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That, and the food.
I laid in my bunk with my hands tucked under my head and stared up at the metal rungs of the bunk above me as sleep evaded me, once again.
Someone down the line was losing his fucking mind, screaming and crying and I just wanted it all to stop.
I just wanted it to be quiet for a fucking minute so I could think straight. Three years I’d been locked down and it hadn’t been quiet for one fucking minute the entire time.
Even when I spent time in the hole, locked into a six by ten cement box for three months straight, it wasn’t quiet.
The screams were worse in the hole.
But I couldn’t lose my focus, not when I was so close to finishing the job.
JJ was here. In this cell block.
I was so fucking close to him I could smell his fear. It took two years of transfers and working the guards to end up here, locked behind bars with the animal that killed Blaine. He didn’t know I was here yet, being that I was transferred late last night. Soon enough, he’d know I was here.
The boss guard on this block was an old friend of Colt’s from his Army days. Apparently Colt had saved his life more than once and had called in the favor.
Get me close to the piece of shit coward that killed Blaine, then turn a blind eye when I made my move on him.
Three fucking years I waited for this moment, and I was going to make it count.
In the idle time as I waited, I lost myself to the memory of Delilah and all that I was missing out on with her while I carried out my revenge. Times when it was dark and I was still, when I couldn’t distract myself with anything else, her memory would torment me.
God, I missed her.
I missed her smell and the way she looked up at me with so much love and trust. Her big doe eyes were always so easy to read and I loved when she looked at me like that. I missed the way she laughed at my stupid jokes and made me smile like I hadn’t done in years. The way she held onto me when we rode my bike and the girly squeals, she let free when I opened up the throttle and sped off. How she loved me in her wholesome and authentic way. I missed the way she looked when I had her in bed, with her hair fanned out on my pillow and her trusting eyes wide as I brought her to ecstasy and back over and over again. Most of al I missed the way she made me feel alive, like I finally had a purpose and a direction in my life.
Regretfully every time I looked back on the good, I remembered the pain on her face that day on the cliff when I told her I changed my mind.
When I lied and told her I didn’t want to settle down with one woman after all.
The look in her eyes of betrayal haunted me every time I closed mine, because with that betrayal there was grief and regret thinking that her brother had been right about me. I never knew he said those things to her about me, or I would have picked a different tactic to create space between us. I wouldn’t have probed an already festering wound.
But I’d make it right. I’d see the plan out and finish it, and then I’d win her back. I’d make her see how much I loved her and tell her everything.
I didn’t care what she did in the meantime, I knew she was out there in the free world living her life. I knew men were throwing themselves at her, and I knew she’d eventually give herself to one of them. And as much as that hurt to think about, I made myself imagine her happy and thriving as torment for the pain I put her through.
She didn’t know the truth behind my deception, she thought I was a monster so I wouldn’t take anything she did while I was locked down to heart. I’d forgive her for anything.
I just wanted her back when I was free.
And I was going to get her back.
No matter what.
I ran every worst-case scenario through my head and had a plan for it. If she didn’t believe me, I’d prove my innocence. If she didn’t love me, I’d make her. If she wouldn’t give me a chance to prove it all, I’d take her. I’d steal her away and force her to remember everything we had.
It’d all work out in the long run.
It had to, because we were meant to be.
I just had to finish this first, and then she was mine.
“St. Claire.” The guard in my pocket stood at my bars, “Rec time.”
Go time.
