He cracked one open when I entered and grinned. “Fancy meeting you here.”
“I was about to say the same thing to you.”
He stood, and I drew him in with one arm for a half hug. He thumped me on the back, and I winced at the jolt to my ribs. He stepped back and grimaced. “Shit. Sorry. I heard you got worked over pretty bad last week.”
“Not as bad as you. How’s the leg? We’ve missed you around here.”
Colt had been injured badly by inmates during the riot. His leg had required surgery, and then physical therapy, so he’d been off work for weeks.
“Probably not going to be running a marathon on it anytime soon, but it’s good enough for me to chase Lacey and Luna around, so that’s all I’m really worried about.”
“Luna’s walking?”
Colt’s grin spread ear to ear. “Yep. She’s not even one yet, but she just got up one day last week and took three steps, and now there is no stopping her. Banjo’s already teaching her how to run with a football.” The pride rolled off him in waves when he spoke about his family,
I slapped him on the shoulder before we sat. “That’s fantastic, man. I’m really glad to hear everything is going well for you guys.” I turned away before my expression could give away how desperately I wished I could say the same for myself. I loved hearing about Colt’s happy home life, but it always reminded me that things were not nearly as rosy for myself. I’d missed Ripley’s first steps. He’d taken them at Norma’s place, after I’d given her full custody of him. At the time it had been necessary for everyone involved, but now, I wished I could turn back the hands of time. Having him out at my cabin with Mae had only reminded me how much I missed that little boy. He was a part of me. He owned a piece of my heart and soul, and hearing about Colt’s child only reminded me that mine wasn’t with me.
I cleared my throat. “Did you see this pile of exits we have to do? Let’s get on with it, huh?”
Colt nodded and made a call down to the offices of Gen Pop where the prisoners who were leaving today were waiting.
The next few hours were filled with paperwork and signatures and stern warnings to not step out of line or they’d be right back here. Of course, the prisoners all promised to be on their best behavior, assuring us they’d never be back. The sad thing was that we knew a lot of them would be.
The pile was dwindling, as was my interest, by the time our shift drew to a close. Colt yammered about college and sports while we waited for our last prisoners of the day to be brought up. I opened the final file and ran my finger along the neat black type that gave all of the prisoner’s details, including their name, date of birth, and the crimes they’d committed to land them in here in the first place.
My blood ran cold.
“You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
I shook my head. “No, it’s fine. This just must be a mistake.”
“If you’re talking about my release, it’s no mistake.” Zye slunk down into the chair opposite my desk and grinned his demented Cheshire cat impersonation. He folded his arms across his chest, his teeth shining, expression smug. “I’m getting out today.”
“Over my dead body.”
He leaned in, elbows on the desktop. “Now, now, Pritchard. As tempting as that invitation is, I don’t plan on doing anything that might land me back in here. That would be a tragedy of epic proportions, wouldn’t it? Because the thing is, while I was in here, my son’s mother was murdered. Now he has no parents. Poor little baby. Isn’t that terrible?”
The bile rose up my throat, thick and sickly, choking me from even replying.
Zye sat back on his chair again and tucked his hands behind his head like he didn’t have a care in the world. “I can’t wait to see the little guy. He is going to be so excited to see his daddy.”
The thought of Ripley calling Zye daddy was almost too much. I gripped the desktop to keep myself from launching across the table and wiping the smug look off his face. My heart ached. Ripley could not be around Zye. He was just a boy who only a couple of weeks ago had fallen asleep with his skinny arms wrapped around my neck, safe and happy in my arms.
He’d ceased to exist if Zye got his hands on him.
Zye was dark to his very core. His jealousy and possessive nature was a danger to anyone who came in contact with him, but especially an impressionable kid who didn’t have a father figure because I’d fucked up.
“He’s never gonna call you daddy.” I bit out the promise, words made of steel.
Zye chuckled. “You talk like you have any say in it. Thing is, you don’t. It’s my name on his birth certificate. It’s my blood running through his veins. I’m getting out of here, and I’m taking my kid. I’m taking what’s mine.”
I pushed back my chair, shaking my head. “I’m not processing this. This is a mistake.” Zye had never been charged with Rory’s murder, but we both knew he’d done it.
“Rowe,” Colt said quietly, leafing through Zye’s paperwork. “This is all above board. He’s been granted parole. We have to let him go. He’s got a place at a halfway house and he’ll have a parole officer up his ass twenty-four seven.”
I knew Colt was trying to reassure me, but he didn’t know Zye like I did. No parole officer was going to keep Zye from taking what he wanted. Not when it came to Rory and Ripley. Not when it came to me.
“No,” I ground out. “No! It’s not happening.” I stormed from the room while Zye laughed. He’d got the better of me, and he was probably enjoying that power trip, but I wasn’t hanging around here anymore.
I wasn’t hanging around waiting for him to snatch Ripley in the middle of the night.
He wasn’t taking my son.
My son.
13
Liam