Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

Jackson

It was my fault.

I'd gone too far in my teasing and now I had an injured inmate sitting in the medic station with an icepack strapped to his hand while I was rifling through the unit's first aid kits.

It wasn't every day that we got such a pretty looking inmate moved into the program. More often than not, I was dealing with the kinds of guys that you'd never want to cross paths with on a sidewalk in the middle of the day, let alone take home to your mother.

But this one was different.

With his big brown curious eyes, his soft features, and the unsure way he carried himself, he wasn't the typical kind of felon I worked with.

What could such a pretty young thing like him have done in his past to end him up here of all places?

Caught up in a gang, maybe?

The innocent ones always did. And then they ended up doing something stupid and landing themselves behind bars.

A. Gonzalez.

That was the name stitched onto the front of his jumpsuit.

A soft whine, along with a single long scratching drag against it, had me turning toward the door. Shaking my head, I leaned far enough over in the small room to catch the door handle and tug it open. Roxy, my golden, trotted in happily, her tail wagging.

"What, you thought we left you out, huh," I said with a chuckle, and closed the door again.

She panted at me and then turned to our newest companion—Gonzalez.

"You afraid of dogs at all?" I asked him, craning my head back around to look at him tucked into the only chair inside of the medic station. He looked so small in his large oversized jumpsuit, only furthering my curiosity on why the hell he was here.

"Um, not usually?" he said, eying Roxy warily.

"Don't worry, she's not trained to take down inmates or anything if they decide to run—unless it's after dark." It was meant as a teasing note, but Gonzalez seemed to take it a little more seriously than I meant for it to land, because he stiffened up immediately. "I'm kidding."

Still, he didn't seem to relax at all. He only stared guardedly at my dog.

I really needed to stop teasing this poor kid.

However, the small squawk he let out when Roxy trotted over to him and sat down in order to rest her head in his lap had me smiling. Her doe-eyes glanced up at Gonzalez curiously, watching him as he leaned fully back in his chair to give himself a bit of distance.

"She's a softie. Especially if you feed her scraps from the mess hall," I said, trying to keep the amusement out of my voice.

What I needed to do was to keep my own distance. Getting chummy with an inmate spelled disaster in too many fonts to name.

"Noted," he mumbled.

I didn't have the heart to tell him that Roxy wasn't usually one to hang out around the inmates, choosing to keep a wide berth between herself and them. I wasn't sure when that behavior of hers started, but I didn't really blame her for it.

The guys who came through here weren't the violent type by any means, at least not outwardly, but a criminal always had a certain air about them that was a little off-putting. Despite that, though, Gonzalez didn't seem to possess that trait at all. In fact, it seemed like the complete opposite.

Something that Roxy, along with myself, seemed to have picked up on.

"Here we go," I said, finding the right kit and tugging it off the shelf. "I should've grabbed your hand away from that flame sooner. That's on me."

Truth be told, I'd been distracted— heavily —by the enraptured look on Gonzalez's face as he watched his flame turn from small embers into something more tangible. I don't know why, maybe it was because of those doe-eyes or maybe it was that slight smile that he wore. But either way, he'd gotten hurt because of my negligence, and to me, that was just unacceptable.

These guys may have only volunteered to be here in order to win favor with their parole boards, but that didn't mean I was supposed to be lax in my own job at teaching them the proper safety measures when it came to dealing with fire in any capacity.

"It's fine," he mumbled, scooting forward while trying to not disturb my dog.

I grabbed the rolling stool and sat down on it before rolling over to where he was. The small rolling tray next to him was the next thing I grabbed while placing the first aid kit on top of it and popping the top open. It was packed nicely, thanks to Riviera, who'd been in a manic mood all last week while she cleaned the entire station before any of our inmates were dropped off today.

I grabbed the ice pack off his hand and assessed the burn. It wasn't too deep, thankfully caught early, but it definitely was hurting him. The middle was a bright red while the edges were a softer pink. Thankfully, no blisters had formed, though.

"How bad is it?" he asked, looking down at his palm.

"You'll live." I snatched the gauze out of the kit and began to unravel it. "It's a Christmas miracle."

He stared at me curiously in response, which was only encouraging me further to play with him.

I liked a challenge, which in this case, was going to be my downfall. This inmate didn't need me poking at him with my own brand of weird humor.

He was a felon, in prison for something serious, even if it was non-violent. Getting mixed up with that was both stupid and morally egregious. Not just for me, but for him, too.

But damn, was I forming a soft spot.

His hands flexed slightly when I spread the burn cream over the wound, coating it generously. Even if a burn didn't look severe on the outside, it didn't mean it wasn't hurting like one and wasn't worse underneath the first few layers of skin.

That was what sucked about burn wounds. Until they looked like your skin was actually melting off, not many people took the pain seriously.

Gonzalez let out a soft sigh once the cream began to soak into his skin.

"How's that feel?" I asked, already knowing the answer.

"Better. I didn't think I had my hand on it that long for it to hurt this bad."

"Well, we're warm blooded. So, even if you didn't, it doesn't matter. Your body's cooking it from the inside, which is why it hurts."

"Oh." He blinked, finally looking at me again. "Really? That's crazy."

"The body's a weird enigma."

He was quiet as I dressed his burn the rest of the way, making sure to keep the gauze tight enough to not fall off while moving but not so much that it would irritate his healing skin underneath. A fine and delicate line to tread that I was thankfully well versed in.

"There we go. Good as new." I reached over and patted Roxy's head.

Standing up, I collected the kit and stored the unused materials back inside of it before latching it once more.

I probably should've taken more of my time dressing his hand, using it to talk with him as much as I could. Having sixteen other inmates in the program, I wasn't going to get any specific one-on-one time with any of them while they were here.

Not like this, anyway.

However, I had a feeling if I did that, it was going to lead me into not wanting to give him back at all. And that was just something I was going to have to suck up.

He'd be out of here in six weeks and never to be seen again.

"Thanks, nurse," he mumbled.

His words had me whipping around again, my eyes going wide.

Was that a joke back?

His cheeks were tinged a darker hue that looked pretty on his tanned complexion, eyes averted so as to not catch mine.

A grin split across my face. All right, maybe I would make up some excuse to keep him here for just a little bit longer?—

Just then, the door to the medic station was thrown open and an angry CO was storming inside the tiny room. "What the fuck did you do, Gonzalez?"

Roxy began to bark instantly, clearly uncomfortable with the sudden burst of aggression.

I stepped in front of them both, blocking the CO—Browne, according to his nametag—from advancing any more. "We had a burn situation. I'm cleaning him up now."

Roxy quieted instantly with a small huff.

The CO eyed me. "He was supposed to be escorted by one of us before you took him anywhere. You know that, right?"

That was the problem with COs coming onto my property. They always seemed to want to have a big-dick complex with me and show off in front of the inmates that they were the big bosses in charge and that everyone else around them was to fall in line.

In the real world, outside of the prison system, life just didn't work that way. I, along with the rest of my staff, deserved and would demand respect. It didn't matter that we were dealing with criminals of whatever caliber.

SAC had hired my force to run this program and having a bunch of their defunct cops coming in here and stomping their feet when they didn't get there was a sure-fire way of getting them kicked out and replaced with someone else on their squad.

However, at the same time, I didn't want to be having that conversation in front of Gonzalez who looked two seconds away from pissing himself in fear.

"Look…" I plastered a smile onto my face. "I get that, but this was an emergency."

"Really," the CO drawled. "Doesn't look like anyone's dying in here."

"That's because I know how to do my job." My smile widened, maybe turning a bit sardonic in the process. "Unless you wanted me to call an ambulance and get EMS involved in that mess. I figured this was the best way to avoid the paperwork."

At the dreaded P-word , the CO faltered.

"Right… well… he needs to get back with the other inmates."

"Absolutely, I'll have him out as soon as I feed him some pain killers."

Browne narrowed his eyes. "What kind of pain killers."

Interesting.

So was Gonzalez here for selling dope on the streets?

That would certainly go along with my gang theory. He must be if I was getting that kind of question. Non-violent was usually like that—drug trafficking or something else that was equally lower on the felony totem.

"Tylenol. Two hundred milligrams," I answered.

The CO slowly nodded, shifting until he could see Gonzalez over my shoulder. "The second he's done with you, you're going back to your cabin. There's uniforms there waiting for you and we'll be doing a head count after a strip search. So don't think about doing anything stupid."

"O-Okay." His small voice answering back had me wanting to crack my knuckles and shove Browne back out into the hallway.

Back down. It's not your place.

Curbing the urge, I folded my arms over my chest instead. "We all good here?"

"Yeah, but I'm standing right out here. He needs an escort," Browne said.

Right, whatever.

"Sure thing." I had the urge to slam the door in his face when he finally stepped back out into the hall, but stopped myself at the last minute.

If anyone were to suspect I was giving any of the inmates special treatment, that would be a one-way ticket back on a bus to SAC. As much as I wanted to spend more time with Gonzalez for god knows what reason, I wasn't willing to risk his small sabbatical of freedom to do so.

I was a selfish bastard, no doubt, but not at the expense of someone else.

He'd clearly worked hard in getting SAC to see him as a non-threat—this program was only available to those kinds of inmates who showed exemplary attitudes while incarcerated.

Hopefully, sometime soon, I'd get to see him again. Though, maybe next time it wouldn't be over an injury.

"Thank you." His voice was quiet as I slipped two Tylenol into his hand, and faced the front of the bottle toward Browne to show him the brand.

"Yeah, no problem." Once the CO nodded to me, I set it down and fished a cold water bottle out of the mini fridge on top of the counter, handing it over. "Just let me know if the pain gets worse and we'll reapply that burn cream again."

He nodded before tossing both pills back and taking a generous swing from the water bottle.

"I appreciate it, thank you." He flashed a little, cautious smile at me.

My heart clenched tight in my chest. Jesus, he really was beautiful. Such a shame he decided to waste his life on doing something stupid and getting himself locked up.

He held his hand out with the water bottle in it, handing it back to me. I shook my head, waving my hand at him to keep it. It was the least I could do for causing him to get burned in the first place, even if it was an accident.

"Let's go, Gonzalez," Browne's gruff voice cut through the room again.

Roxy whimpered softly at him moving, standing up slowly from his chair.

Gonzalez hesitated and then reached down to pat Roxy's head gently.

Her mouth opened, her long tongue lolling out and to the side while she panted at him. His smile widened slightly, clearly amused by my dog and her rather insatiable nature when it came to pats and attention.

"Bye… um…" He glanced over at me briefly.

"Roxy," I said, knowing that's what he was searching for.

"Roxy." He patted her head one last time before stepping around us both and heading out the door to follow his CO.

Roxy turned and whined at me again.

"I know, girl." I squatted, pulling her into a hug while rubbing at her sides. "We'll see him again soon."

Hopefully.