Attest (Centrifuge Duet Book 2)(2)
Standing, I hold out my arms with the wrists parallel. He snaps the handcuffs on and then follows the chain that connects them until he’s squatting at my feet. Sharp, efficient movements have the other set of larger steel cuffs secured around my ankles. Once I’m trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey, the guard yanks on the chain that joins my bound hands and feet in a silent command to follow him. I shuffle along, one guard in front of me and one behind, watching me like I’m the convicted murderer I’m purported to be.
When we pass the visitor’s room that I’m usually led into, I almost let my curiosity get the better of me and ask where the hell we’re going. Thankfully, answers are provided before I give them the opportunity to shoot down my question.
The door that leads into the room next to the one I normally occupy is opened by the guard who’s leading me. I stand as tall as I can, shoulders back and head held high, determined to resemble my old self as much as I can when I come face to face with Amber for the first time in almost two years.
It takes a ridiculous amount of resolve to stop the shaking that threatens to take hold of my body as I lift my head to greet my woman. Our eyes meet. I blink furiously, unable to believe what I’m seeing. Playing it cool is no longer an option. Not with the guard behind me blocking any opportunity for escape. Instead, I let my mouth fall open before I verbalise the question that’s beating a thunderous cacophony of confusion around my skull.
“Why the fuck are you here?”
“Such rudeness is unbecoming from a man in your position.” The woman seated at the table in the middle of the room sniffs, her annoyance with my lack of manners clear. “Considering I’m your new boss and your passport out of this establishment.”
She stands, smoothing down the front of her black skirt, before she gestures toward the table that separates us. I stay where I am. There is no way on God’s green earth that I’m staying in here with this woman. She’s on par with the fucking devil to me—and the smile on her perfectly made-up face tells me that she knows it.
“Seriously, Xander?” An immaculately manicured eyebrow is lifted as she poses her question. “Aren’t you even a little bit curious as to why I’m here?”
Without a word, I lift my right shoulder then let it drop back into place, a nonchalant half-shrug that reveals all my contempt for this woman. That’s as close to rude as I’m going to get in our current situation. I might not want a bar of her, but I’m not stupid. This woman is worse than a cockroach, especially since they both appear to be the only things that could’ve survived the nuclear bomb that Jaxon Ray set off in our lives. One wrong word and the deadly glint in her eye tells me that she’s happy to rip off my head and shit down my throat.
“If you take a seat, I’ll give you a hint.” With a toss of her long hair, she settles back into her recently-vacated seat. An exaggerated crossing of her long legs follows—a la Sharon Stone in Basic Instinct—and the guard behind me moans. She does nothing for me, except raise my blood pressure every time I imagine my hands around her bloody throat.
“I didn’t traipse all the way down here to have you ignore me.” Apparently, my lack of response is pissing off the evil bitch. Let’s chalk that up as a small victory. “I have a deal to make with you. It’s in your best interests to hear me out.”
“There isn’t a circumstance in this world that would see me make a deal with you.” Turning on my heel with as much grace as man whose wrists are cuffed to a chain connected to his ankles can—ie: none—I take a step toward the door and end up chest-to-chest with the guard behind me. My top lip curls when I eyeball him and snarl, “Get me the fuck out of here before I give into the temptation to do what I was convicted of doing.”
He baulks at my hostility, then looks over my shoulder, seemingly in search of instructions about how to respond to me. I watch his face for clues, bunching my restrained hands at my sides when it becomes clear that I’m going nowhere.
“Xander, I’m not a patient woman and I do not respond well to deliberate provocation. People get hurt when I become angry.” My heartbeat thuds in my ears, quickly picking up pace when she pauses, and the sound of fingernails being drummed against a metal table fills the room.
I run my eyes over the face of the guard in front of me and a sick feeling settles in the pit of my stomach when he regards me with a steadiness he shouldn’t possess. This wannabe, rent-a-cop is bought and paid for by the bitch who’s determined silence still commands the room. The cadence of her nails against the table gains speed as the walls of the prison close in on me.
My mouth runs dry. My throat refuses to work when I try to swallow. My heart flips in my chest and a heavy foreboding strips the quickness from my pulse as the realisation dawns.
Her statement is correct.
I’m trapped—by the law, the walls of this prison, and my own damn pride.
And, this psycho bitch is my only way out.
My feet are working before my mind makes a conscious decision to turn to face her. They take me past the second guard, stopping once I’m on the opposite side of the table to my tormentor. My ass hits the cold seat, my limbs feeling strangely languid, even as I brace myself for the deal she’s about to offer.
“See? That wasn’t so hard. All this time wasted with your posturing could have been better spent discussing the terms of your release.”