Outlaw by Imogen Keeper

Author:Imogen Keeper [Keeper, Imogen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: urban fantasy, fantasy romance, Paranormal Romance, Sci Fi Romance, Super soldier Romance
Publisher: Mindless Muse, LLC
Published: 2021-06-28T22:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

RUN THE CODE

TIERNEY JONES

After wheeling Three back to the guards, I go straight back to my office and glare at my screen. There are a thousand things I should be doing, but I don’t want to do any of them.

Guilt roils inside me, mingling with self-loathing, frustration, suffocation, confusion about that moment his overwhelming, debilitating pain took over my own brain. And more. Shame. Fear. Hope?

Three’s like an illness. He’s under my skin, in my head, forcing his way into my heart with every second we are together.

I can’t even think straight. I’m risking my career—my life and my sister’s life—for what? A chance to give blowjobs to a shackled prisoner who is probably manipulating me, and hope we don’t get caught? We will get caught and then I’ll be Outlaw and nothing good will come of that for anyone.

I should just finish this horrible project so I can move on with my life and never think about this hellhole again. Not once in my life, have I been impulsive, not once have I been thoughtless, not once have I ever done anything so flagrantly, violently dangerous. Is it the vitamin? Is it making me temperamental as well as better at my job? The horrible thought occurs to me that maybe if I’d stayed on it, I’d have been incapable of designing this code.

And I tortured him. God, the look on his face.

I pull up his file with all its myriad pictures of him.

I’ve looked at them a thousand times. But I never get tired of staring at his face. There are hundreds of photographs of him, from childhood through now. The ones I like best are from before the Sierra’s escaped, before Octavius met Delilah, before she died. From about age twenty-four through twenty-five. In most of them, he’s smiling, carefree, easy, like he finds life to be infinitely amusing.

Slipping off my heels and curling up in my chair, I scroll through until I get to the more recent ones, three years later, taken here in the lab. Photo after photo of his glorious body, exercising, flexing, shifting. My lip catches between my teeth.

His body is almost scientific in its perfection.

The extra years have only made him even more devastatingly handsome, sharpened his features, roughened the deadly dominance of his bearing.

I click on the reels. Mostly they are from before I arrived.

One of them is of him pacing his cell, another in which he’s dancing wildly and singing at the top of his lungs that I can’t make heads or tails of. It has to be a distraction, but I can’t imagine from what. There’s another of him sleeping on his back in his cell, his cock jutting up rigidly above him. I’m unsure why anyone kept this particular clip, until his hips start moving. His eyes stay shut, and his arms stay loose by his sides, but the muscles of his abdomen clench and shiver, his erection bobbing arrhythmically.

The tip shimmers with his fluid. I wet my lips.

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