Emily stood beneath the hot spray of the shower and let the water beat down on her. She was so exhausted she felt as if her bones were melting. Her mind reeled with everything that had occurred in the last hours. She couldn’t believe she was on the run for her life. That the people she’d spent the last three years working for were trying to kill her. That those same people were responsible for unspeakable acts of torture—and murder. That a man she was insanely attracted to was some kind of secret agent for some obscure government agency she’d never heard of.
Shutting off the squeaky old faucets, she stepped out of the shower and quickly dried herself. Her panties and bra were neatly draped over the shower rod, freshly washed. A white terry-cloth robe hung on a hook at the back of the door. Trying not to think of how she was going to feel facing Zack in nothing more than a robe, she slipped it on and knotted the belt at her waist.
“You’re just tired, Monroe,” she muttered as she wrapped her hair in a towel.
Not giving herself time to think about it, she swung open the door. The sight of Zack standing at the window without a shirt stopped her cold. Emily had seen plenty of male chests in her time. More often than not, she wasn’t the least bit affected one way or another. But Zack Devlin’s chest was a work of art. A masterpiece sculpted by an artist with an eye for sensual male beauty.
She felt his gaze on her as she moved to the table, but for the life of her she couldn’t look at him. She didn’t trust her expression not to give her away. Her cheeks were burning with a blush she couldn’t seem to control. She couldn’t stop thinking about what it had been like to kiss him….
“We need to talk,” he said.
His words brought her out of her erotic reverie, and Emily glanced his way. He was looking at her as if she were a puzzle far beyond his capabilities. She could feel the zing of her pulse, her heart thumping against her ribs.
Tying the robe more tightly about her body, she sank onto the bed. For the first time it registered that there was only one bed in the room. That they were exhausted and badly in need of sleep if they were going to keep going. That she was suddenly filled with a strange sense of anticipation….
“I want you to tell me exactly why you became suspicious of Lockdown, Inc.,” he said. “Only, I need details, dates and names this time.”
“We’ve already been over this.”
“We’re missing something. Figuring out what that is is the only way we’re going to get through this.” Zack crossed to her and sat down on the bed. “I need to know everything, even if you think it may not be important.”
He wasn’t touching her, but Emily could feel the heat from his body, her nerves tingling in response. Steeling herself against feelings she didn’t want to have, she folded her hands and looked down at them. “As a corrections officer, you get to know the inmates,” she said. “Seeing them every day, you know which ones are trouble and which ones just want to do their time in peace. Even though we’re trained never to get involved in any way with the inmates, the corrections officers are human beings. We talk to them. We get to like some of them.”
She raised her gaze to Zack’s, wondering if he could understand, if he had ever seen the corrections officers as anything but agents of humiliation and cruelty. “I was assigned to Big Jimmie Jack’s cell block. In the three months I was there, I got to know him. I liked him, Zack. Even though he was a criminal, a lifer, he had lots of redeeming qualities I couldn’t help but respond to. He had a good sense of humor. He was polite and liked to read Keats. He was a talented artist and painted several oil paintings a month. He was one of the ones who just wanted to do his time in peace. Over the months we developed a mutual respect for each other.” Remembering, she pursed her lips. “Then one day he just disappeared. This big, burly, healthy guy. None of the other officers knew what had happened to him. I checked the infirmary report, but he wasn’t listed.”