Page 6 of Mad Love

RYAN

As I was led to my cell, a guy with a tattoo of a bleeding duck on the side of his face made a kissy face at me.

I smirked back at him. He had a good fifty pounds on me, maybe a couple inches in height, but that bulk would slow him down if he came after me. And honestly, how could I take him as a threat when he had a damn mallard’s bleeding ass inked on his pockmarked skin?

“Whatcha smilin’ at, pretty?” the guy in the next cell drawled, his wiry arms looped around the bars as he watched me with eyes ringed in heavy liner. He grinned and licked his lips. “Yum. Nice ass, gorgeous.”

I winked at him, not willing to show an ounce of fear or caring. “Thanks.”

Several inmates hooted and rattled the bars, but all my response earned me was a shove from the guard at my back as he snarled “Shut the fuck up” at the others.

As quick as he’d pushed me forward, he grabbed the back of my polyester orange jacket and hauled me to a stop in front of a cell. A hulk of a man with more tattooed skin than not—even his eyelids were inked—glared at me.

“I ain’t want no fish,” he snapped, and spat on the ground. His black hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, and his scruff was well on its way to a full-fledged beard.

The guard behind me—the one who had lazily scrolled through his phone while I was strip searched—only scoffed. He turned his head and bellowed, “Open on fifty-eight!”

With a loud screech, the door unlatched and opened, and my new roommate glared at me as I strolled inside. The guard pulled the door shut, and another alarm blared, locking it.

I glanced around the tiny space. A set of bunk beds bolted to a cinder block wall, a metal toilet, and a metal sink were the only furniture. I groaned inwardly.

Taking a shit in public wasn’t exactly high on the list of things I wanted to accomplish before graduating college.

“So,” I started, leaning against the bars and crossing my feet at the ankles, “are you more of a top or bottom man?” I flicked a finger at the bunks.

He bared his teeth at me. “You can sleep on my nutsack, bitch.”

I arched a brow. “Well, that’s not very hospitable, roomie.”

He punched a meaty fist into his open palm. “Fucking rich little punk. Think you’re so much fuckin’ better. How about I split that pretty ass open with my foot?”

“Sounds kinky,” I answered, keeping my tone nonchalant as I watched him for any signs of lunging for me. Right now, this guy was all bark. “Are you even going to tell me your name before we get to it?”

He stared at me like I was crazy and not at all what he’d expected.

If he’d hoped for a sniveling bitch who would cower in the corner and suck him off for protection, he was fucking dead-ass wrong.

“They call me Grinder,” he rumbled.

“Damn. Can’t get ’em to stop?” I clicked my tongue against my teeth and shook my head in mock sympathy.

“Think you’re cute, fuckboy?” He advanced on me with a sneer.

I straightened, bracing for him to throw a punch. “Sometimes.”

He leaned into me, breath fanning my face. “How about I show everyone watching exactly what kind of bitch you are?”

Without flinching, I met his gaze. “How about I make you a better offer?”

“What? Gonna offer me some of Daddy’s money?” He smirked. “Nah. I think I’ll kick your bitch ass and paint the walls of my cell red. I’ve been meaning to redecorate.” He moved for me, a little faster than I’d anticipated, actually.

Good for him, but I was guessing his home-grown version of beat downs hadn’t included training from some of the top martial artists in the country. Granted, neither had mine, but Court’s had, and he’d shown me more than enough moves to give me an edge.

I slammed a hand down on his wrist and yanked him into me, twisting at the last minute so his face slammed into the metal bars with a ringing clank. I drove a knee into his kidney, and he dropped to the floor with a gasp.

Twisting his wrist harder, I dug my thumb into the pulse point. He struggled to get to his feet, and I wrenched his arm higher until I was centimeters from dislocating his shoulder.

“Chill the fuck out,” I snarled, leaning over him. “Now, are you ready to play nice, Ben?”

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