Page 18 of White Rabbit

I laid awake for hours, marinating in my thoughts and the wine from dinner, until I’d forced myself out of bed and into my workshop, which is where Chad found me.

Sitting on a picnic bench in the yard next to the basketball court, I’ve somehow zoned out. I’m lost in my own head, thinking about the piece resting on my easel back home. I hadn’t finished when I left for work, and I couldn’t put my finger on what it was exactly that it still needed.

“Officer Bishop, is that blood under your nails?” A deep, smooth voice asks, pulling me back into the present.

Creed’s dark hair is pulled up into a messy bun today, and it’s a look that works for him. With his hair tied back, all the angles of his face are more prominent.

His sharp jawline, strong nose and carved cheekbones. Lord, he was the typical stereotype of every dark romance mafia novel. The scar through his eyebrow and the tattoos just makes it even more forbidden as the logical part of my brain screams ‘danger!’.

Glancing down, I notice small smudges of red and black caked around my nails. Turning my hands over, I stare down at them for a moment. When I look back up, he’s taken a seat on the opposite bench. “If it was, would you actually listen when I say move along?”

The corner of his mouth lifts into the ghost of a grin. “No, it would make me want to linger even longer.”

“Hmmm. Aren’t you a strange one?” I ask, tilting my head. I don’t have the energy to keep an appropriate distance between us if I allow him to stay, and I’m conscious that his cellmate and shadow, Benny, is watching me with a rapt fascination as he stands off to the side. “Keep moving, inmate.”

Today’s not the day to ask my questions and fall into the trap that is Elijah Creed, Left Hand.

“You look tired, another late night?” Creed asks, ignoring me, instead leaning forward with his elbows on the table. “Perhaps you were dreaming of me?”

I snicker. “If I did, it was a nightmare.”

He wasn’t deterred, I’d give him that. Sitting this close, I could see the tattoos in more detail. A huge ship, with a kraken, mermaids and roses, dominated his right forearm, working its way up, until it disappeared under the hem of his sleeves. On the other arm, I clocked several mythological creatures and gods. They were spectacular works of art, the detail incredible.

Creed lifts a brow as he clocks me, looking at his ink. “I think you’d enjoy having me in your dreams. I can be quite ruthless. You know, some people even call me savage and the things I would do to you…”

The dark promise in his words makes me shiver. What would he do to me?

“Last warning, Creed. Move it.” Officer Foxx growls as he stands behind me, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Ava, are you okay?”

Foxx hadn’t been with us long, starting a few days after Creed’s arrival, and his transfer had been strange. Who would choose to be transferred from the police force in Newtown to a prison out in the sticks? But he was nice enough, a little innocent despite his previous experience. I couldn’t quite understand if I was picking up a vibe from him or if he was just a generally flirty person.

Giving him a friendly smile, I wave away his concern. “Yeah, I’m just a little tired today. That’s all.”

“Hmmmm, Ava. Pretty name. It just…rolls off my tongue.” Dark eyes lock with mine, conjuring images I have no right picturing. The pink tip of his tongue brushes over his lower lip.

“I’m warning you, inmate.” Foxx words break the spell between us as Creed pushes to his feet, and comes around to our side. Foxx grabs Creed’s arm, but he just shrugs him off. Finally tearing his intense gaze from mine, he looks over Foxx with distaste.

“And this is my warning to you, Foxx—keep your hands to yourself and your eyes in your fucking head.” Creed stands shoulder to shoulder with Foxx. Leaning in, he lowers his voice. “Or I’ll only be too happy to help remove them.”

This is what I’ve been waiting for. I finally get a glimpse of the monster they say he is.

Before Foxx can say anything else, Creed motions for Benny to follow him and the pair of them saunter over to where some of our Russian inmates are sitting, watching the basketball game.

Chapter Eleven

ELIJAH

Foxx may be the reason I’ve been sleeping like a baby for the last couple of days, thanks to my new mattress, but that didn’t mean he had a right to touch what was mine.

When I’d gotten back to my cell with my new tablet, a new mattress wasn’t the only thing that greeted me. My cubby had been filled with contraband foods, smokes for trading and even bottles of whiskey and an expensive Russian vodka. Jules had provided me with a wealth in prison currency, between the booze and snacks, but I also discovered a stash of hygiene products and some X-rated magazines.

Beans had been laying silently on his bunk, on top of his new mattress, when I’d returned.

“Are you really the Left Hand?” He whispered, not turning to look at me.

“Did you ever think I wasn’t?”

“No. Maybe. I dunno.” He paused, thinking for a moment. “I thought you were someone important and scary, but then you’ve been so quiet. You haven't made any moves or demanded anything. It didn’t make sense.”

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