Chapter 1

Two years later . . .

“Built in 1972, Blue Ridge Women’s Correctional Facility is located twenty miles from the nearest town and nestled safely in the mountains.”

Kellie wished the guard with the big Fu Manchu mustache would stop his impromptu travelogue from hell. She rattled off her social security number to a large, dark-skinned woman behind a Plexiglas window.

“Waist and length?” the woman asked.

Kellie just looked at her. “Huh?”

“What’s your pant size, honey? I don’t have all day.”

“I-um. A 10. Or maybe an 8 depending on the cut and where the waist sits.”

The woman rolled dark eyes. “Waist and length measurements only. Does this look like Bloomingdale’s to you?”

“It does to me,” shouted a woman from the back of the room.

“Shut the fuck up,” the guard barked, tossing an aggravated glance in the direction of the outburst.

Kellie’s eyes widened as fear coursed through her. “How about thirty-one waist, and, uh . . . maybe thirty-two length, I guess.”

The dark-skinned woman pursed her lips then handed her a pair that read 30x34. A few minutes more and she’d filled a cotton laundry bag with other clothes and handed it to Kellie through a large hole in the glass. Inside the bag was also a small bundle of papers with the words Blue Ridge Inmate Rules emblazoned in bold letters on the top of the first page of the packet. Kelli frowned. She never had been very good with rules.

“Change clothes when you get to your cell and put your jumpsuit in the laundry bag.” Bored, the woman looked behind Kellie at the next newbie prisoner and hollered, “Next!”

Kellie took the hint and stepped forward, clutching her stack of clothes, the dust from the bag making her sneeze several times in quick succession. She stood as far away from the other new prisoners in the reception area as possible. At least her parents, mortally shamed by her arrest and subsequent trial, had ponied up bail money, allowing her to spend blessedly little time behind bars. Until now.

There had been a few chatty types on the bus over from County jail, but she wasn’t one of them. Why waste time talking to criminals? She’d remained quiet, absorbed by the ugly scenery and small snowflakes as they stuck to the window and melted.

The guard waiting for the prisoners continued with his monologue. His voice was a dull monotone and he knew every word by heart. “Blue Ridge has two housing wings. Maximum security holds eighty women. Pray you never see the inside of that building. Medium security, the paradise where you’ve been assigned, holds one hundred and sixty women.

“Infractions of prison rules will cause one of four things to happen: One, loss of privileges. Privileges include being allowed to work, take classes, participate in visiting day and having more than one hour per day outside your cell. The second consequence for violating prison rules is time in solitary confinement.”

The black prisoner behind the Plexiglas chuckled. “That’d be the hole, ducklings. You don’t wanna end up there.”

The guard smacked the Plexiglas with his baton, but didn’t seem particularly angry over the interruption. “Three, transfer to the maximum security wing.”

Kellie felt numb as the words rolled over her. She couldn’t believe she was here, couldn’t believe the jury had found her guilty, couldn’t believe that somehow this had become her life. God, she would still kill for a scotch and soda and a quick, painless way to make all of this go away.

“In addition to the two housing buildings,” the guard droned on, “there’s a cafeteria, a work center, a garden, a gymnasium, and, of course, the exercise yard. Rules for each building and area are posted on the bulletin boards and on the paperwork in your bags.” He turned to face the waiting women. “Learn them.” He lightly smacked his baton against his palm. “Live by them.” Smack. This time a little harder. “And we’ll all get along just fine.” Smack! He cocked his head. “Or not.”

The guard’s grim face, and his shiny baton with its well-worn handle, left Kellie no doubt what the fourth, unspoken, consequence of breaking the rules would be.

“Holloway, you’re in cell . . .” The guard gave a cursory glance at the paper in his hand and shook his head. “Fourteen-hundred-B with Mally.” He snorted. “Lucky you.”

They paused at the cell door and when Kellie didn’t move, he gave her a shove. “Welcome to the first day of the rest of your wretched life.”

Kellie bit back a curse as she bounced off the wall.

The guard laughed and kept walking as he escorted another new prisoner to the end of the cellblock.

The door was made of a sheet of metal, not bars, and it was thick. She entered the cell with her heart in her throat. Her palms were sweating and she was a little dizzy at the prospect of what she would find inside.

Kellie left the door open as she entered. She had been told it would close and lock behind her. Stupid, she knew, but she couldn’t help herself, the fear that she’d been holding in since the jury foreman had said those hateful words, rose to the surface with alarming speed. She sniffed hard, willing the tears not to come. Years. God, oh, God. I could be here for years. What has Cindy done to me?

Stunned, she took in her surroundings. County jail had been a filthy cesspool of humanity, but she’d always consoled herself by the fact that her stay there would only be for a short time. But this . . . this was her new home.

The eight-by-eleven-foot cell was painted a pale blue and held a set of bunk beds with white sheets and cream-colored blankets. There was a metal desk with an attached metal bench, and a six-drawer dresser at the end of the room. High above the dresser was a small barred window that allowed some natural light into the cell. Oddly, the room smelled faintly of wood chips, though all the furniture appeared to be metal or hard plastic.

A plastic-framed picture of a dark-haired little girl, a few tattered paperback novels, and the fact that the bottom bunk had bedding on it, were the only evidence that someone lived in the room.

“I can just imagine my gorilla woman roomie now,” she muttered.

Kellie began to dig into her bag and pulled out a T-shirt and pair of jeans. She perched on the lower bunk and exhaled wearily, covering her face with her hands.

“The bottom bunk is mine and I shaved my legs yesterday so I won’t be a gorilla again until the end of the week.”

Kellie’s head jerked sideways to find a figure in the doorway. A woman who looked to be in her early thirties with wet, reddish-brown hair and a ruddy complexion was standing there, looking very irritated. She had a bath towel draped over well-toned shoulders and a lean, strong-looking build accentuated by a slim waist and shapely thighs that strained at the confines of her blue jeans. A cyclist’s physique. Kellie’s eyes were drawn to the edges of a lurid, green tattoo peeking out from the sleeve of her blindingly white T-shirt.

The stranger was a good three inches shorter than Kellie’s five feet eight, but somehow she managed to be utterly imposing, filling the entire cell with her presence from the doorway. Kellie instantly decided that although her expression was just a little too hard and guarded for anyone to call her pretty, there was something undeniably interesting about her face.

“Earth to newbie.” The woman waved. “Are you still in there?”

“I’m-I’m sorry,” Kellie murmured worriedly, snapping out of her appraisal. “You probably heard that ill-advised gorilla comment . . . I didn’t . . . I mean.” She audibly gulped, fear coursing through her. “Just sorry. My name is Kellie Holloway.”

“Lorna.” Lorna cocked her head, damp hair curling at the nape of her neck. She sized Kellie up, and sighed, apparently determining that she wasn’t a physical threat.

Experience, Kellie instantly deduced, had been this woman’s wicked teacher.

“If you’re sorry, then why are you still sitting on my bed?”

Kellie sprang to her feet and scrambled to the back of the cell, clutching her bag of clothes to herself.

Lorna quietly padded inside.

Kellie closed her eyes against a sudden wave of claustrophobia. Or maybe it was the fact that she’d been more than two days without a drink. Despite her former girlfriend’s accusations, she hadn’t considered herself an alcoholic, just an active, social drinker. But now she wasn’t so sure. Adding even one more person to the small space made her ill.

“Uh oh. You don’t look so hot,” Lorna observed mildly.

Kellie swallowed hard, her gaze desperately flickering around the room. Even convicts needed a sink and toilet, didn’t they?

Lorna scrubbed her head with her towel. “You can stop looking, a toilet isn’t going to pop out from underneath the bunk beds. During orientation didn’t they tell these were dry cells?”

Kellie drew in a couple of deep breaths to settle her nerves. The woman’s voice was a little deeper than she’d expected based on her size, but not unpleasant. “Umm . . . the guard blabbering on and on—was that considered my orientation?” She forced a chuckle and tried not to feel the trickle of cold sweat that snaked its way down her back. “And what’s a dry cell? One where they don’t serve alcohol with the room service?”

Lorna stuck her head outside the cell. “Hey, Roscoe, you fat fuck,” she yelled. “Nice job orienting the newbies!”

She turned back to Kellie and draped her towel over the bed frame to dry. “Princess, you can get anything from alcohol to Oxy and back to Hershey’s chocolate again with enough money. But dry cells mean we have shared showers and toilets.”

Kellie took a tentative step forward, and did her best not to look terrified. She scowled at being called a princess but wasn’t about to correct the woman before her. Was her new roommate a serial killer? Or maybe an arsonist or child molester? A chill chased its way down her spine. The possibilities were endless and all bad.

“You don’t have to be afraid of me,” Lorna told her simply. “Unless you piss me off, that is.” Then she caught the unconscious widening of Kellie’s eyes . . . and flinched. “You might as was well get comfortable instead of huddling in the corner.” Lorna gestured with her chin. “You can use the bench to take a load off.”

Kellie drew in a deep breath and did her best to hold the smaller woman’s gaze, which was intense and concerned at the same time. “I won’t be here long enough to care. My lawyer says he’ll appeal and—”

Lorna rolled her eyes. “Very funny. You—” She stopped when the offended look on Kellie’s face evidently told her she wasn’t joking about her appeal. “Uh . . . Never mind.”

“What were you going to say?”

“Nothing.”

“Yes, you were.” Kellie’s ire began to rise. For months the police and even her own lawyer had treated her as though information was on a need-to-know basis only. And she didn’t need to know. She couldn’t stand it for another second. “Dammit! What was it?”

Lorna shrugged one shoulder. “Your lawyer told you not to get too used to being here, right?”

“Yeah.” Kellie lifted her chin. “He was right, I don’t belong here. So?”

“And the reason you shouldn’t get too comfortable is because he was doing up the paperwork for your appeal at this very moment, right? And he said for you not to worry because your appeal was rock solid.”

Anxiety began to swirl in Kellie’s belly. “He should have a good basis for the appeal. I don’t belong here,” she insisted defiantly, even as her confidence began to flag.

“Then you’ll be one of the very few.”

Lorna looked as though she was guilty of the crime that had landed her here and had never bothered making any bones about it.

Kellie really didn’t want to hear the rest of what this woman had to say. It was already hitting way too close to home. Could they have had the same lawyer? She didn’t want to believe she could have been so easily had. But somehow she couldn’t stop herself from saying, “Go on . . . you were telling me about the lawyer thing.”

“You’re sure?”

“More than sure.”

“I’ll bet that your lawyer also said that you shouldn’t expect to hear from him for a while because he’ll be soooo busy working on your appeal that he’ll be hard to reach.”

Kellie’s mouth dropped open. That’s exactly what the man had told her as she was shuffled out of the courtroom, the word guilty still ringing in her ears.

Lorna gave her a sympathetic look. “Same story, different day. We’ve all been there and we’re all still here.” She sat down on her bed and stretched her legs out with a groan. “So you might as well have a seat.”

It took Kellie a few minutes, but she finally got the nerve up to make her way back to the metal desk where she set down her bag and began rooting through it with short, irritated movements. “Surely they gave me some humongous white tube socks to go with my tacky blue jeans and white T-shirt.”

Lorna snorted softly.

“I’m going to look like a reject from The Outsiders,” she mumbled.

Lorna made a face as Kellie passed by. “Showers and bathrooms are out the door and to the right at the end of the block.” She wrinkled her nose. “Showers are only open twice a day for thirty minutes. You’ve got twenty minutes left today and then you’ll have to wait until tomorrow.”

Kellie discreetly sniffed herself and heard a faint, “Go to hell, Mally,” drift back into the cell as a guard she presumed to be Roscoe walked by. “Ugh.” She had been in a nervous sweat all day, the bus to the prison had smelled like a combination of body odor and rotten eggs, and this was her second day in her Day-Glo orange jumpsuit. “Umm . . . So I can go shower right now?”

Lorna settled back on her bunk with her hands behind her head. She allowed her eyes to drift closed and a soft sigh to escape her lips. “Feel free. Please.”

“Mally?” Isn’t that what the guard had called her?

One of Lorna’s eyes popped open and Kellie was taken aback by the raw anger she saw there. “I didn’t say you could call me that. And you now have eighteen minutes to get clean.”

Reeling from Lorna’s sudden change in demeanor, Kellie didn’t say another word. Hugging her entire bag to herself, she marched out of the cell and into the unknown.

Lorna Malachi had just begun to doze when there was a loud rapping on her cell wall.

“Where’s the newbie?”

Lorna sighed and opened her eyes to find Roscoe and Chul, a small Asian guard who was generally pleasant when he wasn’t with Roscoe, standing in her doorway. “What?” she answered groggily. “Oh, c’mon! You rolled my goddamn cell just last week!”

“Nobody is searching your cell, Mally. Unless you have something to hide, that is.” He glanced around, clearly hoping to see something out of place. “Some contraband here maybe?” He yanked out her desk drawer and turned it upside down, spilling its contents onto the concrete floor.

“Not only are you a bastard, but you can kiss my Irish ass.”

“Where’s Holloway?” Chul asked as he leaned against the cell wall, ignoring the other guard and the pencil that came to rest at the toe of his boot.

“She’s in the shower, removing the stink from one of your buses.” Lorna directed a cool gaze at Roscoe. “That’s still allowed, right? I mean, if we didn’t shower—” She wrinkled her nose, “—we’d smell like you.”

Chul snickered.

Heat invaded Roscoe’s cheeks. “You always gotta be a smartass, doncha?” He took an angry step forward and reached for his baton. “I—”

“You know showers are allowed,” Chul said, interrupting Roscoe and sighing as he stepped between him and Lorna. “Don’t you two start with your bullshit. I’m almost off shift and I’m too tired to deal with it.”

What served as Roscoe and Lorna’s relationship went back to Lorna’s days in the maximum-security wing. It had taken both of them years to make the move to medium security. The difference was, Lorna had easily adapted to the more relaxed setting, but after nearly six years, Roscoe still had an impossibly long way to go.

Chul gave Lorna a warning look and she replied with a contrite look of her own.

“C’mon, Roscoe.” Chul pushed off the wall with a groan, then dusted his hands off on his pants. “Let’s go get Holloway.”

Lorna sat up and scrubbed her face. “Whaddya need her for? She can’t be in trouble already, can she?” But even as she said the words she knew they weren’t true. Trouble followed some people like their own shadow. And after only one brief meeting, she suspected that Kellie was one of those unlucky souls.

“She belongs next door with Murano.” Chul chuckled, happily taking the opportunity to needle the older man. “Seems Roscoe here forgot his glasses today and assigned all three of our newest residents to the wrong cells.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll go get her,” Roscoe said, his sudden smile bordering on a leer.

“I’ll go.” Lorna stood, visions of the last time she saw Roscoe in the shower room. The repulsive memory invaded her mind and made her feel like puking. She easily recalled Roscoe’s gray uniform trousers around his ankles, his large belly flapping with every grunting thrust as he pumped in and out of a hapless inmate, who made a show of pretending she was enjoying what was happening. “I was gonna head down to the showers anyway.”

Roscoe drew in a breath to protest, but Chul grabbed him by the wrist and began to tug him from the cell. “Thanks, Lorna.” He lightly backhanded Roscoe’s chest. “C’mon, let the next shift deal with Holloway. She can bunk in this cell tonight and we’ll check her in next door in the morning. So long as she’s accounted for, we’re covered.”

Roscoe slowed to a stop, clearly not wanting to go anywhere but the shower room.

“Besides,” Chul persisted, “Joo-Eun sent me with brownies today and I haven’t had a chance to eat them.”

Roscoe grumbled a string of profanities but allowed himself to be distracted in favor of Joo-Eun’s best dessert.

The hallway was empty and Lorna approached the shower room with a growing sense of dread. It should have been crowded right before closing. Instead, it was as still and quiet as a grave and soon she realized why. There was a lone woman standing outside the cell nearest to the showers. She was keeping watch.

“Shit.” Lorna picked up the pace, and flew past the heavyset woman who was supposed to be guarding the door. She burst into the cell and came to a skidding halt at the scene before her.

Two women surrounded Kellie, who was half-naked and bent over the desk. A firm grip in Kellie’s hair held her head down hard against the metal.

Gagged and fighting wildly, Kellie cried and let out muted screams as the hand of the tallest woman disappeared between her legs.

Oh, Christ. Lorna wanted to turn around and mind her own business. She really did. But, she realized wearily, there would be no one else to help the new woman. No one would bother. It was her or nothing.

Lorna kicked at the set of bunk beds, making them clank hard against the concrete walls. “What the fuck is going on?”

Caught by surprise, both women stepped a pace away from Kellie, as far as they had room to go.

Kellie flew upright, and instead of bolting, as Lorna expected, she lit into the woman closest to her, catching her in the shoulder with a wild haymaker.

The woman stumbled backward, her hands flying to where she’d been struck. “Hey!” Regaining her balance, she rushed forward only to be stopped in her tracks by a withering glare from Lorna.

“Don’t do it, Laverne,” Lorna warned, adrenaline surging through her and very nearly making her twitch. “Get out of here while you still can and take that useless bitch still standing outside the doorway with you.” But she knew she wouldn’t be rid of Katrina Nowak, the head bitch, so easily.

When Laverne hesitated, Lorna grabbed Kellie by the shoulders and pulled her close. “Are you all right?” When Kellie didn’t answer she gave her a firm shake, scattering blood droplets everywhere. “I said, are you all right?” Her voice and firm demeanor forced Kellie’s wild gray eyes to focus on her.

Kellie’s nose was bleeding and misshapen and she was shaking like a leaf. “I ju-just wanted a shower.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I’m no-no-not okay.”

“Long time no see, Mally. What the fuck do you think you’re doing in my cell?”

The thick, sickeningly familiar southern accent scraped across Lorna’s nerves, reminding her of darker times when she heard it on a daily basis. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end and a bolt of white-hot hatred, unpolluted by pity or compassion, tore through her. She struggled to keep her composure.

“Get dressed,” Lorna ordered Kellie softly, guilt swirling in the pit of her stomach. My fault. Christ, having her come here alone her first day was stupid. I know better. “And go back to my cell.”

“I think I need a doctor,” Kellie said in a nasal voice, one hand on the bridge of her nose. Petrified gray eyes darted to the other women, who were now prowling around them like leopards moving in for a kill. “I—”

Lorna merely shook her head, her eyes never leaving Kellie’s. She cupped Kellie’s cheek, feeling warms tears run over her hand. “Go now.”

Katrina let out a frustrated breath, her voice a dangerous rumble. “This is none of your concern, Mally.”

Furious, Lorna wheeled on Katrina, a tall, gangly prisoner with icy Nordic features and a cruel smile. “I’m making it my business, bitch. I heard you were coming over from maximum security, but I couldn’t believe the administration was that dumb. If you’re here, who’s running hell?” From the corner of her eye, she saw Kellie scramble toward the bench where she’d left her bag and yank out a T-shirt. Hurry.

Katrina’s expression was dead. “Such a funny girl.”

Lorna merely crossed her arms over her chest and waited.

“It looks like you’re wrong about the administration,” Katrina began. “You never were a very good judge of people. They constantly disappoint you, don’t they?”

It was a split-second decision. “Do you know who that woman is?” Lorna demanded, pointing at Kellie and moving directly in front of Katrina to draw her eyes off the panicking brunette. She widened her stance and centered her body over her feet, making a note to go for the nose first.

Katrina looked confused. “She’s new. And—”

Eyes blazing, Lorna made herself as clear as she knew how. “I’ve already claimed her. She’s my cellmate and she’s my family now.”

Kellie’s mouth dropped open and her busy hands froze. “What are you talking about?” she screeched, too confused and terrified to keep quiet. Her gaze flicked to the door. “Guards!” she hollered desperately. “Help!”

The woman next to Laverne paled and glanced nervously around the cell. “Fuck. I’m outta here.”

“Shut up!” Both Katrina and Lorna yelled at Kellie in unison.

Katrina took a step forward and Lorna stopped her with a firm hand. “Don’t touch her,” she said in a low voice that came directly from her gut.

Katrina’s jaw tightened and her hands shaped into fists. “You’re lying, Mally. Seems my new friend doesn’t even agree that she’s one of yours. You must not be very persuasive.” Katrina wrenched her arm from Lorna’s hand.

Lorna merely raised a single eyebrow and waited.

“Don’t tell me you suddenly started craving pussy! You couldn’t have changed your mind that much since we were cellmates.”

Lorna shoved her face farther into Katrina’s personal space. “You are one sick bitch,” she whispered disgustedly. “You always were.”

“I learned from the best.” Katrina clucked softly. “Don’t you remember? We cut our baby teeth on tasty inmates like this one.”

Lorna’s stomach lurched at the bitter truth of that statement. Her heart was pumping double-time and she kept Laverne in her peripheral vision. One kick to the gut or crotch and she wouldn’t be a problem. “You don’t seem to be understanding me, dumbass. The newbie doesn’t have to approve of or even be told about what I decide. Who gives a damn what she says? She’s my family now. Under my protection. Hands off!”

Katrina’s eyes turned to slits. “There’s a difference between her being your family and you just not wanting me to have her, Mally. That’s not playing fair.”

Lorna’s head snapped sideways. “DO AS I SAID and get the fuck back to my cell!” Tiny droplets of spittle flew from her mouth as she roared, her eyes flashing dangerously.

Kellie bolted from the cell in nothing but her bloodstained T-shirt and underwear. She slipped on the damp floors on the way out, banging her hip against the tile. She let out a muted cry, but didn’t stop as she crawled the rest of the way to the door and fumbled for the handle.

She heard more yelling and then a fight erupt behind her, but she didn’t care. She ran as fast as she could, catcalls following her as she made her way back to Lorna’s cell. Aren’t there any guards in this place?

She slammed the door shut behind her and ran a trembling hand through her hair. “Oh, God. Oh, God.” Her nose was still sluggishly bleeding and her skin crawled in remembrance of Katrina’s touch. She sat down on the bottom bunk, and used the hem of her T-shirt to stem the flow of blood.

Before she had a chance to do anything else, Roscoe strode into the cell.

“The cell block is buzzing,” he drawled slowly, taking in Kellie’s bloodied nose and tear-streaked face. He didn’t look surprised, but he didn’t look happy either. The guard sighed. “Mally do that?”

Kellie looked away and shook her head, the motion causing her nose to throb even more.

Impatience and a shocking level of anger invaded his voice. “Protecting her won’t do anything for you.”

“I’m not protecting her.” Kellie’s temper flared. Where was he when she needed him? “It wasn’t her. It was—”

“Save your breath!” he snapped. Roscoe struggled to gentle his voice and clumsily moved closer to give Kellie’s arm a sympathetic pat. “I know you’re new. So let me lay things out for you. Mally is a bad egg. But all you have to do make sure that she’s punished for hurting you is to tell me what happened.” Confidence filled his smile. “And I’ll make sure she gets exactly what she deserves.”

Was he deaf? “But she didn’t touch me.”

His nostrils flared. “Of course she did. She left her cell to find you, didn’t she?”

“Maybe,” she began hesitantly, feeling confused. “I don’t know.” For a brief second she considered telling him that it had been Lorna who had assaulted her. Surely that would mean the guard would separate them for good. She didn’t want to be part of some bizarre Jerry Springer convict family. But something about Roscoe’s eager expression worried her.

“Well?” He tapped a foot that looked too small to go with the rest of his enormous body. “I ain’t got all day. Lights out is coming soon.”

“Umm . . . She didn’t touch me,” Kellie finally repeated.

“Okay,” he said, clearly irritated and not doing a very good job of hiding it. He began milling around the desk. “If she didn’t do it, who did? Such a shame a pretty face like yours is already damaged goods.” His gaze traveled down her body and settled between her legs for several long seconds before finally sliding away. “What else was . . . damaged?”

Suddenly, Lorna appeared in the doorway cast in light and shadows. Her mouth was bleeding lethargically and a lurid scratch ran from eye to chin and divided her cheek.

The women’s eyes locked and Lorna slowly shook her head no, silently mouthing, “Don’t do it.”

Torn, Kellie bit her lip.

“Holloway?” Roscoe repeated, drawing out her name as he moved around the room.

For a long second Kellie sat on the razor’s edge. Lorna’s expression didn’t change, but her eyes screamed a warning that Kellie found herself unable to ignore. “I—I um. I just tripped, is all.” Right. Even this schmuck won’t believe that.

Roscoe slapped the metal desk with an open hand, his head snapping sideways. “Bullshit!”

Lorna’s eyes briefly closed as if relief, then she strolled all the way inside, keeping her back to the guard as she breezed past him. “Here to put Holloway in her new cell? What took you so long?”

Roscoe’s glare burned a hole in Lorna’s back as he moved to her laundry bag and peered inside. His mouth moved but no sound came out for a few seconds. Then he waved a dismissive hand. “She’ll be moved when I’m good and goddamned ready.” Frustration leaked into his voice. “Maybe tomorrow, maybe never. I know how much you enjoy having roommates.”

Kellie had no idea what was going on, but despite Lorna’s earlier statement, which seemed to indicate she’d taken some sort of bizarre proprietary interest in her, going anyplace with Roscoe was rapidly becoming an equally unsettling option. Best to stay put.

“Fine, Holloway,” Roscoe began derisively, “if you want to be Mally’s dog—”

Lorna’s back straightened.

“—Be my guest. Just don’t come crying to me when she does worse than a bloody nose.”

He stormed out.

Lorna leaned over the desk, bracing her hands on the cool metal as her head sagged. Kellie was as angry as she was frightened. “Why didn’t you want me to tell the guard what happened? You saw what she did to me!”

With visible effort, Lorna pushed away from the desk. “This is truly your first time, isn’t it?” she tiredly asked.

“I’m a little too long in the tooth to be a virgin, don’t you think?” Kellie said in a clipped voice. “Besides, that Katrina woman didn’t get quite that far. Though it wasn’t for her lack of trying. If you hadn’t kicked that bunk and . . . well . . .” She let the sentence trail off, her throat constricting around the words.

“I meant your first time in prison,” Lorna clarified gently. Her hand went to her lip. “Goddammit.” She let out a hiss. “That hurts.” She plopped on the bed next to Kellie, who scooted as far away from her as she could.

Lorna looked stung by the action.

Kellie sniffed a few times, glad her throbbing nose had finally stopped bleeding. Though she was pretty sure it was broken. “Yes,” she finally uttered. “I’m a prison virgin.” She knew her voice was rough with anger. Anger at the wrong person. But she couldn’t help herself. “As if you couldn’t tell.”

Lorna’s brows contracted. “Didn’t you ever see any prison movies?”

“No.”

“Never talked to a relative who’d recently come out of the joint? Uncles? Cousins? Your dad?”

Kellie blinked. Lorna had asked her question as though she couldn’t believe the answer could be no. Rather than offend this volatile woman again, she settled on mumbling, “I’m not close to my family.”

Lorna looked at Kellie like she was an alien. “Not even a boyfriend who—”

Kellie glared at her with bloodshot eyes. “I said, I’ve never known any convicts and I don’t know what to do, okay? Up until a few months ago my life was not a bad Loretta Lynn song! Besides, after ten minutes I was already in trouble. That should tell you something.”

Kellie gestured widely. “None of this is my fault.” She blinked a few times, reality crashing down on her and a hint of desperation invading her voice. “I—I don’t know how I’m going to do this.”

“You’ll find a way,” Lorna corrected mildly, scooting back farther on the bunk and leaning against the cool wall. “But there are some things you’ll need to learn.”

“But how do I learn them without getting killed in the process?”

“You just do. It’s not easy . . . I know.” Lorna looked like she wanted to say more, but couldn’t. “Look, the most important thing to know is that you never, ever, rat out an inmate to a guard. Never.”

“Even for trying to rape me?” Kellie asked bluntly.

“Even for trying to kill you.”

Kellie’s hands balled into frustrated fists. “But shouldn’t the murderers be in maximum security!”

Lorna smiled grimly. “Maybe. But it costs three times as much to house a con in maximum as it does medium security. The state’s only got so much money. So even the worst of the worst can find their way here over time. And you had the very bad luck to meet one of the worst today.”

Kellie eyes flickered over Lorna. She felt an unwelcome tingle of attraction for her rescuer. “Only one?”

Lorna bristled. “Fuck you, Holloway. I’m happy to let you figure things out for yourself.” She crossed her arms over her chest and looked away, eyes on fire. “Having any roommate is a pain in the ass . . . But one who is a bitch to boot isn’t something I’m going to put up with.”

Kellie flinched at the harsh words. “I . . .” She swallowed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way. I don’t know what I’m saying. I’m . . . Just go on. Please.” I need all the help I can get.

But Lorna waited until Kellie was literally squirming. “The guards are always hanging around here, but as you found out today, they aren’t everywhere. You have to live with the other women, not so much the guards. The inmates exterminate rats, even ones who are just scared or who are just telling the truth. Period.”

Kellie gaped. “They would kill me?”

Lorna shrugged a well-toned shoulder. “They would try.”

Kellie closed her eyes, feeling more tired and dirty than she had before. And that was saying something. A drink would go a long way toward dulling this nightmare. “Jesus.”

Lorna hadn’t spoken to anyone for this long in years and, though it was foreign, it wasn’t unpleasant.

Kellie wrapped her arms around herself and began to sway.

Lorna frowned and studied the woman next to her. “Drug stupid, huh?”

“What?”

“What are you coming off of?”

Kellie sniffed and glanced away. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Lorna inclined her head. “Oh, yes you do. You’re detoxing. So which is it? Drugs or booze?”

“I am certainly not detoxing! Do I seem like some crackhead druggie or smelly wino to you? I’m not detoxing.”

Lorna gave her a pointed look. “You’re not, huh?” She grabbed Kellie’s hand, which was shaking like a leaf, and held it up for inspection. “You coulda fooled me.”

Kellie yanked it back.

Another shrug. “Fine. So you’re not drying out. I guess you just look exactly like someone who is.” Lorna glanced at Kellie with a knowing eye. Unexpectedly, her hand shot out and she grabbed Kellie’s chin so she could move her face from side to side as she examined her. “Booze, I think.”

“Maybe I just look like someone who was wrongly convicted, whose face was pounded in, and who was nearly raped!” Kellie said from between clenched teeth. But what she really wanted to do was scream at the top of her lungs. She wanted to hit this woman. Or maybe shake her within an inch of her life. But when she looked down at her own hands they were trembling so badly she couldn’t have done it if she tried. She tucked them under her armpits and whispered, “Christ.”

“How long?” Lorna asked in a voice so matter of fact that Kellie forgot to lie.

“A little more than two days.”

Lorna let out a long breath, hoping that Kellie wouldn’t get the DTs. Dealing with someone who felt like shit on toast was one thing, hallucinations, however, freaked the hell out of her. She wrestled with herself for a moment before saying, “There are medicines in the infirmary that will—”

“So,” Kellie interrupted in a nasal voice, changing the subject to something equally depressing. “Am I your dog like that guard said?”

Lorna winced and allowed herself to be distracted. “I don’t want or need a dog.”

Kellie just kept right on going as though Lorna hadn’t spoken at all. “God, how can I be someone’s prison bitch on my very first day!” she wailed miserably. “My life is a bad cliché. If only my man had run off too I’d be a Lifetime movie of the week.” Briskly, she rubbed her arms. “I’d try to escape if I had a place to go.”

“The things I get into,” Lorna murmured under her breath. “Look, you’re clearly a bitch.” She gave Kellie a direct look. “But you’re not my bitch. And more importantly, you’re not Katrina’s.”

When Lorna said Katrina’s name her voice dripped with so much hatred that Kellie gulped. She eyed the other woman warily. “But you said—”

“I know what I said.” Lorna turned to face her. “Don’t you get it?” She shook her head a little, trying to remember what the real world was like. It had been so long. “You were just about to become Katrina’s property unless you could fend her off.” She scratched her chin. “And, no offense, but it didn’t look like you were fending her off.”

Kellie glanced down at herself. Her shirt was covered in blood, her hair looked like she’d been in a wind tunnel, she stank, and she was still in her panties. “No kidding. I’m not really much of a fighter.” The skin beneath her eyes was already starting to turn purple and her vision was a bit blurry. And her nose hurt.

Lorna idly examined bruised and torn skin on her own knuckles. “Look, I felt bad for sending you to the showers alone on your first day and I didn’t want Katrina to have the satisfaction of claiming you.” She shook her head a little, obviously as surprised by what she’d done as Kellie. “So I claimed you for myself as part of what’s mine.”

“You said I wasn’t your bitch!” Kellie said desperately. Clearly she couldn’t trust this crazy, violent woman.

“Shut up.”

“But—”

“Jesus Christ, just shut up and listen!”

Reluctantly, Kellie bit her tongue and sat on her hands. She had to bounce up and down a little to keep herself from talking.

Lorna rolled her eyes at Kellie’s resentful expression. “I wasn’t kidding when I said I hoped Roscoe was coming to move you to another cell. God! You have a listening problem and it’s already pissing me off.”

“I guess I’ll never be voted ‘Most Popular Convict,’” Kellie said flatly. “I’m crushed.”

Lorna looked as though half of her wanted to strangle Kellie while the other half wanted to laugh.

Kellie held her breath.

Finally, a reluctant grin twitched at the corner of Lorna’s mouth.

“You were saying?” Kellie said with exaggerated politeness, knowing she’d already pushed her luck beyond what was wise with this volatile woman.

“If you’re part of someone’s clan here it means something. It means protection and belonging and most women respect that because that’s all we have. We make our own families. It’s not a sexual thing,” Lorna assured her hastily. Then she winced. “Well, at least it’s not with me. There are all sorts of relationships that we create that have special meaning here. Sisters, cousins, spouses, even grandmothers.”

Kellie scrubbed her forehead roughly. “You declared ownership over me like a piece of property,” she said hotly, unable to stop herself. “I’m not some hunk of meat.”

Lorna snickered. “Of course you are. We all are. What’s important is that you have the power to hold on to what’s yours.”

Her eyebrows jumped. “And you have the power?”

Lorna stretched out her legs and yawned. “You’re here, aren’t you?”

Kellie wiped her eyes, not believing how much had changed in her life in the last hour. But at least Lorna didn’t seem hell-bent on rape. “So, who else is in this clan of ours?”

Lorna gave her a tired, wan smile. “So far it’s just us. Now go make me some coffee and gravy, bitch. And get off my bed.” She was clearly joking and mimicking someone else’s voice.

Valiantly, if half-heartedly, Kellie played along. “Screw off, deadbeat. I’ll sit down and bleed anywhere I like.” She carefully felt her nose with trembling fingers, crossing her eyes as she tried to assess the damage.

“Ah.” Lorna grinned. “We’re just like real family already.” But her smiled faded before she’d even finished saying the words. She licked her lips, grimacing at the metallic tang of blood. “Who needs the outside world, huh?”

Kellie’s lower lip trembled and she whispered, “I do.”

The bleak vulnerability of the response tugged at Lorna’s heartstrings. Something that hadn’t happened in a very long time. She laid a cautious hand on Kellie’s arm, and Kellie’s breathing stopped. Their eyes met and held for the second time that evening. Kellie was suddenly aware of the warmth of Lorna’s palm. Just that much unexpected human kindness felt so good it brought tears to her eyes for the umpteenth time that day. She doubted she would have been as gracious had their positions been reversed. For the first time in years, she felt ashamed of her own selfish, and very unalterable, nature.

“I won’t hurt you.” Lorna looked down at her hand as though it weren’t her own, and with brows drawn, she self-consciously removed it. “Katrina will hurt you if she gets the chance. But I won’t.” Her voice broke and she turned away, embarrassed. “I’m not like him,” she uttered in a barely audible voice.

Despite Lorna’s fervent statement, the tension between them eased and settled into something tolerable. Kellie didn’t think Lorna knew she’d said that last bit out loud. And who ‘he’ was, Kellie decided, didn’t really matter. “I believe you,” she heard herself whisper in return. She had no idea why those words were so important to Lorna, but it was clear that they were.

“Okay.” Lorna nodded once, quickly regaining her composure after a few hard swallows. “So long as we’ve got that settled.”

With more tenderness than Kellie expected, Lorna examined her face. “Your nose is busted for sure,” she murmured, lifting Kellie’s chin higher as she continued her once-over. “You could go to the infirmary, but because nobody knows you, I’m afraid it would start rumors that you’re squealing about who hit you.”

“Oh,” Kellie said glumly. “I hadn’t thought of that. So I’m stuck with the face of a hockey player now?” Her teeth began to chatter as her body’s craving for something to drink intensified and the shock of what she’d just been through settled in.

“Do you want me to try and fix it?” Lorna asked, letting her hand drop to her side. “Your nose, I mean. I’m good at that.” Unexpectedly, she smiled, and Kellie nearly gasped as she saw years peel themselves from Lorna’s already youthful face. “Then we can go back to the bathroom and wash up a little in the sink.”

“The bathroom?” Kellie’s voice was filled with dread. They would have to walk past Katrina’s cell to get to there. Then again, holding it for years didn’t seem like much of an option.

Lorna’s face hardened again. “The showers are locked and Katrina won’t be using those bathrooms. From now on, she’s using the ones on the far side of the cell block.”

“How do you know?”

Lorna nearly growled. “Trust me, I know.”

Do I have a choice? “Can you make my nose straight again?” Kellie gingerly touched the swollen skin, feeling the misshapen cartilage.

Lorna eyed her speculatively. “I can try. I fixed my own a few years ago.” She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin a little, unconsciously responding to Kellie’s appraisal as the brunette gave her the once over.

She had a cute, slightly upturned nose that Kellie considered quite attractive. “Are you a doctor?”

“Absolutely,” Lorna said seriously. “And an astronaut, scientist and Indian chief in my spare time.”

Kellie’s lips curled into a faux smile. “I knew you were a doctor because of your wonderful bedside manner.”

“At these rates, what do you expect? But if you want someone else, I can refer you to the nurse in cell fourteen-oh-four-A. Unfortunately, she prescribed rat poison to her last patient.”

Laugh or you’ll never stop screaming. “Uhh . . . Not surprisingly, I’ll pass on her. If you fix it, will it be painful?”

“Terribly, Princess.”

Kellie positioned herself on the bed so that Lorna had easy access. She chuckled uneasily, praying this wasn’t as stupid as she feared it would be. “Have I mentioned that I’m vain?”

“Have I mentioned this was really gonna hurt?” Lorna carefully laid her fingers on either side of Kellie’s nose. They were blessedly cool against her heated skin.

Kellie blanched, her courage rapidly failing. “Maybe you shouldn’t actually—”

To the sound of Kellie’s shriek, Lorna quickly snapped the bent nose back into place. “Too late.”

“Argh!” Blood again began streaming from Kellie’s nose as she screamed.

Then the lights flickered.

“Uh oh.”

Kellie froze, her hands covering her nose and mouth. “Uh d’oh, whad?” Nervously, she glanced around. What more can happen!

“That means bathrooms have already closed and lights out is in three minutes.”

“But—” Kellie gestured angrily at her face and hopelessly stained shirt. “I thought we were going to wash up.”

“So did I.” Lorna began digging through one of her dresser drawers. Over her shoulder she tossed a plastic box, forcing Kellie to awkwardly snatch it out of mid-air or be hit in the head with it.

Kellie stared at the box of Wet-wipes as Lorna began to peel off her T-shirt. Her eyes were irresistibly drawn to Lorna’s lean back and the intricate tattoo on her bicep.

“Better hurry,” Lorna told her, grabbing a fresh shirt from a different drawer and quickly tugging it over her head. Her hair was just a little curly now that it was nearly dry.

Kellie began wiping her face hastily, doing her best not to cry. Her nose felt straighter but it was completely numb and she was pretty sure that wasn’t supposed to have happened.

There was a loud clicking sound from the door as the lock that had been holding the door open released.

A few seconds more and Chul swept by the room, his boots clicking against the floor with every rapid step. Glancing inside he saw two bodies and closed the door so quickly that Kellie barely saw him. She grabbed another wipe and hurriedly cleaned her sticky chin, glad she couldn’t smell the blood.

Then the room went black.

Kellie sucked in a nervous breath. Out of the blue, a warm hand came to rest on her shoulder and she nearly jumped out of her skin. The hand gave her a gentle squeeze.

“It’s all right,” Lorna promised quietly. “It’s not as dark as you think. Your eyes will adjust.”

The cell door clicked again and then a heavy deadbolt slid into place. Kellie jerked at the sound. “Is it—?”

“Locked until morning,” Lorna confirmed quietly, “yeah.”

Kellie released a shaky exhale. Her insides were quivering and she felt even sicker than she had a few minutes ago. The room was dark, and cramped and, suddenly, it was unbearably hot. I can’t breathe. “I guess . . . I mean, I suppose you get used to the sound of the lock every night, huh?” The words sounded thin even to her own ears.

Lorna glanced at the back of the cell and upward toward the small window that allowed slivers of moonlight to sneak into the room. She took a step forward, placing herself in the silvery light, and letting it drape itself over her face. Then she turned, sighed, and shared the unvarnished truth. “No.”