Carnal Games

by Titania Ladley

  Ahead, she could see the beginning of the twelve-foot tall chain link fence that surrounded the prison, a huge spiral roll of barbed wire secured to the top. As she neared, she noted it was one of two fences, a double line of defense against escaped inmates.

  She shivered. Would she be safe from the barbaric men inside, from her own husband-to-be? She chuckled to herself. Of course she would. There were, no doubt, guards swarming the prison, protecting the visitors against the felons and murderers and rapists that hovered about. It’s what our tax dollars paid for, wasn’t it? she asked herself with silent sarcasm.

  The sign directed her to a large parking lot at the foreground of the prison. Downshifting, she chose a parking space vacated just then by a forlorn visitor. Easing in between the white painted lines, she killed the blaring engine and studied the outdoor prison activities going on inside the compound. They all wore identical dull greenish suits, some shooting hoops, others congregating in groups puffing greedily on cigarettes, and others still, lifting weights in an outdoor gym.

  Like them, was she in a prison of her own making? she wondered as she sat mesmerized by the animalistic atmosphere. Was she bound by the fences of the ranch, never daring to venture far—until forced to do so? Was she convicted of fear and pain, locked behind bars of her own production?

  Stepping from the truck, she snorted to herself and adjusted her tan blazer and jean skirt. No. That was ridiculous. She could escape, she just chose not to. There was a difference between her and these barbarians that were segregated from society. Though she’d broken a few laws in her childhood, stolen a loaf of bread here, a jug of milk there, she was no hardened criminal deserving a sentence of life, nor the death penalty.

  Death row. Ironically, it’s the only thing that’s saving your life, Tania, she thought as she strode along the fence line, turned up the walk and approached the front door to the prison. Royce Powers was set to die by lethal injection in two weeks. For what, she didn’t want to know. She’d already deposited the agreed upon funds in his trust account, probably a mistake, given she still didn’t have his signature on the marriage certificate that would be the ticket to her future.

  Pulling the glass door open, she entered a reception area and made her way to the man behind the secure glass window.

  It was time for a wedding. Tania frowned. She could just hear the church bells ringing.

  ***

  Formalities and security checks behind her, the watchman exited the booth and entered the hallway. He motioned for her to follow. Stepping forward through a second metal detector, she heard the clattered echo of the door shutting behind her. With a shiver, for a sudden sense of claustrophobia assailed her, she followed the man through the dimly lit passage and down a long flight of stairs. Bare light bulbs hung at intervals from the ceiling. Various gray steel doors with single small, square windows were bypassed. The air was stale, and the odor of manly perspiration and bleach assaulted her nostrils. Ahead, beyond a locked panel of bars, she heard raised voices. Vulgarities resonated through the chill of the tunnel.

  “Must be some clown pissed that he ain’t gettin’ his way. Such a thankless, low-paying job we all got here,” her escort grumbled.

  Tania held her tongue and merely followed him to a set of barred doors. He halted, pressed a buzzer, then slipped a card in and out of a slot. She scanned the area, noted the video camera above aimed directly at her, the endless dark corridor of faded white linoleum set below dingy gray walls, and the many tightly closed heavy doors. What a way to live, she thought with a shudder. And yet she knew that the incarcerated men had no idea how good they had it. At least they were warm and fed, and had a sturdy roof over their heads.

  At least they weren’t frostbitten and living in a sagging cardboard box.

  “This way, Miss Petrov.” The officer motioned her through the doors, then they shut swiftly behind her. She entered an open area with benches secured to concrete flooring. Like being in the putrid bowels of a whale, Tania thought gloomily, as the man indicated that she sit on the pew directly in front of a guard station. Why did they make prisons so damned drab?

  “The holding rooms are over there. Wait here while I find out which one he’s going to be brought to.”

  Just get on with it, her mind screamed, though outwardly she nodded her agreement with controlled dignity.

  He was gone for nearly two minutes when another guard entered from a side door. “You here to see the inmate, Royce Powers?” he asked crossly. Tipping the wire-rimmed glasses from his nose, he swept her with a contemptuous stare, then peered critically at her over the gold frames.

  “Um…” she cleared her throat and stood. “Yes. I’m Tatiana Petrov. But the other guard was going to—”

  He waved a dismissive hand. “Eh, Chuck’s gotten tied up in another matter. An out-of-control inmate or something. Since I’m the new guy, I get the honors of the easy stuff.” His dull expression emphasized his satisfaction with the matter. “I’ll show you into the holding room.”

  Without another word of explanation, the bear of a man motioned her to follow. He strode down a short hall, then took a hard right to a somewhat hidden steel door. Removing his keys from a latch at his belt, he searched for the correct key, then finally unlocked the door where Tania’s groom was to be awaiting her.

  As the guard pushed open the heavy door, she did her best to ward off the nausea and butterflies that plagued her stomach. Relax, Tania, she coached herself. Think of the lovely trip here, think of anything but what’s about to happen! She closed her eyes and tried to recalled the journey here, through her beautiful Texas countryside, but all that came to mind was a picture of herself marrying a scruffy, old, toothless man in black and white stripes.

  It’s a necessary ceremony, she told herself repeatedly after yanking herself from the horrid scene that flashed through her mind. It was a necessary formality that would secure her future once and for all. So, inhaling deeply, she opened her eyes and stepped into the holding room where death row inmate Royce Powers anticipated the arrival of his bride-to-be.

  ***

  His gaze fell on the woman who was ushered into the room—and he felt his heart slam painfully against his ribs. His whole world as he knew it, tipped on its axis. Holy hell, what a beautiful, exotic creature! His writer’s eye took in every detail, from the long, silky, wind-tossed fair hair, to the straight posture. The full breasts—God help him—strained against a tight white sweater revealed beneath an open tan blazer. His gaze slid down to the narrow hips and long length of leg held snugly within the tube of her skirt. When she boldly stepped nearer, he looked upon the perfection of her face, with the pale blue cat-eyes, small, pert nose, and the fullness of her lips, like a fat, pink rose waiting to be inhaled.

  “Well, well,” he briefly glanced at the unfamiliar guard. “What have we here?”

  The man cleared his throat and looked nervously beyond Sam at a fixed point on the dim wall. “The warden sent me with the young lady here. She’s dropped in to see you, Powers.”

  He stared at the guard for a moment, then the woman as, for a long moment, he soaked in the lovely view with silence.

  “Powers—?” Sam set his pen down and came to his feet, suddenly aware that both the armed guard and the enchanting woman seemed to be experiencing a case of mistaken identity. Fleetingly, he wondered how such a mix-up could occur, but amusement won out as he decided to play along. Who knew what advantages it may lend him in his writing—and with the seductive…cowgirl, he thought as his gaze drifted downward to the fine leather boots. “Yes?” he adopted a gruff tone.

  The woman finally found her voice. “The agreement? You recall our agreement made through e-mail? I’m Tatiana Petrov from Austin.”

  At the soft southern lilt to her voice, and the way it seemed to coat his sex with her musical juices, Sam rounded the table and sauntered forward. He crossed his arms over his chest. Jesus, but he could simply just inhale her with that sweet scent she wore! Black brow
s rising in mockery, he said carefully, “Care to elaborate?”

  Tania’s chin rose to meet the large man’s bold gaze even as she prepared to bolt. Inwardly, she felt a wave of…electric shock? Dark and rakishly handsome, he had the greenest eyes she’d ever seen, like two cactus globes, thorns and all. His nose was straight above lips that curled derisively, his jaw strong and square. In the putrid green of his prison garb, he appeared all the more menacing…all the more…sexy?

  Ashamed at the direction of her thoughts, Tania said crisply, “Our agreement to marry, Mr. Powers. I agreed to deposit a tidy sum in your trust account—an amount, mind you, that no one on death row could spend in two week’s time—and you agreed to marry me in name only so that I may have a valid certificate of marriage to present to my manipulative grandfather.” The thought of it still had her seething with resentment. Her grandfather had reduced her to this, to standing in a drab prison practically begging a hardened criminal to marry her!

  Unbelievable, that this creature would resort to such measures! Sam thought with fascination. Intrigued beyond measure, he wondered why a prisoner had been her choice, and what her ultimate motivation was. Was she that greedy that she would resort to such an offensive tactic to receive whatever prize her grandfather was dangling over her head? And could she be that resistant to marriage, that completely opposed to sharing her life with a man, that she would marry a stranger in name only just to avoid the intimacies of a normal marriage? Somehow, he couldn’t blame her. He’d been down that road. Marriage had turned out to be the king of all hells. Of course, Elise had been far from a good wife.

  Stroking his five-o’clock shadow, Sam continued to study her as his instincts told him he was at a fork in the road of his lonely life. Alexa desperately needed a mother, and this woman may very well fit the bill. Grudgingly, he admitted that he needed a wife as well, a kind, pliant, loving woman to warm his bed at night, to support him during those days and weeks where he sat chained to his computer like a literary prisoner. And he most certainly hadn’t the time, nor the inclination, to go and seek one out, to play the tiresome courting games a woman expected from a man.

  This woman, this Tatiana Petrov, was the most gorgeous, exquisite woman he’d laid eyes on in the longest time—though he debated if her air of superiority would ultimately have him sleeping with a block of ice. It was crazy, he knew. Utterly impulsive and probably self-destructive, but, with his kind of money, it was easily undone, if need be. He looked her over again, noted her defiant air and the ironic way her hands seemed to tremble as she waited for his response. She was like a lost kitten, he decided. Lost from her mama, determined to fight for her life, but vulnerable, nonetheless, in need of a good petting.

  Never one to take in strays, he accepted there was something different about this one. Intrigued beyond his own comprehension, he allowed a slow grin to spread across his face. This woman was offering herself to him upon a beautiful, delicious platter. Why not? he asked himself, already feeling a throb spring to life between his legs. He’d be a fool to turn away such an appetizing piece of meat. Why not throw the dice and go for broke? In his life, he’d lost some, he’d won some. He was willing, he suddenly realized, given the sorry path Elise had led him down, to take the chance. He snorted inwardly. The law of averages was in his favor.

  With a lightness to his heart, he replied, “Oh, yes, the wedding.”

  The woman appeared to be on the rim of panic. Did she believe her “groom” was about to back out of the deal? Clearly, she seemed to worry that she’d be forced to come up with another diabolical scheme to satisfy her meddling grandfather. Which meant she was at his mercy…

  “Is it still a deal?” she asked with undisguised desperation. As her sun-kissed satiny skin flushed with nerves—or was it anger?—Sam felt his hand flex with the need to stroke her lovely cheek.

  “Well…” Sam hesitated, and drew out the possibility of extracting more from her. He was good at uncovering research, after all, maneuvering his way through privileged information.

  He watched as she suddenly spun toward the door. “I guess I’ve made a terrible mistake,” she hissed.

  The little thing was quick to give in, Sam thought with an inner chuckle. He reached out and gripped her upper arm, halting her retreat. Either that, or she was a great actress, skilled at manipulation as well.

  “Now, now, kitten,” he mocked. “Have some patience. Did I say no—yet?”

  Her eyes sliced downward to where he held her arm like a vice. He felt the feminine shape of her arm beneath his palm, and experienced a silken brush of fire as it rushed through his pulsating crotch. The thought both surprised and delighted him. He hadn’t had a woman since Elise…since forever.

  Shaking her arm free, she said coolly, “Keep your filthy hands off me. Guard?” She turned toward the uniformed man standing there with a perplexed look on his ruddy face.

  Sam watched as the man looked over at his tape recorder, then recognition dawned in his eyes. The guard knew he was the author, somehow knew, yet didn’t question how he’d come to be wearing prison attire.

  Sam winked at the man and turned on the charm. “No need to worry, guard. Me and the misses will be fine here until the pastor is brought in…that is, if I agree to the wedding.”

  “If?” she said, aghast. And it was then that he knew for certain she’d been calling his bluff. “But…but you…I put the money in your account, you agreed…”

  Sam gave the sentry a dismissal nod and watched, delighted as he smiled knowingly, then stepped from the room and clicked the bolt into place.

  Tatiana startled and glanced behind her at the closed door. Her exquisite sun-drenched face paled as dawning assaulted her. She’d been—or so she’d thought—left locked in a room with a hardened criminal. No escape for this little spitting kitten.

  Sam grinned sardonically as she suddenly whirled on him. Her eyes were like an aristocratic cat, and she seemed to all but hiss her disgust at the alley tomcat.

  “Doesn’t a husband have…liberties with his wife?” he asked, taking a perverse delight in the game she’d asked him—or rather, Royce Powers—to play with her.

  Tatiana’s eyes sparkled with a murderous, diamond-blue glow. “You’re not my husband. Guard!” She turned and pounded a fist on the steel door. Instantly, she spun back around to face him, sensing his approach. “You stay away from me,” she warned, her teeth gritted. She visibly trembled as he took one step toward her. “Just stay the hell away.”

  “So, you’ve changed your mind, sweetheart?” Sam returned with a chuckle.

  “No,” she said softly, now looking much like a cornered rabbit. “Just don’t touch me again. Stay away.”

  “Hmm. I think I’ll add one more form of payment to my services before the pastor arrives,” Sam said thoughtfully. The dark slash of his brows drew together as he stroked his jaw.

  Tania groaned. “And what would that be?” she asked dismally, her eyes jerking every now and then to the six-inch by six-inch glass window in the door behind her.

  He paused for effect. “A kiss.”

  Her world crashed, he knew it by the sheer panic that washed over her beautiful heart-shaped face.

  “A kiss!” Tania spat haughtily. “You’re crazy.”

  Sam stepped back and leaned against the table where his recorder and pad lay, hiding the evidence of his identity. Why he was doing this, he didn’t know. Like a criminal himself, he couldn’t resist stealing a moment from this astounding woman, couldn’t help himself, for it was the making of a riveting book he seemed to find himself in! Crossing one ankle over the other, he planted his hands nonchalantly on either side of him and shrugged. “Then the deal’s off.”

  “Oh!” she gasped, venom in her eyes. She crossed her arms over her ample chest, and he wondered what those pert melons would feel like in his hands…his mouth.

  He watched as the blue of her ethereal eyes went from icy to flaming navy.

  “Guard, take me bac
k to my cell,” he called out, quietly enough that the guard would not be hearing him through the steel door. He made a play of shoving himself from the table and stepping around her.

  “Wait!” Tania’s hand shot out to grip his arm. Instantly, she felt the rock hardness of his bicep, he knew that, too, by the look on her face and the way her hand flexed like fire over his arm. And instantly, she snapped her hand back. “Please,” she whispered in a tiny voice of utter anguish.

  Despite the raw distress in her every mannerism, in spite of the perfect, on-cue teardrops brimming in her eyes, Sam was thoroughly enjoying himself. He seemed to take a perverse pleasure in how his every word and movement seemed to have such a profound effect on the hot little cowgirl. Though fiction wasn’t his thing, maybe he’d try his hand at writing a fairy tale novel about a desperate woman willing to take desperate measures to secure her future.

  “Well…” he continued to taunt her. “Let’s see what we can do.”

  Chapter Two

  What an insolent piece of scum! Tania’s mind seethed. But she had no choice. She would not risk being homeless again, nor chance losing her beloved ranch. “Oh, all right. Just one kiss,” she groaned. Rolling her eyes, she ignored the warning lights that flashed frantically in her befuddled brain, totally disregarded the fact that she stood alone in a locked room with a ruthless death row inmate. “One kiss in exchange for a marriage and your signature. Is it a deal, Mr. Powers?”

  She watched as he slowly nodded, watched with mixed emotions as he winked one jade eye at her. “You betcha, baby,” he drawled in a deeply disturbing, sensual voice. And he stepped toward her, close enough that she could inhale the rich scent of his cologne and the clean aroma of soap and after shave. Well, she thought with surprised satisfaction. If she’s going to be forced to be near enough for a kiss, at least the man’s clean!