by Hope Stone
“I see what you’re trying to do. What would this do for us?”
“It would reduce the number of dead bodies in your cells. Reduce the paperwork. Allow you to gain more funding if you have a healthy prison, and allow you to ultimately place more money back in your pocket.”
I waited for the warden to comprehend what I was saying. “Okay. What is your first step?”
I eased him into it. “Report the numbers and file a report to the federal government to apply for funding.”
The warden tapped the side of his coffee cup impatiently. “Trust me, we have to report every quarter.”
“I know, but now there is a new program with a loophole. Check this out. It’s a lot of reading, but I’ve highlighted the sections and what you may be able to get. It also refers to the Prison Reform Act.”
He raised his eyebrows in what looked to be respect. “This is impressive. You’ve done your due diligence.”
I smiled broadly. “I work for the Department of Human Services. I have to.”
He pushed the documents aside. “I’ve meant to ask you something for a while now.”
Warden Smith was not an attractive man. His face was lined with pockmarks, and his belly protruded over his pants even though his legs were incredibly skinny. I said, “Warden, I have a keen interest in prison reform, and as you know, my brother was in here for a while.”
“Yes, yes, I remember. Let’s get past all that.” He waved his hand as if directing traffic out of the way. “I wanted to know if you would like to have a drink with me sometime.” He bared his teeth in a greasy smile.
“Uh. No, thank you, Warden. I appreciate the offer, but I have a boyfriend, and you have a wife.”
The greasy smile remained. “Well, if that changes, just give me a call. You know where I am.”
I balked and packed my things up. “Thanks, Warden. I have a busy day, so I’d better be going now.”
“Okay. I do, too. See you soon, Amber.” Warden Smith hitched up his pants and left the table. He swiftly opened the door. I walked past him, and I caught him closing his eyes, inhaling. I picked up the pace and headed for the outdoors. The guy made my skin crawl.
As I drove back to the office on my usual route, I mentally patted myself on the back. I’d done my best, and that’s all anyone could hope for. Today was a half-day because the next day I would be in training for my new role. The other issue that hung around the back of my mind came to the forefront. Colt and Hector. They were going to settle things tonight. My head had been pounding with mortifying scenarios.
I grabbed the lavender-scented oil I carried in my bag for stress reduction and sniffed it. I let the velvety scent float into my nostrils and soothe me.
As I packed up, I saw Lucy’s car leaving the parking lot. Another problem eliminated, at least for the day. Work went well and the day passed quickly.
I called Colt, wanting to hear that sexy, down-low, California cowboy accent. I peeked outside. I saw a few of my work colleagues heading to the coffee shop for their break. I waved, and they waved when they saw me.
“Hi.”
“Hi, beautiful. Missing me, huh?”
I paused because I wanted to say something about what was coming. It hung in the air like the elephant in the room between us. “Yes, I am.”
“How’s your day?” he reached.
“As good as can be. How’s Hector doing? Driving you bananas yet?”
“No. He just needs a little guidance. I see the route he’s heading down. I’m going to turn that around for him if I can. He’s a good kid.”
“Colt? Be careful tonight. I don’t want to talk about it or anything. I think I’ve said enough.”
“I understand. I love you. It will be like nothing ever happened.”
“Maybe. Maybe not. Just be careful.”
“You think I’m going to let anything happen to me when I got your fine ass, Bella, and your brother out here? I’m not a stupid man.”
“Bye, baby,” I replied silkily.
“Bye, honey.”
“Colt?”
“Yeah?
“I love you.” I couldn’t hold it in any longer.
A thick air of silence lingered for a moment.
“I love you, too, Amber.”
Colt
The dark veil of the Merced night sky hung above our heads. Hector and I were on a hill, looking down on the Las Balas crew. My mental focus was sharp and my breathing even. When I was in the heat of the fire, I could stand like the courageous cowboy I was. We were early. Both of us were lying low on our bellies above the grassy knoll.
“Here, take a look. Do you know any of those Las Balas guys?”
I handed Hector the binoculars. I’d spotted three men in leather jackets, and all of them were smoking and shuffling around outside the abandoned warehouse on East Mission Road. The streetlight was the only illumination in the otherwise empty parking lot.
Hector was breathing heavily. “That’s the prick that set me up in the deal in the first place. Rodrigo. That guy is a fucking worm. The other guys with him I don’t know.”
My long-range Twilight sniper rifle was set up on a mini tripod, and that thing could reach a target over ten thousand feet away. The Las Balas crew had no idea that we were within shooting range of them.
“Sounds about right,” I said with a lowered voice. I peered through the lens. At this point, I had a clear shooting range of all three of the crew. Parked on the left-hand side was one lone SUV. All of them must have arrived together.
I had two walkie talkies sitting in between us in case Mikakov instructed that we needed to move. I’d managed to convince him that Hector needed to be present. They were on low volume. The men were standing outside an old abandoned, tin shed warehouse that used to be a gas plant. The main parking lot was out front with no other businesses surrounding it, just the wheat-colored fields of Merced. I scanned the perimeter with binoculars. Not a man or Las Balas crew member in sight.
I smirked in the darkness. “This is going to be good. They think you’re showing up. Let’s see what they do.”
With my high-profile binoculars, I saw a crew member winding a silencer on the end of a gun. I handed the binoculars back to Hector.
“See, what did I tell you?”
He looked through the lens and saw what I saw.
“Shit. They were going to fucking kill me. I mean, what if I had the money? Would they still have killed me?” He handed the binoculars back.
“I guarantee you wouldn’t have come out of this alive. They would have shot you dead. The Las Balas crew are a bunch of low-down, dirty rats.”
The second guy also pulled his gun out, ready for action. They were cajoling and laughing with one another. All of these bitches were about to be rocked.
My walkie flashed angrily at me, and I picked it up, pressing the intercom button on the side.
“Go ahead,” I whispered.
“You in position?” A thickly textured Russian accent came through.
“Roger that.”
“Prepare. Watch the fields behind the warehouse.”
“Done. Over and out.”
We heard the blood-curdling sound before we saw it. A large black van swung around the parking lot corner, screeching to a halt. The Las Balas crew lifted their guns, primed for rapid-fire. The black van door ripped open, and the Russian boys leaped out. My mouth turned up into a huge smile. They jumped out like the ninjas they were. They were all dressed in black leathers, fully armed. I heard the raised voices of the Las Balas crew talking and swearing in Spanish.
“Mierda!” They shouted out, Tweedledee and Tweedledum waving their arms around and grabbing their guns.
I watched Mikakov raise his arms out wide. The Las Balas crew stopped moving and stopped talking. Both Hector and I were mesmerized by the showdown.
There was a heated exchange between the two. I know because I saw the veins lifted on Mikakov’s neck. His team flanked him and raised their guns at one
point. The icy night wind cut through the grass and across our faces, causing me to shiver involuntarily. The Las Balas crew members’ faces looked shocked, and Mikakov beckoned one of his men, who reached in the van and brought out a suitcase.
The suitcase was opened, and I zoomed the binoculars in. It was the almighty greenbacks and lots of them. He closed the case and slid it over to them. One of the main henchmen pointed their gun to one of the others, gesturing for him to count it. Through the lens, I could see him rifling through the notes, counting. It took about ten minutes. Once satisfied, my man Mikakov gestured with a cut-your-throat motion and a gun-to-the-head motion. I knew what that meant.
I tapped Hector, encouraging him to see for himself. “Look. There it is. All clear.”
Hector looked, his mouth dropping wide open. “Holy shit. You just saved my life. I can’t fucking believe this. Are you sure they won’t come after me?”
I could just make out his face in the night. “I’m sure. The Russians are not the men to play with.”
“Okay,” he said mildly.
I watched through the lens. The last of it was over. We could all move forward now. I watched the Russians wait until the Las Balas crew left. I saw the walkie flash again.
“It’s over. Debt paid in full. We took care of it. With a few incentives for them not to try anything.”
“Thanks, Mikakov.”
“We owed you. Your loyalty has not gone unrecognized.”
“Roger that.”
“Tell Hector to stay the hell away from those fuckers.”
“Will do. Over and out.”
“You don’t have to tell me twice. I want nothing to do with that life.”
I slapped him on the back. “Come on, let’s go.”
Erring on the side of caution, we hung in the tall blades of grass for another twenty minutes. Then we both rose. My muscles were cramped from lying in position. Over the top of the hill and over the other side, my vehicle was parked. Two open fields, nothing but dusty California dirt and sparse grass that never had a chance to grow, separated us from the car. There were no streetlights on this side, just the glistening sliver of the luminescent moonlight. I listened for even the faintest sound of footsteps or anything funky. Nothing. My heartbeat quickened for some reason, thundering through my ears. The wind picked up.
Hector was in the car. The ebony night brought something wicked. The sound of someone running in the darkness. Sharp intakes of breath, gaining.
I reached for my gun. Dammit! I took it off my waistband when we were all clear. Mikakov’s warning rang in my ears. Watch the fields.
I stepped into the slice of the moonlight.
I saw a snarling face, ten paces away.
Don’t get out of the car, Hector. Stay put.
I squatted to the ground, grabbing a handful of dusty brown dirt. I fisted it and threw it directly at the running target.
He stumbled back in shock, grunting. I caught the barrel of the pistol in his hand. Due to the shock, he stumbled to the ground. I kicked the gun away. I heard Hector get out of the car. On the rebound, so he didn’t have time to recover, I swung back and engaged from the hip, delivering a body blow. I watched him fly back a few feet as I knocked the wind out of him. I was twice his size.
“Who the fuck are you?” I demanded.
The man fell back, and I straddled his face. He had on his leathers with the Las Balas crew logo. Hector tried to come in while the guy was discombobulated.
“No! Back.”
The black van of the Russians came swerving into view. Mikakov swung out. “I told you to watch the perimeter. I knew it was too easy,” he said.
He pulled the gun and shot a clean shot straight at the man’s head. It all happened in a split-second flash. Hector faced away. Brain fragments soiled the dirt as the shiny, rich blood seeped from the hole in the man’s head. I looked closer and saw he was definitely of Spanish descent.
Mikakov signaled with his gun, waving us off. “You two, go now! We clean up this mess.” His angry Russian accent was enough to move us on from the site.
“Thanks.”
I got inside the car, and we drove away in silence.
“Don’t tell Amber. She doesn’t need to know, okay?” I heaved with a sudden sickening weariness resting on my shoulders. “You’re safe now.”
“Thanks, man, that shit was crazy.” Hector’s face was coming back to color. It had been white as a sheet earlier. It looked like it was the first time he’d seen a dead body.
“See why I didn’t want you to come?”
Time for a fresh start.
Amber
Two strong knocks rapped on my door just after ten o’clock at night. I didn’t have a peephole. Anxiety weakened my voice.
“Hello?” I squeaked out.
“Hey, it’s me. Colt.”
I opened the door wide, and a tired, weary cowboy stood before me.
“Oh my God, what happened? You look terrible!”
He placed both of his large, now callused hands on both sides of my face and kissed with every bit of passion I think he had.
“I love you, Amber Atwood.”
His clothes were drenched as I felt around his waist for injuries. There were none. I touched his right hand, and it was badly swollen. I focused on it.
“You’re hurt. Sit down.” I went to the fridge and grabbed one of the snap ice packs and a dish towel. I wrapped it around his fist. “Hold it in place,” I commanded.
His face was laced with pain, and he gritted his teeth. When he saw the worry on my face, he turned his wincing into a grin.
“I’m okay. Your brother is okay, too. He’s at the house. I had to see you. I wanted to let you know I’m safe.” He paused. “You have some alcohol? This is going to sting for a few hours.”
“Sure. I have bourbon. I have—”
“Bourbon. That’s the one. Neat. Thanks.”
On my tiptoes, I reached for my special square tumblers. I brought the bourbon out of the alcohol cabinet, pouring the dirty brown liquid in the glass for him.
“Ice?”
“No. Just like that. Get ready for the re-up. This shit hurts.”
I didn’t take my eyes off him.
“Baby, I’m not going to pass out, if that’s what you think. Plus, you ain’t going to be able to lift me off the ground in a hurry.” He chortled a little. I tried to hide the little smile creeping up, but he saw it. “There it is. I knew that smile was in there.”
“Here, drink this and shut up,” I commanded.
“Yes, ma’am.” He tossed it back in one fell swoop.
“Another?”
“Yes.” I poured him another one, and this time, I drew down a glass and poured myself one. I added ice.
“Joining in the party?” he asked spicily.
“Yes, I am. Now tell me what the hell happened out there. Why is your hand like that?”
He shifted to the couch and drove his muscular frame into it, dropping his head back. Fuming, I stood in front of him, demanding answers. My chest was heaving from anger, and I knew my cheeks were rosy. My hair most likely looked wild, but I didn’t care. Neither did he.
His eyes turned to darkened, hungry desire. He reached his long arms up under the length of my nightgown and cupped my butt, bringing me forward to his face. He pressed his head into my center, his non-injured hand roaming around near the softness of my belly, and my anger subsided, replaced with decadent longing. He pulled the waistband of my panties down swiftly. I threw my head back as I placed my hands on both of his shoulders. He stroked the opening where the lava ran. I felt like I was on a slippery slide of desire as his tongue did the work. I moaned out loud, gasping for air. A raging fire burned through my soul at his deft touch.
“Yes!” I cried out as the pressure of his hand increased. I watched the lusty greed on his face as he got turned on by my moans. He slipped my panties all the way off, and in a flash, he’d whipped off his underwear and his jeans to reveal his ful
l erection.
“Sit right here.” He demonstrated by putting his hands on his cock.
I obliged and sat down on him, my walls expanding with his thickness. I set a furious pace, letting the anger transmute into the fiery heat of a wild, wanton woman. I was riding him like the cowboy he was. He grabbed my bucking hips and quickened the process, grunting with elemental need. He smiled in the darkness at my urgency.
“Go, baby, keep going. I like it when you’re angry.”
His breathing was fragmented as he tried not to get his injured hand in the way. His shirt was still on, a tank. I shoved it over his head and threw it to the side as I rode. He kneaded my full, double-D breasts like kneading dough through my nightgown. I ripped it over my head to reveal them in full bounce. An orgasm crept up on me without warning, shattering me into small pieces of ecstasy.
He gave me the room to breathe and laid me carefully on the carpeted floor, hovering over me for a moment. “I love you.”
“I love you, too. Now get down here.”
Round two of the erotic dance began, and this time it was slower from him.
“Does your hand hurt?”
“I’m not worried about my hand right now, that’s for sure.”
I stroked his prominent jawline with the back of my hand. He lifted one of my legs to wrap around him, kissing me deeply. He found my promised land and controlled his rotation, sending me into slow, glorious torture. He ground his hips and continued to kiss my swollen lips. All it did was build an ache up bigger than California inside of me. He kept the same pace, driving me nuts.
“Babe, you’re killing me—in a good way. Please,” I called out.
“You sure?” he breathed. He knew he had me right where he wanted me. I felt his thick muscular arms straining as I dug into his tightly defined chest.
“Yes!”
My body started to grip and tighten around him. I felt the second wave of orgasm hit. The carnal grind of his hips picked up as I felt him swelling inside me. The heat between us caused his Adonis-like body to become glossy with sweat. I grabbed his head and drew it down to my lips. I wanted to experience what he was feeling. He released a guttural moan into my mouth as he came. His body became slack as I reached around his back to hug him, then he rolled to the side.
