––––––––

“Xander,” her voice is honeyed as she sashays into the Warden’s office half an hour after I first entered. Her pleasure at seeing me is evident in the way she lingers on my name. “It makes me immensely happy that you came to your senses so quickly. I was expecting to collect you from the infirmary tomorrow, not the Warden’s office this evening.”

When I don’t give her the response she’s seeking, B turns her charm to the Warden. She uses a syrupier tone on him, one that leaves me with visions of treacle and treachery. “I want to thank you for your generous assistance in this matter, Bill.”

The Warden’s cheeks turn pink as he accepts her thanks with an incline of his head and a fumbling adjustment of his tie. “Anytime I can be of service just let me know, Ma’am. A friend of Harry’s is a friend of mine.” I file the mention of “Harry” away for future reference. Maybe, B has a boss of her own? The Warden continues, after a pause where he appears to muster the courage to lift his gaze to hers. “Nothing brings me more pleasure than seeing wrongs being righted, especially by a beautiful lady such as yourself.”

Long hair is flipped over her shoulder and she manages to smile even wider at his compliment. Tanned fingers with red fingernails pats the back of the Warden’s hand and the atmosphere in the room fills with a palpable level of flirtatious enjoyment.

“Well, I couldn’t have done it without you.”

I’m beginning to detect a pattern with B, and it brings a quick flare of hope with it. She is ripe for wooing and a sucker for a praise. I decide to bide my time, so I can dig a little deeper into her psyche to find a way to use this neediness to my advantage.

“Let’s go, Xander.” She focusses her attention back on me and the spark of happiness that I find in her eyes reiterates my need to get under her skin. Maybe there’s more than one way to create a chink in her armour?

One can only hope.

Like a dutiful puppy dog, I follow her out of the prison. B thrives on the way that we are waved through at each check-point like royalty; her already perfect posture managing to straighten a little more with each deferential “Ma’am” she receives. A winsome smile is sent in my direction each time I’m allowed through behind her without being questioned.

I’m still dressed in my orange overalls. My status as a prisoner should have the guards pouncing. Yet, my presence is ignored as we are permitted to leave unencumbered. She knows I’m impressed, smug satisfaction billowing from her when we find ourselves alone in the parking lot.

I lift my face to the sky and relish the cool nip in the air, the breeze that ruffles my hair, and the light sunrays of the early dusk that beat down on my pale skin. It’s exhilarating and something that I didn’t know I’d missed until I’m standing back out in it, free of handcuffs, armed guards, and electric fences for the first time in two years. 

“Do you see how nice I can make your life?” B asks me across the roof of her ruby-red sportscar. From her dyed blonde hair to the classy but sexy outfit with the expensively tasteful accessories, and now the status symbol automobile, the woman is a walking cliché. “A little more appreciation wouldn’t go astray.”

“I’m very grateful.” The words leave my throat by sheer necessity as my brain revolts at the thought of thanking the She-Devil before me. “I would love to learn how you’ve gained so much influence as a dead woman. Considering you were a nobody when you were alive.”

Her eyes narrow immediately. Flames of fury and red-hot acknowledgement that I have uttered the truth leap within the glare that she sends in my direction. Mentally, I pat myself on the back for the point scored. Outwardly, I refuse to gloat. Every reaction uncovers another piece of the puzzle that makes up my new boss, and I can’t let her know that I’m playing her as much as she’s playing me, until it’s too late for her to stop me.

The car unlocks with a flash of the headlights and two chirps that fill the silence that’s grown since my barb hit home.

“Get in.”

I do as I’m told, sliding into a leather seat that is the first piece of luxury I’ve felt since I was arrested. A sigh of something—contentment, enjoyment, I don’t know—leaves me before I can stop it.

It brings a smile to B’s face and a smart retort to her lips. “I know you’re more appreciative than you’re letting on. That’s why I’m going to choose to forget what you said a moment ago. We need each more than you realise, Xander.”

She starts the engine and lets down the handbrake. When she places her hand on the gear lever to shift the car into drive, I seize my opportunity. I run my fingers over the back of her hand in an erratic pattern, triumph growing within me when I hear her breath hitch in her throat. With gentle pressure, I wrap my hand around her wrist and use it to turn her to face me.

“I am very grateful for all that you’ve done.” Her dark brown eyes flare with an emotion that is quickly hidden, but I catch it. She finds me attractive. “While I’m not exactly pleased with the conditions of my parole, I am thankful that I’ve been released from that hell-hole because of your efforts to do the right thing.”

I know it’s a long shot—mixing part of the truth with the few facts I’ve gleaned from her to see if I can make her more amendable—but it’s all I’ve got at the moment. In a life bereft of allies and any obvious advantages, a man’s got to do what a man’s got to do.

“Thank you.” B uses her free hand to pat my fingers where they hold her wrist before she lays it on the side of my face. A small silence ensues, and I see her pondering what to say next. The surge of hope I felt back in the Warden’s office becomes a tsunami of confidence when I spy nothing but straightforwardness in her expression when she speaks again. “I’m certain that you’ll come to see things my way before long. I have high hopes that our agreement will correct the wrongs that have been rendered the both of us. That is, after all, why we chose you as our partner.”

B’s choice of words strengthens my newfound confidence that she is going to be easier to manipulate than I first thought. My elevation from parolee to partner is testament to that. This may be over quicker than anticipated.

“Do not mistake my good nature for stupidity, Xander.” A light brush of her hand against my cheek brings me back down to earth with a thud. “My tolerance for gameplaying has been pushed to its limit. The plan we have in place will be executed with or without your willing participation, so I’d advise that you act willingly. I’d hate to see anything happen to that adorable little nephew of yours.”

My previous confidence recedes a little, only to return like a rogue wave on a windy beach when I let go of her wrist and lay my hand against the one she has on my face. “Then we agree. I abhor games. I much prefer my enemies see my face when I come for them.”

I hold my breath while I wait to see how she’s going to play my last shot. As always, this enigmatic woman surprises me. Wordlessly, B shakes her hand out from under mine, pushes the car into drive, and drives out of the prison parking lot. I wait for her to threaten me in return, but nothing is forthcoming.

There isn’t any tension in the car as we are inspected on our way out through the final barrier between me and the real world. The guard who grunts his approval for us to leave through the gatehouse barely bothers to glance in my direction. My newly self-appointed partner turns onto the road that leads us back into the city and I lay my head against my seat, so I can attempt to rest during the journey.

My eyelids are on the cusp of becoming too heavy when B ends the quiet.

“I like your style, Xander Barrett. I like it very much.”

A small smile curves my lips. My belief in my ability to even the playing field in this game returns with vengeance.

She likes my style.

That’s ironic—seeing as how she’s going to be receiving my style of justice up close and personal if I have my way.