Sweet Sin, page 21
“Nobody touches anybody in my cell block,” I say. “You want to shove your cock up somebody’s ass? Get yourself transferred.”
The eyebrow again. This time, I use my height to my advantage. I shove my shoulders back, lift my chin. Because what I say is fact. Nobody gets fucked on my block. It’s bad enough I have to listen to the screams from the other ones.
I run a tight ship. But sometimes, when we’re all locked up at night, things can go wrong. A rogue guard sometimes finds an inmate he likes, or he takes a bribe from another inmate.
Then it’s up to me, the next morning, to take care of things. But I don’t always know who’s at fault. I rely on my men.
The grapevine in my block is pretty damned good.
“I don’t answer to anybody,” Zion says.
“Good enough. Don’t fuck up, and you won’t have to.”
A sly smile curls his lips. “I don’t think you understand what I just said.”
I cock my head, turn my jaw into granite. “You think I don’t? I went to college. Did you?”
“As a matter of fact, I did.”
“Then I think we both know what I meant and what you meant. Only one problem.” I glance around for a second and then fix my gaze back on Zion. “All these men here? They’re on my side.”
“You think?”
“I know your type. You think you’re the first little guy I’ve seen come in here and try to make waves?”
“Five minutes alone with me, and you’ll no longer think I’m so little.” He grabs his crotch.
Seriously? He’s threatening me? With his fucking dick size?
No cock gets near me.
“I’m thinking five minutes alone with me, and you’ll be a dead man.”
He grins, and I swear to God if I look closer I’d see saliva in the corners of his mouth. “I’d like to make you shriek like a fucking wildcat.”
Yeah. I’m done with this piece of shit. “You’re going to want to get the fuck away from me now.”
“I don’t take no orders from a pretty boy.”
I hold back my chuckle. The only pretty boy here, other than Tommy, is fucking Zion himself. Trying to be the tough guy. Keeping muscle on that tiny frame so people take him seriously.
If he’s thinking about raping anybody in the cellblock, he’ll be sorry.
And he sure as hell won’t get anywhere near me.
“You show Savage some respect,” Larkin says.
“How about I show your ass my cock?” Zion taunts him.
“Make all the threats you want,” I say. “You mark my words. You even try to carry any one of them out? You won’t see the light of the next fucking day.”
“Big words.”
I lift an eyebrow. “You think you know what big is? Think again.”
That gets him. His eyes go wild, as if he’s mad. “You watch it, Savage. Yeah, I know who you are. Falcon Bellamy. And I know you ain’t in for no murder.”
“You did your homework,” I say. “So fucking what?”
“You think you’re so fucking tough. You don’t know what it’s really like to be a criminal. What it feels like to shove a knife into someone’s flesh, watch them bleed out. After you’ve fucking taken their pussy and ass in every way possible.”
So he’s a rapist. Good for him. He won’t get along well here. Not in my cell block. We don’t take kindly to rapists.
They’re only above child molesters on our totem pole of who are the worst degenerates of humankind.
“Keep talking,” I say. “You’re close to signing your own fucking death warrant.”
“Big words,” he says again.
“Original words on your part.”
The irony seems lost on him.
He finally backs away, standing straight and tall, still meeting my gaze. “You need to watch it, Bellamy.”
“You call him Savage,” Larkin says through gritted teeth.
“The only thing I’m going to call him is fresh meat.” He grabs Tommy’s arm, yanking him toward him. “And I’m taking you.”
“Maybe I didn’t make myself clear.” I stalk toward Zion, force him to let go of Tommy, and then lead him to the concrete block wall, where I grab a fistful of his orange jumpsuit. “You don’t touch any of my men. Have I made myself clear now?”
With his right hand, Zion grabs my wrist.
And I’ll give him one. He is fucking strong.
But I’m stronger. And meaner.
I wasn’t always mean like Zion, but you learn to be mean on the inside. You do it for survival. You do it to protect those who are too weak to protect themselves. And you do it to put shitheads like Zion in their place.
“Quite a grip you’ve got,” I say. “But it won’t get you anywhere here. Stay away from all of them…or I’ll fucking kill you.”
My words aren’t even menacing. I say them matter-of-factly. I’ve found they have more effect that way.
Let them think I’m a little off my rocker. Let them think whatever they want.
All I need to do is watch my back, and the backs of the rest of the men on my block.
Not too difficult.
Not for Savage.
42
SAVANNAH
“You’re not coming anywhere near me!” I glance around quickly, looking for something, anything, to use as a weapon.
I pick up the Jane Austen I was reading, using it as a shield.
“Put that down, Savvy,” Miles says. “Eat your damned dinner. I can’t have you fainting from hunger.”
He’s right. I can’t faint. I want to be completely conscious for whatever he has in mind for me. If I’m unconscious, I can’t fight back.
“Eat,” he says again.
I take the tray and set it on the small table in the living area.
A fork.
Good.
And a spoon.
No knife.
The salmon is flaky and doesn’t require a knife. Not that he would have given me one anyway.
I force myself to ingest the food. All of it. And the water.
I rise. “I have to go to the bathroom.”
He blocks the door to the bedroom. “You’re not going anywhere.”
“Would you rather I piss on you?”
I regret my words as soon as I say them. With my luck, I just turned Miles on with that threat.
“Fine. Go.”
I head into the bedroom to the bathroom and close the door.
Of course there’s no lock.
And of course he can see everything I’m doing anyway.
Fucking cameras.
Is it really that important to watch me take a crap?
And I’m glad I ate the food. Already I’m feeling stronger. Healthier.
I made a deal, and I’ll see it through, but I won’t make this easy or enjoyable for him.
Then I laugh out loud.
Enjoyable for him? He’s already enjoying this. Whether I lie like a dead fish or fight him to the end, he’ll enjoy it. He’ll get off.
I flush the toilet and look in the mirror once more. I see myself as whoever is watching me sees me.
A pawn.
A weakling.
A mere thing.
I can’t escape. I made my choice.
I chose the wellbeing of Falcon over my own wellbeing.
And as much as I hate what’s about to happen to me, I can’t bring myself to regret it.
I leave the bathroom, enter the bedroom—
Miles is there already, standing by the bed, naked, his hard cock jutting out and ready.
I swallow, forcing the food to remain in my stomach.
I lie on the bed, and he lifts my satin gown, hovers over me, his face menacing.
“Tonight you’re mine, Savannah Gallo. Welcome to hell.”
Falcon and Savannah’s story concludes in Seductive Sin!
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Read Leif and Kelly’s story in Opal and Phoenix
Excerpt from Opal:
Kelly
I’ve regressed.
It’s clear as day.
I was getting somewhere with therapy. But now? I’m back to accusing people. Treating people badly. Blaming everyone else for the circumstances of my life.
It’s funny. I see it unfolding right before me, like a movie on the screen at the cinema.
Regression.
Back to the old Kelly.
Back to Opal.
But I don’t want to be Opal anymore.
And I don’t want to be Kelly either.
Kelly had to learn to fend for herself, to scrape moldy food from the bottoms of containers she found in the trash to ease the ache of hunger.
I know I shouldn’t be acting this way. The whole island situation was Derek Wolfe’s doing, not his children’s. These people are here to help me. Even Aspen is here to help me.
Why do I act this way?
I need to see Macy.
But before then, I need to sit through this meeting and see what they can do for me.
So I listen—but only with one ear.
Because images emerge in my brain, and though I try to wipe them away, I’m not that strong yet.
*
The closet is dark.
I don’t know how long I’ve been in here, and my tummy is growling for food. I’m thirsty too, and my mouth is dry. My throat is hurting from the screaming and the crying.
I was a bad girl. And what do bad girls get? They get locked in the dark closet, after they get spanked.
My butt hurts from the spanking, but not like it used to. I’m older now. I just turned ten, and Mama even got me a birthday cake.
She put ten candles on it, lit them, and sang happy birthday to me.
Before she knocked me on the back of my head, pulled me into her lap, spanked me, and then shoved me into the closet.
I sigh in relief when the door opens, and I shield my eyes against the light.
“Come on out now, sweetheart.” Mama’s voice is soft and kind.
This is my mama. Sweet as syrup in one minute, violent and destructive the next.
She never leaves any marks on me that can be seen. Only where my clothes cover them. Or on the top of the head where they’re camouflaged by my orange hair.
The orange hair I hate.
The orange hair that the kids make fun of.
“Come here, sweetheart.”
I run into her arms, just like I always do.
Because I love my mama. And I know my mama loves me. She tells me so every day. Between beatings and locking me in the closet.
“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. But you know you have to be a good girl. You know Mama has to punish you when you’re bad.”
I nod and choke out a sob against her breast. I know better than to ask what I did. That will only set her off again.
But I don’t know what I did. I never know what I do.
The closet she locks me in is in the spare room. Not my own closet, where at least I’d have the comfort of my clothes. Just an empty space with wood floor and walls.
I follow her out to the kitchen, where a lone gift sits on the table, wrapped in plain red paper. When I look closer, I see that it’s not plain. There’s a slightly darker red snowflake pattern on it. It’s Christmas wrap. But it was nice of Mama to go to the effort. We don’t have a lot of money, so I’m lucky I’m getting a present at all.
I don’t dare touch it, though. I’ve learned to never make assumptions where Mama is concerned.
“Well…” she says. “Go ahead.”
I move toward the gift, but I still don’t touch it.
“Open your present, Kelly. It’s your birthday, after all.”
I grab the present off the table and rip it open. It’s a cardboard shoebox. New shoes, maybe? I remove the lid.
I gasp out loud.
Inside the shoebox is my volleyball. It’s been deflated.
Mama smiles. “Do you like it?”
“I don’t understand,” I say. “Why did you take all the air out of my volleyball?”
“I didn’t just let the air out,” Mama says. “I poked holes in it so you can’t use it anymore.”
Tears well in my eyes.
“You’ve been spending too much time playing volleyball after school,” Mama continues. “I need you home. Things don’t get done around here if you’re not here to do them.”
I gulp back the tears. I stopped crying over Mama’s cruelty long ago, but this is beyond callous, even for her.
“But I love playing with the other girls after school.”
Mama’s face twists into a snarl. “Kelly, I went to all the trouble to get you a gift that will help you to be a better person. A better daughter. You might show a bit more appreciation.”
Appreciation? Sadness sweeps through me. I can’t cry. I won’t cry.
Perhaps she’s right. Maybe I’m being selfish. I suppose I don’t need my own ball. All the other girls have their own, and we only need one ball to play.
But I saved up money, collected box tops.
And I went around to all the neighbors, asking if they needed any chores done. I made a few bucks that way.
I gulp again. If I start crying, it may set her off.
And I’ll end up back in the closet.
So I simply set the box down on the table and look up at my mother. “Thank you for the present, Mama. It was very thoughtful of you.”
“You’re very welcome, sweetheart. Happy birthday.”
Continue Opal.
A NOTE FROM HELEN
Dear Reader,
Thank you for reading Sweet Sin. If you want to find out about my current backlist and future releases, please visit my website, like my Facebook page, and join my mailing list. If you’re a fan, please join my Facebook street team (Hardt & Soul) to help spread the word about my books. I regularly do awesome giveaways for my street team members.
If you enjoyed the story, please take the time to leave a review. I welcome all feedback.
I wish you all the best!
Helen
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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I’m so excited about this new series! For a while now, I’ve wanted to create a hero as compelling as Talon Steel, Rock Wolfe and Braden Black combined. I believe I’ve found him in Falcon Bellamy. You’re not going to believe what’s in store for Falcon and Savannah!
Thank you so much to the following individuals who helped make this story shine: My editor (and son!), Eric McConnell; my cover artist, Amanda Shepard of Shepard Originals; Troy Duran and Angelina Rocca for loaning their amazing voices to Falcon and Savannah; and my awesome beta readers, Karen Aguilera, Serena Drummond, Linda Pantlin Dunn, and Angela Tyler. You all rock!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
#1 New York Times, #1 USA Today, and #1 Wall Street Journal bestselling author Helen Hardt’s passion for the written word began with the books her mother read to her at bedtime. She wrote her first story at age six and hasn’t stopped since. In addition to being an award-winning author of romantic fiction, she’s a mother, an attorney, a black belt in Taekwondo, a grammar geek, an appreciator of fine red wine, and a lover of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream. She writes from her home in Colorado, where she lives with her family. Helen loves to hear from readers.
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Helen Hardt, Sweet Sin
