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Rowe shoved me away, pushing me to the other side of the room. “What the hell are you doing?” He got right up in my face, going nose to nose with me. “Have you lost your goddamn mind?”
It took a moment for my gaze to refocus. I blinked hard, trying to reel myself in. Shit. What the fuck had I been doing? If left alone, I wasn’t entirely sure I would have stopped.
The realization dawned on me thick and fast.
I was no better than Johnson. I’d just done the exact same thing he’d done to Heath Michaelson. Assaulted a prisoner until he told me what I wanted to hear.
My head spun.
Rowe loosened his grip on me. “You good?”
“Yeah. I’m fine.”
“You know that was all on tape, don’t you?”
“It’s not what you’re thinking.”
Rowe backed off, letting me go. “It doesn’t matter what I’m thinking. That’s between you and your chief. Ain’t got nothing to do with me.”
But there was a judgment in his tone, even though his words said otherwise. Shit! Even the prison guards believed I was dirty. And why wouldn’t they? Everything I’d done lately made it seem that way.
DeWitt piped up gleefully. “Pritchard probably likes you better now he knows you’re dirty. I get the impression our guard friend here likes a lot of things kinda dirty, right, Pritchard?”
Rowe glared at him over his shoulder. “You want to shut up? Or will I let Boston try to kill you again? Seriously, man. Learn to close your mouth.”
I made for the door. I couldn’t be here anymore. But I didn’t miss the disappointment in Rowe’s gaze, and it cut right through me.
“Don’t believe his talk.” I wasn’t even ashamed of the desperate tone to my plea.
Rowe nodded.
That was the best I could hope for. With stiff legs, I pushed past him and out into the corridor.
DeWitt’s raspy chuckle floated out behind me “You’re as big a liar as he is.”
I closed my eyes. We were all liars around here, it seemed. Me most of all.
21
EVE
Fawn, Lyric, and I had been in full-blown hysterics for most of the afternoon. We’d gotten to the club early, blasted some music through the speakers, and cracked a few beers while we set up for the Pin the Penis on the Politician party. I’d had a life-sized cutout of William Reed printed at a place in Providence, where the server had asked if I was part of his campaign. I told them I was his biggest supporter and that I wanted the cutout for my bedroom.
The woman had frowned at me sideways but hadn’t commented. I’d just shaken my head, packed the cardboard version of William into my car, and driven back to the strip. Lyric had printed an array of dicks on her home computer, then painstakingly cut them out for the pinning part of the evening. I shifted through them now, creating a neat pile on the table we set up by the cutout. “How many porn websites did you have to open to get this many different-looking dicks?” I questioned. “Oh my God. Is this one even real? It’s huge.”
Lyric glanced over my shoulder. “Oh, yeah. That’s real. I didn’t get them from websites. They’re my own personal collection of dick pics. That’s Eric’s.”
Fawn squealed. “You printed out dick pics guys have sent you?”
Lyric shrugged. “I finally found a use for them.”
Fawn sifted through a couple, wrinkling her nose in disgust. “I always just delete them. I never thought about keeping them. Then again, I never really thought I’d be attending a Pin the Penis on the Politician party either. I wouldn’t have minded sticking a pin through a few of them. Nasty-looking things.”
I couldn’t help but think about the dick pics Boston had sent me. But there was no way I was printing that off to share with a club full of people. His video was for me and only me. Warmth curled through my stomach at the thought, and my gaze wandered to the spot where we’d made each other come. Tingles started low in my belly, and I pulled out my phone, sending off a quick text to him, asking what he was doing tonight.
Because I wouldn’t have minded a repeat.
His reply came back almost immediately.
