Read Hardened Online

Authors: Ashe Barker

Hardened (3 page)

BOOK: Hardened
8.01Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

“I want my property back.” His curt remark is delivered without even looking at me. He straightens, flexes his muscles, and drags another wheeled bin of dirty laundry in the direction of an empty washing machine.

“You’re not supposed to have a camera in here. You know that.”

“Neither are you, Miss MacBride.” Now he does turn to regard me fully, one hip propped on the edge of the bin, his expression inscrutable. “Care to explain?”

I don’t. I don’t care to explain at all. I have nothing even vaguely resembling an explanation to offer, either to North or to myself.

“Where did you get it?” I try to inject a note of authority into my question.

He simply shakes his head.

I try again, piling on the officiousness as best I can. “Someone brought it in for you. I want to know who that was.”

More head-shaking.

“I could put you on report, you do realise that?”

Now he just chuckles. “But you won’t. You can’t.”

“I—”

He continues as though I hadn’t spoken. “Because if you do, you’ll have to also explain why you didn’t report it yesterday. Why you hid it, and I assume took it home with you. And why you brought it back. I hope you
did
bring my camera back, Miss MacBride.”

“Why did you take pictures of me?” I blurt out the question, homing in on the one aspect of all this that makes me most uncomfortable. And most exhilarated.

He smiles and meets my gaze, though he appears rather calmer than I am right now.

“Because I like looking at you.”

“What do you mean? That’s, that’s…”

“You’re prettier than Mr. Drummond.”

“That’s not saying much.” Our wing supervisor is certainly no oil painting, I’m not sure I appreciate the comparison.

“Perhaps not. So, are you going to give it back to me?” He holds out his hand, one eyebrow raised in what could only be described as a direct challenge.

I tilt up my chin; assertiveness is everything in these confrontational situations between officers and prisoners. “No, North, I’m not. It’s a contraband item and it’s been confiscated.”

He appears quite unruffled. “I see. Very well, I’ll apply to the governor for it to be returned.”

“No! No, you can’t.” I take a step toward him, then pause, uncertain how best to proceed.

“Can I not? Oh, I understand, because then you’ll have to explain how it found its way into your pocket during the cell search. Yes, I can see that might be awkward. Still, that isn’t really my problem.” He starts to load the laundry into the machine. “Could you close the door as you leave, Miss MacBride?”

I stand, glaring at his muscled back, intensely aware of the camera nestling in my pocket. He has me, it’s as simple as that. I have no choice.

“Okay, you can have it back. But you have to delete the pictures of me.”

He turns to face me again. “Are you still here, Miss MacBride?”

I retrieve the camera from my pocket and hold it out to him. “Delete the photographs of me and, and you need to promise you won’t take any more.”

“I don’t need to promise you anything. Why didn’t you delete the pictures if it matters so much to you? You had all night to do it.”

Because they were yours.
I scowl at him, reluctant to acknowledge the truth of the matter, even to myself. And perhaps because I was flattered by the attention, by the fact that this enigmatic, compelling man thought me interesting enough to want to take my picture. Even as I allow that ridiculous notion to crystallise, I quash it. He’s a criminal, a prisoner. He is
not
someone whose opinion matters to me.

I press the on/off button on the top of the camera and squint at the menu of controls that appear in the small screen on the rear. I try to navigate through to select and delete the pictures of me, but I’m soon hopelessly lost. It was easy enough to find my way around the gadget last night in the privacy of my own kitchen, but here, under the harsh scrutiny of Jared North himself, I’m all thumbs.

“Shall I?” He holds out his hand again, and I pass the camera to him.

In just a couple of seconds he has selected the pictures of me and they are ready to be erased. He hands the camera back. “You do it, then you’ll know for sure that they’re gone.”

I shake my head. “I trust you.”

“Really? How touching, Miss MacBride.” He hits ‘delete’ and the offending photographs disappear. “But can I trust you, I wonder?”

“I won’t report the camera, if that’s what you mean.”

“It wasn’t, but I’ll settle for that. I should thank you, I suppose, for rescuing me in the cell search.”

“Just… don’t take pictures of people, okay? And make sure no one else finds it.”

He pockets the camera, then leans back on the laundry bin to regard me with undisguised interest. “So, why didn’t you report me? That wasn’t very officer-like of you.”

“It’s complicated. I suppose I believe people should have a chance, that’s all.”

“Bullshit. You know the rules. So do I. It’s my job to break them, yours to enforce. So, why didn’t you?”

I step back and start to turn away. “I have to go. Like I said before, we’re short-staffed.”

I march across the laundry, the sound of my stout leather boots echoing around the space.

“Wait, Miss MacBride.”

Something in his tone stops me in my tracks. Halfway to the door I halt and turn to face him again.

“Come back here.”

It’s a command. Here. In this place, I issue instructions and prisoners obey. Somehow though, that seems not to apply between Jared North and myself. Putting one foot in front of the other, I make my way back to stand before him

“I meant it. Thank you for not reporting me. I do appreciate it. I’m curious about why you kept your mouth shut, but if you prefer not to say I can live with that.” He smiles at me, and there’s genuine warmth in his slate grey eyes. They’re a beautiful colour, deep, rich, very dark. And very, very sexy.

Out of my depth now, totally at sea, I offer him a brief nod. “I really do need to be getting off.” Even so, I make no move to leave.

“I know.” He cups my chin in his hand, his touch gentle but confident. Something coils and clenches, deep in my stomach. My breath hitches as he lowers his face toward mine. “I meant it, you know. You really are a whole lot prettier than Drummond. Quite lovely, in fact.”

“North, I—”

“Shhh,” he whispers, then he brushes his lips across mine.

I gasp, but I don’t pull away. Instead, I stand perfectly still, my lips parted, waiting.

North is unhurried. He rests his forehead against mine as he cradles my face between his hands, but still he does nothing to deepen the kiss, if it was even a kiss at all.

“What are you doing? You shouldn’t…” My protest is whispered, breathy.

“No,” agrees North. And still he doesn’t release me. Neither does he back off.

Moments lengthen, time seems to stand still, but I’m the one who cracks first. Suddenly I can stand it no longer. I reach for him, looping my arms around his neck and I stretch up on my toes to slant my lips over his.

It’s as though he was waiting for me to commit, to do something, anything. He responds instantly, plunging his tongue into my mouth to stroke and taste me. His fingers tangle in my hair, combing the cropped strands back from my face as he takes over to deepen the kiss.

I hang on to him, even as I berate myself for what I’m doing, what I’m allowing to happen. This is wrong, on so many levels. This is forbidden. I’m breaking every rule, every principle, all my values tossed up in the air. I hate myself even as I reach to tangle my fingers in his dark, silky hair to pull him closer.

Without breaking the kiss North starts to move, pushing, walking me backwards until I’m pressed up against one of the huge machines. He plants his left hand beside my head and continues to kiss me, as the other hand trails a leisurely path down my regulation-issue jacket to rest at my hip. He presses against me, the bulge of his erection unmistakeable against my lower abdomen. Without conscious thought I slide my hand between our bodies to reach for him, then stroke my fingers along the solid length of his cock.

“Ah, Miss MacBride, that feels good.” His tone is low, a sensual murmur as he nuzzles my neck.

“Yes, I—”

“Anyone here? North? What are you up to?”

I am jolted back to my senses as Jackson’s voice rings out around the utility room. His footsteps sound as he marches toward where we are concealed behind the industrial washer. I stare up at North, desperate now. We can’t be found here, together. We just can’t.

North lays a finger over my lips to signal me to be quiet.

He calls out to the other man. “I’m here. Won’t be a sec.”

“Where’s the stuff for C wing?” We hear the sound of wheeled bins being shunted around as Jackson searches for his first delivery of the afternoon.

“Over there, by the door.” Jared steps away from me, and winks. He actually bloody well winks at me before he turns and strides off to help the other man. By the time I peer around the edge of the washing machine North is ushering Jackson out of the room. He glances back over his shoulder and lifts a hand to me as he follows the other prisoner, leaving me alone to make my escape.

 

* * *

 

My heart is in my mouth as I clock on for my next shift. I can’t face North again after what happened yesterday, I just can’t. I report to the poky, cluttered wing office to learn that staffing levels are a little better so the lockdown is relaxed. Education is reinstated, and some free association is permitted for prisoners with enhanced status.

I’m stationed on G wing as usual so I take up my normal position at the end of the recreation hall to keep an eye on things. Aside from my personal tribulations we’re still on alert for potential disturbances. The cell search of a couple of days ago did nothing to calm the prisoners’ mood and we all know that if there’s going to be trouble, it will start out here.

Today though things seem unusually calm, and I spend an hour exchanging clipped pleasantries with the men who wander down toward my end. For the most part they are civil to me, and I find it works best if I return the courtesy. We all get along better then. Not all officers see the point in engaging in conversation with prisoners, an attitude I find frankly baffling. My more experienced colleagues such as Jim insist I’ll come around to their way of thinking eventually. I sincerely hope not.

“Go on, you can take your break now if you like.” The wing supervisor, Mr. Drummond, has arrived to take over the watch. He’s an officer with twenty years under his belt and he reckons he knows everything there is to know about incarcerating offenders. He’s a great believer in keeping prisoners in line, showing them who’s boss, in whatever way seems to work. Mr. Drummond has been on report for using ‘excessive force’ a number of times and actually brags about it. He makes me nervous, and the men loathe him. But he’s in charge and I’m not, so I nod and move toward the outer gate.

Then I pause, look back over my shoulder. I know Jared North isn’t in the recreation room because I’d have noticed—definitely. I escorted Bako, one of his cellmates, down to the education block earlier so he’s not going to be back for a while yet, and yes, the third man is playing snooker. That means there’s a reasonable chance I’ll find Prisoner KG8329 alone in his cell. I can’t avoid him so I might as well face the problem head on. At the very least I owe him an apology for my appalling behaviour yesterday, and I’m still uncomfortable about the way I curtailed his gym session earlier in the week. This might be an ideal time to talk to him, especially as I’m on my break so I can’t be accused of time-wasting.

I turn on my heel and march back along the wing to the cells at the far end.

North’s door is ajar, and I hear the low hum of the radio coming from inside. I halt at the entrance and peer round the door. All three bunks are empty. Disappointed, I start to withdraw.

“Something I can do for you, Miss MacBride?” The voice is drawling, not quite mocking me but not far from it. There is something in North’s tone that always causes my stomach to clench. Despite what happened between us yesterday I know he dislikes me, and I understand why. I’m a screw, it’s in the nature of our relationship that he should distrust and despise me, but still his contempt hurts. That kiss yesterday confused things but I doubt anything has fundamentally changed. I wish the situation were different. I wish I could impress him, somehow manage to earn his approval, if only a little.

My apology for grabbing and groping him yesterday might help. I step right inside the cell. North is seated at the table behind the door, which had concealed him from my sight at first. He has a pen in his hand and a sheet of paper laid out in front of him.

“I’m glad I’ve caught you.”

One dark, sardonic eyebrow lifts. “Oh, were you thinking I might have slipped out then? Gone down the pub, perhaps, or decided to catch the latest Bond movie? Leeds United are at home this afternoon, maybe you thought I’d be at the match.”

I know better than to react. I take a deep breath and continue. “I just wanted to talk to you for a moment, that’s all. But if I’m disturbing you, it can wait.” I take step back, intending to leave him to whatever he’s doing.

“Wait, Miss MacBride.” His tone is stern and authoritative. I find myself obeying. Again. He lays his pen down on the table and smiles at me, his expression nothing short of dazzling. “That was uncalled for. I didn’t mean to be rude. What was it you wanted to talk about?”

I step back inside and pull the door closed behind me to reduce the likelihood of being overheard. There is nothing wrong in an officer speaking to a prisoner one to one, but this conversation is private and I prefer to keep it between ourselves.

“I wanted to apologise, about yesterday. And about your gym session.”

“Oh?” He lifts that eyebrow again but says nothing more to help.

“Yes.” I decide to concentrate on the gym; it’s the less personal of the two incidents. “For cutting short your workout. I know how much you enjoy using the gym, so…”

He leans forward, his elbows resting on the table. “As I understood it, you were doing unpaid overtime just escorting me up there.”

BOOK: Hardened
8.01Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

Double Blind by Ken Goddard
The Uninvited by Mike Evans
Lionheart by Sharon Kay Penman
Hawksmoor by Peter Ackroyd
Remember Me by Irene N. Watts
Tortured Soul by Kirsty Dallas, Ami Johnson