Page 12 of Cold Foot Komodo

“Studies show that if you enjoy childlike things as an adult, you live longer,” she said around a bite of sandwich.

“Bullshit.”

“Yeah, I actually might have made that up, or dreamed it,” she said, laughing. She swallowed and sipped the soda, then handed it to him. “Don’t knock it until you try it.”

Reed rolled his eyes, and then took a sip. He kept a poker face, but she could see it there in his eyes. He didn’t hate it.

He took another sip.

“I told you.”

“It’s not my favorite,” he grumbled.

“But it’s not your least favorite. We can be twelve-year-olds together. Don’t worry, I won’t tell any of your super-cool shifter friends that you like grape soda.”

He scoffed. “What makes you think I have super-cool shifter friends?”

“Because you’re a cool guy. Cool guys hang out with the cool guys.”

“Chhh. I’m not a cool guy.”

“Oh please. You’re all tall and hot and stoic, and you know how to fix everything.”

His eyes had gone wide, and he laughed. “I don’t even remember the last time anyone called me hot.”

“Probably because you were in the men’s side of a prison.”

The smile faded a little. “That’s true.” He inhaled deeply, took the last bite of his sandwich, and narrowed his eyes at her thoughtfully while he chewed. “Four years.”

Confused, she asked, “Four years aaand…you’re going to settle into your own skin again?”

“Four years ago, I was supposed to be released from Cold Foot Prison.”

Stunned, she didn’t know what to say. It took her a few seconds to compose herself and ask, “What happened?”

“My release date came and went, and they didn’t let me out. I asked, but there were always bullshit excuses, and then I was put in solitary for being too loud about wanting out. I was in solitary for six months.”

“Oh my gosh, Reed,” she whispered, horrified.

“If Damon Daye and Wreck hadn’t broken me out of there, I would’ve died in Cold Foot. No one was going to ever let me out.”

“Why not?”

“Because I kept the peace when the guards needed me to keep the peace.”

“What does that mean? That was your job as a prisoner?”

“I’m just good at it, I guess. I’ve always been able to defuse situations. I’m a watcher. I am quiet, and I pay attention, and then I can dig into someone’s psyche and calm them down when they are ramped up. The guards needed me.”

“So they decided to keep you.”

He nodded once, his bi-colored eyes intent on her.

“They used you at the cost of your freedom?”

Another nod.

“How long were you supposed to be in there?”

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