Page 324 of Dirty Discipline, Vol. 2

"You sure?" Travis softly intoned, the corners of his mouth turning gently upward.

She hated his sunglasses. She couldn't read him and it worried her, especially now with every small hair rising to stand on her arms and across the nape of her neck.

"Yes," she whispered. Her instincts were telling her to move away. He was too still, too friendly, too snake-ish as he leaned in closer. Tall as he was, he loomed over her as he insisted, "Are you sure, Tabby my girl?"

She nodded, unable to make herself swallow much less speak. She tried to back away, sliding along the door in an effort to move this outside. Just as she was nearing the threshold, he struck, sun-bronzed hand snatching out to grab the shoulder fabric of her shirt and pin her abruptly in place.

"Where are you going, Tabby?"

"Tabitha," she tried to say, but it was little more than a whisper and not at all important compared to his hand, letting go of her shirt to gather a more secure grip somewhere else. Her neck. His thumb was on her terrified pulse and the heat of his palm burned into her larynx. As if she didn't have enough trouble breathing without him actually gripping onto her.

"Are you trying to get my attention? Because you have it."

She would have shook her head, but the instant she moved, he tightened his grip. "Ah ah," he warned, tipping his head as he stared down at her from behind those damned silver-mirrored glasses.

"I don't want to be angry with you," he offered, and like a drowning woman being offered a lifeline to the shore, she grabbed onto that with both hands.

"I don't w-want to m-make you angry," she whispered.

"No?" He raised a finger, tapping it lightly against her pulse. "I'm happy to hear that, although I will need you to prove it. Because if I see you anywhere near that man again, you'll force me into the very uncomfortable position of having to punish you, and you don't want that. Do you?"

She shook her head, small, quick, back-and-forth jerks of denial that barely counted as movement. "No."

"Don't make me your enemy, darlin’. I promise, you'd much rather have me as a friend."

She nodded the same way she'd just shaken her head, in quick jerking movements.

The knots in her stomach trembled when he leaned back from her, letting go of her neck. He patted her cheek, the heat of his hand branding her for the few seconds in which he paused, his broad thumb gently tracing along the bow of her trembling lips. For a moment, she was so sure he was going to slap her that her cheek actually tingled, already striving to absorb the stinging pain of a blow that didn't come.

Taking his hand back, he said, "Wake up is 6 a.m. sharp. If you're not here at roll call, I will not only hunt you down, I will send you back to prison. Is that understood?"

She nodded again.

"There are no second chances."

She shook her head.

Reaching up, for the first time he removed his sunglasses. Here she'd thought being able to see his eyes would make him less frightening somehow. It didn't. His eyes were sky blue and ice cold. Despite his soft voice and pet names, zero warmth for her burned in their striking depths.

Shoving off both her and the door, he walked away. "Yummy. Watermelon," was the last thing he said as he stepped over what few groceries remained on her stoop. She watched him saunter back across the gravel parking lot and didn’t dare even to breathe until he was once again back in his office. She heard the door close. Afraid he might be watching her back now from behind his white office shades, she quickly dragged the rest of her groceries in out of the sun and closed the door.

Shifting her groceries to the top of the chest of drawers, she dragged the table from its place at the window and shoved it in front of the closed door.

She didn’t feel safer. If Travis wanted her, he didn’t have to come through the door to get her.

He was her parole officer and at a single word from him, he had the power to send her back to prison. There wasn’t a thing she could do about it. She was alone out here with no one to talk to, no way to leave, and no one to trust. Her cell phone was a useless paperweight since she hadn’t had her charger on her that fateful night three years ago. She had no one to call even if she was able to charge it. Her father, maybe. But how many calls from her had he hung up on or ignored over the last three years. She’d sent him dozens of letters; he hadn’t returned a single one.

No, she was alone. One hundred percent on her own. There was nothing she could do except keep her head down and just get through this. Eventually, her parole would run out and she’d get out of here, even if she had to walk to do it.

Three more years, that’s all the time she had to do. After that, if she watched herself and worked her job for the farmer, then she’d have money in her pocket to start her life over again somewhere far away from here.

Three years down, three more left to go. All of it spent one day at a time, just getting through it.

Sinking down on a corner of her worn motel bed, she buried her face in her hands and let the tears go.

Chapter Four

“Morning, Sheriff!” Rosalee chirped from her desk right outside his office.

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