“Are you sure?” he asks softly. “Maybe you saw what you wanted to see.”
“Yes.” Tears fill my eyes. I reach for the bottom bunk for support and sit down hard. “Yes. I’m sure. I don’t care if everyone thinks I’m crazy. Right now Baby is probably being strapped to a table, undergoing who knows what. I won’t give up hope. I can’t.”
His brow furrows as he looks at me, the tears running down my cheeks. “Okay, okay. We’ll get you a bike.”
Gruffly, he pats my shoulder, then, realizing his roughness, takes more care when he awkwardly sits next to me on the bunk. “It’s gonna be okay,” he says, looking at me for a moment before gently pulling me to him.
I sink into him, immediately feeling comforted by his warmth. Despite the fact that we’ve spent a week together nonstop, I haven’t been this close to him. His arms and chest are solid muscle; the material of his shirt is soft and clean. I know I should pull away—but it feels so safe here. I take a deep breath and exhale.
He holds me closer, burying his face in my hair.
“Amy . . .” I feel him move away and angle his head toward my face. Our lips are so close now. I pause, wanting to give in, but then quickly pull away.
“We’ve got to go,” I mumble, shaking my head. I begin to ready my pack. I don’t look at Jacks, but I can feel his frustration. His disappointment. The silence is thick.
“Look,” I say finally. “I just don’t know what’s going to happen, and my main priority is—”
He shakes his head. “You don’t need to explain,” Jacks says coldly, standing to retrieve his keys from the table. “It’s fine. Let’s just help you find this Ken guy so that I can get my space back.”
I stare at him as he steps out of the cell. I follow, my face burning. I barely register that Brenna is standing in the hall until she calls out loudly.
“Hey, lovebirds,” she yells, a wicked gleam in her eye. “I was just coming to find you, Jacks. Got some details on my tat I need working out.”
“Can’t right now. We’re going to get her a bike,” he says, nodding toward me. “So she can leave.”
“Oh.” She gives us a strange look. “Well, hate to step in, but seems like you two could use a break from each other.” She turns to me and grins. “I’ll take you to get that bike.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea—” Jacks starts.
Brenna cuts him off. “We ain’t exactly helpless.”
I smile, despite myself.
“Whatcha got to pay him with, though?” Brenna asks, and turns to me.
“I’ve got enough to trade,” I tell her, patting my bag. Jacks already told me that I could trade the batteries and charger for a good bike. I also have that half bottle of vodka I scavenged. . . . Alcohol is another commodity that is in high demand in Fort Black. I start out the door.
Jacks grabs my arm. “I’m sorry,” he says.
“I get it.” I shrug him off. “Close quarters.”
He nods and steps back. “Be safe.”
“I’ll take care of her, Jacks,” Brenna tells him, and we start off. “Geez, you’d think he didn’t know you can take care of yourself. I mean . . . we saw you kick ass. Jacks is such an old woman!”
“I heard that!” Jacks shouts after us.
Brenna just laughs loudly. “I call it like I see it!” she yells back over her shoulder.
We walk down the stairs in silence, but as soon as the door to Cellblock B closes behind us, Brenna says, “Seems like I walked in on the middle of something.”
“No, it was nothing.” We skirt the edge of the yard and head to the Arena. I look around for any sign of Tank, but I don’t see him. I can’t help feeling that I’m being watched, and I try to shake off my paranoia.
“Jacks is a good guy. And there ain’t a lot of good guys around this place.” After a pause, she says, “Let’s find you a getaway vehicle.”
We walk past Cellblock A over to the Arena, where Brenna calls to a tall black man hovering just inside the fence. “Dwayne!”
“Brenna!” He walks over to us and smiles easily. He’s trim but not emaciated like some of the people who live in the exercise yard shantytown. “I should be mad at you. You made me lose a package of batteries last week on your fight.”
“You should know better than to bet against me,” she tells him with a grin. “You know I can’t be beat.” She pulls me closer. “This is Amy. She wants a bike.”
He looks me over, taking in the ill-fitting sweats that Jacks lent me.
“She got something to trade?” he asks doubtfully.
“This is Jacks’s girl. Of course she has something to trade.”
He nods and flashes a toothy smile. “All right then, follow me.” He cuts toward the back of the prison, past the cellblocks to the backyard. We walk between the back building and back wall. Out of habit, my eyes scan it, searching for Ken, but as usual, he’s not there. Just a scattering of people leaning against the far corner and a single guard escorting them one by one through a door.