Hard Times by C. Hallman

1

The moment I woke this morning, I had a bad feeling about this day. A sixth sense, a premonition, or whatever you want to call it. Somehow, I just knew.

“What do you mean we’re going to take your car?”

“I mean what I said. We’re taking my car. How hard is that to understand?” Jeff asks, as if I’m the dumb one.

“We can’t transport the inmates in a civilian car. That’s not safe and completely against regulation.”

“Look, Annie, you’re a rookie. I’ve been a cop since you were in pigtails,” he reminds me, like he does every chance he gets.

“It’s not safe,” I repeat, sneaking a glance at the two inmates standing only a few feet from us.

Their eyes remain glued to me, like they haven’t seen a woman in years. Maybe they haven’t, or at least not this close. They definitely haven’t been in a car with one, and if Jeff gets his way, there will be no separation between me and the inmates.

Cuffs secure their wrists to their belts, with more chains running to their ankles. And that’s the only thing stopping my freak-out.

“The AC is out in the transport van, and I’m not driving three hours in 100-degree weather. We’re taking my car and that’s the end of it. Get them in there. I’m grabbing snacks for the road.” He unlocks the sedan with his key fob and walks away from me.

“Are you serious?” I’m dumbfounded, watching him re-enter the correction facility. Protocol is not to leave me alone with them, ever.

“Come on, Annie. We won’t bite,” Ryker taunts. The smirk on his lips tells me that’s a lie.

“It’s Officer Williams,” I correct, unwilling to show the panic making my palms sweat.

Men like these thrive on fear.

Ryker Hall, thirty-one years old, black hair, brown eyes. He is without doubt more dangerous. Unpredictable, cruel, and a borderline psychopath according to his file.

Even though it’s not required of me, I read both of their files last night. Knowing what to expect is always better. Although, knowing he tortured two people to death is not helping me right now.

His partner in crime, Hunter Lewis, thirty years old, brown hair, green eyes, is not much better. At least not when it comes to the crimes he committed, but he seems to be the calmer one. His file said he was highly intelligent and can be reasoned with. Most important, he won’t attack without being provoked.

“Of course, Sugar.” Ryker winks, and gives me a smile that would wet other girl’s panties… if they didn’t know what he can do.

Sucking in a breath to calm my nerves, I walk over to the two men cuffed to the door. The closer I get, the smaller I feel. I’m five-four, weighing in at 130 lbs., while each of these men are over six feet and probably weigh twice as much as me. Even being in chains, they could easily knock me to the ground, hurt me at the very least.

Don’t show fear. You’re in charge here, I tell myself while gripping the key in my hand so tight it hurts.

Instead of looking at them, I keep my eyes on the chain attached to the door. It’s definitely a mistake, but if I look at their faces right now, I’m really going to freak.

Forcing my hand to stay steady, I unlock the padlock and free the chain from the door.

“Walk ahead of me to that car over there,” I order, giving them my most stern voice.

“Yes, ma’am,” Ryker sneers.

As they walk, I stay a good two feet behind, and follow them to Jeff’s car.

Ryker stops by the back door. “You gonna open it for me, Sugar? I’m a little tied up at the moment.”

I roll my eyes. Even with his hands cuffed to his side, he could bend and open the door with a bit of finesse. Since I’m proving to myself that I’m not scared of them, I lift my chin and walk up to the door.

For a second, I turn my back and reach for the handle to pull it open. Big mistake. When I scurry out of the way so they can get in, I only make it half a foot before Ryker strikes. He moves so damn fast; I have no time to react. Before I can lift my hands to protect myself, I’m pressed against the side of the car.

The total weight of Ryker’s body pushes me to the hot metal of the car. He buries his nose in the crook of my neck and inhales.

“You smell divine, Annie,” he savors my name like he can taste it on his tongue.

An icy shiver runs the length of my spine. Petrified with fear, I want to scream, but the golf ball sized lump in my throat is barely letting me breathe, let alone talk.

“Ryker,” Hunter warns, reminding me he is here too.

With my face pressed against Ryker’s chest, I can feel the deep chuckles at his friend’s warning. He pulls away. Before he releases me completely, he bends and places a chaste kiss on my cheek.

“Thanks, Annie.” He smiles and steps away from me. My knees are so weak; I have to slump against the car for support.

Out of the corner of my eyes, I watch both men climb into the backseat like nothing happened. I take a moment to catch my breath and regain my composure. When I’ve re-grown the bones in my legs, I stand up straight and shut the door.

Just as I get into the passenger seat, Jeff exits the building, hands full of small packs of chips, cookies, and sodas from the vending machine.

As he slides into the driver’s seat, he shakes his head. “I was joking, Annie. I would have helped you get the inmates in the car. Fuck, you got bigger balls than I do, rookie.”

I want to shove the bag of Doritos down his asshole throat.

“Put your gun in the glove box.” Jeff points in front of me, urging me to do as he says, when I hesitate. “Do it. Don’t want them grabbing it from behind you.”

Grinding my teeth together, I take my gun from its holster and place it in the glove compartment. After buckling up, I move my seat to the front until my knees are an inch from the dash.

“Trying to get away from me?” Hunter’s gravelly voice fills the car, sending a wave of goosebumps across my skin.

“Shut up, inmate Lewis, before I taser your ass,” Jeff snaps, turning the key in the ignition.

The engine roars to life, but I feel like my heart is beating so loud everyone can hear it. As always when I’m nervous, I fiddle with my bracelet, running the pad of my thumb over the delicate butterfly charm. It’s become a subconscious habit that calms me. We pull out of the parking lot and head toward the outer gate. One of the guards waves us through and opens the heavy metal gate without questions. I’d hoped he would see the inmates in an unauthorized car and stop us, but apparently, I’m the only one who works here that actually gives a shit.