He looked over my face as if looking for an explanation, but I couldn’t give him one. I couldn’t trust anyone anymore. How did I know he wasn’t one of the people who wanted me dead? Sure, we had a great working relationship; one that felt more like father and daughter than doctor and nurse, but money was money, and money made the world go ‘round.

I went back into the unit, my eyes clashing with X’s, and he begged me with his expression to leave. I knew it was what he wanted, but I couldn’t. Not yet, at least. There was still so much to do. I had to free him, and I wasn’t sure I could do that outside the prison walls.

His eyes followed me and gave me a tiny bit of comfort. At least I knew there was one person in the room who would protect me. He wouldn’t let anyone lay a finger on me. He’d promised me that much.

I avoided getting close to him for the rest of my shift. I knew what I would hear if I did, and I didn’t want to have to tell him no. I couldn’t quit yet, and he wouldn’t understand that. I wanted to be with him. In order for that to happen, I had to clear his name. If that meant sticking around the prison for a little longer, I would. Even if it meant life or death.

When he was finally released to go back to his cell, his eyes consumed my face and I felt sick from the amount of worry and fear I saw in his eyes. He looked like a trapped animal. I wanted to go to him, to soothe his worried brow and kiss him sweetly, but I didn’t.

Instead, I watched him go, shackled and cuffed, secretly hating that I couldn’t keep him with me. It wasn’t until he was out of sight that I felt completely unsafe. He was my safety net, and he’d just been pulled from underneath me.

THE NEXT MORNING as I pulled into my apartment, I made sure to lock my door and the deadbolt. I usually didn’t worry about the deadbolt, but I felt better once it was secured. I walked through my apartment and checked all the windows. They were locked, and no one had tampered with them. I took a long, hot shower, enjoying the feel of the steam across my back, and I thought of X and the way his eyes had followed me throughout my entire shift.

He’d watched me like a lion ready to devour his food. It pained me and haunted me, knowing that he was going to spend his day worried about what was happening. I imagined he didn’t like to feel helpless, but in a lot of ways, he was.

As I emerged from the bathroom, I relished in the fact that I was on night shift. I liked to think there weren’t many killers who were okay with killing in broad daylight, which meant I felt safe alone in my apartment in the middle of the day. I walked to the closet and laid out my nurses’ scrubs for that night’s shift, pulling on a pair of shorts and a tank to sleep in.

Before I closed my closet door, my eyes landed on the box I kept on the top shelf. I hadn’t touched it in years. Reaching up, I pulled it down, feeling the weight of it. I’d forgotten how heavy it was. Laying it on my bed, I flipped open the lock and pulled the top open gently. My fingers moved over my dad’s old service revolver, and the cold steel stung my fingertips. It was a thing of beauty and as long as I had it by my side, I felt as safe as if my dad were there with me, too.

He loved his gun almost as much as he loved me. When I closed my eyes, I could still hear him talking about it.

“You have to take care of the things that take care of you, and this gun takes care of me. What happens if I neglect it and I need it? It might not shoot.”

His words echoed through my head, irony flooding over me as I smiled.

I needed to take care of the things that took care of me. X took care of me. He protected me, and he had never once neglected me. He had taken a chance warning me, but I couldn’t heed that warning. If they were going to kill me, let them. I couldn’t hide in fear my whole life, watching over my shoulder. I had to stay and help him.

I picked the gun up and began to clean it the way my dad had taught me many years ago. When I finished, I loaded it and set it in the drawer beside my bed. Having it beside me made me feel more secure and I finally was able to crawl in bed and sleep. Even if my life was being threatened, I had to get some sleep. I had a shift to work, and I had to be on my guard.

CHAPTER 20

LYLA

WORK WAS BORING. There had been a couple of fights and minor injuries, but it was nothing like the past few weeks. As I loaded up my tray with insulin and sharps, I felt a cold sweat breaking out across my neck. I usually never worried about making my rounds through the prison, but now I did. Every eye would be on me, and inmates outnumbered the COs fifty to one. Even if I managed to get a trustworthy escort, he wouldn’t be able to hold off someone who wanted to kill me.