Prison Promise (Prison Saints Book 1)

by Demi Vice

  A fire…as in Fidget’s fire?

  No.

  Is that why she hasn’t talked to him in three years?

  No.

  Because Ahri was the victim?

  No.

  I pulled up my pants and stepped into the moldy smelling carpet in the dingy hallway. I followed the trail of our clothes, picking them up until I got to my jacket and fished out the folded white envelope labeled TINKS.

  I slapped it a few times unsure if I wanted to go back to my old ways—but fuck it—old habits die hard. Was Ahri the ‘attempted murder’ in Fidget’s case? No…yes? I ripped the letter open with my keys, but before I took the single sheet of paper out. I grabbed my smokes.

  We need to talk about that night, Tinks.

  I’m sorry for what I said, but you can't keep avoiding me.

  You’re the only person I have, and I did it all for you because I know what he did.

  I know what he did to Aurora.

  Please, talk to me. I fucking miss you and love you, Tinks.

  I can NEVER hate you. - Luke

  That night? What I said? I did it all for you? I know what he did? He? Aurora? I can NEVER hate you?

  A million questions abused my mind, and just like that, the bloodhound inside of me caught a new scent he wanted to hunt down.

  Call me whatever you want to call me but renting out an apartment to fuck the girl next door and get information wasn’t the most impulsive thing I’d done. I had all the time and money to do whatever the hell I wanted to do, and The Bayne and my promise to Fidget could wait just a little bit longer.

  That’s the problem, well, one of many problems with me. When I want something, oh, I want it, bad. I fucking need it. I obsessed over it, and my obsession was to play a game called ‘fuck the feisty pixie next door and find out what that hell this letter means.’ And the rules? I couldn’t tell her about prison, or Fidget, because if I did, I wouldn’t get my pussy or all the facts.

  Lucky for me, my obsessions always fade, and I always leave satisfied.

  Always.

  AHRI

  What did you do, Ahrianna? You fucked your potential roommate.

  What the fuck were you thinking? You weren’t.

  I dropped my head on the bathroom tile, letting the hot water drip down my spine.

  Rubbing my clit, I slid a finger inside to find more of Jack’s cum. The thought of Jack spread a tingle up my whole body. His face, the tattoos, his scars, his abs, the crazy animal sex, coming in five seconds but making it up the second round, and the finger painting on my stomach? Calling me his? And the cuddling?

  He’s a cuddler?

  I’m not even a cuddler.

  Oh God, this was such a huge, colossal mistake. I didn’t need trouble on a pair of sexy legs in my life. I was already getting that feeling in my stomach, but I couldn’t decide if it was bad or a fucking horrible.

  I thumped my head on the tile again, letting the water fall down my spine, and turned off the water. I had ten minutes before I had to get back to Gomez. If I put on some makeup and a good tit-outfit I could afford an extra five minutes.

  I finger brushed my hair and looked in the mirror—not for long. Wilder hair than before, glossy lust-drunk eyes, and a huge red-purple hickey on my neck. If this wasn’t what someone who had the best sex of their life looked like, then I didn’t know what did. I’d forgotten how amazing sex felt, but to be fair it wasn’t on my mind. I had a lot to deal with in the past four years, and I still have a lot to deal with now.

  Red, sore, and a hot fucking mess, I heard Jack’s voice ring in my head.

  Check. Check. Check.

  A ‘hot mess’ was guaranteed with the Ahri Lore name, but now I was red and sore. The right kind of sore that made me want to hold the rewind button, break it, and let the soreness stay on permanent repeat.

  I smiled for a brief second, revealing the dimple in my left cheek, but it never reached my eyes. I was so fucking tired. Running on only two hours of sleep. And I probably won’t be getting any sleep until tomorrow night or early tomorrow-tomorrow morning which was well over a full all-nighter, the norm for me.

  I finished putting on my makeup. A little mascara, clear glossy lipstick, and cover up to hide my dark circles and hickey. Thank you dollar store makeup for making me look like I’d had a decent night's sleep and hadn’t been mauled by an animal on two legs.

  Stepping out of my bathroom, the smell of cigarettes invaded my lungs. I went sour when I locked eyes with my poor door. The wood was split, and the doorknob hung by its screw. I peeked into the hallway; Jack was still here. Half his body was leaning out the window at the end of the hall overlooking Lavador Street while he a smoked cigarette and read a lonely piece of paper.

  I ignored him, short on time, and turned on my apartment lights. Blinking, I looked around. No longer was my room a mess. The clothes that Jack had ripped off my body were now neatly folded on my bed along with the other sweaters and jeans I had scattered on the floor from over the past few days. I blushed and went over to my bed. New sheets. The sex-drenched sheets tossed in a pile in the corner.

  Jack. Cleaned. For. Me?

  Okay…

  My cheeks crimsoned. I didn’t know how to feel, so I ignored it. I tossed on some panties and a striped pastel crop tank top. Thanks to the extreme push-up bra I wore, I turned my A’s to a C’s, showing off my small cleavage to satisfy Gomez and tonight’s crowd of drunks. I zipped up my lime green plaid skirt that was a little loose on me, but it matched the green in my top. I slipped on a pair of hot pink socks that went over my knees and stepped into my gray Timberlands. They weren't a knock-off. I just happened to get lucky at the thrift store even though they were a size bigger than I usually wore.

  I have a weird style, but I loved it. My brother, Luke, had similar flair, and that thought made me smile.

  “You look damn fine.” Jack’s voice snuck up from behind.

  “What the fuck!” I screamed, falling back into my clothes rack and grabbed my chest as if it was about to come out like I was the dummy in the operation game.

  Jack was sitting on my bed, hands back, leg cross over his knee with a huge smile spread.

  “Haven't you heard of knocking?” I shouted.

  “Door was open.” He winked.

  Ha-fucking-ha.

  “How long have you been here?”

  “About the time you pulled that Shrek colored skirt over your sexy little blue panties.” He paused, looking at my skirt and biting his lip. “Got an ass I could eat out for days Ahrianna.”

  I felt my body rising to maximum heat; my panties drenched once more.

  “Why are you still here?” I pulled my hair behind my ears.

  God, I’m so nervous. I never get nervous.

  “Last time I checked I came here to see an apartment, and unless this one’s for rent…” Jack dully looked around my room.

  There wasn’t much to see. I had a kitchen and bathroom right across from each other with the bare minimum, and a bedroom/living room with only a lumpy bed and my clothes rack. You can turn around in a full circle and see my entire life stuffed inside a walk-in-closet apartment.

  “Sucks, you have no windows. Kind of reminds me of my old place. Practically the same size too,” Jack said dryly.

  Jack’s voice didn’t match him. Tall and lean, but his voice sounded like a bass, booming through my body. You thought he sounded one way, but then he spoke. So deep, so sexy, so downright sinful. The kind of voice that could make me come on the spot.

  Jack reading an erotic novel. That was an idea.

  I cleared my throat and thoughts. “As I said before, I only come here to sleep, shower and sometimes eat.”

  “What about time for fucking me?” His voice was cunning like a fox.

  “I only come here to sleep, shower and sometimes eat.” I repeated in the same emotionless voice.

  I moved passed him and went to my kitchen where I noticed my keys and phone on my small kitchen cou
nter. My empty ramen cup was in the trash along with a few candy bars and Red Bulls—some diet, right?

  “I like it clean.” Jack’s voice came from behind again.

  God damn, the motherfucker was light on his feet.

  “Ironic, considering how you like it in bed.” I let my lip curl at the end.

  Jack chuckled and raked his hair back. “There’s always two sides to me, baby girl.”

  He moved closer, the aroma off his body smelled like us. I cleared my throat, that gut feeling in my stomach rumbled once more. Grabbing my things, I snaked around Jack’s body and my garbage can and got into the hallway.

  “Take a look around. I need to get to work soon.” I opened the door of the other apartment and turned on the sad excuse of a light that needed to be replaced.

  Jack walked past me and entered the apartment that mirrored mine minus the fact that it was double the size. He went into the full kitchen, poked at the old outdated appliances, and hummed in disapproval. Then he walked across to the bathroom, stepped into the bath fully clothed, and had a staring contest with the shower head that only came up to his throat. His head only a few inches below the ceiling.

  “That’s just sad.” He chuckled, stepping out of the bath and went into his living room/ bedroom.

  He walked past the windows overlooking Lavador Street then went over to his bed, placing his hand on the old metal bed frame. It squeaked each time he moved. The smile on his face got more, more devilish.

  “I love it when my neighbors know when I’m getting laid. When they know my name.” He winked at me and bounced on the bed.

  I blushed thinking back to our sex session and how loud I was, screaming Jack’s name in ecstasy, and him grunting and moaning like a beast. How those exact sounds and the link between our eyes made me feel like I was the only girl on Earth. I burned up, the memories setting a spark before the fire. I needed to clear my mind of the past twenty minutes. Jack and I weren’t going to happen again. Mistake, remember?

  “If you have girls over just make sure the bakery is closed and I’m not around—”

  Jack cut me short with a hearty laugh. “Are you the jealous type, Ahri?” He wiggled his eyebrows, his cognac-colored eyes piercing into my black ones. I could get drunk off his glare.

  “No, I’m not the jealous type. I’m the type who loves her sleep. And if I can't get my sleep? I’m going to come over and castrate you.”

  “Oh, Ahrianna, keep talking dirty to me baby.” He flashed a crooked grin and made the bed rock as he bounced on it.

  I crossed my arms and tilted my head. “Has anyone ever told you, you’re—”

  “Raunchy? Cocky? Goofy? A jackass? A son of a bitch and bastard on top of being a fucking pain in the ass?” He bit his lip and nodded slowly. “Hell, yeah, baby. I’ve heard it all…” he jumped off the bed and striding toward me. The scent of us tingling my body, perking my nipples and making my clit throb. “…And you like me. You need me, too. Or else you wouldn’t be showing me this place.”

  Jack was right. I needed him for the extra two hundred dollars for my commission, and so I wouldn't have to pay extra for my rent when my lease ends.

  Worst of all, I did like Jack. I hated to admit it, but he was right again. The way I felt around him caused every organ—mostly my head, gut, and heart—declare war against each other. I liked his perfect blend of grit and slick mouth. His blacked-out outfit. I’d always been a sucker for the whole bad boy vibe even though I knew better. Or at least I thought I did.

  Jack licked his thumb, bringing it to my neck to wipe off the makeup I’d used to hide my hickey. “I marked you for a reason, Ahrianna. Don’t hide it.” His voice, thick and cold.

  God, Jack knows how to make my toes curl. This wasn’t a good sign. I stepped back and got into the hall as Jack locked the door behind him.

  “Lease is ninety days. Rent is seven hundred a month due on the first of each month. It’s an extra twenty-five dollars for each day you’re late. Deposit is a grand plus two hundred for my new door.” I walked passed my opened apartment and went downstairs with Jack.

  “When can I move in?”

  “When you get the ‘ok’ from Wazowski. I show the place, Wazowski approves the renter, and so far, he denied the last girl for looking like a druggie and before that he just didn't like the guy’s face,” I explained.

  Flickering, the single light bulb outside the apartment buzzed and died, making Jack blend with the night. Yeah, there was no way he was going to get approved by Wazowski. No fucking way. Which seemed like a double edge sword. I needed him for selfish reasons—money—but I didn’t want him. Temptation next door so I could make the same mistake twice or three times, maybe more, was not the best idea.

  “Well, lucky for Wazowski, I’m a handsome motherfucker who doesn’t do drugs.” Jack bragged, raking his hair back almost as if he were in slow motion.

  “Ha. Could’ve fooled me on the no-drug part.’” I laughed shortly, locking the back door shut.

  “Trust me, me on drugs? I would leave the world in ruins and chaos. I like being in control of this body—minus the few drinks and joints I occasionally enjoy.”

  I went down the small alley, Jack following close behind. The guy cleaned and didn’t do hardcore drugs? Odd and rare, considering he’s from Whole Park. Not doing drugs, or at least selling them, in that part of Chicago was as rare as seeing a Lore graduate high school. And that’s only been done once by Aurora. So rare, that Jack might as well have been a diamond in the rough.

  We passed the expensive Mercedes-Benz again, and I stared at my dry spit.

  “Why’d you spit on it anyway?” Jack nudged his head at the window.

  “It’s a stupid tradition I used to do with my brother. We would vandalize rich fucker’s property by either spitting or throwing food or drinks on the car. Pitiful, I know, but slightly satisfying.”

  “Come on like you wouldn't wanna be with the rich fucker who owns this car?” Jack licked his perfect lips.

  Maybe, I thought.

  I was going to spit on the car again just out of spite, but before I could open my mouth, Jack covered it. His large firm hand over my lips as his amber eyes locked into mine making my body ablaze.

  “Don’t do it. I would hate for that man to come out here and put that spit of yours to good use Ahrianna.” He smirked devilishly. “Why don’t we leave the rich fucker’s car alone and get me drunk instead. Huh?”

  Jack kissed my forehead and pulled me away from the car with a hug around my neck. I pushed him away but froze dead in my tracks. In Jack’s hands, was my phone and keys, twirling around his finger.

  What the fuck?

  I checked my skirt pockets, but my belongings were clearly in Jack’s hands as he sported that almost perfect smile with his one crooked fang. The perfect smile of a man who had successfully pickpocketed my things without my knowledge.

  “You’ll find out soon enough—if you haven’t found out already—that I don’t believe in personal space. I’ll be sleeping at your place tonight until I can talk to Wazowski, and you’re going to buy me a drink for fucking you so good you can’t stop blushing when you look at me, for cleaning your messy room—you’re welcome, baby girl—and for walking you back to work.” He hugged my neck and I followed him, my body not even giving me a choice.

  A dangerous voice, slippery hands, and a crooked smile.

  The deadly combo.

  Jack had it all.

  “Nice doing business with you, Baron!” Gomez waved at Jack, holding his prize money while Jack walked away from us, stumbling to the front door.

  “Hey, you okay if I leave for ten minutes to walk him to my place?” I asked, already walking around the bar, heading toward hammered Jack.

  Gomez nodded. “You sure you don’t want some help with him?”

  “Nah, he’s drunk, but still functional,” I spoke while looking at Jack who just figured out he had to pull not push the door open. Eager to leave, Jack practically ski
pped outside.

  After a few more words with Gomez, I said my goodbyes and followed Jack to make sure he was okay.

  He wasn’t.

  A few more seconds with Gomez and Jack would’ve been hit by a car.

  “JACK!” I yanked his jacket as hard as I could, making his ass and hands slam into the cement.

  “WATCH IT, DRUNK!” The driver who ran the stop sign yelled.

  “FUCK YOU, ASSHOLE!!!” I roared back, helping Jack up.

  His palms were scratched with a few drops of blood and cement pressed against his skin. Nothing a little water couldn’t clean up. I didn’t feel bad. It was a few scratches verse Jack turning into a flapjack. Literally.

  It was usually at two in the morning when drivers live by the rules ‘no cop, no stop’ which sucked when the side street was right next to Diablo’s.

  “I’m fine, baby girl. I’m a lucky, invincible bastard.” He grunted standing tall above me. I grabbed his waist, my heart beating like a drum from adrenaline as I helped him with each drunken step he took. Jack wrapped his hand around my neck. His body heavy, smelling like sex, Guinness, and blood. Oddly, I liked the smell.

  This wasn’t the first time I’d walked a drunk to safety. I’d done it hundreds of times. Sometimes they were the only fond memories I had of my childhood that involved my father. Either way, walking drunks to their taxi—or apartment in this case—was part of the bartender life.

  “No, you're not invincible. You would’ve gotten run over, you jackass.” My voice, callous, but the adrenaline was still coursing through my veins.

  Jack’s quiet giggle turned into a full-blown hardy-har laugh that echoed through the block. “Jackass.” He snickered, his steps a little wobbly. “Perfect fit. My name is Jack, I have a nice ass.” He slurred his words and flashed a killer smile that made me roll my eyes.

  “Thanks, Captain Obvious.” I grunted, adjusting my arm around his massive body.

  “So, you agree? I have a nice ass?”

  Yes.

  Jack continued, “You know. You-you look like Fidget, but you—”

  “Who or what is that?” I snarled.