Page 1 of Her Convict Wolf

1

Emory

Oookay… I skip from one cooking pot to another, stirring like a whirlwind. Everything is under control. I’ve got six pots bubbling on two stoves; a lasagna and a tray bake in the oven, and I’ve just finished making up and wrapping a bunch of bologna and provolone sandwiches.

I told my boss I could do thirty extra lunches today, and I’ve pulled it off.

I take a moment to wipe a bunch of steam off my glasses and survey my work.

Running a kitchen used to be my dream—well, before I grew up and understood the life I’d been born into—and I am a little bit proud of myself for putting all this together. In my fantasies, I’d have my very own restaurant, and a whole team behind me, chorusing “yes, chef!” to my every command. But right now, I’ll settle for cooking lunches for convicts.

I hold my glasses up to the light, then I put them back on. Like my dark-brown contact lenses, they’re non-prescription, and they’re necessary. Along with my dyed red hair, piercings and ultra-realistic fake tattoos, they make me unrecognizable as the girl I used to be.

“Tiana! How you doing, hun?” The kitchen door swings open and Meredith, my boss, bustles in.

My name is not Tiana. And I hate that I’ve given my kind-hearted boss a fake name, but it’s also necessary.

I’ve built a little life for myself in Perdue Town—this little sanctuary of the lost. I don’t feel totally safe here—and I probably never will—but since I’ve been hiding out here, working in the kitchen of Sinner’s Refuge, I’ve stopped feeling like some terrified prey animal, just waiting to be devoured.

“Good—I think,” I reply, stirring four pots in quick succession.

Meredith stops in the middle of the kitchen, raises her nose and sniffs hard. Then she narrows her eyes at me. “Tiana, are you cookingfancyfood again?”

I giggle. “I just added a couple of herbs and spices,” I admit.

“Well, it smells fantastic. Hope you’ll have a couple of portions left over for staff?”

“Already assigned,” I tell her happily.

“Will you be ready for eleven-forty-five pick up?”

“Yup. Sure will.”

She squeezes my shoulder. “Well done, hun. You’re doing great.”

This morning, Meredith got a call from the federal prison service, asking if we’d be willing to provide thirty lunches for a convict chain gang. They’re working on a highway twenty minutes from here, and their usual catering company let them down.

“Sure thing,” I told her right away. I’m by myself in the kitchen at the moment—since her sister, who usually works here, is out of town for the next few days—but I was excited by the challenge. Besides, I don’t want to refuse Meredith anything. She’s been so good to me.

She told me to focus on quantity rather than quality, because the prisoners will be ravenous after laboring in the hot sun all morning. But I want to make sure they enjoy their food. If the TV shows are anything to go by, prison food is one step up from pig slop. I know some of these men must’ve done terrible things. But others might have been wrongfully convicted. Or they were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. I know about that more than most. And I’ll be glad if I can make their day a little brighter.

I keep an eye on the clock, and at eleven-thirty a.m., I start ladling all the food into delivery cartons. By eleven forty-five, I’m all done, everything packed up and labeled.

But Meredith is nowhere to be seen. Maybe the bar got busy.

While I’m waiting on her, I make sure everything is ready for the pub’s regular lunchtime rush.

At eleven fifty-three, she bursts into the kitchen. “The darn delivery company screwed us over!”

“What?”

“They’re not coming. They’re not allowed to expose their drivers to unreasonable danger, yada yada…” She rolls her eyes. “I don’t know whether they’re referring to Perdue or to the convicts. But the upshot is, they’re not coming, and we have no way of getting the prisoners’ lunches to them.”

I turn and stare at all the packed-up cartons in dismay. “B-but all the prisoners will go hungry.”

Meredith’s expression softens. “You’re the sweetest person, Tiana. There was me thinking of all the food going to waste. But yes, there are going to be a bunch of empty convict bellies, too.” She exhales slowly and gives me a long look. “I hate to ask you this, hun. I know you’re not keen on going outside and all…”

Oh no.

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