by Adele Niles
Baby
Ember Brothers Series
Table of Contents
Baby
Copyright
Come Join My Private Facebook Group
Click Here to Join Adele’s Hot Hideaway
Grab a Free Book!
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Stalk me...
Also by Adele Niles
Copyright
First Edition, October 2019
Copyright © 2019 by Adele Niles
This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is entirely coincidental. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events and situations are the product of the author's imagination.
All rights reserved. No parts of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without written consent from the author.
License
This book is available exclusively on Amazon.com. If you found this book for free or from a site other than an Amazon.com country specific website it means the author was not compensated for this book and you have likely obtained this book through an unapproved distribution channel.
Come Join My Private Facebook Group
Click Here to Join Adele’s Hot Hideaway
A private group for VIP Readers of Adele Niles.
Come chat with Adele Niles, get the latest news, first look at covers, teasers, giveaways and more!
Grab a Free Book!
This month I’ll be sending out a completely FREE and unreleased book to all of my email subscribers. Want to grab a steamy hot, sizzling shortread? Click the link below to get on my VIP list and receive this month’s Free book.
Join Adele’s VIP Newsletter
Chapter One
Anna
I pulled on a pair of jeans, the first clothes of my own I’d worn in two whole years, and relished how good the denim felt against my skin. After two years in prison, I would never take wearing whatever I wanted for granted again, among a million other things I’d never appreciated before going to jail.
Although the jeans were from two years before, when I was 22, they still fit like a glove and were tight in all the right places. With nothing better to do, a lot of the women in prison spend their time working out, and I was no exception. My ass was higher and rounder from two years of doing squats in my cell almost every day.
Working out wasn’t just from boredom—I had to work hard to stay strong mentally and physically in prison. I was in a women’s prison with other non-violent offenders, and I still saw things nobody would believe. And that’s the problem—nobody believes me.
I didn’t do it. I didn’t commit the crime that landed me in jail. Or, I guess more accurately, I did do it, but it was completely unintentional, and I would never have done something like that on purpose.
I was convicted of transporting a kilo of cannabis across state lines. Technically I transported the pot, but I had no idea it was in the car. It wasn’t even my car!
It was Trey’s, my boyfriend’s, car. Well, ex-boyfriend, now.
I couldn’t even blame him, because he hadn’t known it was in the car, either. He never meant for any of this to happen.
Trey was criminally good-looking. With his tall, lanky frame, cornflower blue eyes, and cherubic mess of blond curls, I was smitten from the first time I saw him. And it wasn’t just his looks—Trey was sweet, attentive, and generally a pretty good boyfriend. He remembered birthdays and anniversaries, knew and appreciated all my little quirks, and called or texted me all the time just to see how my day was going.
But it was easy to fall out of love with Trey when, about six months into my sentence, he dumped me. Apparently he couldn’t wait to have sex anymore. During our last visit, he told me, “A man has needs,” and that he couldn’t be in a relationship with someone in prison.
Not having our limited contact to cling to in prison broke me. He was all I had left after I lost my home, my scholarship, most of my friends, and my family, because I was going to jail for a crime nobody believed I hadn’t committed. Trey was the only one who’d believed me, because it was his car and he damn well knew that I didn’t have any part in it.
The day before I got arrested, Trey’s mom got really sick, and he had to fly out urgently to see her one last time. The plan was for him to fly out right away and I would drive up in his car and meet him the next day, then we could drive back together. But it didn’t exactly happen like that.
When I went to cross the border from Nevada into Utah, they were doing checks at the state line. Thinking I had nothing to worry about, I was only mildly irritated by the inconvenience. Imagine my shock and horror when the police searched Trey’s car and produced a kilo of cannabis. Trey didn’t even smoke weed—I had no idea what it was doing in there.
Even if he’d wanted to take the blame for it, Trey couldn’t—I was the one driving the car, even though it was his vehicle. I was the one who had technically broken the law.
So, there I was, my first day out after two long, difficult years. I got out early for good behavior, but I was on parole and had to live in a halfway house.
After prison, though, the halfway house was paradise.
The house mother was a grouch, but she led me to my new room. I found my most professional clothes and asked her for use of a computer to print up my old resume. Then I was out to look for work.
If I want to get my own place and start my life over, I had to start making money right away.
Even though I was polite and well-mannered, none of the places I walked in to apply for were interested in hiring me. Apparently, a two-year gap on one’s resume raises questions, and when they found out I had just gotten out of jail and was on parole, I was no longer a desirable candidate.
So, there I was, back at the halfway house after a hard day of job searching, changing into casual clothes to go meet with my parole officer.
Nerves made me want to throw up when I reached her office, but I took deep breaths to calm myself. I was out of jail, this was my new life. I was going to make the most of it.
When I shook Officer Kelly Jones’s hand for the first time, I was instantly intimidated by her firm grip and hard stare. She was a tall black woman in her thirties with a no-nonsense demeanor. It was probably hard to come across as warm and friendly when you were dealing with convicts all day.
“Anna Shepherd?”
“Yes, Officer,” I confirmed meekly.
“Good, you’re on time. Make sure you’re always on time for our meetings, because if you’re late, that’s an automatic violation. No excuses, no exceptions. Got it?”
“Yes, Officer,” I replied.
“Good. I’m Officer Jones, and you will report to me for the duration of your parole. Now, have a seat, and we will go over the terms of your parole.”
As I sat across from her in a hard, uncomfortable chair, she briefly outlined the terms. Basically, I had to be on perfect behavior and prove I could successfully reintegrate into society, and she mentioned more than once that I should never, ever be late to our meetings or for curfew at the halfway house.
“Do you understand these terms? Is everything clear?”
“Yes, Officer,” I said again, realizing these were the only words I had spoken to my parole officer so far.
“Very good,” she said, leaning back in her seat and smiling for the first time. She was a lot less intimidating when she smiled. I felt encouraged by this and started to tell her about my problems with finding a job.
“I know I’ve got to work, and I’
m excited to have a job and make my own money again. But I spent the whole day today filling out applications, and no employer will give me the time of day because of my record,” I complained.
“That is a challenge for parolees,” she said with a frown. “If you can’t find anything, we do have placement programs to put you in work, since that’s part of the terms of your parole. But I’m not sure you’d fit in or like the type of work we can provide,” she said, eyeing me as if seeing me for the first time.
“What type of work?” I asked, curious.
“Mostly factory line work, or labor. Most of your coworkers would be other former convicts.”
“I’d rather find something where I have a chance to move up. And I’ve spent more than enough time with convicts, thanks.”
“I can see that,” she said with a chuckle. “Well, you have a grace period to find employment, but we’ll continue this conversation if you fail.”
“I understand. Thank you, Officer Jones.”
I saw something in her eyes soften toward me, and she said, “You may call me Kelly. I’ll see you at this same time tomorrow.”
“Okay, Kelly. It was nice to meet you.” It wasn’t really, because who wants to meet their parole officer? But it seemed like the right thing to say and she seemed pleased.
I stood, shook her hand again, and walked out.
And ran smack into a tall, broad stranger with piercing blue eyes.
Chapter Two
Jake
At first, I was irritated when I tried to enter Kelly’s office, only to literally stumble across what must have been one of her parolees. When I got a good look at her, though, I was intrigued.
She was short and petite, with olive skin and thick, wavy black hair. Her big brown eyes locked with mine in surprise as she took a step back.
“Excuse me, I’m so sorry,” she said nervously.
I quickly wiped the annoyed look off my face. “Hey, it’s no problem.”
Just then, Kelly stuck her head out of her office.
“Jake! Good to see you. What are you doing here?”
I grinned and gave her a one-armed hug. “I just came by to visit, see if you wanted to grab a bite.”
“Give me a minute, I have another meeting before I can leave. Anna, I need you to wait while I get your paperwork together. You’ve got to read over and sign some things to bring back to me tomorrow.”
Kelly closed her office door again. The girl and I looked each other up and down, unsure what to do.
“Well, I guess now we wait,” I said with a nervous chuckle.
There were a few chairs clustered together in the lobby. I took one, and the sexy stranger took another directly across from me. We were separated by only a few feet of ugly carpeting.
I knew she must have been a parolee, but she didn’t seem like the usual type. She had a nervous, gentle energy to her, unlike the many other hard, careless convicts I’d interacted with. I was curious what her deal was.
“I’m Jake, by the way. I’m…a friend of Kelly’s,” I said, not wanting to admit just yet that I was an officer, too.
“I’m Anna,” she responded with a smile. I focused on her mouth, thinking how sexy she looked when she smiled. What was wrong with me? I’d never been attracted to a convict before.
“So, what’d you do to end up here?” I said, gesturing to our drab surroundings.
I instantly regretted my words as her face clouded and she looked for a minute like she might cry.
“Never mind, none of my business, forget it,” I said quickly.
“No, it’s okay. It’s just…I didn’t do anything.”
My instinctive reaction was to roll my eyes, because that’s what they all say. But something about her seemed so sincere, so different from the other convicts.
“Then how’d you end up here?” I asked gently, genuinely interested. “If you don’t mind my asking,” I added hastily.
She sighed. “I was driving my boyfriend’s car, and the police found drugs in it at the state border. But neither my boyfriend or I do drugs, and we had no idea it was in there.”
I laughed, unable to control myself. I believed her to an extent, but my experience told me her boyfriend probably knew more than he was letting on. I felt bad for the girl.
“Boyfriend, huh? Did he wait for you while you were in the pen?” I asked, already knowing the answer. They never wait.
“Ex-boyfriend, I guess I should say,” she said, her face clouding again, and I realized I’d put my foot in it again.
“Listen, I don’t mean to come off like a jerk. And for the record, I believe you,” I said, half-lying.
“You do?” Her face lit up, and she looked hopeful. “Nobody believes me. I’ve lost everything and everyone over this. And I had the worst time today trying to find work.”
“Keep your chin up. Pretty girl like you, someone will hire you soon, I’m sure of it,” I said with a grin.
She rewarded me with another one of her gorgeous smiles in return.
Just then, Kelly came out of her office with a stack of papers in her hands, some of which she handed to Anna.
“Anna, I need you to look these over and return them to me tomorrow. If you have any questions, we can go over it all then. Sound good?”
“Yes, Officer,” she said.
“I told you, you can call me Kelly,” she said.
That was interesting. I’d never heard Kelly invite a parolee to call her by her first name.
Anna lingered for another moment. “Well, it was nice meeting you, Jake.”
“You too, Anna. Good luck with the job search.”
“Thanks.” She flashed me another killer smile and left.
I watched her ass as she walked away; her jeans hugged her curves in all the right places.
“Um, hello, earth to Jake?” said Kelly, swatting me with the papers in her hands once Anna was out of earshot.
“What? She was cute,” I said. Kelly was one of my old friends from the Academy. We had known each other for years; she was like a sister to me.
“Don’t get too friendly with my parolees. Or any convict in general, for that matter,” she said mock-sternly.
“I could say the same to you.” I laughed. “’You can call me Kelly’? What was that? You never say that.”
“I know, right?” Kelly sighed. “I feel for the girl though. There’s something different about her, I think.”
“There sure is,” I agreed, thinking again of Anna’s ass as she’d walked away.
When Kelly finished work, we grabbed dinner at a nearby restaurant, as we had done many times over the past four years since my last breakup. I had been in a serious relationship for years before that, so I was used to always having a dinner partner. When my ex broke my heart and left me for another man, I could always count on Kelly to cheer me up. Our relationship was strictly platonic, and we treated each other like family.
But tonight, all I could think about was Anna. I struggled to make conversation with Kelly as I thought about Anna’s smile, her hair, and that perfect ass. I thought about what she had told me, about how she was innocent. I wanted to believe her.
When I got home that night and greeted Rufus, my yellow lab, I was still thinking about her. I tried to get my mind off her by taking Rufus for a walk.
But all I could think about was Anna.
Lying in bed that night, I tossed and turned. I even watched some porn and jacked off, trying to clear my thoughts. But when I closed my eyes, I kept seeing Anna’s face.
Getting involved with a convict was a bad idea. I was a good cop, and prided myself on always following the rules to the letter. But I had two brothers—one was in a bike gang, and the other was a lawyer for the mob. Everyone knew it, and it made everyone at work suspicious of me, even though I’d never done anything wrong and had very little contact with either of my brothers.
Any romantic involvement with a convict wouldn’t exactly help my reputation.
But what
if she was really innocent, like she said?
Chapter Three
Anna
As I walked home from work, I heard footsteps close behind me.
After several disheartening days of filling out applications and pounding the pavement looking for work, I had finally gotten a job as a baker’s assistant. It was a shitty job, with only overnight shifts, three days a week. I didn’t make enough to be able to move out of the halfway house, but at least it was a start, and I was in no position to turn anything down. And I didn’t have to work with any other former convicts or do hard labor or factory work, which I now knew to consider a plus.
But it was still hard work. I mixed ingredients together in a huge, industrial-sized mixer, and cooked pastries in the oven so they would be fresh in the morning. It was repetitive, dull work, and the hot ovens and flour everywhere made it uncomfortable. I had been in nursing school on a scholarship before the drug bust happened. I wanted to help people, not bake scones in the dark. I wondered if I would ever be able to finish school and pursue my dreams again.
I had way too much time to think at work, and often found my thoughts drifting to Jake, the guy at the police station who had been waiting for Kelly. I wondered if he was a former convict as well. He was sexy as hell, with broad shoulders, a narrow waist, and a shock of close-cropped, white-blond hair. His best feature was those piercing blue eyes—eyes like ice on a lake.
After two years of being locked up and single, I couldn’t help but fantasize about him. Sometimes my fantasies turned X-rated, as I imagined what he would be like in bed. But I had to shake the thought—I’d probably never see him again.
The most uncomfortable part of my new job was walking to and from work in the dark. I still didn’t have a car, and obviously I couldn’t afford one yet. The hours I worked meant walking to work after nightfall and walking back to the halfway house before the sun rose. It wasn’t the safest part of town, and I always walked briskly with my eyes straight ahead.