Her breath caught. Her eyes flicked to his. She couldn’t help it. She had to take a quick peek. He was watching her like a hawk as she worked. She pasted a brittle smile on her face, her heart racing faster than a jackrabbit in the face of his scrutiny. “Why do you say that? I’m here, aren’t I?”
Was she putting out an I--don’t--want--to--be--here vibe? If that was the case, she hoped Dr. Walker wasn’t picking up on it. Of the eight nurses that worked under him and the other three doctors at the practice, she was the only one who volunteered to join him in this latest charity project. She wanted to be essential to the doctor and the practice. Especially since Nancy, the senior staff nurse, was retiring next year. Briar was gunning for that position, and she knew that having a good attitude was crucial.
Satisfied she had wrapped enough gauze around him, she snipped off the end and taped it into place. With a final pat, she moved back from the bed. “I’ll get you something for pain.”
She didn’t wait to hear if he thanked her. Eyeing the clock on the way to the supply cabinet, she told herself she only had a few more hours to go until she left this place. Then another week until she had to return. A week of normalcy. Back to her safe job with promising chances for advancement. Her comfortable town house. Her freezer full of Cherry Garcia and a DVD chock full of her favorite shows. That was the life she had created. This place didn’t fit into that life.
By the time she had to return here, Callaghan would be gone. She probably wouldn’t have to see him again. Who knew? Maybe they would find a full--time physician in the next week and she and Dr. Walker wouldn’t have to come back at all.
Glancing around the grim room with its gray walls and gray--blanketed beds currently occupied by one fierce--looking inmate with hard eyes that tracked her every move, that was just fine with her.
FOUR
EIGHT YEARS, TWO months and six days.
That was how long it had been since a woman voluntarily touched him.
The nurse wasn’t the prettiest woman Knox had ever seen, but he could safely say he had not seen anything as attractive inside these walls. Ever.
Even though she downplayed her looks, she had a curvy body under the scrubs and so much hair his hands could get lost in it for days. The brown mass was shot with gold and russet streaks. All that hair exploded out of a tight ponytail that looked ready to bust out of the elastic band. Yeah, she had her assets.
His gaze followed her as she moved around the room, never once looking at him. And she wouldn’t. Not unless she had to. He knew that much about her already. She was a good clean girl who wanted nothing to do with a filthy convict like him.
She had treated him civilly, but he knew what she thought of him. Her distaste was written all over her face, in the purse of her lips and the wrinkle of her nose. In the way her hands shook when she had to touch him.
He tried not to let it get to him. After eight years, his skin was made of thicker stuff than that. What did he care what one narrow--minded woman thought of him?
He forced his gaze off her. Inmates soon started arriving in a steady flow. Two at a time. After their initial frisk, the nurse talked to one and took his vitals while the doctor conducted an examination of the other.
She was nervous. Her movements as fidgety as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs. He felt his lips pull into a frown. That would be her downfall. In a place like this, you needed composure. At least pretend you were fine.
The others sensed her nervousness, too. Their hard faces watched her. Hunger avid in their eyes, animals that had gone too long without meat. Even old Hatcher, who had spent the bulk of his life in here and walked with shuffling steps, his back stooped over, watched her like she was his next meal.
Knox’s eyes drifted back to her. He observed her from where he lay in the bed, tension coiling inside his gut. News of her would travel fast. Like blood in the water, it would attract more of them.
A few women trickled in and out of Devil’s Rock over the years. Personnel and staff. There had been that counselor, Dr. Sheppard, who interviewed him and a bunch of inmates, trying to get them to open up and talk about the things they had done that put them behind bars. Sheppard had been over fifty, but other guys requested meetings with her once they heard she had nice legs. Hood rats and skinheads alike, everyone suddenly wanted to pour out their hearts for a chance to check her out and catch a whiff of her perfume.
Not Knox. Those meetings had been a misery for him. All that talking. Why did he do what he did? Did he regret it? Would he change his actions if he could?
Christ. He didn’t need that shit. He knew why he had done what he did, and yeah, he regretted it. He’d hurt a lot of -people. He felt bad about that, but there was no going back, so why talk about it?
There was only moving forward. Surviving this place. Day after day after day. The end goal was to get himself and his brother the fuck out in one piece. That was the present. The past didn’t amount to shit.