Sins of the Father: A Paranormal Prison Romance (Sinfully Sacrified Book 1)

by Mary E. Twomey

  Maybe she is a decent big sister.

  “Good to know. I would’ve thought the daughter of Conan Valentine getting sent to Prigham’s would be open season for some of the more bitter inmates. One might guess all the misplaced anger they’ve harbored toward their parents could be aimed at you. The trial of the decade involved about a dozen families, all of whom passed their crimes off onto their children and had them sent here. Were you all friends?”

  I fake a sip of the liquid death that always makes me smile, but I don’t drink it today. It smells like a thousand memories, taking me back to the millions of times Sloan and I shared details of our day over our hot cups in front of the fireplace in the library. I should drink it, imbibe the comfort, but I don’t have the heart for it today.

  I do what I can to iron the angst from my voice. “Sloan is my friend, no one else. The others all wanted their photograph with me, not to actually spend time together. Now they hate me because my dad’s part of the reason they’re all here. You guessed it right.”

  Jen jots a few notes in a folder while we chat. “Thought your father might get off. Watched that trial every night. I think most people did.”

  I don’t want to talk about this. I don’t want to talk, period.

  While Nurse Jen checks a message on her pager, I realize all I want is to get through the next five years as quick as possible, so I can get out of here. I don’t care about freeing anybody, like Charlotte does. I don’t care about changing the system, like Cass. I don’t care about… whatever it is Gray cares about.

  I want to get through this and move on. I’ll occupy my mind with thoughts of how I’m going to decorate the farmhouse on my Henley property to suit both Sloan’s taste and my own. That’s all I want to think about. Not whether or not my dad is guilty. No kidding, he’s guilty. He was proven innocent of dozens of crimes I saw him do. I can’t believe one of them actually stuck.

  I don’t care about any of it.

  At least, that’s what I tell myself. The sooner I believe that, the better off I’ll be.

  I abandon my tea, grimacing at the memory of the gross flavor Sloan swears by. He always promised it would calm me down and make me stronger at the same time. I’m not sure I’m either of those things, after breaking down like that in the visitation room.

  “I’m well enough to go back to my… whatever it is I’m supposed to be doing.”

  Nurse Jen puts away her pager. “Looks like the warden wants a word with you.” She quirks her brow at me. “Boy, oh boy, you sure make friends fast.”

  I smirk at Jen, but we both know the odds are on the option that somehow, I’ve made an enemy of the warden before setting foot into his office.

  5

  Spacious Cell

  After eating dinner in the warden’s office while I swore up and down I wasn’t going to be a problem, I then dodged his curiosities about how Daddy managed to escape the cops on so many occasions. I’m not sure why he’s fishing for more things of which Daddy can be convicted. If he thinks this is my first rodeo of being questioned on the family’s dealings, he’s dead wrong.

  When the warden tires of my monosyllabic responses, I’m sent with a guard to my new living quarters. Apparently, the cell I was supposed to have wasn’t up to Sloan’s standards.

  The floor I’d been originally assigned to was crowded, and that could mean many more incidents, like the one that bruised my chin. So I’d been moved to a new floor that wasn’t populated yet, the warden informed me.

  The warden made it clear to me he wasn’t thrilled about the family inserting themselves into his prison like that, but in the end, Sloan had a point.

  The officer and I climb three stories of stairs in silence and make our way down a quiet corridor to a room marked 307, which is ajar. I pictured open floors of cells with bars on the doors, but this is more like a concrete dorm room. It makes sense. I mean, we’re not actually criminals, so granting us basic privacy isn’t a huge risk to the prison system. I actually think I read somewhere that Prigham’s had been a college before the king bought it and turned it into a penitentiary to go with his awful Sins of the Father bill.

  I remind myself that none of us are actually here because we’re violent criminals. So yes, we’re treated for the most part like convicts, but the bars instead of doors aren’t worth the expense to switch out. Or perhaps this was one of the concessions the king gave the protesters when the bill finally passed.

  The officer hasn’t looked at me the entire way here, and continues the stonewalling even as he speaks to me. “This is your new room. Lights out at twenty-one hundred. Up and ready for drills at oh seven hundred. That means be dressed, in the hall, lined up and ready to go.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  It’s got to be close to lights out by now. The warden kept me a long time in his office, regaling me of every police chase footage he’s ever seen that involved the family, and asking me with the intrigue of an adolescent pretending to be a gumshoe if there was a body in the back.

  I mean, honestly. Like I’m really going to narc on my family. Now that I think about it, I’m not even sure if that’s what he wanted out of me, or if he wanted to be near something dangerous, since he’s stuck looking over a bunch of angsty twenty- and thirty-somethings.

  When I step into the bedroom after the officer trots down the hall, I lose all semblance of a poker face. “What in the world?”

  Cass and Charlotte stare at me, looking only mildly more certain of the situation than I am.

  Cass points to the door. “We can talk later. You might want to grab a shower before the doors lock. There’s only twenty minutes left until lights out. The hallway exits are locked, so we’re free to roam about this floor. Bathroom’s down the hall to your right.”

  I turn on my heel, trotting across concrete to wash up in the room marked for girls. I expect to have to do a sink scrub-down, since it’s so close to the end of the day, but surprisingly, I’m the only one in here. Though that should make me calm, it sets my nerves on edge. Are they planning to lock me in here? I don’t detect any movement in the hall, but I can hear an incoherent rumbling of lively exchanges wafting up from the floor below.

  I take my clothes into the stall, ensuring they won’t be ganked, and grab a towel from the stack. I make a mental note where everything is in the long bathroom, in case their plan is to turn off the lights and leave me scrambling so I’m locked out of my room afterhours.

  Maybe I’m overthinking things.

  Still, I scrub quickly, washing the menacing stares from the day off my body as best I can. I don’t need to worry. I don’t need to be scared. I tell myself that I’m far more terrifying than anyone out there, even if my insides are quaking.

  I finish up and dry off in record time, amazed that the thudding of my heart seems to be misplaced when nothing seems to be amiss.

  Strange that I’ve been assigned a room with Cass and Charlotte, the only two girls with whom I’ve connected. Could Sloan really have worked that quickly on the warden? What did he do to him to get things moved around like this?

  I’ve never been a true believer in coincidence, but this gift is too good to question. Neither of these women have tripped me, shoved me or humiliated me.

  Screw my life.

  I’m dressed in a clean standard-issue orange jumpsuit, but I leave the top unbuttoned and hanging around my waist, showing off my bare arms in my white tank top. I don’t have access to a brush, so I towel-dry as much as I can, and wonder if chopping off my hair would be an easier option.

  Dad would lose his mind if I cut off my hair. He’s always said a woman’s hair is her crowning glory, so my dark brown locks have never been shorter than my elbow.

  Not worth the argument.

  I shove my worn uniform and underthings into the dirty clothes utility bin in the corner, and trot across the concrete floor back to room 307, noting again the lack of movement or other bodies on this floor.

  My voice is quiet when I make it bac
k in, grateful I haven’t been locked out. “It’s real peaceful up here. Is everyone else asleep or something?”

  Charlotte’s perched on her bottom bunk, her eyes dancing with some kind of happy secret. It seems Cass has claimed the top bunk as she straightens the sheet. The top is narrower than the far wider bottom mattress.

  Cass turns to face me and leans against the metal frame, her arms crossed. “Usually this time of night is buzzing with tons of chatter. There’s always someone who gets busted for staying out by mistake after the doors close.”

  I wait for her to finish with some sort of explanation as to why this night is vastly different, but she simply stares me down.

  If she thinks she’s going to win a staring contest, she’s never been interrogated for staying out too late on a school night by my dad. Conan Valentine is a master, and he taught me well.

  Finally, Cass cracks.

  Rookie.

  “What did you say to the warden to get us moved to the third floor? Suddenly, we’re being pulled from our room and told we’re being moved to the third floor.”

  “Is that bad? Is the third floor not the one to be on or something?” Eyeing the unoccupied bunks across from Cassia and Charlotte, I lean toward the bottom one, since it’s bigger.

  “That one’s taken. You’re up top.”

  I fight back my internal groan and cast around for a ladder.

  “Like this,” Cass says, and then demonstrates a cat-like move wherein she steps one foot on the bottom bunk and hoists herself up using the strength in her forearms.

  It’s so deft and quick, I can’t help the question that slips from my lips. “How long have you been here?”

  Cass’ face falls, and that veil of distance mutes her personality to the closed-off one she wore when we first met. “A year. Six years left.”

  I give her a solemn nod, respecting the pain I can tell she doesn’t want to voice right now.

  She changes the subject to a safer one when Charlotte taps her hand to the metal frame, as if to get her back on track.

  Cass crosses her legs as she looks down on me from her perch. “The third floor was empty before they moved us up today. We’re the only ones up here. Thanks to whatever you said to the warden, we get the entire floor to ourselves.”

  I can see that whatever friction there was between us is now forgiven. They both look excited at the turn of events.

  “Ah, that’d be Sloan you should send your thank you cards to. My bodyguard wasn’t happy to see my chin bruised. Then one of the officers got a little rough during visitation, so he addressed the issue.”

  Cass’ eyes go wide in time with Charlotte’s. They’re directly in line with each other, their expressions matching so comically, I can’t help my smile. They’re adorable, and make me wish I’d had a close girlfriend growing up. Or now. Or ever.

  “Well, let me know where I can send the fruit basket to say thanks to your Sloan person. This room is huge. Bigger than the ones on the first floor.”

  I glance around, noting the four-foot rectangle separating the two bunks as the only spare space in the room, plus two feet of space between the end of the bed and the far wall. “This is huge? I hate to think what the smaller rooms look like.”

  Cass and Charlotte point to the rectangle between the beds. “About half that,” Cass explains, as if we’ve won the lottery.

  My mouth pulls to the side. “Who’s the fourth?”

  “That would be me,” comes a male voice from the doorway.

  My jaw drops at the sight of Gray as he strolls into the room, freshly showered. “I don’t get it. I assumed the rooms weren’t coed.”

  Charlotte beams at me and jumps up to hug Gray, but of course, it’s Cass who answers for her. “Some of them are. Some aren’t. It’s just whatever’s available at the time. You got us out of sharing a room with Ken, who smells like old cabbage. For that, we thank you.”

  Gray lets out an airy snort. “You think that’s bad? Try rooming with Deacon. The tosser farts death bombs in his sleep.”

  I grimace at the thought.

  Cass, Gray and I have our uniforms unbuttoned from the waist up, with the top half hanging down. It seemed obvious when I’d assumed there were no guys on the floor, but now I’m painfully aware I’m not wearing a bra. I cross my arms over my chest, trying to look chilly, and not like I’ve got an attitude.

  It’s not an act, really. I’m freezing. This concrete place has barely any insolation.

  Gray stands beside me with his arm around Charlotte’s shoulders, and addresses the three of us. “Here’s the deal, as far as I know it: Arlanna Scarlett Valentine’s bodyguard, Sloan, had a chat with the warden.” His gaze lands on me. “He was concerned for your safety, being that you’d been in gen-pop half a day, and you’d already been bruised by an inmate and manhandled by an officer. You’re sort of a…” I can tell he’s fishing around for a polite way of wording something ugly. “You’re a polarizing presence, Miss Valentine.”

  “Arly,” I correct him, not unkindly. “So Sloan had me moved to a more remote room? That makes sense. He really arranged for you three to be my cellmates?”

  Gray moves to the door to check the hallway before he comes back inside. “Sloan also put his name on the bill for any infirmary visits for the four of us, too, in case we’re targeted because of Miss Valen… Miss Arly. No one messes with me, because I’m a shifter. Fae don’t know what to do with anyone who’s got fangs. If you stay near me, people will think twice before they go after you. Plus, everybody knows I like things uneventful, serving my time in peace, so they tread lightly around me.”

  I hate that Sloan doesn’t think I can handle myself in here. He tied my shoes until I was eight, and here he is, still fastening my laces however he can. I love him for it, but it’s embarrassing how useless I actually am.

  “That’s real nice of you to offer, but I don’t want to paint a mark on your back. Being friends with me?” I motion around to the “spacious” room. “These are the perks, and it’s all downhill from here.”

  “I’ll take it,” Cass pipes in, and Charlotte gives me a thumbs-up.

  Gray rubs the nape of his neck, which draws my eyes to his toned forearm and bicep. I mean, what does anyone need all that muscle for? “This okay with you, Charlotte?”

  Cass nods in my direction. “We already told Arly about Charlotte’s quest. Arly’s actually part of Charlotte’s plan to free us all, so this is perfect. Things are moving along faster than I anticipated.”

  Charlotte presses her hands together in front of her chest and dons a serene-yet-smug smile.

  Gray mirrors the expression. “However I can help, you know I’ve always been in.”

  I love how sweet everyone is to Charlotte. It’s like they want to believe in her quest, even though it’s farfetched. I mean, getting everyone out of Prigham’s? Not likely. Still, I can’t help but lean in, wanting to be part of Charlotte’s plan, simply because it’s her.

  Cass trills her fingers along the bedframe. “See, Charlotte? Your vow of silence is changing the world one person at a time. Sloan was right to put you with Arly. I’ll bet by the end of the week, people will be totally cool with her, because your peacefulness will bleed into them.”

  I’m not so sure about that. There will be bleeding, alright, but probably not the peaceful kind.

  6

  My Nightlight

  I’m about to apologize again for Sloan interfering, but the moment I open my mouth, a bell rings with enough exuberance to make me jump. Then a voice booms over the loudspeaker. “Lights out in five minutes.”

  “Goodnight, burrito supreme,” Cass says to Charlotte, before jumping down from the top bunk to kiss her lips. I didn’t realize they were dating, and not just close friends, but the sweet way they are with each other stands out as precious. It’s a rare gift to find intimate moments in a place like this.

  I shouldn’t watch their exchange, but it’s captivating. Their fingers intertwine—the differi
ng fawn and umber hues laced together so cutely. Everything Cass says to her, Charlotte seems to have a response ready in her facial expression.

  After a few minutes, Cass hops up onto her top bunk and climbs under her covers. Charlotte blows me a kiss, like we’re cutesy friends who’ve never been cross with each other.

  Gray dips his head in my direction, “Goodnight, Miss Valentine.”

  “Arly,” I correct him again.

  “Goodnight, Miss Arly.”

  Jeez, this is going to be weird. Dad never let shifters into the house. They worked in the pool house or on the grounds. Being this near to one makes my insides all jittery. I’m standing strangely. I can feel it.

  “You don’t have to be formal,” I protest. “I’m not your boss. Please just call me Arly. Make me feel normal.”

  Gray smirks, and it’s the last thing I see before the lights go out, plunging me into darkness.

  Though I knew it was coming, thanks to the loudspeaker’s warning, I was expecting a sliver of light to come in under the doorway. Something other than total, gnawing darkness.

  My whine of distress is pathetic, but can’t be helped. It’s been a long day, and this tips it.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Is there a nightlight or something?” I reach for my magic, but of course, I’m impotent to populate any sort of light from my fingertips. I don’t want to explain why this makes me panic like I’m being choked. Air is hard to come by now, and as my arms flounder out like I’m drowning in an ocean, I know it’s only going to get worse.

  Cass chuckles, unaware of my spiking dread. “A nightlight? This is prison, babe. They don’t bother with comforts like nightlights in Prigham’s. There aren’t even any electrical outlets in the cells.”

  My esophagus narrows, and I know it’s about to go from bad to worse. I don’t care about saving face in front of these three. I need out. I need out now.