Chapter 4

“THE LITTLE LADY IS MINE.”

Yrah froze in her spot, her hand on Ysiah’s arm, and gaped at Gresso, who seemed to have stunned everyone. Even Ysiah, a veteran Interpol agent, reacted. He became absolutely still as though Yrah’s touch had turned him into stone. Not long after Gresso’s declaration, a guard came up behind him and tased him. 

His beautiful green eyes widened in surprise as his body convulsed from the electric shock, though it remained focused on her. Just before he dropped, an expression of helplessness entered his gaze, but Yrah couldn’t do anything. She’d been rendered immobile by the horror of everything she’d seen unfold in the last few minutes.

When the guard stepped back as Gresso was prostrate on the ground, the inmate startled them all when he suddenly flipped over so that he was face-up. He clenched his jaw and glared at the guard who tased him. 

“You bloody bastards just ruined a reunion between my lady and me.” He rolled over and leaped up to his feet as graceful as a circus performer, towering over the guards once more. He picked up the bat he’d dropped and smacked it into his open palm. “I’m gonna teach you bogs a lesson you’ll never forget.” He hit his palm again. “So that every time you see a bat, you’d piss yourself. Would you like that, you—“ 

His large body spasmed again as a female guard tased him, causing him to drop his bat. He seemed to crumple into himself before going down hard on the ground. He didn’t move. 

“Timber!” one of the asshole guards had shouted while the others laughed. 

Yrah was beyond horrified. He wasn’t moving. Here she was, standing by like a slack-jawed idiot, just watching the spectacle like Gresso was performing for their entertainment. She pointed at him. “He’s not moving,” she said faintly.

The female guard whose nametag said LaRosa prodded him with the tip of her black shoe. To Yrah’s relief, Gresso groaned and turned over on his back, though with less grace this time. His eyes remained closed, but he was breathing from where she could see. Breathing raggedly, actually.

Next to her, Ysiah burst out laughing. When Yrah looked at him, he was doubled over and having big belly laughs, then he was up and high-fiving Drs. Zinc and Jaz who were also cracking up. Yrah got it. Gresso made a grand declaration of macho possessiveness and couldn’t back it up. It was an epic fail. 

But Yrah didn’t feel like laughing. Ysiah must have realized that she was just standing there, quietly watching Gresso, so he stopped and patted her back. Yrah gave him a small smile. She looked back at her fellow doctors, who had also stopped laughing and were now staring at the floor.

When she returned her attention to Gresso, she saw that his eyes were still squeezed shut as four guards hauled him up and yanked his arms back so they could cuff him. 

Ysiah sighed and lowered his head. When Yrah met his eyes, she could tell that he still had the giggles and was trying very hard not to laugh anymore. Yrah rolled her eyes. Ysiah tapped the back of her head as he’d always done, a brotherly gesture. 

“You haven’t been here five minutes, and have already drawn the attention of this prison’s most notorious inmate. Whoopee for you.” Ysiah shook his head and straightened back up, a serious man once again. His eyes were trained on Gresso, who was on his knees and seemingly without energy, looking like he was about to topple over again. 

Yrah found herself near tears and covered her mouth. Why did she want to go to his side and prop him up? She was such an idiot. She was a professional, for God’s sake. 

“I’ve read his profile.” Ysiah whistled, then clicked his tongue in admonition as he leveled a look at her. “He’s not the kind of bloke you want following you about while you’re here. Trust me.” He winked at her and put his arm around her shoulders to lead her away from the mess.

The other doctors and new guards followed, but she couldn’t help but look back at Gresso. He was still on his knees because every time he would try to stand or open his mouth to speak, he’d get tased again. 

Yrah noticed that something else had caught his attention. There was a murderous look in his eyes, and he was clenching his jaw so hard that Yrah was afraid he’d hurt himself. When she realized he was glaring at Ysiah, who had his arm around her shoulders, she gulped. She might have to play referee between the two, or one of them was going to end up dead. Yrah had her money on Gresso. 

When she was a girl, she read “The Jungle Book,” and a character in it had always stuck with her. It wasn’t Mowgli, Baloo, or Bagheera, the wise panther. It was the battle-torn Shere Khan, the ferocious tiger who’d killed Mowgli’s parents. He had a scar on his face, too, from the torch the Mowgli’s dad had brandished at him. He was blind in one eye because of it. He was a loner. She’d always felt sorry for Shere Khan, and Ate Bella used to make fun of her for not “understanding” the point of the story.

Gresso reminded her of Shere Khan. Once a majestic tiger, he was brought down by circumstances beyond his control.

When they reached the end of the corridor, she heard Gresso’s terrifying growl followed by a string of curses that would have earned him a bar of soap in the mouth in her household.

“Get your fucking hands off me! I gotta see my doctor!”

Yrah squeezed her eyes shut when she once again heard the “bzzt, bzzt” of the taser followed by his agonized groan. 

“I swear to God, each of you wankers will wake up tomorrow morning with Italian neckties. Fuckin’ count on it! You goddamn ugly motherfuckers!”

Another round of “bzzt-bzzt.”

Yrah blew out her cheeks and shook her head. This was some goddamn welcome she and her team received. Kuya Trojan’s brother was crazy, all right, and she seemed to be the focus of his obsession. She really didn’t know how to feel about it. 

“Jeez,” said Zinc behind her. “I hope I live long enough to have grandchildren and tell them this story one day. At this point, I don’t think I’ll make it through the month.”

ACCORDING TO Ysiah, Gresso was a notorious troublemaker in prison and had many infractions on his record. He often got into fights and instigated riots because of the short leash he had on his temper. 

One inmate ended up in the ICU. Currently comatose on life support with no brain activity. The guy was a vegetable. Thanks to Gresso.

“Wonderful.” Yrah sighed and rubbed her face with both hands.

Sadly, those weren’t the only reports. He was the warden’s number one headache. Ysiah said if it weren’t for Trojan’s protection, Gresso might have gotten shanked in the shower already. He was often in solitary confinement, a tiny room with only a bed and a toilet, no windows, and a solid, heavy-duty door. Even when it was time for recreation, he was restricted to his cell. Somehow, whenever he’s in a common area with other prisoners, he was liable to snap and kill someone.  

“He’s broken at least three necks. One of the guards he attacked is quadriplegic now, so he’s one of the major reasons why this prison has a hard time retaining guards in its employ. The warden doesn’t know how to deal with him,” Ysiah narrated, shaking his head. “Three months ago, however, Agent Trojan Lindstrom visited him and had a talk with him. Gresso promised to behave and hadn’t really acted up again until today.” 

Yrah looked away when she noticed Ysiah watching her with a contemplative look on his face. There was no way Kuya Trojan told Gresso that she was going to be working here, right? Of course not. That might compromise the mission. 

And even if he did, why would Gresso care enough to change his behavior?

Yrah was confused. When Gresso declared that she belonged to him upon their arrival, some people might have believed that they had a history together.

The door opened, and in came Dr. Zinc with a giant bag of potato crisps. He was the only doctor Yrah knew who didn’t seem to care about what he put into his body.

“Dr. Ysiah, we’re needed in cell seventeen.”

Ysiah acknowledged Zinc before turning to Yrah. “Alright, girl. You’re up on deck. Check-ups will start in a few minutes.”

Yrah saluted him. “Aye-aye, captain.”

Ysiah rolled his eyes. “Smartass.”

She watched the others leave. Dr. Jaz was the one who accompanied the inmates to the hospital today, so she was the one on hand to assist Ysiah on his rounds. 

“Let’s see… block five.” She had just pulled up the files on her laptop when the door to the infirmary opened, and three guards came in dragging a bloody and beaten inmate. Her jaw nearly dropped to the floor when she realized it was Gresso.

Yrah rushed to her feet and indicated the nearest available cot for them to set down Gresso so she could assess him. 

“What happened?” She tried to keep calm, but even she could hear the tinge of hysteria in her voice.

“Riot,” one of the guards muttered.

Yrah took a deep calming breath. She went to her laptop to pull up Gresso’s medical records to quickly scan them and found that most of his recent injuries had been combat-related. Broken jaw, dislocated shoulder, concussion, slipped disks, lacerations, stab wounds… stab wounds?!

“Are there others wounded?” she demanded from the guards, but they only answered in the negative.

Yrah was stumped. How could it be a prison riot when there were no other injured parties but Gresso?

“We’ll be waiting right outside, Doc. Just holler if he does something nasty.”

Yrah swallowed hard and nodded before assessing Gresso for damage. In his current condition, there was no way in hell he could do anything nasty.

He had a gushing wound above his brow, his lower lip was busted, and the front of his orange prison jumpsuit was soaked with his own blood.

Yrah sighed. How was she going to deal with this man? She began to prepare the paraphernalia needed to fix him up and had her back to him. As soon as the door closed, she saw movement in the corner of her eye, but she wasn’t quick enough. Gresso jack-knifed from the bed and grabbed her. She opened her mouth to scream, but he clamped his large hand over the lower half of her face. He gestured at her not to make any noise, but Yrah tried to fight back anyway.

“Hey! Hey, be quiet.” He was whispering, but there was an underlying note of warning in his tone. “Just calm your tits down, will you? I’m not going to hurt you.”

Yrah shoved his hand away and backed away from him, glaring. She fumbled around the tray behind her until her fingers found what she needed. She brought up a scalpel. “Lie back down, or I’ll cut you to pieces, Gresso, I swear to God.”

The man grinned and straightened his posture to his full height as he laughed. Yrah gulped. She yelped and dropped the scalpel when Gresso grabbed her and held her against his chest. His palm slid to the small of her back, then he adjusted his body so that they were perfectly aligned with each other. 

Yrah tried to retreat from him, but Gresso only followed her until her back hit a large table. Her beating heart, her reddening face, her weakening knees… these are all danger signs. She wanted him.

Self-defense. She spent three grueling months training to be G.I. Jane, yet the longer she stared into Gresso’s deep green eyes, the more she forgot her purpose and what she was supposed to do. 

Her breath sawed in and out of her parted lips as she gazed back at him. The butterflies in her stomach were not butterflies but angry hornets.

Jolts of electricity arced through veins when Gresso’s other hand went up to the back of her head, and his fingers plunged into the mass of hair there, dislodging her ponytail. He smirked. 

That devilish smile, Yrah thought, as the last vestiges of her rational instincts told her to hold on. The flicker of desire in his eyes told her he had no plans of disguising what he felt for her.

“So, Doc…” He lifted his brow. “Did you miss your first-ever patient?

The tiny hairs on the back of Yrah’s neck stood on end when she heard the tone of his voice. It was seductive, but there was a hint of danger in it, too. The effect on her system was heady and hadn’t changed. It still had the power to mesmerize her, and it might be worse now.

She gripped the corner of the table, or she would have collapsed since her knees had turned into rubber. When Gresso caressed her nape with his rough hand, she nearly lost her breath, and a type of heat she had never before experienced began to build from the core of her body and slowly circulated to infect her extremities.

Wildfire…

Gresso had ignited a flame inside her and fed it until it was a blazing inferno that eradicated all of her self-control and rational thought.

She was a medical doctor, a scientist… she made daily decisions based on empirical evidence, but she just wanted to know one thing right now.

What kind of magic did Gresso possess that he could make her body obey and yearn for him even when she mentally and emotionally resisted it?

She could no longer fight the sensation slowly spreading throughout her system. She felt the heat of the hand cradling her back even through her lab coat and jersey-knit dress. His touch awakened everything inside of her, parts of her that she didn’t even know existed. 

He seemed to have noticed his effect on her, for his eyes blazed with green fire. They didn’t need an accelerant. They were ready to go up in flames together. 

“Tell me, Doc. Did you miss me, hmm?” His voice was soft, teasing. He pushed aside her lab coat and exposed her neck and shoulder to him.

“G—Gresso…” 

His pupils darkened, and his gaze glittered with danger upon hearing her soft, whispery utterance of his name. Yrah hadn’t meant to sound enticing, but it seemed even her voice was determined to betray her. 

The smirk on his lips widened even more. “I’m in pain, Doc. I think I’m gonna need my medicine now.”

Yrah swallowed hard. “I—I’ve got some—” 

“I ain’t talking about the pill-kind, Sweetcakes.” The green pools of his eyes seemed to deepen as he lowered his head. 

Yrah’s heart jumped to her throat as he nuzzled her cheek. His breath smelled like sweet mint and felt surprisingly soothing against her skin.

The hand that clutched the nape of her neck tightened. “I’m talking about your delicious lips, Doc.”

Before Yrah could respond, he’d affixed his mouth to hers, seemingly intending to brand her as his.