Beast: Part Two by Ella James Read Free Book Online Page B

an update on Mom, who seems to be fading even further, having not opened her eyes in almost four days now. I’m all too glad not to think about that as I grab my clutch, slip into sneakers, and pull the front door open. I stand there for a long moment, breathing in the dewy, pre-dawn air and assessing the guard for warning signs that I shouldn’t go with him.
    “Is something unusual going on?” I ask.
    “Don’t think so.”
    But I can tell. I can just tell he’s hiding something. Normally, he’s looser. Less…still. Tonight he seems subdued, almost frozen, as if he doesn’t want to say or do something wrong.
    Still standing in the doorway, I bite my lip and shake my head . “Clinton, I’m really sorry, but can I get you to call the prison and let me speak to your boss? Or maybe just him? Beast?”
    He nods.
    “Can you call him?” Clearly, Beast isn’t foolproof in the trustworthiness department, but he was normal enough to me yesterday.
    Clinton nods and slides his phone out of his pocket. “I can call him. If that’s what it takes for you to come.”
    I roll my eyes and abruptly change my mind. “Whatever. Let’s just go. Live dangerously and stuff. Going early today will help me be home in time to spend the day with my little sister, Adrian.”
    “That’s good,” he says, but he seems distracted.
    By the time we roll through the last of the gates, I’m absolutely positive something is wrong.
    Despite Clinton’s repeated insistence that everything is fine—and his insistence that we listen to Mariah Carey’s debut album on CD—I’ve got a creepy crawly feeling in my stomach.
    I decide to go out on a limb as he slides into a parking spot just in front of the main entrance.
    “Is this a test? A trap? Be honest with me, because right now, I’m kind of scared.”
    What if something happened to Beast and the others…I don’t know…take me? The thought makes me want to lock the doors and stay inside the car.
    Clinton’s brown eyes rest on mine. “It’s not a test. Or a trap. He just wanted to see you.”
    “Is something wrong?”
    He puts the Explorer in park and turns off the ignition.
    “So something is wrong!” I notice an ambulance parked over to the right and point accusingly at it. “Did he get hurt?”
    “You’re about to see him,” he says, and gets out of the car. I know he’s walking around to open my door, something I’m pretty sure is common in the Southern U.S., where Clinton’s accent indicates he’s from.
    The center of my chest goes hot and melty at the thought of something happening to Beast, even as fear floods in behind concern. I shouldn’t be here if something’s wrong. I can’t take care of myself here without the aid of someone much stronger.
    Clinton opens my door, and when I get out, he gives me a reassuring smile. “I wouldn’t let you do something dangerous. I’m a warden, not a prisoner, remember?”
    I nod.
    He’s latched his arm companionably through mine, but when we go through the doorway, he takes his arm back and moves away from me.
    “Go through the metal detector, Miss Mitchell,” he tells me.
    I walk through. It stays quiet, and as I’m standing still so a male guard can wave a wand over me, I notice a cluster of medical personnel standing about fifteen yards ahead, at the mouth of a hall. That must be why Clinton is acting distant.
    Finally he and I are through security. He starts down a hall, but my sneakers are rooted to the floor.
    He turns around .
    “Is it bad?” I ask.
    “ Nothing to be scared of, ma’am.”
    He nods at a female guard posted at the mouth of the hall we’re going down, and she nods back at us. I try to keep my gaze on him, but it wanders. I’m curious to see that sheets of metal have come down from the ceiling, covering the barred façade of every cell. The metal sheets leave a small hole for a few of the bars on each of the cells, so fresh air can circulate, I guess, but the cells are mostly covered.
    I try to