Black suit, white shirt, and silver heels. Her hair was twisted up on top of her head—showing off the expanse of her long neck where my canines watered to bite. A pair of black framed glasses stuck out of her blazer breast pocket.

She looked like a sexy librarian...or—

“Elle is my assistant for the day,” Larry explained as he pulled out a chair and sat at the single table. “It was the only way she was allowed in.”

My lips tilted, remembering other times when I’d been his assistant. He’d gotten me into Fishkill countless of times to see Gio—partly to be his helper and note taker but also to nurture the slowly developing friendship between the man I’d fought with on the streets and the man now begging for scraps of news about his brother.

We put aside our petty grievances and discussed Stewie’s progress and intelligence at school.

We bonded over caring for his younger sibling.

We grew up.

Leaving Elle—even though it killed me—I marched to the table and sat. My skin tingled to touch hers. My mouth watered to kiss her again. But I’d already risked Larry’s generosity by slamming her into the wall the second they arrived.

I twisted to look at the camera again. “They’ll have that on tape.” I licked my lips, tasting blueberry lip-gloss. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

Larry opened a folder holding the scribbled notes I’d sent him, along with a few computer typed ones from his own homework. “It’ll be on record. There’s no way for someone to alter the footage—not the lowly guy I have an understanding with anyway. But rest assured, they won’t use it.” He pulled his pen from his pocket, chuckling. “However, don’t go thinking you can get away with sex. I’m not leaving and I can’t go without my lovely assistant. Besides, screwing my staff would most likely end up on some dodgy prison porn site that would go viral and screw you over even more.”

Dropping my hands below the table, I did some subtle rearranging of my hard-on. “I know you have a point but being in this room with Elle. Shit, you’re asking a starving man not to eat the banquet.”

Elle blushed, pulling out the last seat next to Larry. Her hand snuck across the table.

I snatched it, holding it sweetly as if we were first-time boyfriend and girlfriend rather than the reality that if I didn’t hold on, I’d drown in this motherfucking place.

It took a lot to keep my cool and pretend nothing bothered me here. That I could handle whatever they threw at me. That I didn’t give a shit about Arnold Twig and his lying sack of shit son, Sean.

But with Elle here...it made me softer somehow. Showed me how much I bottled up and how much I wished I could just run and be free.

Elle’s gaze narrowed on my lower jaw where the fading bruise of the beating two weeks ago remained. “You’re hurt.”

I shrugged, down playing it as Larry narrowed his gaze. He knew full well what went on in places like this. Elle had no idea. I squeezed her fingers. “I’m fine.”

Her blue eyes glossed with tears. “But someone hurt you.”

“I’m okay, Elle. Don’t. Don’t torture yourself.” My voice echoed with need for her to listen to me, obey me. She’d go mad if she didn’t. “It’s nothing that I can’t handle.”

And it was true.

Ever since the beating, I hadn’t been touched. Sure, I’d endured a few curse words and stolen lunches, but overall, my strategy of staying low and alone was working. Half of the inmates couldn’t be assed with me and the rest were slightly afraid, wondering why I was so quiet.

“Why did they hit you?” Her gaze danced over my face, latching onto a healing scratch on my neck. “Can we do something?”

My heart raced in fear of her making things worse. “Don’t do a thing. It’s my fight. Not yours.”

Larry backed me up. “He’s fine, Elle. Leave him be.”

She sniffed, anger replacing her sadness. “I hate all of this.”

“Me, too.” My joints splintered to drag her over the table and into my lap. To kiss her and delete the awful cluttered space between us.

Larry caught my wistful expression. I wished he hadn’t.

“It’s going to be okay, Penn.” He patted my arm, smiling at mine and Elle’s joined hands. “You’re doing great.”

Once upon a time, I hadn’t trusted him when he’d said the exact same thing. I’d laughed in his face. This time, I merely accepted his assurance with a grateful nod.

Elle brought my hand to her lips, kissing me quick. “I positively hate seeing you in here.”

Her passion and affection electrocuted my heart.

She gave me the power to keep fighting.

Returning the favor, I ran my lips over her knuckles. “Same. Prison doesn’t suit you.”

She shuddered, sucking in a breath similar to what she did when I first entered her.

My body hardened, my voice softened, my promise beckoned to be believed. “Don’t worry, I’ll be out soon. And when I am, I’m never letting you go again.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Elle

THE LOCUSTS FOUND me the moment I stepped out of jail.

“Ms. Charlston, can you confirm you’re engaged to Penn Everett? Do you know he’s served time for three other incidents?”

Larry gathered me in a hug as we walked swiftly to David and the Range Rover. David once again barreled through the journalists, his large mass shoving people out of the way with no apology. Once in front of us, he cleaved the crowd like a giant snow plow, giving us a clear path.