Page 106 of The Games We Play

But after confronting Nathan at the prison, I knew it had to be me. I refuse to have him look at anyone else, other than me, while he gasps for his last breath.

Whitlock told us all the guards cycle rounds between all the correctional facilities in the county. From the courthouse to juvenile hall, the county jail and the prison. The agencies attempt to rotate them to avoid any hierarchy or favoritism with the inmates, but there is no avoiding that. Especially when most men, even the most dedicated guards, will do anything for power or money.

Needless to say, Whitlock having an in at the courthouse gave me the option to change the plan.

I side-eye Whitlock as we make our way down the tiled hallway. Our footsteps synchronize in rhythm as the sound bounces off the stale, empty walls. I’m unsure if he’ll still have a job here after this, or even if he really wants one. Either way, I’ll find another one for him with someone I know in Texas, but not before offering him a job in Seattle. I can use more guys at the club or expand the jobs I take.

I glance down the long hallways as we make our way toward the jails, taking in any possible exit routes and windows in case we need them. I rolodex the route, drawing a map in my head to make sure we have multiple options in case something goes awry.

We pass some guards who recognize Whitlock. They acknowledge each other and completely ignore me. They have no reason to question the other six foot something guy walking with him, especially since I fit the part so well.

And since he knows the courthouse floor plan, we ease through the halls at an even pace, then turn the corner to the holding cells. Whitlock scans his security clearance tag as he two-finger waves to the guard enclosed in the cement cube behind a small barred window.

A loud buzz rings through and the door clicks open, grantingus entry. We walk through without hesitation, then the door slams behind us, locking us in.

Normally, going behind locked bars would make me feel trapped and suffocated.

Not this one.

This feels like providence. Like my destiny unfolding with each step I take closer to the cells.

I’ve done ops like this a thousand times. Countless missions, most of the time undercover covert operations that I’d get through without a hitch.

But this one is personal.

So. Fucking. Personal.

As we make our way toward the cells, her beaten, swollen face flashes in my mind. My fucking sweater ripped in half, torn from her body. The cuts and bruises that dressed her once flawless skin.

Because of that, I realize I should have left Rocco to handle this one. Too much can go wrong when emotions are involved, but I’ll never be able to erase the images I saw of her in those photos. They are burned in my memory like a nightmare playing on repeat.

And by the way she broke down in my arms when she told me what Nathan did, the nightmare is branded to hers just the same, holding her hostage.

I will spend the rest of my life protecting her from them and freeing her of those restraints.

Starting with this.

Nathan’s cell is in the far corner. Miller stands outside of it, listening to the incessant chatter Nathan spits out to him.

I pause, airplaning my arm in front of Whitlock as we wait in a dark corner, eavesdropping on their conversation.

“Nah, man. I never have. I bet it’s fucking good, though,” Miller answers a question neither one of us could hear.

“Man, virgin pussy is the best, and the younger the better.Untouched and so goddamn tight. I’m telling you, blood is the best lubricant. Try it and you’ll never be able to go back. Fuck, I can’t wait to get the hell out of here.” Nathan is practically salivating over his words.

Miller, who we strategically planned to be here, plays the part well and continues, “Damn, I’m jealous of you, man.”

“I’ll hook you up. Once I’m out, that’s the first thing I’m doing. You can come with me while I hit up some of my old high school parties. Those girls can’t handle their alcohol, it’s a fucking slam dunk. Sometimes they have some fight in them, though. Like the bitch that put me in here. I can tell she wanted it, like she liked the fight, you know. Some girls are like that, just gotta put them in their place.”

White hot rage burns through my veins, lighting my skin on fire. My fists clench and my jaw cracks as I envision what happened to Mimi that night.

He’s a fucking predator, preying on young girls, taking advantage of anything in his path. I wonder how many girls experienced what Mimi did that he never paid the price for.

Whitlock’s eyes widen as he stares over at me. He’s preparing for…well anything. He turns his head from side to side, slowly, like a warning. Knowing I’m on the verge of losing it.

Taking a deep breath, I close my eyes and focus. Centering myself.

I smirk, wondering at what point Mimi’s goddamn yoga techniques wore off on me while simultaneously realizing I’m minutes away from doing what I came to do.

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