Our eyes lock, and we don’t move until the door swings open and Tristan enters with Kaitlyn following closely behind. I drop the washcloth, giving Beau a determined stare before turning. “I got most of the blood, Kait,” I say, smiling at the young, redheaded nurse.

“Thanks Ash.” She smiles back, taking over.

I walk over to Tristan when he beckons me, and lean in close.

“He say what happened?” he asks.

“No.”

“He nearly killed the other inmate. Neither of them will talk so a decision has been made that he needs to be transferred to a higher-security prison. We don’t have the facilities here to deal with this kind of violence. It won’t be the first fight he’ll get into.”

I turn and look at Beau, whose eyes are still on me. I don’t see this as being something he’s gotten himself into, and it worries me. He really has no reason to be transferred, but there’s nothing I can do to stop it. My argument is pointless in this situation.

“If you’ve got the morning free tomorrow, it would be good if you could accompany us. Two guards are off sick and we need extra hands. I know you don’t usually do transfers, but in this case we don’t really have a choice.”

“I’m happy to,” I say, giving him a forced smile.

At least I can get a feel of what’s going to go down if I go.

He pats my shoulder. “Thanks, Ash.”

I nod then glance back to Beau. He’s watching me still, his eyes narrowed.

Why has this prisoner gotten to me in such a way?

Maybe it’s because I truly don’t believe he’s a bad person.

CHAPTER SIX

It’s a cold morning when I head out the next day. I pull on a coat, dragging the ties around my waist to hold it secure. I say goodbye to Claire and Leo, telling them my plans. They’re too busy arguing over breakfast to hear me. With a wave of my hand, I leave.

The drive over to work is long; that would probably be because I’m spending my time pondering Beau and the issues going on around me. I’ve lain awake all night wondering why they’re transferring him. It has to be orchestrated; I’ve seen prisoners do far worse and never get moved. Someone is behind this, and it scares me to think of why they’d be going to such an effort.

I arrive just as they’re preparing the transfer vehicle. It’s a large truck, with a fully secured back. In the back with Beau there will be two guards. He will also be fully shackled to the ground and walls of the truck, making sure he can’t move. I’ll be in the front with two other guards.

“Are you ready?” Tristan asks as I approach.

I nod, wrapping my coat around me even tighter. “Sure.”

“I’m not coming, I have a meeting, but you’re with some good guards.”

He’s not coming? That’s strange. He always comes to these things.

“You’re not coming?”

He shrugs, but I don’t miss his eyes darting away for just a second. “It’s a meeting I can’t change, sorry.”

“Okay,” I mutter.

He pats my shoulder. “Let the security guys go over you, then jump into the truck. They’re loading Dawson now.”

I give him a fake smile as I head towards security. They make sure I’m not packing any weapons to attempt a prison break, and then I walk over and climb into the truck. Larry is already in the driver’s side.

“Morning,” he grunts, nodding at me.

“Hi,” I say, feeling awkward. I cross my arms and tuck my knees up, waiting.

They load Beau about fifteen minutes later. Guards bark orders at one another, and then Peter jumps into the truck, staring over at me. He gives me a jerk of his head and then looks over to Larry. It’s awkward being stuck in between them. “We’re good to go.”

Then we’re off. Larry drives the truck out of the prison, taking us towards the highway. The high-security prison is about an hour and a half away, in the neighboring city. It’s not that it’s better than the prison I work at; it’s just that they tend to be better equipped to deal with the more aggressive prisoners. Not that Beau is an aggressive prisoner.

I pull out a book when we hit the highway, and busy myself reading while Larry and Peter talk casually between them. The ride is smooth and easy, at least until the deep rumble of bikes comes sailing through the window. Larry turns and stares out his rearview mirror.

“That the motorcycle gang?”

I shudder. It’s a club, for a start. Not a gang. And if it is, we’re in big, big trouble.

The other thing that bothers me, is that he doesn’t seem scared about it.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

They ignore me as Larry continues to stare out the rearview mirror.

“They’re early.”

What?

My heart picks up and I turn to find Peter with a gun pointed at me. I reel backwards, confused.

“What’s going on?”

“Shit, Peter,” Larry barks. “It ain’t them. It’s the boy’s fuckin’ gang.”

The boy’s? Beau’s? What’s happening?

“What do you fuckin’ mean it’s the boys? How the fuck did they find out? It ain’t meant to be them. Speed up, get off this road before they have the chance to get hold of us.”

“What is going on?” I screech.

“Shut the fuck up,” Peter barks, shoving the gun out the window and taking a shot.