Beth

 

“How the hell do these things keep happening?” Dr. Spector asked incredulously as he stitched the hole in Hank's arm. He'd already taped up the busted ribs and set the broken nose, but he'd expressed some concern about the possibility of internal bleeding after seeing how Hank's kidneys had been pummeled.

 

Beth watched as Grant and Lockley, the infirmary's orderlies, took the injured Sinners to a row of beds to await treatment. All of the men had been given cheap medical gowns, since they'd been brought in naked. They were glaring at her sullenly, and she heard one of them murmur about how “the white boy gets patched up first.” The truth was, Spector had determined that Hank's injuries were the most severe, and therefore required the most immediate attention.

 

“First that man Cartwright gets worked over after lights-out,” Spector continued, shaking his head. “Then Manolo Torres ODs, despite the fact that there was no evidence he was a drug user. And now this mess. Why on earth do we even have guards in this place, if they can't or won't stop these terrible things from happening?”

 

He finished the stitches and taped a bandage in place, gesturing to the orderlies. “Grant, take Hall over to one of those beds and bring Morales over. That shiv doesn't look like it went in far enough to hit any organs, but the pieces will still have to come out.”

 

“You can't put Hall next to those men,” Beth insisted. She kept her voice low so the Sinners couldn't hear. “In fact, you can't keep him in the main area of the infirmary at all. He needs to be kept separate in one of the secure rooms so no one can get to him.”

 

Spector eyed Beth for a long moment, then took his glasses off and polished them slowly. “Officer...D'Amato, is that right?”

 

“Yes.”

 

He nodded. “Officer, I could have gone into private practice. Instead, I decided to work here, where I could heal the people who need it the most—the ones most doctors don't care about. Every day, these men try to involve me in their games and schemes, but I stay out of it all. No matter what horrors they inflict upon each other or what their reasons are, I just patch them up as best I can.”

 

Beth opened her mouth to speak, but Spector held up a hand to silence her.

 

“Even so, I hear things. It's common knowledge, for example, that Captain Butler's loyalties are to the Aryans, along with half the guards under him. And it's also fairly well-known that since you started working here, you've been doing favors for the Aryans on his behalf. And now Butler sets some Sinners loose on Hall, and you step in to save his life...” Spector shook his head. “I don't know who's working for whom here, or to what end. What's more, I don't want to know. It's not my job to keep track of everyone's agendas and shifting affiliations. But whatever's going on, you're clearly involved somehow, and I'm not inclined to trust you or assume you have my patients' best interests at heart.”

 

“I see your point,” Beth said. “I do. And you don't know me, and you have no reason to trust me. So all I can do is trust you enough to tell you that I've known this man for a long time, and he means a lot to me. He's been dragged into all of these gangs' bullshit against his will. He tried to do the right thing and stay out of it, and now he's got a target on his back. If he's kept with the rest of your patients, one of the Sinners will almost certainly kill him, or else one of the Aryans will, or even one of the guards. I'm all he has left in here. I'm the only one who's looking after him and trying to keep a two-year stretch for assault from becoming a death sentence. He doesn't deserve that. He's no saint, not even close, but he hasn't done anything he deserves to die for. You don't have to get involved in any of this...you're right, it's not your job. But you can help me save his life. Please, I'm begging you, just keep him in a secure room until he's well enough to go back to his cell. Don't let anyone in to see him, even Butler or the other guards. Please.”

 

Spector considered this for a moment, then called out to Grant again. “Take Hall to secure room 2, please.” He turned to Beth. “He should be waking up fairly soon, if you want to wait and speak with him. Please don't make me regret this decision, Officer.”

 

Grant placed Hank into a wheelchair and brought him into one of the small white rooms. He lifted Hank into bed with a grunt, handcuffed Hank's left wrist to the metal rail next to it, and left, closing the door behind him.

 

Beth stood, waiting.

 

Her uniform was still damp from the showers, her body was still quivering slightly from the fight with the Sinners, and her throat was filled with the coppery taste of adrenaline. When she'd seen the huge gang members standing over Hank, she'd swung into action without a thought for her own safety. Now that it was over, she couldn't help but think of all the different outcomes that could have occurred. She was amazed that she'd been able to overpower so many of them, even armed with a baton.

 

Where had that strength and fearlessness come from?

 

As if in answer to her silent question, Hank's eyes fluttered open and he looked up at her.

 

“You saved me,” he said immediately.

 

“Yeah, I, uh...guess I did.”

 

She shifted her weight nervously. Hank's expression was unreadable, and his voice was toneless. Would he be angry at her for risking herself for him? Would he be ashamed that she had come to his rescue?

 

Hank took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, as though trying to collect his strength. “Before. The stairwell. Those things I said to you. I was wrong. About...all of it. You're stronger than I thought. You're not...I don't...you're not just one more thing for me to worry about in here. Seeing you every day has made it easier for me. I think about what happened between us at the bar, and I hate myself so much, because if I hadn't done what I did afterward we'd have had a real chance. To be happy. Together. And I fucked it all up, I fucked everything up...”

 

Beth touched his hand gently. “No, you didn't. We can still find a way to be together.”

 

“How?”

 

“I don't know. But we will. Somehow.”

 

“This place...”

 

“Shh. This place won't take it away from us. We won't let it. We'll survive. We'll find a way out of this together. I promise.”

 

Before Hank could say anything more, Beth leaned over and kissed him, her fingertips stroking his hair. His tongue met hers eagerly, the comforting familiarity of his taste slowly filling her mouth. He tried to reach up for her with both arms, but his left wrist was still chained to the bed.

 

“Relax,” Beth breathed. “I'll take care of everything.”

 

Beth kept kissing Hank, her lips caressing his jaw, his neck, his chest. She slipped a hand down over his crotch and felt him grow hard almost instantly.

 

She reached up to unbutton her shirt, pulling her bra cup down below her right breast to expose it. Her nipple was erect and she took Hank's left hand, lifting it and placing it under her shirt. His rough fingers traced lines across her breast, his thumb circling her nipple. He kept his eyes locked on hers the entire time. The look in them was tender and full of longing.

 

“Touch me again,” he said.

 

Beth pushed his medical gown aside and put her hand around his cock, more firmly this time. It grew larger against her palm, and she put her thumb and forefinger around the tip, sliding them down to the base of the shaft and back up again. He was so warm and firm at the same time, like living stone. She continued to stroke him slowly, and he let out a moan.

 

“Remember to keep your voice down,” she whispered with a smile. “We don't want anyone barging in on us.”

 

Hank nodded. “Just don't stop.”

 

She kept running her fingers up and down, feeling the hot blood coursing through his veins. Her fingertips fondled his balls, and she saw rows of goosebumps appear on his skin as he shivered with delight.

 

“God, that feels so good,” he sighed. “I've missed your hands on me.”

 

“They've missed you too,” she purred.

 

“I want to taste you.”

 

Beth chuckled quietly. “That's going to be a little tricky with your broken nose. But I think I can give you something to tide you over.”

 

She unbuckled her belt and pulled down the zipper on her pants, sliding her hand down into her panties. Kissing and touching him had already made her wet, and she pushed two fingers inside herself, relishing the feeling of her own fingertips gliding against her clit on the way in. Then she pulled them out again, offering them to Hank.

 

He rubbed his lips against them first, then brought his head forward, taking them in his mouth. His tongue slid against them as he savored her.

 

“How do I taste?” she teased.

 

“You're so sweet, Beth...you taste so good...”

 

Beth giggled, withdrawing her hand from him. She kicked off her shoes and pulled her pants down, shoving them aside. She wished she could take everything off for him—she wanted to let him enjoy the sight of her naked body, the way she'd enjoyed his while he showered. But what they were doing was already risky enough, and if there was any chance of it happening again while they were both in here, she knew she'd have to minimize their chances of being caught.

 

She climbed onto the bed carefully, trying not to move it around too much in case it jangled his broken ribs. She knew she'd have to do most of the work, given his injuries and restraints.

 

That was fine with her.

 

She positioned herself over Hank, straddling him. Her hands caressed his shoulders, but she tried not to put too much of her weight forward onto him. She could feel his cock quivering between her thighs, brushing against her soaked panties. In a perfect world, she would take her time, tantalizing him, relishing this moment.

 

But this wasn't a perfect world. This was Bluebonnet, and if she wanted him, she knew she'd have to have him quickly.

 

She pulled the narrow strip of fabric aside to expose her pussy and lowered herself onto him, feeling him push up into her like a rocket ship propelling itself into the atmosphere. He gasped, his body tightening under her in a spasm of ecstasy. Even broken and chained down, he still seemed to have so much power behind him as he drove himself upward hungrily.

 

She pushed herself down onto him more insistently until their hips were locked together, thrusting up and down in a single, perfect rhythm. The sounds of their heavy breathing filled the room, and Beth resisted the urge to cry out. Even here, in this place of violence and misery, she realized that she was still feeling the most intense pleasure of her life. She felt all of the fear and hopelessness drain from her, replaced with something pure and radiant and lovely.

 

The lips of her pussy flexed and clenched around his shaft. Her clit was throbbing so hard she felt like she might burst into flames at any moment, dissolving into a pile of ashes only to be reborn again and again, like a phoenix.

 

She'd saved him.

 

And now he was saving her.

 

Beth heard a low, sensual growl deep in Hank's throat, and she felt his climax just moments before her own. As they drenched each other in sweat and passion, Beth grabbed one of Hank's pillows and pressed it against her face, letting it mute her screams until she felt drained and delirious.

 

She dismounted quickly, buttoning up her shirt and pulling her pants back on.

 

“Stay,” Hank said. His voice was neutral, but his eyes implored her. She loved the way he looked at her now. It was as though he was truly seeing her for the first time—not as Bib's tag-along niece, not as a convenient distraction from his grief, and not as some new problem he needed to deal with while he was in Bluebonnet.

 

He was looking at her like someone who wanted—needed—to be with her.

 

“I wish I could,” she replied, kissing him on the forehead. “But don't worry. I'll be back as soon as I can.”

 

And with that, she left, her thighs still trembling happily at the memory of his body between them.