Seductive sin, p.2
Seductive Sin, page 2
So he’s a rapist. Good for him. He won’t get along well here. Not in my cell block. We don’t take kindly to rapists.
They’re only above child molesters on our totem pole of who are the worst degenerates of humankind. Even murderers fare better. At least their victims don’t have to live the rest of their life in fear.
“Keep talking,” I say. “You’re close to signing your own fucking death warrant.”
“Big words,” he says again.
“Original words on your part.”
The irony seems lost on him.
He finally backs away, standing straight and tall, still meeting my gaze. “You need to watch it, Bellamy.”
“His name is Savage,” Larkin says through gritted teeth.
“The only thing I’m going to call him is fresh meat.” He grabs Tommy’s arm, yanking him toward him. “And I’m taking you.”
“Maybe I didn’t make myself clear.” I stalk toward Zion, force him to let go of Tommy, and then lead him to the concrete block wall, where I grab a fistful of his orange jumpsuit. “You don’t touch any of my men. Have I made myself clear now?”
With his right hand, Zion grabs my wrist.
And I’ll give him one. He is fucking strong.
But I’m stronger. And meaner.
I wasn’t always mean like Zion, but you learn to be mean on the inside. You do it for survival. You do it to protect those who are too weak to protect themselves. And you do it to put shitheads like Zion in their place.
“Quite a grip you’ve got,” I say. “But it won’t get you anywhere here. Stay away from all of them…or I’ll fucking kill you.”
My words aren’t even menacing. I say them matter-of-factly. I’ve found they have more effect that way.
Let them think I’m a little off my rocker. Let them think whatever they want.
All I need to do is watch my back, and the backs of the rest of the men on my block.
Not too difficult.
Not for Savage.
“All wireless alarm systems rely on radio frequency signals sent between door and window sensors to a control system that triggers an alarm when any of these entryways are breached,” Leif says quietly. He points to several circled areas on a blueprint of the McAllister estate. “The signals deploy any time a tagged window or door is opened, whether or not the alarm is enabled. But when enabled, the system will trip the alarm and also send a silent alert to the monitoring company, which contacts the occupants and the police.”
I shake my head. “How is this even possible?”
“It is. All the systems use different hardware, but they are essentially the same.” He scans the immediate vicinity. “This isn’t that advanced. It’s been around since the nineties. I can jam the signals to prevent them from tripping an alarm by sending radio noise to prevent the signal from getting through from sensors to the control panel.”
“It all sounds like gobbledygook to me.”
“It did to me at first too,” Leif says. “But it’s actually pretty simple once you understand how the tech works.”
“Right.”
Leif plays with his gadgets, listening intently. A few lights flicker on and off, and he taps in different codes. This goes on for several minutes until he smiles. “Got it. The whole thing is disarmed, including the cameras and microphones. But now we have to get in and out before they discover this.”
“How could they discover it?”
“Depends. If they have actual humans manning the cameras, they’ll see it quickly. If they don’t, it’ll be a while.”
“And how do we know whether people are watching?”
“We don’t, Falcon. That’s why we fucking hurry.” He pulls out another gadget. This one looks like a small pistol with several pointy metal rods sticking out of it.
“What’s that?”
“It’s a lockpick gun, just in case disabling the system didn’t unlock the gate.”
“Why wouldn’t it?”
“Sometimes the gate is on a different frequency so cars can come and go via a remote control without unlocking the whole system. That’s probably the case here.”
We walk toward the gate, staying in shadows as much as we can. In the distance, several dogs bark.
“Where do you think the hounds are?” I ask.
He cups his hand around his ear and listens. “Could be in the back, but they sound farther away than that. There’s probably a couple dogs in the back and one or two in the house as well.” He pats the bag of jerky in the pocket of his hoodie. “We’ll take care of them.”
“Just how quickly does the doggie downer work?”
“Too damned long, but it’ll do the job.”
Leif and I make it to the gate.
“Yeah, it’s still locked.” He pulls out the gun, clicks it a few times. “We’re in.”
My heart is racing like a fucking madman’s. I don’t even know for sure that Savannah’s here, but I feel like she is.
I feel like she’s close.
And I feel like she’s in danger.
The moon hangs low in the night sky, and it casts a pale glow over the sprawling mansion. I follow Leif as he slowly opens the wrought-iron gate and enters the property. He follows the shadows, keeping us cloaked. Our black attire blends seamlessly into the darkness. A cool breeze sweeps over us, makes the trees in the yard rustle.
“Armed guards?” I whisper.
“Probably,” he says, his voice so low I can barely hear him. “But they won’t know security is down yet. We just have to stay out of their sight. Stick to the shadows.”
“Won’t they see the security lights are out?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “There’ll be a backup generator that takes over the main system.”
“Then how the hell are we going to get into the house?”
“Leave that to me,” Leif says.
2
SAVANNAH
Welcome to hell.
I close my eyes, prepare my body for what is about to happen.
No gun is being held to my head, no knife to my heart.
My life is not in danger.
What am I supposed to feel?
Disgust?
Yeah, I feel that.
But fear?
No. I’m not afraid. He won’t kill me. He has to marry me first, for whatever reason his family deems important enough to force this.
I just wish I were stronger, capable of overpowering Miles and his horrid body.
His breath is minty fresh, which only angers me. He’s a rapist, damn it. His breath should smell like rotted garbage.
Falcon won’t be coming for me. He doesn’t even know where I am.
Besides, I did this for him.
I made this deal with the devil to make sure he doesn’t go down for murdering Abel, and Miles had better damned well keep that promise.
Falcon.
Think of Falcon.
It’s Falcon about to fuck me.
Not Miles McAllister.
Only Falcon.
My Falcon—
My eyes shoot open.
Except this isn’t Falcon, and not even the best imagination in the world can convince me that the man ready to thrust into me is anyone other than who he is.
Miles McAllister.
His shoulders are narrow, and while he clearly goes to the gym often, his muscles don’t rip out of his shirt the way Falcon’s do. His hair has an oily sheen to it, like he’s skipped a few showers. But even with those physical differences, I could close my eyes and imagine Falcon.
But I could never get past his face. He’s not a bad looking guy, but even the handsomest man in the world would look ugly if he had a heart as dark as Miles’s. Especially his eyes. They’re like two bottomless whirlpools, waiting to swallow up any unsuspecting swimmers that come within their grasp. Eyes that could kill with a simple glance.
I stare straight into those mean blue eyes. “So you’re a rapist now?”
“You made a deal,” he says through clenched teeth.
“I made a deal to marry you. Not to be raped by you.”
He cocks his head. “What the fuck do you think marriage is, Savvy? We’re going to fuck.”
“Yeah. After we’re married. This wasn’t part of the deal, Miles.”
Will he buy it?
Probably not, but at least I’ve got a moment’s reprieve.
An extra moment to try to figure out how to get out of this mess.
A moment ago I wasn’t regretting this decision, but now?
The idea of anyone inside me other than Falcon Bellamy has me ready to hurl. My belly cramps—an intense pain, like a knife slicing into my stomach.
Acid rises in my throat, but I swallow it down.
Big mistake, because rhythmic contractions start in my gut and diaphragm.
The salmon, the salad, the—
All of it.
All of it’s coming.
Then it explodes with projectile force out of my mouth and right into Miles’s face.
I retch once, twice, three times until Miles, the bed, and I are all covered in puke.
“My God!” Miles spits the vomit from his mouth. “Fucking disgusting. Jesus!”
He scrambles off the bed and into my bathroom. I hear the whoosh of the faucet on the sink.
The acrid scent of puke erupts around me. I wrinkle my nose, feel nauseated again, but then I inhale once more.
Still disgusting, but in a way it’s sweeter than a rose in bloom because it got Miles McAllister off of me.
I’ve no doubt he’ll be back because for some reason he needs to marry me.
Some reason I need to figure out.
But it’s not going to happen tonight.
My green silk nightgown is covered in barf. I get off the bed, pull off the comforter.
It looks like it didn’t seep through to the sheets, so that’s good.
I’m not sure what to do, because I won’t be able to open my door to get the comforter out of here. Still, the stench will overwhelm me eventually, so I need to at least get it as far away from me as possible. I drag the soiled comforter out of the bedroom and through the sitting area to the door and—
I gasp.
The door is cracked, but only slightly. No sliver of light from the hallway is visible. Only about an inch of the wood is visible, with no actual crack where I can pull it open.
He really fucking didn’t make sure the door was closed and locked? Anyone could have walked in on him raping me?
Maybe that’s it. Maybe he wanted someone to walk in on us. Just the chance of being caught would have added an extra layer of thrill to this sicko. Any unwitting servant who accidentally walked in would catch an eyeful of him dominating his woman, his rightfully won conquest.
Jesus.
Could I open it the rest of the way? There’s no doorknob on this side—only a brass plate with a keyhole.
The water is still running in the bathroom, and then I hear Miles turn on the shower.
He’ll clean himself up and then no doubt come back for me and throw me in so I’ll be clean when he finishes what he started.
I have to be gone by then.
I leave the comforter in a heap on the floor and try to figure out how to get the door open without making it close back on itself and click the lock into place.
I glance around the room at the books, the desk, the tables, the couches.
Nothing.
I’ve already gone through all the drawers. There’s nothing in this room that I can use as some kind of lever to pry it open. I’m going to have to just hope that I can get enough of a grip with my fingers to pull the door back enough to open it and get out.
I try and—
“Damn!” I say out loud, and then cover my mouth.
Sure enough, all I did was loosen it enough and then lose my grip so the door closed back on itself, the lock clicking in place.
Tears spring in the bottom of my eyes. My one shot, and I blew it.
I draw in a breath, sniffle, and force the tears back.
There’s got to be another way. All I have to do is find it.
I can’t give up. Falcon never gave up in prison, and I won’t give up now.
I swallow down nausea as it creeps back up on me.
I feel like I need to throw up again, but there can’t possibly be anything left in my stomach. Not after everything that spewed all over Miles.
I can’t help a slight smile at that thought.
Miles covered in puke. My puke. That’s how he’ll always think of me from now on… Even if I don’t escape, I’ll always have that.
Of course, that might just make him more pissed, which doesn’t bode well for me. My smile fades.
Damn it, Savannah. Think!
Ugh. All I can think of is Miles, who will be coming out of the shower at any moment—
I drop my mouth open. Miles! Of course!
He has to be able to get out of here. He has a key. Where are his clothes?
I sneak back into the bedroom. The bathroom door is open, but he can’t see me from the shower. At least I hope he can’t. The shower door glass is frosted, right now it looks like his head is down and he’s washing his hair.
Still, I’m as careful as I can when I find his pants. I shake as I go through the pockets. First I find his wallet. Good thing to have. Then, in another pocket, his phone and a key chain with a few keys on it. I grab the keys and hurry back to the door.
I turn back and snatch his phone as well. Don’t want to make it easy for Miles to call for help once he realizes I’ve escaped.
I run back to the door and shakily lift the keys to the lock.
First key doesn’t work.
Fuck.
Second key—
Yes!
The lock disengages, and because I’ve got the key in the lock, I’m able to pull the door open. I turn the key again, locking the mechanism, and then close it from the outside, locking Miles in. I have his key, and there’s no keyless entry on this door. I suppose they couldn’t take the chance that I’d guess the code. After all, what more is there to do in a room than go through every permutation? I’d eventually get it after days and days of doing the same thing.
I look down at my vomit-stained nightie. Why didn’t I think to change my clothes? Why didn’t I think to grab my purse?
Because all I could think of was escaping. There’s nothing in my purse to help me anyway. They took my wallet and my phone.
At least I have Miles’s wallet and whatever’s inside plus his keys and phone. I don’t have time to look through it now. Miles won’t be able to get out of the room, but he’ll be able to use the intercom and get someone to let him out quickly.
I need to get out of this house. But first things first. I need to find something to wear, or at least to cover my nightie.
I walk quickly through the hallway, and once I’m away from my door, I no longer hear the shower running. In fact, I hear nothing.
Is that good or bad?
I have no idea, and I can’t take the time to ruminate on it. I need to find something to—
I jerk at a sound coming from down the hallway.
I grab the first doorknob and I say a silent thank you to the universe when it opens.
I slip inside.
It’s dark. Probably another guest room like the one where they were keeping me. Will I find clothes in the closet?
Once my eyes adjust, I look quickly at the door. It’s the same. No knob. No way to lock it or unlock it from the inside without a key.
I can’t think too much about that. Most likely there will be bars on the windows, just as there were in my room. At least I can hide here for a moment and check the closet.
I walk through the sitting area to the bedroom, not daring to turn on the light. The bed is empty, thank God. I open the closet door and—
Nothing.
Fucking nothing.
I don’t dare speak. What if someone monitors these rooms? What if the intercom is on?
Holy shit, what if there’s a camera?
I slide along the edges of the room until I’m back to the door. I draw in a deep breath, not even caring that I smell like puke.
I need to get out of here soon, so no more looking for clothes. It’s this nightie, puke and all, or nothing.
And it sure as hell won’t be nothing.
I swallow, gather my courage, and—
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
The door is closed, and with no knob, I can’t open it, even though it’s not locked.
Maybe I can use Miles’s phone. I grab it.
It’s locked. Of course. With an eight-digit code.
I can still make a call to one of his emergency contacts. Of course, they’re all going to be family.
And I can’t call 911. Any cop who ended up coming to my rescue would surely be one who’s been bought by the McAllisters. Plus their sirens would alert all of the family members and servants that something is up.
Damn it!
I throw the phone across the room.
I shake my head, my heart falling to my gut. I lean into the wall on the left side of the door and slide down into a sitting position, burying my head in my hands.
I’ll be punished for this.
I told Miles I’d come with him willingly, and the first chance I got, I tried to make a run for it.
They’ll find me soon, and God only knows what they’ll do to me.
I sit in the crouched position, my stomach empty, my hair a mess, my nightie caked with dried vomit.
And I accept my fate.
3
FALCON
Still walking in the shadows, Leif and I case the mansion. We pace all the way around, looking at each point of entry as Leif assesses it.
We don’t encounter any hounds, but Leif throws a piece of the tainted beef jerky every couple of steps to ward off any who might show up.
“I think this one,” Leif says when we find a door.
“Why this one?”
“It appears to be a door to the servants’ entrance. It’s far less grand than the main entrance, and off to the side. The McAllisters wouldn’t want any of their distinguished guests to enter through here. We’ll be less likely to run into anyone we can’t buy off.”
