Page 55 of Babalon

“Here’s your bag, you’re good. Listen, maybe we can go snag some of those dumplings together? I got a brother…”

Oh God, please don’t do this.

“Maybe. I’ll let you know.” I say hastily.

I watch as her face falls. I’ve never cared about hurting another woman's feelings, but I’m glad cutting her off hurt because I’d be damned if she tries to set me up with anyone.

I’m too damaged to have anything healthy with anyone—even if I crave it. Besides, there was a certain inmate that I cannot get out of my head. Even if we are both pissed off at one another and will never have the chance to have something meaningful, Kace still won’t exit stage left and vacate my thoughts.

Speaking of, I need to see him today.

I miss him.

Like normal, I drop my satchel off at my locker and pack a few baggies of blow into my tactical vest, before making my way to the warden’s office. It is down the same hall as the guards' office, so it doesn’t take me too long to get there. Before I left the locker room, however, I checked my appearance. The entirety of myblacked-out correctional officer uniform is pristine and pressed, and my gear is all in place, my hair pulled back in a ponytail, and my headset is on and ready to go. If there was one thing I wasn’t going to get yelled at for, it is my appearance.

Crisp, neat, and clean.

Marching out of the office and down the hall, I stop by Rose's desk and gave her a little greeting. She’s a cunt. Don’t let her fool you with her smile; she reminds me of a secretary in a principal's office and we all know how I feel about those types of people.

I stand to the side as she goes to let the warden know that I am here waiting for him, my hands comfortably sitting at the front of my tactical belt while I look around. A few minutes later, she emerges and gave me a wave.

“He’s ready for you, Pierce.”

“Thank you.”

“Mhm.”

Short and simple, like I like it.

Striding up to the partially open door behind her desk, I poke my head in and announce my presence.

“You wanted to see me, Sir?”

“Ahh, Officer Pierce, yes. Please join us,” the frumpy man said, clicking the end of his pen and sitting it down on his desk, getting comfortable behind the mahogany. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him lean forward onto his elbows, fingers lacing together into one solid fist.

Stepping inside, I close the door behind me and move to one of the seats in front of his desk; the other occupied by a man I do not recognize. He has on a dark grey button-up shirt which is tucked into a pair of black slacks, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows exposing a few tattoos that are peeking out from his biceps. His dark hair is slicked back, but not in a Jersey Shore, overly gelled, kind of way. It was just… meticulous, polished, guarded.

Taking a seat, I look him over while his own deep chocolate-colored eyes stare back at me, assessing one another. Once comfortably seated, I pull my gaze away from him and look at the warden, unsure of what’s going on.

“Nadia, this is Detective Nash Whitlock. Detective Whitlock, Officer Nadia Pierce.”

Okay, what the hell is going on?

“He is from Internal Affairs.”

FUCK.

“Nice to meet you, Nadia,” the detective speaks.

“Likewise. What does Internal Affairs have to do with me, Sir? No disrespect, Detective,” I add, giving him my attention for a moment before looking back toward the warden.

“None taken.”

“The detective is here because there is an ongoing drug issue within this facility, and we received a tip that you might have an idea of what is going on.”

That fucking snitch! I’m going to kill Kace with my bare hands.

“I wouldn’t say I know what is going on, but I have noticed some certain behaviors taking place.”

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