The Bars That Hold Us (8 page)

I head back to the kitchenette and mix the coffees with two sugars in each and several of the UHT milks. With the mugs in hand, I head back to where Saxon is making progress on the walls and hand him a cup of coffee.

He takes it, smiling at me gratefully, his chest rising and falling ever so slightly from the exertion of working the roller over the walls.

‘Thank you.’

‘You’re welcome.’

He eyes me over the rim of his cup as he takes sip after sip. I feel naked under his stare, not sure if I should walk away or just stand there and try and act unaffected. But I’m not unaffected. He rattles me. I feel like with one smile he’s just fractured a little of my external veneer
—the bars I put up to keep others out. I go over my body, mentally checking to see just where he’s managed to penetrate my exterior barrier.

If he keeps this up, I’m going to have to go home and start building walls, too.

I’ve never had a dream so vivid, so… real. I’m with her, walking down the same dark alleyway where I took another’s life. I still can’t think of his name. It’s like my brain wants me to forget, even though my subconscious is not nearly as willing. But for the first time, I’m not consumed with anger, or fear, or regret. I feel calm. She walks next to me, holding my hand, and even though I’m yet to experience her touch, it feels like home.

She stops, tugging my arm gently to bring me towards her. I smile, wanting to go willingly. My lips are drawn to hers, needing to feel her feather-light kisses and the flick of her tongue. My mouth closes over hers and it’s as wonderful as I imagined. Blood pumps its way frantically around my body, trying to keep pace with the thud-thud of my heart. I can feel my whole body come alive and a deep-seated need flows down my belly and into my cock. I want to make love to this woman, more than I’ve ever wanted to love another.

A strangled, tortured cry escapes her lips, severing our connection. I’m confused, not sure what’s gone wrong. I try to find her face in the dark, but all I can see are a river of tears, her sadness drowning out her sweet face.

I want to comfort her, love her, but the morning wake-up bell of the prison shatters that dream into a thousand, tiny, unmemorable pieces. The raging hard-on is still there, tormenting me of
a reality I can no longer have.

I can dream about Mercy Cole all I like, but nothing will change the fact that she and I will never be.

Her sadness bothers me. Not just in the dream, but when we’re together, too. For weeks we’ve been left alone with only each other for company, although she rarely lets pieces of the real her out. Everything she is can be found under lock and key. The snippets of herself she accidently allows to slip free are quickly swept up and hidden away again. I want to break through her barriers like a sledgehammer, but I think I’d have an easier time breaking out of jail.

I swing my legs down from the bunk, ready to hop down and brush my teeth and wash my face before breakfast. I’m startled by the arrival of the woman who has started to invade my dreams.

‘Good morning,’ I greet her.

‘Morning.’ She seems happy almost. I wonder, jealously, who has made her feel this way. I wish
it were me, but she seems to have arrived already in her good mood. Her dark hair is swept high up on her head, making her cheekbones seem more severe—her jaw more prominent. I want to kiss it, but it’s wrong to even think about it.

If the illusion of closeness wasn’t marred by heavy steel bars, I’d almost think we were in our own bedroom, greeting each other as lovers do before they start their morning rituals.

I eye her up, before stepping closer to the bars. She doesn’t take a step back like I was expecting her to. Instead, she comes closer, like she’s got a secret to share but doesn’t want the other two hundred plus inmates on F Block to hear about it.

‘Are you ready to get going?’

‘No breakfast today?’

‘Sure, we’re going to pick it up from the kitchen on the way through.’

‘Okay, well, I might need a human minute before you go dragging me off to the mines.’

‘Oh,’ she blushes. ‘Well, why don’t you do what you need to do and
, I ah, I’ll be back in five. I can get your breakfast organized and take it on to the library before I come back for you.’

‘Alright, I’l
l be ready.’

She nods and quickly heads off in the direction of the kitchen. I take a piss and change into fresh sweats, before brushing my teeth and running my fingers through my short hair.
While I’m waiting for her to return, I knock out some push-ups. Her steel-capped boots in front of me are the only thing that alerts me to her return. The noise in the rest of the cells has cranked up to an excitable level, which is normal right before meal times.

‘You ready?’

‘Yep.’

She sets me free from my cage, ready to take me to my day job of painting walls and perving on her
ass. A couple of months ago, I wouldn’t have known that I’d find moments where I actually start to like what I’m doing while on the inside.

We walk casually, knowing time is going nowhere.
The fumes from the library greet us as Mercy buzzes us through the now familiar doors.

‘Pew! We’re going to get high if we don’t open some of these windows,’ she gasps.

‘Are you kidding, it’s like six degrees out.’

‘Suck it up, tough guy. I’d rather the chill than paint fumes.’
She starts to fling open several of the windows, the slight breeze brining a little of the morning air with it.

‘Fine, but if I get cold, I’m pinching that big
-ass parker you’re wearing.’

She grins
—the first I’ve ever seen on her. And then, as if she catches herself, she turns it off, just like that. I want to ask her what makes her that way, but I know if I say a single word, I risk shutting her out for good. I don’t want that. I want her to open up to me. I think for now, a distraction is in order.

‘Shall we eat breakfast first?’ I say, motioning towards the two trays that are sitting untouched on the desk.

‘Yes, lets. I might make some of that bootleg coffee first, though.’

While I watch her body retreat into the kitchenette, I start in on my food tray. The cooks must have bought some baked beans for the rations store on special because we’ve had them every day this week. I don’t care. I’m hungry and my stomach doesn’t mind what it eats to fill the gap.

I eat the cold, dry bit of toast with it before polishing off the oatmeal, milk and fruit. I’m two mouthfuls away from finishing when Mercy returns with two steaming mugs of coffee. She notices my nearly empty plate.

‘Still hungry?’

‘I’m always hungry in here. Their portions are like airplane food.’

‘Can you keep a secret?’ Her pale blue eyes spark alive, like she’s just found a pot of gold or something.

‘I think it would be safe to say you can trust me.’

‘Come with me,’ she motions.

I get up, intrigued. I follow her back to the kitchenette, which is so tiny – just enough space really for a sink and cupboard. She reaches under the sink, opening the doors. It’s hard not to focus on her ass, bent in the position she’s in. My male brain just about has a meltdown.

‘See? There are biscuits in here; lots and lots of biscuits. I think the old librarian must have been a bit of a squirrel, hoarding for the winter.’ She laughs and s
tands up, twirling around to allow me a look in. She doesn’t realize I’m so close and we come face to face with each other. Her hands reflexively come up on my chest, stopping her motion before her body meets with my own.

I
can feel her delicate fingers on the rock-hard muscles of my pecs, yet she doesn’t remove them straight away. Her breath catches in her throat and she swallows hastily. My heart continues to thud away under her gaze. Dark hair and pale blue eyes are a heady enough mixture within themselves, let alone having all of her thrust up in my personal space. I’m not complaining, but I’m a man who hasn’t had sex in over three years. I could come on command if she begged me nicely. My dream about her this morning isn’t helping either.

Against all of my will, my hands find her narrow hips, holding her so that she doesn’t move away and break the spell just yet. She’s breathing hard
— short, shallow gulps of air sucking in and out of her mouth. It’s more like panting, actually.

Fire ignites inside
of me and my dick springs to action. I hope like hell she doesn’t look down or she’s going to see the full effect she’s having on me.

My eyes zero in on her lips, drawing towards them like a magnet. I’m pulled, closer and closer until I’m just a hair’s breadth away from them. I want this to be like my dream. I want to kiss her in the same way. But in my dream, I wasn’t wearing green prison garb and she wasn’t supposed to maintain a professional distance between us at all costs.

My right hand slips from her waist, desperate now to touch even more of her. My rough fingers find her cheek, my thumb moving up her chin towards those lips of hers. She doesn’t move, so I trail-blaze a path of discovery towards her open mouth. I rub her bottom lip with my thumb, intoxicated by the lack of air between us. She’s sucked it all away and I’m drunk on Co2.

She sways towards me ever so slightly, almost inviting me to taste her. I want to
—desperately. I lick my lips, ready to crush them against her own. Before I can, she breaks the beautiful spell that held us so enraptured by halting my actions with simple words.

‘What I meant to say is
, there are biscuits in here if you’re still hungry.’

‘Oh, I’m hungry alright,’ I say huskily. I can’t help it, my head just wants to fall towards hers, close my eyes and get lost in the kiss I know is so near the surface.

‘Don’t,’ she whispers. She finally has the strength to push away from me. A single tear spills down her face as she brushes past me to head back inside the library. I follow, because, where else am I going to go.

She nurses the coffee in her hands, the tear forgotten and brushed away. Her breakfast remains untouched.

‘You should eat,’ I encourage.

‘I’m not hungry, you have it.’

‘I just lost my appetite.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘No, it’s me who should apologize.’

‘It’s fine.’

‘It’s not and you know it.’

‘Look, l
et’s just forget about it. The warden is swinging by later to check on your progress.’

‘I don’t want to forget about it.’

‘You need to.’

‘What happened to you, Mercy?’

It’s the first time I’ve used her first name and she’s just as shocked as I am that I used it out loud. Her tiny gasp proves as much. I’ve just taken a very big leap off a cliff and there’s no going back. Fuck, she could ask to be removed from her guard duties if she reports sexual harassment from me. I couldn’t think of anything worse – being stuck here with some guy, day in and day out. I’m sure they wouldn’t ever think to give me coffee, or look at me the way she does without even intending to do so.

She sighs, like a huge weight is burdening her tiny shoulders. I want to hug her, comfort her. I know from her putting distance between us
that it’s the last thing she wants. She looks at me, her beautiful eyes hooded by long lashes that do nothing to hide a rawness that consumes her.

‘A little over a year ago my fiancé d
ied. Daniel was a policeman. He was… shot, while on duty. We were supposed to get married that summer. He never made it.’

‘I’m sorry, Mercy, I really am.’

She stands up, grabbing the two breakfast trays. Hate, ferocious anger and stubbornness suddenly fill her pretty features. The happy woman I saw earlier is long gone. This one wants revenge, any way she can get it.

‘You know what? You should be, because it’s people like you who end up killing the good guys like Daniel!’

Her retort is like a huge slap across the face. I’m gutted. No words can say how devastated I am—how wounded my pride is. I watch her as she storms off with the two trays, letting herself out of the library with her pass card.

I hate to admit it to myself, but I fear I’ve just seen the last of Mercy.