Slammer

I didn’t trust myself to look him in the eyes again. As it was, I wanted to fall back into his arms. Knowing the expression on his face that awaited me, I couldn’t take the chance of looking at him. Grabbing my purse, I turned toward the door. I had to get out of there before things went any further.

Before I could get there, Ramirez poked his head in.

“All good?” he asked, his eyes moving over my body as if he could sense my arousal.

Tucking my hair behind my ear, I looked up at him and gave him an innocent smile. “All good.” With that, I left the room without looking back.

When I left the hospital, I took a deep breath and leaned against my car. My insides were screaming to be released, my breasts so sensitive I bit into my lip at the slightest touch of my bra.

X had knocked me off my feet with one hand cuffed to the bed. I could only imagine what he could do with them both.

OVER THE NEXT few days, I couldn’t shake my thoughts of X. I could still feel his hands on my skin and every night I went to bed with my fingers in my panties and his soft growls on replay in my mind.

When I was at work, all I could think about was the words he’d said in the hospital. He couldn’t remember murdering two people. He couldn’t remember much of anything about the moments before the murders. His amnesia nagged me. Something was definitely off about his entire situation. I needed answers.

Dr. Giles had once told me he’d seen X’s files. I wasn’t sure how he’d gotten a peek at them. I was under the assumption they could only be viewed by those ranked captain or higher.

Officer Douglas was a captain, and we’d become friends since I started working at Fulton. He was a great guy, and we often worked the same shifts. I spent a lot of my time in conversation with him. He was a funny guy and always knew how to make my day better.

Maybe I could get him to show me X’s file?

After a few days of hesitation, I finally had the opportunity to ask. Dr. Giles was at lunch and it was just Douglas and me in the infirmary. We were watching over an inmate who was being treated for vertigo. Luckily for me, the inmate was passed out and I had plenty of time to work up the nerve to ask Douglas for what I wanted.

I read over some paperwork, every now and again looking up and watching Douglas. He was leaning back in his chair, one leg cocked up on the desk with a cup of coffee in his hand. He turned up his radio, trying to listen to the codes with a furrowed brow.

“Can I ask you something?” I went for it. “Something just between us?”

His eyes darted my way, and a smile crossed his face. “What’s up, buttercup?”

I chuckled at his friendly banter. “Dr. Giles told me he saw X’s file. Was that bad? I mean, I know he seems like a scary guy, but every time I think about how he saved me from Carlos, I can’t help but wonder, you know?”

Douglas’ eyes lowered briefly before he removed his leg from the desk and turned toward me. His spine stiffened, and I thought for a second that maybe I should’ve kept my mouth shut.

“Lyla, don’t doubt for a second what these boys are capable of doing. I know you want to think the best of everyone, but you saw yourself what he’s capable of. Poor Stone and Parks.” He shook his head. “He almost killed them with his hands cuffed, and we’re still not sure who put Carlos Perez in that dryer.”

I nodded my understanding. I wanted to confess his innocence in Carlo’s death, but I couldn’t spill the beans about my hospital visit. Still, I couldn’t see it. I’d seen what he was capable of, but I also was starting to understand the reasons behind everything he did.

Turning away, he began to type some things into the computer in front of him. When he was done, he twisted the monitor my way and nodded at the screen.

“See for yourself. Let’s see if these pictures change your mind.” He stood. “I’m going to check on our dizzy friend.”

After he left me with the computer, I pulled up a chair and began flipping through the pictures. My stomach flipped, and my head swam with disgust as I took in each image.

Body parts lay strewn everywhere, arms and legs detached, and there was so much blood. It looked as if the entire room had been doused in it. Broken pieces of furniture were tossed around the room as if a tornado had touched down in the center. It was an unnatural disaster—a cluster of evil.

There was so much death—so much hate.

With a weak stomach, I looked over each picture carefully, searching for a clue. Each image painted the scene perfectly, letting the viewer know that a psychopath had indeed committed the crimes.