Page 97 of The Games We Play

41

NAOMI

The lingering scent of pungent body odor and stale air hits my nostrils as we enter the check-in area of the prison. Seamus instructs me to sit, and points to one of the chairs in the corner as his eyes bounce around the room.

His body is tight and stern, as it usually is, but a touch more rigid than usual. He chose to wear a fitted, all black ensemble, feeding into the half-guard half-assassin look that I’m certain he was aiming for, and it does nothing except set my body on fire.

The long sleeve crew neck shirt that hugs his chest and shoulders with tailored perfection is tucked neatly into the black cargo pants, held snugly with a leather belt and combat boots.

Looking around, his outfit mirrors the security guards, save the badge and gun belts, and I wonder if that was his intention.

The guard who stands at the entrance of the prison doors glances up and eyes him as he approaches the check-in desk, standing a bit taller as they attempt to match his intimidating demeanor.

One finger knocking at the table, he grabs the attention of the security guard who is sorting through paperwork attached to a clipboard. His neck cranes up, the grove between his browspeaks as he stares at Seamus’ hand before his eyes roam up his body, then instantly relaxes as he stands up quickly with a mile wide smile.

“Matthews, what the hell are you doing here, man?” The guard holds out his hand and Seamus slap shakes it as he pulls him in for a chest bump.

They share a few pleasantries before Seamus leans in and speaks to him in a hushed tone.

The security guard tilts his ear toward Seamus, but his eyes peer up toward me. He looks away then stands stick straight, giving Seamus a curt nod before sitting back down with his clipboard in hand.

Seamus pats him on the shoulder then retreats back my way, an unreadable look on his face—which is typical for everyday life, so I’m uncertain how to take that whole interaction.

“So, what was that all about?” I ask as Seamus sits down in the chair next to me.

He just shakes his head then says, “Nothing, he’ll call us up shortly.”

“But you know him?” I ask.

“Yes.”

“From where?”

“We were stationed together.”

“Hm, interesting,” I reply. “Did you know he was going to be here?”

I ask because it’s either a miraculous coincidence or planned exactly like Seamus needed it to be.

He takes in a deep breath and finally answers what I already knew.

“I had Rocco run all the names of the guards at this penitentiary. Whitlock,” he nods at the guy at the desk, “got called in on his day off to be here today, because I need someone I know I can lean on if anything happens.” He glances back over to me as his broad hand trails over the top of my thigh. “Nothing willhappen, but it’s always good to know people in the right places.”

The concerned look on his face contradicts his statement.

What the hell am I thinking? Do I really need to do this? Confront Nathan? What for? What am I hoping to accomplish?

I know in my heart this is something I should do. Something I should have done a long time ago, but what if it makes everything worse and seeing him puts me in a tailspin I can’t get out of?

I look up to Seamus who’s studying me with concern. I see it in his eyes, too. I know he senses my doubt.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asks, his head dipping to look into my eyes.

I nod, urgently. “Yes.”

“Naomi?” one of the guards asks, stepping in front of me. I look up and nod. “Come with me, please.”

Standing, I follow him past the security desk Seamus checked in at and pass the two other guards. One holds a large metal door open with only a small square window that looks through it.

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