Arresting Attraction: How To Create A Criminal

Chapter Eighteen

Charlie was walking ahead of me.

His large shoulders stood out, as they formed beneath his shirt. Creases emphasised the taunt muscle as he walked, swinging his arms, high priority. The dirty cotton was rolled at the sleeves, as his biceps were extended back. His hands sat on the small of his back, one hand holding the other's wrist, comfortably.

I wished to heaven and back that those hands were cuffed.

A harness was strung over his shoulders, doubling around his chest with gun hostlers. I'd seen him tuck two Beretta's into the pockets. They swung proudly off his chest, asserting power, asserting dominance, asserting importance.

Charlie looked back at me, only slightly. His eyes were cold as they saw me following, and proceeded to look away, ahead of him.

I held my body. Cold fear was running through my veins, as we moved through hallways, back towards Max Hold 1, back towards my eternal fortress.

The inmate hadn't offered me any clothing, or covering, as we left. I was still covered in blood — none of it mine — and spit. My hair was tangled at my neck, I could feel it. My bra and underpants were all protected me from the lack of warmth radiating through the concrete walls.

My arms were tucked around myself, partially concealing myself, partially protecting myself, partially warming myself. But, I was out of luck.

Charlie passed through a hallway. The sounds of talking inmates caught my attention, as I peered around him, glancing at the ten or so inmates now quiet, facing us.

"Morning, boys," Charlie pipped, never once changing stride.

I sped up behind him, closing the distance, trying to avoid the hungry gazes of the other inmates.

As we passed, a couple of inmates commented on my appearance.

"You wouldn't mind if we take her? She's already damaged goods," one said, pinching my ass as I passed him.

Charlie chuckled to himself, but made no point of slowing.

"Oh, come on, Boss. Promise I'll look after her," Another grinned, grabbing me around the waist and tugging me towards his chest.

His gun dug into me, and I felt my hands move towards it, slowly.

"Scarlett."

I looked over at Charlie.

The taller man had stopped. He faced me and tilted his head, curious. He was warning me.

I threw my hands out, making a point of my innocence, as the inmate that was holding me, let me go, threw me to the ground as though I was nothing. And, that was it. I was nothing.

Charlie waited until I helped myself up. He didn't offer a hand, or help, merely watching me through half closed eyes. I wished a hundred times over I could hear his thoughts. I wished a hundred times over he was dead.

My glare was pronounced as I stood up and dusted my hands over legs. The inmates eyes followed my hands, before he met mine. His face was still, emotionless.

And, I proceeded to walk, my back hunched as I passed him.

It didn't take long for Charlie to catch up to me. And, when he did, he made a point of his anger.

Throwing me against the concrete wall, my back arched, trying to push away the cold, push away the pressure against my bruises. Charlie didn't care. He pressed his forearm against my throat, and brought his face to mine.