Page 14 of Dangerous Obsession

Cliff was stuck in this fucking place because of those two women. They needed to be knocked down a peg or two, and he planned to be the man to do it.

The sound of a door rattling open, then banging shut echoed and bounced off the concrete walls. He dragged his eyes away from the ceiling when the low squeak of rubber-soled boots alerted him to a guard approaching. The footsteps stopped, and his face came into view in the narrow window of the cell door.

“Barnum.” Clayton banged on the door. He was a mean motherfucker, and his brutality had earned him a recent promotion to supervisory corrections officer for theDwing. “You’ve got a visitor.”

His visitor had started coming twice a week—every Wednesday and Sunday since they met a couple of months ago. Cliff had been sitting in the visitors’ area with his mother, and she’d been at the table next to them talking to her son. Apparently, the kid got nailed for his second possession charge.

Cliff had winked at her and said, “Hi,” and that was all she wrote. She hadn’t missed a visit with him in the two months since.

“Does your new girlfriend know you get off on beating up women?” Clayton loved busting Cliff’s balls. Anything to get a reaction out of him.

But the inmates all knew that if they so much as sneezed on a guard, there was a damn good chance they could end up in solitary confinement—the hole—for at least thirty days. One room, no window, and you were only allowed outside for one hour each day.

A hell within hell.

Cliff had been sent to the hole twice. Once for thirty days for getting in a fight in the yard. The second time was after his mom brought him a copy of a local magazine with an article about Marigold’s business. It included a picture of her standing in front of some little shop.

His mom had yammered on and on about what an ungrateful little tramp Marigold was, and how dare she be doing so well while he was stuck in here. She’d always thought he could do better, but Cliff knew he and Marigold were meant to be together.

They met their senior year in high school, after his dad got transferred to the area. The school’s football team needed a strong quarterback, and Cliff fit the bill perfectly. Thanks to his physical prowess on the field, he quickly became a big deal at their school.

One day, near the end of his senior year, he saw Marigold for the first time, walking down the hall. Her hair, clothes, the way she talked, even the way she carried herself was so different from all of the other girls. How had he not noticed her before?

He started making flirty, smart-ass comments to her as they passed in the halls, but she totally blew him off. No one had treated him that way before. Her indifference was like gasoline on a fire; it only amplified his interest in her and made him more determined to win her over.

It took a few weeks, but she finally caved and agreed to go to a graduation party with him. He laid on the charm and his teammates talked him up, and she was hooked. They would break up, get back together, break up again. He convinced her to move in with him, said he was ready to settle down, then he’d ruined it all.

Clayton’s voice as he yelled at another inmate yanked Cliff back to the present.

Anyway, the warden had a hard and fast rule against inmates having photos of their victims, but Cliff had risked keeping it and tucked it inside his pillow. One day, the guards were doing random searches and decided to toss his cell. They found it and confiscated it as contraband.

One of the guards had made a comment about her moving on to another guy who wasn’t a loser locked up in prison. Cliff had snapped, slammed the guard up against the wall, and punched him so hard he broke the guy’s eye socket. It took three men to pull him off the guy, and that had gotten him a trip to the hole for ninety days.

Ninety. Fucking. Days.It had been torture.

Human beings weren’t meant to be locked away in what was essentially a six- by eight-foot box. Unspeakable things happened to a man’s psyche when all he had were his own fucked-up thoughts to keep him occupied.

The day he was shuffled out of that room, he’d made a vow never to end up in there again. Even if it meant taking all of the shit the guards or other inmates could dish out. His primary goal now was to keep his nose clean so he could get the fuck out of here early for good behavior. Then he’d pay a little visit to Marigold.

“Let’s go, Barnum.” Clayton jammed the key into the lock and waited. “You know the drill.”

Yeah, I know the fucking drill.

Cliff sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He hopped down, laced his fingers together behind his back, and faced away from the door.

There was a loudca-chunkwhen the lock disengaged, followed by the familiar deep groan from the hinge as the heavy metal door swung open.

“Take two steps forward.” Chains from a three-point restraint rattled together as Clayton stepped into the cell with two other guards.

One guard secured a section of the chain around his waist; another squatted down, and there was a series ofclicksas he tightened shackles around Cliff’s ankles. Shorter lengths of chain, each with a metal handcuff at the end, hung at the side of his hips. Clayton wrapped one around each of Cliff’s wrists and closed them tight, effectively connecting his waist, ankles, and wrists.

The guards stepped back.

“Turn around,” Clayton ordered.

Cliff shuffled his feet in a small circle until he faced him.

“Is this really necessary, sir?” The respectful term tasted foul on his tongue as he held his hands out to his sides as far as the chains would allow. He’d been forced to suffer this humiliation ever since he attacked that guard.

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