Page 150 of Prey for You

My hand was on the knob when I heard her voice.

“My dad,” she breathed.

I stopped dead, then looked over my shoulder.

She was standing in the main hallway, staring at me. Her arms were folded and the sleeves of my hoodie were so long on her they dangled down past her hands.

She took one step towards me then stopped, tears trickling over her lashes. “How? How would you fight if you were in prison? You can’t. You want me to be there to help you because you’ll be stuck and my father’s got some hold on you—”

“No, babe,” I breathed and my own sight was starting to blur. “I have brothers who’ll watch out for me in there. I only ever wantedyou.”

Her jaw went tight and her chin rose. “Then sign it.”

I blinked, adrenaline flooding my system. “I—”

“Did you mean it, Sam? Mean it about not wanting me to be scared?”

“Yes,” I whispered. “I did.”

“Then sign. The fucking. Papers.”

Hands shaking, I lifted up the roll of papers and unfurled them. Started flipping slowly through, looking for that signing space. “Do you have a pen?”

At least my voice sounded calm. She disappeared down the hallway and I let my head drop. Fuck.Fuck.

Love her and give yourself up for her, like Christ gave Himself for the church.

…I’m not capable of that. So, the question is, Sam, are you?

When she returned and held the pen out, her hands were shaking took. I took it from her like it was a viper, but I knew what I had to do. Laying the paper flat on the wall and holding it with my free hand, I signed the fucking things.

Twice.

I was going back to prison. Holy shit.God help me.

“Give them to me,” she croaked.

I started to hand them to her, then hesitated. “I think I have to give them to my lawyers.”

“I’ll do it. Give them to me. I’m not letting you walk out of here just to burn them, or whatever.”

I glared. “I wasn’t going to—fuck, Bridget.”

Frustrated, and sad, and feelinghollow,I rolled them back up and handed them to her.

Her eyes widened when I held them out. She reached for them slowly, then took them and looked at them, reading my signature.

“You really—”

“I told you. I’d rather be in there and know you’re still alive out here, than have you convinced you have to get someone to off you because you can’t handle the fear anymore.”

I dropped my chin, my head spinning. I was going back to fucking prison.I was going back to fucking prison.

“I have to go,” I breathed. I needed to call Monk and get the guys together. I needed help. I didn’t know how soon I’d have to show up, but it had to be within days of those papers being filed. If not hours.

“I love you, Bridget,” I said hoarsely. “I love you. Just know that. I have to go.” I reached for that doorknob again, and for the second time, her voice stopped me.

“Sam.”

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