Love & Contraband

Unwanted Connections

Unwanted Connections

Denisha woke up the next morning with her body feeling physically energized, the aftermath of last night's indulgence still leaving a warm hum in her veins. But mentally? She was drained. The thrill of her secret late-night conversations with Dwayne was starting to weigh on her in ways she hadn't anticipated. What started as innocent chatter had slowly escalated into Dwayne, asking for small favors-picking up items, mailing packages, and collecting small amounts of cash.

Denisha found herself running these errands with a sense of pride, even excitement. It gave her a reason to step into his world to meet his family and friends in West Palm. But as the tasks started piling up, the reality of her involvement began to settle in. She was crossing lines she never thought she would, all because of her infatuation with a man who was locked away behind bars.

The more she ran these errands, the more she realized how deep Dwayne's roots ran in the city. She started recognizing faces and people she had crossed paths with before. One of them was Donald, Dwayne's childhood best friend. They'd drifted apart over the years but had stayed in touch. Donald was every bit the hustler, street-smart, and laser-focused on his money. But Dwayne? He was always the mastermind, the one pulling the strings, even from behind bars.

It was all starting to take a toll on Denisha. She was tired-physically from the running around, mentally from the constant worry. She knew she was in deep, but every time she thought about pulling back, Dwayne's voice would echo in her mind, pulling her right back in.

As she was about to rest her head after yet another exhausting day, a knock on her door disrupted her brief moment of peace. It was charge nurse Watkins, needing her assistance with an unruly inmate in the infirmary. Denisha sighed, mumbling under her breath, "I can't stand this nappy-headed bitch." She knew the inmate was likely rowdy because of Watkins; she had a way of rubbing people the wrong way with her unprofessional and immature behavior.

Dragging herself out of her chair, Denisha followed the nurse to the infirmary. As Watkins worked to change the inmate's bandages, the man started barking at her, his voice loud and filled with disgust. "I seen yo nasty ass, giving CSP Brown head, and I don't want her touching me with them filthy hands." Denisha smirked to herself but quickly warned the inmate to stop talking. The whole situation was a mess, and Denisha could hardly believe how unprofessional most of the staff was. It was frustrating, to say the least.

Just as she was about to put the incident behind her, Denisha's radio crackled to life, urgently calling for assistance on the west side of the jail. Without hesitation, Denisha and the other officers bolted toward the scene, finding two inmates locked in a fierce brawl. The reason? A cell phone.

Denisha had been at the jail for  years and hadn't seen an inmate with a cell phone. But Dwayne? He'd had plenty. The realization hit her like a ton of bricks-she knew exactly where that phone had come from. Her heart pounded as she spotted Burrows across the room, laughing and joking with his co-workers as if nothing was wrong. The inmates would be taken in and questioned about the phones, and all Denisha could think about was protecting Dwayne.

She was already in protective mode, her mind racing with ways to shield him from any more trouble. Dwayne was already facing enough as it was, and the last thing she wanted was for his name to be dragged into this mess. If the inmates ratted him out, they could contact his compound. Denisha felt a fierce protectiveness rising within her, a determination to keep him safe no matter the cost. But deep down, she knew she was playing a dangerous game, one that could unravel everything if she wasn't careful.