Page 112 of The Convict Gets His Girl

She snorted. "No shit."

Raul chimed in. "It's not exactly a meet-cute story. More like a need for survival."

Chase grunted. The memories rushed back—concrete walls, the constant noise, the suffocating smell of too many men packed into too small a space. Their first interaction hadn't been friendship, but survival.

"He saved my life," Chase said simply.

Raul laughed, a sharp bark that didn't reach his eyes. "More like we saved each other. It was exactly like the characters we played, except instead of meeting at a tavern to find a group of adventurers to do a job, we…" Raul grew silent, his brows furrowing as memories or thought hit him.

Chase shrugged, watching with a strange sort of detachment as Jewel threaded a needle for stitches. His stomach twisted in anticipation as she sprayed something onto the open cut on his forehead.

"We met a group of fellow nerds who'd simply made a mistake or two and wanted—needed—to survive prison. We banded together to form our own gang," Raul finally said.

Jewel's brows rose, and Chase chuckled, trying to set her at ease. "It wasn't a real gang. We didn't accept many new members, didn't cause trouble, and stuck to ourselves when possible."

"We sure as shit would stop trouble though, just like tonight," Raul said. He continued the story, painting them both as more than they were. Chase knew he was doing it for Jewel's benefit, but he didn't correct Raul on any of it.

Deep down, he wanted Jewel to accept him, and if it took a fellow prison inmate stretching the truth slightly, he'd take it.

The more he watched her the more he burned, needing to claim her in this house and show them both that they were home, right where they belonged. That she still had on that sexy little cop uniform had him sitting uncomfortably on the chair. He welcomed the stinging pain of each stitch, although the numbing spray had helped. It was more than they'd had in prison.

ChapterForty-One

Raul yawned, and Chase said, "There's a bathroom in the hall upstairs on the right. The first bedroom on the right is the one where you can crash."

Jewel paused, frowning as she asked, "Is the bed made? Sheets, towels, pillows?—"

"It's all taken care of, my Jewel. Don't worry." He tried to calm her, but he could see in her eyes that she didn't quite believe him. He hadn't had a chance to show her the house now that they were all moved in except for the things she still had at her dad's.

Raul went upstairs, his worn sneakers soft on the steps. The silence in the kitchen grew between them until Jewel took a deep, relieved breath. "There, that should do it. If it's still weeping in the morning, I'm taking you to the hospital, though."

He nodded as she fluttered around the kitchen, cleaning up while also snooping on where everything was and what supplies they had. He took the now empty glass of water to the sink, and she spun out of the pantry, nearly walking into him.

He caught her around the waist, hands on her hips, and nearly growled at her little gasp of surprise, the way her eyes widened, and her mouth opened.

"Sorry," she whispered.

"I'm not. I'm damn grateful to you, my Jewel. Let me show you how grateful," he said, dipping his head for another kiss. She stiffened in his arms, then sighed, giving in to the tension between them. Her breasts flattened against him as she pulled him tighter, and his hands went around to cup her ass.

She ripped away, her cheeks flushed as she grabbed his hand. "Not doing this here. Come on."

He grinned and let her lead him up the stairs and down the hall to the master bedroom. When she stepped through the door, she paused taking in the changes around them.

"Do you like it?" he asked as he shut the door.

The old wallpaper had been ripped down, along with the walls themselves. Landry had worked for two days last week to help fix it up, and it now still smelled faintly of the sea foam green paint on the walls. Jewel's king bed from her storage container sat to the left, flanked by her end tables.

"It's all my stuff. You did all this?" she whispered, turning to him with eyes glistening. Her lips wavered, and he clasped her hands to his chest.

"Landry helped, but I wanted everything to be perfect for you and move-in ready. This is your home now, my Jewel, and hopefully always will be."

Chase watched her carefully, his one good eye searching her face, waiting for her reaction, waiting to see if she'd run away again or accept him. Jewel's breath caught in her throat, her fingers curling into the fabric of Chase's shirt.

He groaned as her fingers dug into a forming bruise on his ribs. Her eyes widened, and she fell back on her no-nonsense bossiness.

She went to the master closet and peaked inside, saying, "Take your shirt and pants off. You're not sleeping in bloody clothes. Where are your pajamas?"

Carefully, he winced as he tugged the shirt over his head. "Don't have any. I just sleep in my underwear." She came back toward him like a moth to flame.

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