Condemned

by Soosie E Nova

  ◆◆◆

  The media followed us, tailing Dani’s car all the way home. They scrambled from their cars and vans as we raced from Dani’s bashed up, rusted station wagon, into her small, ramshackle rented house. This time they questions they yelled were aimed at her.

  “Detective Milano, is it true that your biological father confessed to the murders of Stacey and Maia Charles?”

  “Do you think Leo will forgive you?”

  “How long do you plan on working for the department who built the case against your boyfriend?”

  “Any plans for a wedding, Detective?”

  She paused at the last question, a slow smile spreading over her full lips. She tucked her raven hair shyly behind her ear, squeezed my hand tighter.

  “You’d have to ask Leo that,” she grinned, “but I hope so.”

  The female reporter turned her mic to me. A tense silence fell over the baying crowd. Cameras poised, ready to flash. Dani’s grip on my hand tightened. She gazed up at me with wide, warm brown eyes, biting down adorably on her lower lip. My insides constricted.

  “This is the woman I will spend the rest of my life with,” I told the reporter. A small cheer burst through the throng of headline-hungry hack journalists. “There’s nothing in the world that would make me happier than her agreeing to be my wife but when I do propose it won’t be in front of the world’s media.”

  I pulled Dani into my arms, pushing her to the door. She fumbled with the key, her hands shaking. The door clicked open, we fell inside to the claustrophobic strobe light of cameras flashing wildly. Dani kicked the door closed behind us.

  “I was starting to think I’d never get you alone,” I smiled down at her.

  “Sorry about the mess,” she shrugged, running her eyes over the chaos of her sitting room and open plan kitchen. Empty beer bottles dotted every available flat surface. Laundry scattered the stained carpet. A pile of mail and takeout menus lay haphazardly in the doorway. After the sterile, minimalist nothingness of prison, the well-worn, lived in pandemonium of Dani’s house was a welcome, bright contrast to the harsh conditions I’d grown used to. Tomorrow, she’d go to work and I’d spend the day cleaning, organising and decorating. Theo would loan me some cash for new carpets.

  “All I see is you,” I lied, gazing down at her. She backed into the wall, caged in my arms. “Which way is the bedroom?”

  “That way,” she breathed, nodding towards a door on the opposite of the room. I lifted her into my arms. She nuzzled into my chest, purring. My dick responded instantly. It’d been months since I’d last felt the brush of her warm, bare skin on mine. I was starving for her.

  The stairs were no tidier than the rest of the house. I manoeuvred over piles of boots and sneakers, Dani held tight in my grip.

  “First door you come to,” she grinned.

  I kicked the door open. A serene, perfumed scene met us. Rose petals scattered the carefully pressed white throw covering her bed, flameless candles cast a warm glow over the room. A bottle of champagne and bowl of strawberries rested on the nightstand.

  “Who happened in here?” I asked, dropping her gently to the bed.

  “Emma I guess, I didn’t leave it like this and it’s way too thoughtful for Schilling. He’d have skipped on the candles and binned everything, including my shoes.”

  “I think I love Emma,” I grinned, falling to the bed on top of her, pinning her beneath my weight. My lips pressed to hers, my tongue parting them, finding its way into the soft heat of her open mouth. God, she was perfect. She tasted of soft mulled wine, spearmint gum and home. I ruffled my hands through her long, ebony hair, pulling it back from her face. She grinned into my kiss, her warm brown eyes glowing with contentment.

  I pulled away, leaning up on my elbow, one hand reaching for her white linen shirt, snapping the buttons open slowly. The white cotton bra she lived in had been replaced with a racy black lace number. Her pert nipples pushed at the thin material. I traced a thumb over the hard nub, revelling in the satisfied mewl she gave.

  She lifted herself from the bed, pressing into my arms, letting her shirt fall to the mattress. My hand snaked around her back, unhooking her bra. I lay her back, leaning back on my haunches to admire her. Perfection, utter perfection, goose pimples spattered her clear olive skin.

  “Are you cold?”

  “No.”

  She reached for my too-big suit jacket, slipping it from my shoulders, tearing at my shirt buttons, undressing me with a hunger that spiked my need for her. Her legs splayed either side me, I let her wrestle with my belt as I peeled her pants over her slender hips, yanking her panties down with them. She was naked beneath me before she managed to unbuckle my belt. A low growl of frustration came from her as she grabbed with my pants. I sat back, amused by her desperate need to undress me. She scowled at me, giving up on unfastening the button. She tore it off, grinning, pulling at my ruined pants.

  My cock sprang free, nudging at the soft curve of her stomach. Her tongue dipped between her lips, her eyes widened at my thick girth. She reached for her discarded pants, flicking a silver wrapped condom at me.

  “Always carry one?” I laughed.

  “Just in case.”

  “You get foreplay this time, like it nor not.”

  She growled out her frustration. Her annoyed, rumbling growl faded to a contented purr as I sucked a hard, sensitive nipple between my lips, running my tongue around the edge of the engorged nub. She thrust her hips upwards, pressing her mound into my thigh, grinding until she found the friction she desired. Her wetness spilt onto my leg.

  I grabbed her legs, pulling them apart, crawling down the bed until my face was a breath away from her sweet pussy. It glistened with pleasure, her clit swelled, ready to be nibbled.

  My tongue found her sweet spot. I drew her tiny pink button between my teeth, flicking my tongue over the tight bundle of nerves until she purred like a wildcat, wrapping her toned thighs around my head, her fingers digging into my scalp, fistfuls of my hair wrapped in her hands.

  She thrust to meet me, smashing her pussy into my face. Her sweet, tangy flavour spread across my tongue. My hands reached under her, gripping her soft, curvy ass, holding her to me as she writhed in my grip.

  I felt her body tense, her grip on my hair tightened, sparks of pain seared over my scalp. She growled my name as she came into my mouth, her pleasure dripped down my chin. I lapped up every last drop, addicted to her flavour, fueled by the need to consume her in any way I could.

  Her body relaxed in my arms as the climax ebbed through her. She trembled with the aftermath, her cheeks glowing pink, her hair mussed up, splayed on the pillow, red rose petals caught in its wild waves. She was a vision of goddess-like beauty. My cock ached for a taste of her.

  I was dragged by my hair up the length of her hot, slick body. She grinned at me, her eyes dazzled with the glow of a woman who’d just came hard into her lover’s mouth. She pulled my hair, forcing my head down, tracing her tongue over my lips, licking away the sticky remains of her orgasm.

  “Enough foreplay,” she warned, grabbing the condom from the bed, tearing it open.

  Her nimble fingers rolled it down my length, pressing the tip of my cock to her abused clit. She wrapped her thighs around me, pulling me inside her.

  My cock enveloped in her tight, wet pussy, wrapped its warmth, I thrust in slowly, giving her time to adjust to me. A soft whine escaped her parted lips, her fingernails scraped down my back.

  She pressed her legs into my back, pulling me deeper into her, urging me to go harder. My fingers found her clit, rolling it between them until her whine turned to deep, insatiable moans. She thrust her hips to meet me.

  I held on by a thread, my balls tightening, my core ablaze until I felt her tighten around me. I came with blinding intensity, my whole body tense and burning with the force of the shuddering climax racing through it. Her pussy throbbed around, squeezing out every last drop my seed.

  She held me, my head
rested on her breasts, her fingers tangled in my hair, her heart racing in my ear as we came down from our euphoric highs.

  “Champagne?” I laughed, rolling off her.

  “Mmm,” she murmured.

  We spent the rest of the afternoon and most of the evening in bed, exploring each other, teasing until we could take no more, venturing downstairs only to find food. Emma had left a casserole warming on the stove.

  I spent the night laid awake, watching her in wonder as she slept soundly in my arms. I’d spend every night for the rest of my life with this woman. Nothing would come between us again.

  Epilogue

  Danica

  Leo wasted no time proposing. Theo had paid for us all to go to Mexico, back to the resort where Leo and I met. Leo protested at first, afraid my nightmares would return. I insisted. With him, I’d be safe. He didn’t let me out of his sight, not a for nano-second, even following me to the ladies room, ready to murder anyone who as much as looked at me in a way he didn’t like.

  Angel flitted about in the background, his hawk eyes missing nothing. Anyone threatening me would face the wrath of my two heroes. He sat on a sun lounger, pretending not to pay attention, the night of Leo’s proposal.

  Leo took me back to the spot where I’d given him my innocence. The stars shone down upon us, glittering diamonds against a deep black tapestry, the way they had the night we met.

  He’d promised to propose when the timing was perfect since the day the media blindsided him outside my house the day of his release. It didn’t quell my surprise when he dropped to one knee in the white sand, under the blanket of stars, the ocean lapping at our feet.

  My heart was in my throat, the tears flowed before he snapped open the deep purple velvet box he pulled from his jeans. Angel sniffed in the background.

  “Danielle, make me the happiest man alive and be my wife?”

  Too choked up to reply, I fell to my knees, throwing my arms around his neck, showing him with kisses.

  “I’ll take that as a yes, then?” he laughed, grabbing my shaking hand to slip the ring on. The simple platinum band, studded with tiny diamonds, fit perfectly. The whole thing was perfect.

  Angel had filmed the moment on his cell phone. Maria replayed it over and over, sobbing every time. At our engagement party, both she, Mrs Charles and Leo’s mom all huddled into a corner, watching the romantic proposal and sobbing together. Even Emma shed a tear.

  My father insisted on paying for the wedding, even though Leo's compensation from Texas Department of Corrections more than covered it. He hadn't had to sue, Texas for all its faults has the most generous compensation in the country for the wrongfully convicted. He got a little over half million for time served, plus monthly payments equal to a decent salary for the rest of his life. Leo being Leo, most of it had been donated to charities for battered and trafficked women.

  The little he kept paid a deposit on a new home for us. Social media had been flooded with job offers for him. He went back to construction engineering. Image savvy companies fell over themselves to hire the man who’d turned down bribes and ended up in prison to do the right thing. He oversaw the rebuild of Attwood’s condemned builds.

  ◆◆◆

  Carly fussed over my hair, coiling and crimping it until it hung in shining ringlets over my shoulders. Maria and Mrs Charles perched on the bed, sipping their champagne breakfast. Maria could barely tear her eyes from the heavy, white silk dress that hung from the wardrobe. A photographer buzzed in the background, capturing every move. Mrs Roman flitted between mine and Leo’s hotel rooms, hardly able to contain herself. Carly stepped back, admiring her handiwork, unable to hide her grin.

  "He's so lucky," she whispered.

  The wedding was every bit as magical as the proposal. Leo waited for me at the end of the aisle with Theo by his side, both dressed in tuxedos. My father and Schilling walked me down the aisle. Carly, Laura, Lucy and Schilling's daughter acted as my bridesmaids. I finally had my dream.

  Danica

  Five years later

  "You don't have to do this," Leo said, pulling Maisie, our three-year-old from my arms.

  "I do," I sighed.

  We rarely fought, but we'd had the same argument over and over. I had to do this. My biological father gave his freedom for my happiness. He'd asked me to visit. I couldn't refuse.

  “Let me go with you, Abigail will watch Maisie.”

  Abigail Charles became family. She adored Maisie almost more than Maisie adored her.

  “No, I want to do this alone.”

  Miguel was sentenced to life with no possibility of parole. The death sentence was removed in exchange for pleading guilty and saving the Charles’ the pain of another trial. I’d written him a few times, sent a picture of Maisie every year since she was born, but I’d never spoken to him in person since the day I arrested him.

  Maria and my dad visited him a few times a year when they came down to Texas to visit us. They told me he’d adjusted to prison life well, gotten clean, studied for his GED and was working in the prison workshop. He didn’t regret taking Leo’s place. I didn't understand why he wanted to see me in person. If Maria knew she remained tight-lipped over it.

  “Fine,” Leo relented.

  I planted a kiss on Maisie’s golden curls. Leo refused to let me leave without a hug.

  “If he upsets you at all…”

  “He won’t.”

  He had no reason to. I never asked him to confess, nor did my dad. It was all his own doing. He chose his own fate.

  The two-hour drive was excruciating. What do you say to the man who ruined your life and then single-handedly saved it? What if he asked for my forgiveness? Could I forgive him?

  He’d brought me into a world of drugs and brutality as a baby, made no efforts to keep me safe, abandoned me to my fate after discovering me missing and assuming his brother and father took me and killed me. On learning I’d lived he’d didn't contact me. He handed my kidnappers my details to save his own skin. And then he saved Leo from death. He granted me a happiness beyond anything I could imagine. Did that ease the harm he’d caused?

  I pulled into the car lot of the Lewis Unit, my mind still racing, the answers to the questions I asked myself still evading me.

  Mothers, children, girlfriends, wives and fathers filled the waiting area, all smiling and laughing, eager to hug their incarcerated family member. We were called through one by one, asked for id, searched and shown to our seats.

  Men in prison overalls streamed through the door. Guards lined the room, watching the prisoners, their beady eyes missing nothing. I didn’t recognise Miguel until he took his seat opposite me.

  He’d gained weight, his skin and eyes brighter, the stench that had clung to him when I arrested him had been washed away. He smiled unsurely at me.

  “Danielle.”

  “Danica, I changed my name, I’m Danica now.”

  “I see. Your mother named you Lucia.”

  “My father named me Danielle. I changed it to Danica after I escaped the men you sent to my door.”

  He reached across the table. I dropped my hands into my lap, away from his touch. I did not forgive this man, I could not forgive this man. I’d be forever grateful for what he’d done for Leo, but forgiveness was more than I could offer.

  He inhaled, tears pooling in his eyes.

  “Sorry isn’t enough, is it?”

  I shook my head, avoiding his tearful gaze.

  “Why did you ask me here?”

  He spoke quietly, furtively glancing around him, afraid other prisoners would overhear. His reputation as an Ortiz had saved him from the violence that would usually be inflicted on a child killer. What he was proposing would shatter the thin veil of protection his name afforded him.

  The DEA and Mexican officials had asked for his help. They wanted him to testify against his former Cartel. The few who remained after my father took his vengeance against them for my kidnap were still very much active, they w
ere wreaking havoc across Mexico and flooding Texas with cheap cocaine.

  “They’ve offered me the chance of parole after serving no less than twenty-five years in exchange for my cooperation. I’ll be moved somewhere nicer, with more privileges. I want to testify anyway, those men need stopping but if you don’t want me to take the deal, I won’t. I deserve to spend the rest of my life in here, I know that. All I want to is take away some of your pain, if seeing me free would hurt you, I’ll testify without a deal.”

  I studied him, he locked his gaze on his hands, folding them together on the table. The crimes he had confessed to were horrific but no more horrific than the things he’d actually done when he was working with the cartel. Innocent of Stacey and Maia’s murder or not, he deserved to be locked up for life. And he would be. He was in his early fifties now, with twenty-five years minimum to serve and little to no chance of getting parole the day he becomes eligible, he was going to die behind bars. If having a slither of hope helps get him through each day, who am I to refuse him?

  “Take the deal,” I whispered, resting my hand on his. “It won’t hurt me.”

  There wasn’t anything in the world that would hurt me more than he already had.

  “I just want you to be happy. You deserve to be happy, Danica. Are you happy?”

  “Yes. I am.”

  Happy. Safe. Loved. I had my happy ever after, the man of my dreams and the family I’d always yearned for.

  THE END

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