Lockdown: A Veiled Alliance Story

by Devlin, Delilah

  Lockdown

  A Veiled Alliance Story

  Delilah Devlin

  Contents

  Lockdown

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Lion in the Shadows

  Chapter 1

  About the Author

  Also by Delilah Devlin

  Lockdown

  A Veiled Alliance Story

  New York Times and USA Today

  Bestselling Author

  DELILAH DEVLIN

  Copyright © 2018 by Delilah Devlin

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Chapter 1

  Gillian Priest felt a cool shiver slide down her spine like a trickle of ice water the moment the tall chain-link gate closed behind her. But she shrugged it off. Now wasn’t the time to let herself get freaked out. Not even a little bit. They’d smell her fear.

  New job. New set of prisoners to prove she was a bigger badass than any of them.

  A work crew was busy laying sod in the strip of grass between the outer fence and the one surrounding the main building. Not one of the men paused to give her a direct glance.

  She knew because she gave them the same sort of look as she strode by—out of the corners of her eyes, sussing them out to see how well they played the game and how well the officer watching over them controlled the situation. She nodded to him, received a cool downward jerk of his chin, noted the muscled frame, the breadth of his shoulders, and the shine off his shaved head. His dark sunglasses hid his expression; his lips remained in a straight line.

  She didn’t expect a welcome, not in front of his charges. Perhaps she’d never get one. Her time at the Bentonville unit had been spent playing the hard-ass with prisoners until they’d gotten the message she didn’t accept any crap as well as dodging lewd comments from her fellow officers.

  A woman who worked in a men’s prison learned to take it because no matter how hard she might try to deny she didn’t like watching men piss, shit, shower, and dress left her motives for working in a hellhole like this open for interpretation. And everyone there, prisoner and staff alike, was eventually brought down to their base, animalistic selves.

  Gillian understood it. She’d tried to fight the perceptions and learned the hard way.

  New prison. Fresh start. She’d settle for that and make damn sure she stepped out on the right foot this time.

  She wouldn’t make any waves. Would keep her head down, her eyes sharpened on everyone and everything around her.

  She waited patiently while the gate to the inner yard was buzzed open, and then shoved it inward. A man dressed in khaki slacks and a white dress shirt opened the door into the main building and waved her forward. “Officer Priest?” he shouted.

  Like he didn’t already know? The grapevine inside had likely already passed every word written in her personnel jacket along, savoring the story, committing her official photo to memory.

  She was fresh meat. Only she wore corporal’s stripes now, so they’d hold back slightly on the hazing. They’d wait to see what she was made of.

  She held out her hand. “Yes sir, and you are?”

  His hand clasped hers firmly, pumped once and dropped. “Deputy Warden Kalicek.” Ice-blue eyes raked her frame once, and then narrowed on her expression.

  She’d kept it clear of emotion. Set in non-committal straight lines. “I’m ready for duty. “

  “You’ve already been briefed. I’m teaming you up with Officer Hedron. You passed him in the yard. As soon as his crew finishes up, he’ll meet you in the control room in Housing Three.”

  She nodded. “Until then?”

  “I’ll take you there. Introduce you to McPhee. He’s at the console today.” He turned and headed down the long corridor, his dress shoes tapping on the linoleum.

  Gillian drew a long breath, relieved she’d be getting straight into the action again. Three months out had put a dent in her confidence. As she followed him down the corridor, empty except for the porter gliding a buffer across the pristine waxed floor, she ignored the hairs rising, prickling at the back of her neck.

  A week from now, the nausea would be gone and the bile in her stomach would no longer burn the back of her throat. For now, she’d settle for the fact her hands were as steady as her glare. The sight of the porter’s white jumpsuit hadn’t caused her as much as a skip of nerves.

  A week from now, the Caddo River Unit would prove to be just another job.

  * * *

  McPhee craned his head to give her another sullen glare. Closing in on retirement, the old corrections officer’s face appeared grizzled although his skin was freshly shaven. Must have been the rough texture of his cheeks and chin from too much sun. The man hadn’t stopped talking about the fishing at the nearby lake, the hunting in the woods behind his property, or his new passion four-wheeling.

  Gillian cringed, wondering what other redneck subject he’d drone on and on about. Not that she really minded or wasn’t used to it by now. Her own brother had been an avid outdoorsman. But she was restless and wanted to walk the floor, let the prisoners get a look at her while she took their measure.

  Hedron had yet to show up, and she was stuck watching prisoners milling in the barracks below through reinforced glass windows until he got there and walked her through the unit.

  “We been short-handed for months now. Musta been why they hired you,” McPhee muttered.

  She didn’t take offense. She preferred plain talk to the kind that shot arrows at her back. “I’m trained,” she said, keeping her comment short and uninflected.

  McPhee’s beady brown eyes narrowed. “What’s a pretty little girl like you doin’ workin’ in a place like this, anyway?”

  She raised a brow and shot him a challenging glare. “What are you doing here?”

  “Workin’ on a second retirement.” He leaned back in his chair, his expression turning sly. “Be careful one of these boys doesn’t try to flip you, pretty as you are.”

  Gillian crossed her arms over her chest and rested her butt against the edge of the console. “If I’m so pretty, what makes you think I’d stoop to fuck one of those losers?”

  His mouth opened, and then sawed shut. “Just givin’ you a friendly warnin’.” His eyes narrowed farther, and he tilted his head toward the floor. “There’s demons in some of those boys,” he whispered.

  “Appreciate the warning,” she murmured. “But I can take care of myself.”

  The last thing she wanted was for any of her fellow guards thinking they had to go out of their way to protect her. That kind of distraction led to someone getting hurt.

  A light blinked on the console a second before a buzz sounded, and she turned to watch as Officer Hedron strode toward them.

  She straightened, noting the crisp edges of his uniform, the shine on his boots. Probably ex-marine by the look of him. So many of them fell into the prison system, their training making them ideal for the life. Without the dark sunglasses, his blue eyes nailed her from a distance.

  He didn’t look happy to see her.

  Too bad. They shared the same shift. He’d have to get used to it. She’d met enough men who believed a woman shouldn’t be working anywhere but in the warden’s office, pouring his coffee, that she really didn’t care.

  “You two already meet?” McPh
ee asked.

  “When I arrived,” Gillian interjected before the stern-faced man in front of her could get a word in edgewise. She gave him a tight smile and held out her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  He stared at her hand for a moment before taking it, pressing her fingers quickly and dropping it as though it burned. “Better get you out on the floor. The boys are already gettin’ restless.”

  She liked the deep rumble of his voice, even liked the steely glare he gave her. She shrugged away the thought and gave him a crisp nod. “After you.”

  As soon as she entered the floor, she could feel the tension escalating around her. A new male officer would warrant curiosity. A female on the floor only intensified the scrutiny. Slowly, men who’d been playing checkers and dominoes or watching TV formed little groups, their gazes never leaving her as she strolled by.

  “Know the prisoners’ schedule?” Hedron asked, without looking her way.

  “Yeah, nothing happening until lights out.”

  Hedron’s gaze narrowed on a group of prisoners whose mouths were curving into smirks. Any second now one of them would pucker up and make a loud smacking sound.

  When it happened, Hedron’s head swung toward the con.

  Gillian stepped past him, halting directly in front of the prisoner who’d kissed the air. She lifted her chin and locked her gaze on him. “Got something to say?” she bit out.

  “No, ma’am,” the prisoner said, his gaze sliding down her body in a blatant sexual insult. “Just tasted somethin’ good is all.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Be careful what you say,” she said softly. “You wouldn’t want to catch paper, would you?”

  His dark eyes blinked, his expression hardening. But he lifted his gaze from hers, staring straight ahead. “No ma’am. Don’t want no trouble.”

  “Keep it that way.” She strolled by, nodded to his pals, and then moved on.

  Hedron’s chest lifted. “Keezee’s got a couple of years to go.”

  So, the threat of being written up held some power. Good to know. She nodded that she understood. A prisoner could lose “good time” for insolence toward an officer. Incentivizing lifers to behave wasn’t nearly as easy.

  They climbed the concrete stairs to the tiers, glancing into cells. Murmurs followed her, but no one else attempted to confront her. They’d wait until they got her on her own and see if her courage had been bolstered by the big man beside her or whether she could hold her own.

  “That’s all there is to see,” Hedron said as they headed back down the stairs from the last third tier of cells. “They’ll be heading to the library in a little while. It being a weeknight, we’ll lock it down at ten-thirty.”

  “Thanks.

  “Not carrying pepper spray on your belt?” he said under his breath.

  “Why would I? Most of them would just lick it off their faces. It’d hurt me more than them.”

  He nodded. She hadn’t missed the fact he didn’t carry any of his own. The guards had only limited access to weapons to protect themselves—the bigger danger lying in being overpowered and a weapon turned on them rather than running into a slamming fist.

  “Don’t go looking for trouble. I know it’s your first day and you might want to show them you’re tough. But if you incite a riot in my housing unit, I’ll have your ass.”

  Gillian jerked her head back. “Do I look like I’m trolling to jack some prisoner up?”

  “You’ve got a chip on your shoulder. And you’re too damn good looking. That’s invitation enough.”

  When he strode away, Gillian released a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. The man was tough as nails. The fact she liked it only made her madder.

  * * *

  Around nine o’clock when prisoners were beginning to settle in front of the television or into little groups to chat quietly, her mike squawked. “Priest, got a new ten-fifteen. Needs an escort.”

  She hadn’t been briefed about their procedures for bringing in new prisoners, but she had read the manual. Didn’t seem any different from Bentonville’s SOP. She headed out of the housing unit to West Gate’s sally port. A white van was pulled up close to the gate. A sheriff’s deputy was outside the vehicle chatting with the officer manning the gate when she walked up to them.

  “Got fresh meat,” the officer said.

  Gillian wasn’t entirely sure whether he was talking about the prisoner being led up in leg irons toward the gate or her. And a glance at his twisted lips told her the ambiguity had been deliberate. She lifted her chin and held out her hand for the clipboard with the papers describing their requisition of a new prisoner, named Gabriel Vlahos.

  Inmate number 140849 now. Chains rattled, feet shuffled as the prisoner rounded the end of the van.

  Gillian’s eyes widened a fraction, and she quickly looked at the clipboard again to gather her scattered wits. She’d only lost them a second.

  It didn’t matter how beautiful the man was. The papers said he’d killed. But no matter the crime or the length of his sentence, the white jumpsuit rendered him forever off-limits to her.

  “Have a nice day,” the officer who’d accompanied the convict said, drawing her gaze. The smile seemed sincere enough. The gaze that swept her body told another story.

  “Same to you,” she muttered. “Well, Vlahos, let’s get you to the holding cell.” She lifted her chin to the gate and gave the officer in the tower watching them a little wave.

  The gate buzzed, and she reached past Vlahos to push it open. A few shuffling steps forward and she waited again as the inner gate was deactivated. She walked the prisoner inside, waiting impatiently while he gazed back over his shoulder at freedom.

  “Let’s get moving. I have better things to do.”

  “Just bet you do,” he murmured.

  Her gaze swung to his, ready to issue a curt set down, but his face was turned toward the building doors. His profile was as arresting as the frontal view she’d had. A square chin, full lips, eyelashes so long she felt a stab of envy until he aimed a glance her way.

  His eyes were silver. Not a flat lifeless gray. Shards of shimmering silver that seemed for a moment to swirl.

  Again, she tamped down the attraction and swept out the hand holding her clipboard. “After you.”

  The smile that tipped the corners of his mouth upward wasn’t a smirk. Not exactly. If she’d met him in a bar and he’d delivered that same curved, feline grin, she might have slid closer in her chair it was so inviting.

  The holding cell was only twenty feet inside the doors, and she opened the door then indicated he should go inside.

  “See you in the housing unit later,” he said softly. “Officer Priest.”

  Startled he knew her name, she blinked.

  “Your name tag?” he said, the smile deepening.

  Of course. The nametag she’d pinned onto her blue shirt just that morning. Angry she’d let him get under her skin, she closed the door on him with a slam.

  She’d get a cup of coffee and let him stew for a while before she passed the papers along to the officer who’d process him in. What was another half an hour’s wait when he was doing twenty-five to life?

  Chapter 2

  Gabriel chuckled as the prickly officer closed the door with an ear-wincing slam. He’d gotten under her skin. The moment she’d spied him, a faint tinge of color had filled her tanned cheeks.

  She’d felt the attraction that arced in the air between them.

  Interesting. And so convenient. He’d wondered how long it would take to find something…so deliciously edible…to feed his appetites.

  Finding a host wasn’t usually complicated, but then he preferred feeding off the opposite sex. Living twenty-four-seven among several hundred men didn’t offer his developed tastes the sort of snack he preferred. He wondered if Petrakis had thought about that and arranged her transfer for his purposes.

  They’d had only days to plan this operation, but he’d been briefed on every officer’s ja
cket and perused the EOMIS system to gather intel about the inmates he’d be housed with.

  Priest’s file had been a last minute addition to the staff’s stack, and no picture had been available. He’d read the file, read the report of the incident that had left her wounded and on medical leave for three months. After seeing her in the flesh, he could well imagine what had only been hinted at in the sparse words of the report.

  She’d been surrounded, trying to get to another officer who’d only served as a decoy for the true target of the attack. Her.

  The other officer had quit after the incident—the injuries to the tendons in his arms too deep to ever recover full strength. Priest had fought hand-to-hand, administered pepper spray in a fruitless attempt to ward off the prisoners pressing closer.

  She’d gone down and would have been raped if the Emergency Response Team hadn’t been quite so quick to respond to the report of the riot erupting in the housing unit.

  Vlahos was frankly amazed by two facts. One, that she’d been willing to return to duty. And two, that the warden had put her right back on the floor with the general population. Word of the attack had to have spread throughout the prison system, guards, and prisoners alike.

  She was a walking target. Speculation would be rampant about what she might have done to invite the attack.

  Now, he thought maybe she hadn’t done a damn thing. She’d just been too attractive to mingle among a hundred horny men and not risk being the object of their lust.

  Gabriel lifted a shoulder and awkwardly wiped the sweat from his cheek with his jumpsuit. Better put those thoughts aside. During her shifts, he couldn’t show her any interest. But he’d haunt her dreams. He hoped like hell she was strong enough for what was coming. She’d need her wits and willpower to get through this.