Slammer

He laughed. “Don’t give me that Officer Douglas crap. Just call me Duggie.” He playfully nudged me with his elbow. “You’ll do fine here. Got it?”

I nodded as I followed him down the long hallway leading to the block.

I hated that we even had to go through the block to get to the infirmary. Whoever built the prison all those years ago wasn’t thinking very clearly.

The place was set up in levels, each more stifling and suffocating than the last. The first level was for civilians, those coming to see an inmate for visitation or to simply pay for canteen. You’d see the occasional lawyer bustle up to the desk and demand to see an inmate or a mother crying because she couldn’t see her son since she had missed visiting hours by five minutes.

Then there was the next level, where you were searched and processed before being allowed to go on to the next level. This required a badge, which I’d gotten on day one, and a few minutes in the control room to be checked in.

As they buzzed me through, I entered the last level, better known as the block. It was the place where the inmates lived and breathed. The walk through was hell, and I hated it. Officer Douglas was a good bodyguard, but I doubted his ability to protect me against a hundred sex-starved criminals.

As I plucked up my courage, I put in my imaginary earplugs and held my head high. The bars opened, clinking the whole way, and then we stepped in. The minute the bars closed behind us, the inmates began to taunt me.

“Here, kitty, kitty. Come here and let Daddy pet that sweet pussy.”

Accidently, I looked his way. His wide eyes moved over my body, leaving chills in their wake. His greasy fingers grabbed the bars, and he shoved his face into them trying to get a better look at me. Instantly, I felt dirty and in need of a shower.

“Hey, Strawberry Shortcake, I see you’re back for more. Just let me put a finger in, baby.”

I ignored the onslaught of name-calling and kept my focus on the door that would ultimately be put between the demons and me. Douglas slammed his baton across the bars, making me jump, but also reminding them to shut up.

“Respect, boys!” he called out. “Remember your manners when a lady’s present.”

He smiled down at me awkwardly, and I nodded my appreciation.

It didn’t matter, though. They kept talking. Their words were vile, each cutting into me and making me feel nauseated. I was their daily entertainment, a redheaded piece of ass for them to toy with. I’d dealt with catcalls in my life, but this was different. These men weren’t dirty-minded frat boys or construction workers. These hardened criminals didn’t give a damn about how it made them look or how I felt about it.

We moved deeper into the block toward the infirmary, and I cried inside knowing that I had no other options. I had to take their verbal abuse. It was my life now.

My eyes scanned the hall, bars as far as I could see, and then I turned my head and my eyes clashed with X. He was standing at the bars in only his khaki pants. His bare, tattooed chest glistened under the dim lighting. Against my will, my eyes dipped low, taking in his beautiful cuts and dips. Physically, he was amazing. Too bad I couldn’t say the same about his mental state.

Catching myself, I moved my eyes away from his naked chest. Again, my eyes clashed with his, and he lifted a knowing brow. He shook his head at me, as if telling me I shouldn’t be there. He was right. I wanted to be anywhere but there.

I peeled my eyes away from him and continued the walk down the mile. His eyes burned into my back, leaving a strange tingle down my spine.

As we finally reached the door, I gazed up at the camera and schooled my expression. I didn’t want control to see how desperate I was to be on the other side and away from the inmates. The buzzer sounded, giving me a brief high, and I practically sprinted through into the infirmary.

Dr. Giles stood over an inmate, listening to his breathing with a steel face. As I removed my sweater and tossed it behind the chair at the nurses’ desk, I glanced at Ginger, another nurse. I was there to relieve her of her shift. I’d only met Ginger once since she was usually gone before I got there, but she was a nice girl.

She’d been at the prison for two years, and I wasn’t sure if it was working with the inmates or the way she was raised, but she was much stronger than I was. Nothing seemed to bother her, and I could only hope I’d be same soon.

Her name didn’t suit her. She was short and stocky, her pixie cut sporting a box-blonde color on the tips. She was standing next to Giles, ready for any orders he spat out. She met my eyes and smiled, rolling her eyes as if to let me know it had already been a crappy day. I chuckled to myself, nodding at her and locking my car keys into the top drawer before going through my paces.