by Ranae Rose
“Damn,” the convict mumbled. “I was just gettin’ up! I’m fucking tired, you know? Damn! I didn’t do nothin’.”
Join the fucking club.
The thought echoed through Liam’s mind, though he didn’t voice it. It was amazing how many of Riley’s residents – convicted felons, every one – felt no guilt over their crimes, no sense of responsibility for their evil actions. If the average inmate was to be believed, the Riley Correctional Center was one big club full of innocent men beleaguered by an impossibly unfair system.
Which was a sick joke. Murderers, rapists and abusers – they were all there in droves, behind gates and razor wire where they belonged. And 99 times out of 100, they weren’t sorry for what they’d done, only sorry that they’d been caught.
Liam wasn’t sure how to ‘correct’ the total lack of personal responsibility most of them harbored, but keeping them away from society seemed worthwhile.
“Shit.” The inmate screeched again as Liam and Grey removed him from the cell. “My lip is bleeding. My fucking lip is bleeding! That ain’t right.”
“I don’t see any blood,” Liam pointed out, because he didn’t. Not that it would’ve been anyone’s fault but the inmate’s if his temper tantrum had earned him a busted lip.
“I can fucking taste it. I wanna see a nurse.”
Liam bit back a sigh. It was going to be a long day, and not just because the promise of another night spent with Alicia haunted him, drawing out each second into an impossibly long little slice of eternity.
He couldn’t wait to trade the harsh, uniform sterility of the prison for her heat and softness, the sight of her smile, which made even his handcuffs seem innocent.
Well, maybe innocent wasn’t exactly the right word…
* * * * *
Three weeks and it would all be over. Alicia had to remind herself of that as she clutched her cellphone, which was like a hot coal in her hand, thanks to overuse and the Carolina heat.
“Absolutely we can change the color of the crème satin draping to aqua,” she said, mentally calculating exactly how quickly she’d have to act to ship the old draping back to the manufacturer and place an order for the new color.
“Thank God.” The bride on the other end of the connection released a long sigh, like she’d just won an important court case. “I woke up at 2 am last night and realized that there’s not really any such thing as elegant understatement – the crème color would’ve blended right into the grounds, like it wasn’t even there. Aqua will infuse the ceremony with color and vibrancy. I’m so happy I called to make the change.”
Alicia resisted the urge to roll her eyes even though she was standing alone under a wisteria-draped tree, where no guests would overhear her conversation. It was the fourth time that day that the bride had called her, and she had a feeling it wouldn’t be the last.
Judging by the sound of it, the woman had been binge-reading bridal magazines. Every hour or so, she latched onto a new idea that she just had to incorporate, despite the fact that she’d been planning the wedding – which was now less than a month away – for a full year.
“I’m going to have the bridesmaids buy new dresses, too,” the bride continued. “I don’t want them to distract from me on my big day, of course, but I don’t want them to look awful either. So I’m going with a more subdued shade of blue for their new dresses – not quite aqua aqua, but more of a pale sky blue.”
“Sure,” Alicia said, acutely aware that it was her job to make sure the bride’s wishes came true, no matter how last-minute they were. This was what Wisteria paid her for, after all – acting as a human filter between power-crazed brides and the rest of the staff.
Of course, most of the brides she worked with were completely rational, likeable human beings. But there were exceptions, and those exceptions tended to take up five times more of her work hours than her other clients.
“About the flowers…” the woman began, prompting Alicia to lean against the tree, hiding in its shade.
It was going to be a long day, but there was a silver lining: the bride spoke way too loudly for Alicia to hear any telltale whips of fabric, any little sounds that might settle deep into her imagination, conjuring up images not of brides in wedding day white, but the Lady in White.
“Of course,” the bride said, “this is all assuming that those two convicts are captured before my wedding day. I can’t imagine getting married knowing they might be lurking somewhere near the grounds. What a nightmare…
“I mean, it just isn’t fair that something like this could happen so close to my big day. None of my guests will want to come to Riley County if this is still going on. Lord only knows why the police and those idiots from the prison haven’t caught them yet. I mean, how hard can it be?”
Alicia bit her tongue, inhaled deeply and looked up, studying the noon sky through a hole in the shade tree’s canopy. She didn’t tell Monster Bride that the prison officers were working their asses off, hardly sleeping and putting themselves in danger. Nor did she point out that the woman’s wedding was nothing compared to the lives that had been lost to the Levinson brothers’ violence.
A hawk wheeled overhead, and the feathers on the underside of its wings winked silver-grey in the sunlight.
The color, the flash of reflected light, reminded her of Liam and his cuffs. She smiled as sudden heat consumed her, putting the summer sunshine to shame.
“It’s just disgusting,” Monster Bride continued, “to imagine people like that running around Riley County. I don’t know why we have to put up with having that prison here. It’s not safe for anyone.”
Alicia’s moment of happiness didn’t last long. Next thing she knew, a cold breeze was blowing, putting her joy on ice.
It rushed by, rattling the soft blossoms in the branches above and whipping through her hair, causing her scalp to prickle. It was so unexpected, she dropped her phone.
Teeth chattering, she bent to pick it up. Luckily, the bride was still rambling on and hadn’t even noticed. Alicia held the phone halfheartedly, half-listening as she glanced around, inhaling the scent of Spanish moss the wind had stirred up.
Sasha was standing outside the carriage house restaurant, fanning herself with a folded menu. Even from a distance, her cheeks were visibly pink. Either she was having an especially vivid fantasy about Henry – a possibility Alicia couldn’t rule out – or the breeze hadn’t touched her.
“I’m sorry,” Alicia said, catching something about the custom vows the bride had chosen for the ceremony, “could you repeat that?”
She picked a purple wisteria petal out of her hair and turned for the house as she listened, still shivering and not wanting to be alone.
She purposely avoided looking in the direction of the lawn beside the house. The memory of white skirts flapping in a phantom breeze was still fresh in her mind, and she was afraid of who or what she might see.
CHAPTER 20
“Nevada, huh?” Alicia put her phone in silent mode before setting it down on Liam’s bed stand.
Her work blouse clung to her skin, the dampness that held it there a testament to the day’s heat and the difficulty of negotiating with the bride of a thousand last-minute wishes.
No more worrying about that now; she’d shut her phone off for a reason.
“Las Vegas,” Liam said, his large frame blocking out most of the evening light that filtered in through his bedroom window. In uniform, freshly arrived from work, he cut quite the silhouette against the day’s fading light.
“I can’t believe they spotted him on surveillance tape again and still haven’t caught him,” Alicia said in response to the revelation that Randy Levinson had once again been caught on security footage, this time buying a ticket at a Louisiana bus station. Apparently, he’d purchased a one-way trip to Vegas.
Liam made a sound deep in his throat, shaking his head. “Yeah. Sucks.”
“I wish Troy Levinson would buy a ticket to the other side of the country too
,” she said, immediately feeling bad for wishing the convict upon the citizens of Vegas, or anywhere.
The glint of glass on floorboards was always in the back of her mind, broken pieces glowing like diamond chips in the moonlight.
Nobody had seen Troy Levinson since his possible Magnolia Street break-in, and knowing that he might still be lurking in the area meant constantly walking on egg shells, just in case.
“Every hospital in North and South Carolina is watching for his face,” Liam said. “He hasn’t made an appearance in an ER anywhere. If he’s out there living rough, he’ll likely have a hard time keeping that arm from getting infected. Could be lying dead or dying somewhere in the woods by now. Can’t afford to assume that, though.”
He reached for Alicia, fingertips slipping over the curve of her shoulder. “I know these past few days have been a pain in the ass, but don’t let your guard down. Wherever he is, he’s got to be desperate. And if he’s sick or dying, he hasn’t got much to lose. Desperate people do crazy things, and he was never a safe bet in the first place.”
Alicia’s stomach turned as she thought of the story that’d been run in the paper, the one about the Levinson brothers’ early lives. Maybe desperation had been the accelerant that’d fueled the fire that had consumed their childhood home, their parents. “I haven’t let my guard down. I’m here, aren’t I?”
He came closer, sliding a hand down the side of her body, letting it rest on her hip. “Yes you are.”
His voice had lost its edge of warning and gained a new one – an edge of want, the same desire she felt smoldering deep inside herself.
As he wrapped his arms around her, thoughts of the Levinsons faded away, giving her a taste of what their relationship would be like after the brothers were inevitably caught: fun. Unbelievably hot. And easy – being with him was so easy. Why hadn’t she moved to Riley County a million years ago?
His duty belt dug into the small of her back, reminding her of their conversation that morning, thrilling her with the fact that this was the first time he’d held her while in uniform.
Yes, she definitely had a thing for it – a thing she’d been dwelling on all day, eager to get back to his place, to make sure he lived up to all the teasing he’d dished out before he’d left for work.
He held her tighter, didn’t seem to mind that the early summer day had caused her to work up a bit of a sweat. Which was a good thing, because what she felt coming definitely wasn’t going to cool her down.
She was hyper-aware of the silver cuffs at his hip, even though she couldn’t see them as she closed her eyes and exhaled, letting the day’s tension bleed out of her in one long breath.
One moment lapsed into the next, until an indeterminate amount of time had slipped by, letting the sun sink a little lower, dimming the room just a shade. By the time she noticed the change, she could feel Liam’s heartbeat, a steady pulse of life that radiated through her.
Broken glass shining in the moonlight – the image bubbled up to the surface of her mind, jarring, like something foul rising from the depths of a swamp, leaving her feeling vaguely sick.
She shoved the thoughts away, looking forward to a day in the near future when whoever had sent that rock sailing into the house would be behind bars. For now, she fought to focus on the present.
He made that a little easier when he flattened a hand against her belly, fingers spreading below her waist, the tips brushing skin that was hot beneath her work pants, and not just because of the sun.
“Still excited about letting me lock you up?” His voice filled the otherwise silent room, lighting her up like the setting sun lit up the window pane. In an instant, one of his hands was closed around one of her wrists, a bond that left no doubt in her mind as to what he was referring to.
Not that she’d forgotten, even for a second, that he’d promised to use his cuffs on her.
“Yes.” She ran a hand along his hip, fingers skimming the rough nylon surface of his duty belt until they touched cool metal.
“Not those ones,” he said.
“What – why not?” He wasn’t going to cheat her out of authenticity, was he – swap out his work cuffs for a toy or something?
“Used them at work today. I use them all the time on the prisoners at Riley. They don’t deserve to touch your skin.”
“So then… What, do you have a spare pair or something?”
“Yeah.”
For some reason, that amused her. “Really?”
In answer, he unwrapped his arms from around her and crossed the room in a few steps, reaching his dresser. He opened the top drawer, fished inside it for a second and pulled out a pair of silver cuffs just like the ones on his belt.
She noted with a small but noticeable degree of relief that he kept the cuffs in his dresser, not in the nightstand, where he kept condoms.
Truth was, now that he’d brought it up, she didn’t like the idea of those cuffs touching anyone’s skin but hers.
As he approached her, cuffs in hand, she didn’t think there was a woman on the planet who’d blame her. What woman in her position wouldn’t want him all for herself?
She stripped her clothing off, aware that being cuffed would make undressing impossible. Whatever was about to happen, she wanted to feel all of him against her, no barriers. Her blouse was the first to go, then her bra. She was down to her panties when he reached her.
“Turn around and let me see your hands.” He stopped in front of her, towering above her, mouth set in a firm line, betraying no emotion.
She couldn’t even begin to imagine what an actual criminal would feel like in a similar situation, because all her emotions were wrapped up in vibrant anticipation, a sense of expectation that bordered on giddiness.
She turned around, putting her back to him, and held her hands there, knuckles brushing the soft cotton of her underwear. Exposed to the air, she felt the fine layer of sweat on her skin evaporating to leave dry, tingling skin in its wake.
It only took him a second to cuff her. A second and a double click, two little sounds that announced her captivity. Afterward she tested the restraint, trying to pull her wrists apart.
The metal was, of course, solid; he’d have to use his key to free her. Until then, she was stuck with her hands behind her back.
The cuffs weren’t cold; the metal had warmed to room temperature and rested comfortably against her skin, neither too tight nor too loose. She no longer felt the heat of Liam’s touch. His hands weren’t on her anymore; he’d left her with the simple restraint and no other contact.
She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, and the chain connecting the cuffs clinked. Downstairs, Holden stirred inside the crate she’d recently bought for him.
The noise wasn’t much, not enough to make her unaware of her own breathing or the slightly elevated pulse thrumming beneath her breastbone. “Waiting for something?”
“Just looking at you.” Liam placed a hand on her shoulder and let it drift down into the hollow of her back, fingertips fanning out to brush the edge of her panties.
“How do I look? Better than the average person you cuff, I hope.”
He made a sound deep in his throat. “Beautiful. It’s weird…”
“What’s weird?”
He touched her wrists, fingers tapping against one cuff, sending little reverberations through her flesh, deep into her bones.
“They look so sexy on you. I use them all day at work, but if I let myself think of that now, I’d probably throw up in my mouth a little. On you, though…” He sucked in a breath. “It’s like I’m seeing them for the first time. Completely different, thank God.”
She laughed, slightly breathless.
In an instant, he pulled her close against him again, pressing his front against her back, the hard rod of his dick up against her body.
She really was left breathless then – breathless and practically bursting with glee now that he had his hands on her, one pressed against her belly and th
e other in her hair, sweeping it back from her face as he leaned down to press a kiss against her ear.
“Let me know if you change your mind and want me to unlock you.” His breath rushed hot and suggestive over her cheek, her neck.
She practically melted, but he was so solid against her it didn’t matter – clearly, she wasn’t going anywhere.
“Fat chance. I’ve been looking forward to this all day.” When she bent her elbows a little, she could feel the rigid mass of his shaft against her fingers. She couldn’t really get ahold of him like that, but she liked feeling it anyway – liked feeling how hard he was because of her.
He exhaled sharply, like he liked it too.
She felt rather than saw his attention shift to the bed, so close they were nearly bumping into it already. And before she could make a move or a comment, she felt herself being pressed against it, bent over it, thighs snug against the mattress’ edge.
“Oh…” The sound slipped out, more breath than actual speech as Liam ran a hand up her back, guiding her down, pressing her against the mattress until she was folded over the edge of it, breasts and one cheek flat against the comforter, bare toes touching the floorboards, hands cuffed behind her back.
He was right behind her, standing, the fabric of his uniform pants brushing her bare legs.
Everything inside her drew up tight when he laid his hand on her ass, then squeezed. “Damn it.”
His fingertips slipped so low they were nearly brushing her pussy, fitted tight into the notch between her thighs.
Her breath caught in her lungs as she summoned the presence of mind to speak. “What’s wrong?”
“You look so good like this, I don’t want you to move. But you’re too low for me to fuck you. Maybe if I put my weight on you and crushed you against the bed, but otherwise…”
“Right now, that doesn’t sound like the worst thing in the world.” There was a genuine ache in her core now, a soreness that came not from being penetrated, but from being left empty.