Page 19 of Blood We Steal

Simone

The feel of the cold concrete bled through my jeans and onto my butt, which was still planted on the floor. I stared up at Rubin as he towered over me. He stared back with a look that reminded me I was less than the filth under his shoe.

I kept my features relaxed and fought to not let my emotions get the better of me. This had been my idea after all, and I wasn’t naive enough to believe Rubin would be pleasant. Not after what I’d done.

But it didn’t matter.

Keep your head down. Live till the next fight.

Aaron’s oft-repeated words buzzed through my mind like a mantra, and I forced my brain to latch onto them. Stay alive to find Aaron, make sure both of us were okay. That was all I needed to do. It was all that mattered, and nothing, not even Rubin’s roller coaster to hell, would get in the way of that.

Because Aaron had to be okay. If he wasn’t…

I pushed myself off the ground, uncaring of how I looked and unwilling to let my thoughts take me down that dark path. Rubin didn’t have the decency to look away as I adjusted my clothes, and I didn’t bother to either. Our deal had been struck, so he’d see it all anyway.

I was curious—and disgustingly nervous—about what he’d think. Then I chuckled. Whether he enjoyed it, whether I did, was beside the point.

My body was simply a receptacle for his hate.

Rubin waited until I broke his gaze to look around the common area. Looking at him, you’d never know that seventy-four seconds ago his fingers had been in my pussy. That didn’t matter now and wouldn’t matter in the future I couldn’t count on.

So I bit back the frustration shimmering under my skin—the rage I couldn’t afford—and turned my mind from the climax I’d been denied.

I stared at his back. What had I gotten myself into? I was frozen for a moment but shook it off. I hadn’t gotten myself into anything. But I was the only one who would get me out. I cleared my throat and then took two steps to stand beside him.

“This might be different, but as I understand this type of design, there are units, basically self-contained pods with cells and interlocking common areas. Are there administrative buildings in all of the different pods?” I asked.

He looked like a hawk waiting to swoop down on an unsuspecting rodent as he let his gaze sweep the room. I followed, wondering what he could be looking for. “Yes. This one just so happens to have the warden’s office, but there are other offices elsewhere.” He stopped in front of a three-foot-tall metal cart stacked with pale yellow trays.

“You should eat something,” I said as I offered Rubin a tiny apple and bottle of water.

He ignored me and grabbed a tray that had a bag of chips, and what I assumed was supposed to be a sandwich.

I grabbed a tray of my own and unwrapped the sandwich. Beggars couldn’t be choosers on the best of days, and these weren’t those.

I took another bite of the sandwich and smiled.

Rubin nodded his head for me to continue.

I smiled brighter. “This brings back memories. Some of them are even good ones.”

“Why does this garbage the warden calls food bring back memories?”

“Because that garbage, dear Rubin, is government peanut butter. Better known as the shit they give kids on free lunch. Or at least they used to. I don’t know what they do now.” I took another bite. “It came in a five-pound can with a white label and PEANUT BUTTER in all caps. Some of the cans even had a little illustrated peanut. I always thought the ones with the logo tasted better.”

I smiled, and Rubin looked at me, his brow arched.

“We should catalog all of this,” I said.

“We will eventually, but we might not be staying here.”

He lifted the bag off the tray, opened it, took a bite of the sandwich, and frowned. I took a bite of my own. Not the worst, but Rubin obviously disagreed. And I was curious.

“You don’t know what these sandwiches taste like? You’ve been here for a year and a half,” I said, realizing that mentioning Rubin’s imprisonment maybe wasn’t the smartest plan.

But he just shrugged. “I had my own dietary accommodations.”

I huffed. “Oh, so you paid someone to bring you in real food.”