“Soon, hopefully. He’s at work.”
“Oh.” She reaches for a crossbar and leans against the cell door, revealing a tattoo running up her forearm that reads MAD MIKE’S in purple graffiti letters. “I wanted to talk to him about getting my man another tat, as a present.”
I step closer. She’s in her early forties, at least, her shoulder-length hair a mixture of black and gray. “I can let him know you stopped by.”
“Sure. Mike and I are right next door.” She motions with her head to the cell to the left. “I’m Pam.” She holds her hand through the cell bars and I shake it gingerly. My hands aren’t massive, but hers feel like a child’s. “To be honest, I’ve been dying to find out about you. . . . Word got out pretty quickly that Jacks claimed a girl full of hellfire.”
She grins at me.
“Um, thanks.”
“Jacks is a good man. You’ve got quite a catch there.”
I laugh uncomfortably. The idea of me “belonging” to a man is weird enough, but me “catching” one is just ridiculous. The only other guy I’ve ever had feelings for is Rice. Of course, with him, things were tricky. He lied to me, for one thing. Even if it was for my own protection.
And then there was that kiss.
“. . . Jacks,” Pam is saying.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“I was just saying you’re lucky to have Jacks.”
“And what makes him such a good protector?” I ask.
“Well, the boy can fight like the devil. But really, he’s got the connections. Everyone knows Jacks. The Warden takes care of him. Doc takes care of him.” She laughs lightly.
“Also, people don’t want to mess with the only tattoo artist in all of Fort Black. If anyone got into it with Jacks, he’d have half of the population of Fort Black on them. Everyone here loves their tats.”
“What they lack in common decency, they make up for with a love of tattoos,” I say, meaning for it to be a joke but sounding cold. Pam’s face drops. “Sorry,” I say. “Except for Jacks, people haven’t been exactly welcoming.”
“It’s okay. It’s hard here. I heard you just found Fort Black. You were out there for so long, poor thing.” She backs away. “Just tell Jacks to find me. I’m going to deliver some sewing now, but I’ll be back soon.”
“Hey, can I come with you?” I feel I’ll be safe with this woman. She seems like a veteran. Besides, if I befriend her, I can find out more about Fort Black.
“Sure.” She nods. “I’d like that.”
I grab my Guardian gun from under my pillow and place it in its holster, then check that my knives are in place—one on each thigh. I throw on one of Jacks’s T-shirts and a pair of his shorts. I’m sure I look strange, like I’m wearing black gloves and tights under my clothes, but I don’t care. I need all the protection I can get in this place.
I unlock the cell door with the key Jacks gave me and step out into the hall. Pam walks to her cell and grabs a basket of clothing, locking her door with a giant padlock.
“Is that how you make a living?” I ask, locking my door and walking toward the stairs, past the other cells. “Sewing?”
“Yeah, Mike is a guard. A Florae sniper, mainly, up on the wall. That gets us our accommodation. The sewing just brings in a bit extra.”
“Was he a guard here Before?”
“Nope, a convict. Armed robbery.” She tells me this casually. “I was his defense attorney.”
“And you got together . . . how?” I ask, trying not to sound shocked.
She smiles. “Oh, he was always flirting with me. He swore up and down that he wasn’t guilty, told me I was beautiful and amazing and was sure to get him out. It didn’t go anywhere, of course. How could it? It was a different world then and I was his attorney, not to mention married. Plus I knew enough to be wary of cons. All of them are innocent, I reminded myself, and every one of them thinks any woman they see in here is beautiful and amazing. If they’re lucky enough to see any at all!” She laughs boisterously at her own joke, the lively sound bouncing through the cellblock.
The loudness makes me uncomfortable. I glance back down the walkway and spot a figure lingering by my cell door. It’s not big enough to be Tank, but a surge of alarm runs through me. Could it be Ken? Maybe Kay was able to contact him and tell him I was here. I take a step back toward the cell, but Pam puts her hand on my arm to stop me.
The figure approaches us and I shrink at the man’s leer. He’s not Ken. He’s just another creepy man. He’s so dirty, I can’t tell the color of his skin. He brushes past us a little too closely. Pam steps aside, pushing me against the railing. My skin tingles as he sweeps by, my muscles tensed and ready. He doesn’t do anything but look, though, and is soon gone.