Page 7 of Jealous Convict

Don’t frighten her.

To cover it up, I lean forward and plant my elbows on my knees. “Why me?”

“Sorry…what?”

“Every other inmate out there would’ve jumped at the chance to tell you they’re innocent of their crimes. Why did you choose to interview me?” I have a fair idea why but I want to hear it from her.

“Oh. Umm…” Her lips tighten as if she wants to stop the words from falling out, but she hitches a slim shoulder and answers, “My d—umm, the warden told me you’ve been a model inmate, that you look out for a few of the other guys who can’t defend themselves. That you’re not a mindless thug.”

I grunt and shift in my seat.

I’m surprised Warden Gray has noticed that I don’t let weaker guys get bullied or drafted into shitty situations on my watch.

I’m not sure how I feel about being labeled a model inmate, though. Besides the unfortunate situation at the bank, I’ve done more than a few things in my past I’m not proud of.

But I’m not going to confess them to the sweet beauty still speaking.

“He also said you’ve only got a few months left on your sentence. He thought that because of that you’d be…more cooperative—” She jumps when a loud bang erupts from outside.

Then her wide, fear-filled eyes rush to mine. “What was that?”

3

Monroe

My blood freezes at the ominous sound.

I don’t want to alarm her, so I wave it away, willing the noise to have been a one-off. “Usual prison nonsense. Don’t worry about it.”

“But…it was really loud.” She glances at the window, then the doorway. “Should we—?” She jerks as the clanging repeats, louder this time.

Fuck.

Before I can reassure her, a piercing alarm blares across the room, echoing in the buildings outside.

She screams, dislodging her notebook and pen as she twists in her seat. “W-what’s happening?”

I grit my teeth. “It sounds like we might have a prison riot on our hands.”

“What?”

She jumps to her feet just as the door slams open. I surge up and block her with my body as the guard who brought me in rushes into the room.

“Time to return to your cell, Monroe.”

Like fucking hell that’s happening.

I brace my hands on my hips and stay exactly where I am. If he thinks I’m leaving my little kitten to the mercy of whatever shit is happening out there, he’s woefully mistaken. “Hell no.”

The guard, who’s a good half-foot shorter and a whole lot leaner than me, eyes me warily. “Dammit, I don’t have time for this. Move it, Monroe. Shit?—!”

Another eruption draws a scream from Kitty and I step closer to her, watching as the guard darts to the window. He peers out and his face turns white.

Grabbing the walkie attached to his shirt, he barks into it. “Breach in C Block. I repeat, breach in C Block. Send some guys over there, now!”

He looks at me and I can tell he’s torn between ordering me out of the room and leaving me here to go deal with whatever trouble is brewing out there.

I brace my feet, tuck my hands under my armpits and stare him out. “I’m not leaving. But you have my word, you won’t get any trouble from me.”

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