a call. Warn your sister. Talk shit about me to the warden or anybody else, and you won’t make it out of here alive. It’s that simple. So go ahead,
Injin.
Cry foul. Test me, but only if you wanna die. Otherwise, keep your fucking yap shut.”

“You won’t get away with it,” she said, faking confidence she didn’t feel.

“I already have. And your sister? She’s—”

“Smarter than you.”

“It’s not about being smart. It’s about
her
keeping
me
happy. And guess what? The happier I am, the longer you live.” One corner of his mouth tipped up. “What do you think Tania’s gonna do when she sees you here like this, Solares? Hmm, you want to know what I think?” He paused, satisfaction lighting his eyes as he let her stew a moment. “I think she’ll do whatever I say. Spread her legs… invite me in… blow me whenever I want just to keep you safe.”

“You touch one hair on her head, and so help me God, I’ll—”

“What?” He flicked at the cuffs chaining her to the bed. “Come on,
Injin
… tell me.”

“You sick bastard.”

He laughed. “About time you caught on.”

Door hinges creaked across the room. Dragging her gaze away from the asshole tormenting her, J. J. glanced toward the bathroom. Ashford stood between the jambs, fitting a lid to the top of the plastic mug.

“Got those cuffs off yet, Officer?”

Griggs hesitated.

J. J. swallowed, waiting for the explosion. It never came. He smiled instead, and with a quick twist, inserted the key into the lock. The handcuffs fell away, clanging against metal. Half-relieved, half-sick with dread, she curled her bandaged arm into her chest, moving in slow increments, afraid Griggs would retaliate and reach for her again.

“Excellent. Thank you, Officer Griggs,” the nurse said, shooing him out of the room with her free hand. “Now, off you go. There’s a coffee machine just down the hall. I’ll give you a shout when I’ve finished with my patient.”

Griggs’s gaze cut back in her direction. J. J. felt the sting. Not that it mattered. His threats meant nothing in the grand scheme of things. She was accustomed to abuse. Would handle the weasel—and all forms of retribution—to keep her sister safe. Now all she needed to do was figure out how.

The second he cleared the threshold, Ashford stepped alongside her. Setting the mug on the table, she pivoted toward the bank of cabinets running along the wall to her right. Quick hands flipped cupboard doors open, then closed them again. As plastic-wrapped packages, gauze, and tape landed inside a sturdy plastic bin, J. J. shifted on the
mattress, trying to get comfortable. Why she bothered, she didn’t know. It wasn’t as though she had a chance in hell of avoiding the pain. Or outrunning the odds. Comfort wasn’t in the cards. Griggs had dealt her a crappy hand, elevating the game to a contact sport.

The best she could do now was ensure no one else got hurt.

Ashford glanced toward the open door. And Griggs. Boots planted and shoulders set, he stood in the hallway with his back to them. He looked one way, then the other, studying the corridor as though he expected a military invasion. J. J. shook her head. Terrific. Just what she didn’t need… a Neanderthal-in-waiting.

Vigilance piled on top of vigilance.

Moving into her line of sight, Ashford set the mishmash of supplies down on the end of the bed. “Is he always like that?”

“Pretty much.”

“Calls you
Injin
a lot, does he?”

“Big racist… little brain.”

The nurse snorted. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Please do,” she whispered, worry tightening her chest. “Please don’t cross him. You get in his way, he’ll hurt you.”

“Don’t you worry about me.” Sidestepping, Ashford grabbed the edge of the floor-to-ceiling curtain. She pulled. A zing split the silence as tiny wheels whipped around a metal track. Griggs looked over his shoulder. J. J. looked away, avoiding eye contact. A coward’s way out? Maybe, but she couldn’t take anymore. Not right now. Probably not for a while either. With another tug, the drape zipped full circle, cocooning the area around her bed. “I’ve dealt with his kind all my life.”

“Nobody’s like him.”

“Nonsense. A bully is a bully. Doesn’t matter what kind of uniform he wears. But enough about that.” Done checking her IV, Ashford palmed a pair of surgical scissors. “We don’t have a lot of time.”

J. J. blinked.
Time?
“For what?”

“You know your lawyer’s number by heart?”

A crease between her brows, J. J. opened her mouth, then closed it again. No sense trying to figure it out. She sucked at guessing games. “I don’t—”

Seeing her confusion, the nurse smiled. “’Cause if you did? You might need one of these.”

Slipping her hand into the back pocket of her scrubs, Ashford pulled out a…

Oh, Jesus be merciful. A cell phone. The high-tech kind with a wide, flat screen.

Gratefulness hit her chest level. Her heart paused mid-beat, then picked up the pace, hammering so hard it echoed inside her head. Not knowing what to say, J. J. went into crybaby mode, tearing up so fast the nurse’s face went blurry.

“Make it quick.” Her head tilted to one side, the nurse listened for the sound of approaching footsteps. When none came, she murmured, “Don’t call. Text him instead.”