Forbidden: a Contemporary Romance Anthology

by J. L. Beck

  “Oh come on, she’s not some innocent lamb, Cohen.” The darker part of me wanted to put Maris over my knee and spank her ass until the attitude stopped. Unfortunately the things we knew about each other prevented that from happening. Maris was every bit as dominant as I was. It made us great partners in the field, but it also kept anything more from happening during the time we worked together. Instead, we were at an impasse, butting heads.

  “That doesn’t matter,” I said, pissed off.

  “It’s not like I was going to let anything happen in the cafeteria.” I didn’t like her tone of voice and let her know it.

  Sometimes I wondered if I was getting too old for this shit. “I can’t protect you if things go to hell in the cafeteria with cameras all over the fucking place.”

  “Cohen, I was fine.” I didn’t doubt her ability; I questioned the actions of others in that cafeteria I had no control over.

  “We also don’t drag others into this unnecessarily.” I reproached her.

  “Girl looked like she wanted to throw a punch at me, but I don’t think her skinny ass arms could have connected the move.” Maris laughed. This wasn’t the least bit funny.

  “Fighting gets you in solitary, and the hole doesn’t get us information.” I leaned over her, my jaw flexed. “Stop. Being. A. Brat.”

  Sitting down, her legs crossed and swinging, Maris rolled her eyes, instigating me further. She knew what buttons to push as much as I did.

  “Gotcha, partner.”

  I was annoyed that she found this boring or above her right now. Having barely settled into this post, I didn’t need Maris’ outburst to be another complication.

  “So did you find anything out in your little tantrum?”

  “Yeah, the food tastes like garbage and those Tribe recruits definitely take orders from someone in here.” She picked at her nails, and I grabbed her hand to stop her. The tension eased as we talked shop.

  My intel was limited, until we got inside the Tribe. It wasn’t the worst I had to work with, but it also wasn’t the best. We had to work as a team in here and play each side’s advantage.

  “Did you get a name?” I asked.

  “Evangelina Corazon as far as I know.” Maris chuckled moving a few items on my desk around.

  “Stop it, Maris.” I slapped at her hands. The disorder distracted me, and the brat knew. I moved the items back, earning me another snicker.

  “I saw you looking at the girl.” She teased.

  My eyes rolled as I tried to deflect. “Where else was I supposed to look except at the commotion? Anyway, I need you to be more careful.” I referred to her lunch debacle.

  “Someone has to get in good with those bitches, and I don’t think they’re looking for peacocks, Cohen.” She eyed my dick, and I adjusted myself. She might be right, but there had to be someone I could bend enough to give me information. I wouldn’t always be able to pull Maris in when I needed an update.

  A knock on the door startled us, and I stepped away from being so close to Maris. Any familiarity would risk blowing our cover.

  “Sir.” Garcia opened the door, eyeing both Maris and me. I cleared my throat, and he resumed walking in, pulling the baby-faced boyfriend killer behind him. He gripped her arm roughly despite the shackles she wore which were unnecessary in my office right now. I wanted to pull him off her but a look from Maris stopped me. I glanced at my files for her name. Benedicta Cruz, her head down and subdued for the moment.

  “Garcia, can you escort Ms. Ramos here back to her cell. I’m sure she’s contrite after the episode in the lunchroom.” Garcia’s face twisted in a cruel smile, making me uncomfortable. I had to mask my own emotions carefully. Maris walked out the door, leaving him to follow after her ass as she sashayed down the hallway. I’d have to watch Maris, make sure my partner didn’t shank the head guard after this.

  Benedicta finally looked around the room with a curious expression. At face value, I’m struck by how innocent she looks. Baby-faced was right. Plump cheeks not yet angled by age and smooth skin my hand itched to touch. Clenching my fist, I also knew how looks could be deceiving.

  “Please, sit down.” Gesturing to the chair Maris vacated, the young woman sat down slowly. Her tired movements were those of an old woman, which belied her actual age. I observed everything I could about her, wondering if this was just another shrewd contradiction to the truth of who she was according to her file.

  The clock above the doorframe ticked loudly. I walked around the desk sitting in my chair.

  “I called you in here because I wanted to meet you, review your file, and see how you’re acclimating.” A puff of air escaped from her mouth, the only response I got while her gaze drifted to the window overlooking the sunny yard. I found it irritating that I didn’t command her full attention. Being dismissed by two women in one day bothered me more than I cared to admit. My partner had a free pass; this one did not.

  “Well?” I asked her, pressing for more than just acknowledgement.

  “You read the file. I’m here for four years, seven months and twenty-nine more days.” God, she was like a reinforced brick wall guarding herself. I crossed my arms and leaned back in my chair assessing her.

  “Yes, under the assumption you exhibit good behavior.” Her head snapped up so quickly, I was afraid she would wrench her delicate neck. Looking me in the eyes directly, those hazel orbs seemed to sparkle with a hint of defiance and maybe fear. Fear I didn’t like, but that defiance piqued my interest, and my cock hardened shielded from view under the desk.

  “What does that mean?” A gentle voice tinged with anxiety answered back.

  “It means if you stay out of trouble we won’t have to keep meeting like this.” I smiled to reassure her, but she quickly looked away, apparently tuning me out again. I hated that she gave the birds sitting on the window sill more attention. I was the person in charge of her stay here, but she didn’t seem interested in that fact at all. The only information I had on her was in the file. The investigator in me wanted to know more.

  “I know that Maris provoked you. I spoke with her about that.” She snorted saying nothing more except to squeeze her eyes shut and shake her head.

  “She’ll leave you alone from now on.” I promised.

  “I’m sure she will.” Ms. Cruz was a tough cookie. Why would she have killed someone close to her? What happened in her life which led her down that destructive path?

  “She will because I said so.”

  “Do you need a special thank you?” Her eyes met mine. I smirked and leaned over the desk. God, my hand needed something to do before I hauled her up out of the seat and into my lap to spank her myself. What was it with the women I interacted with today? Instead, I reached for a retractable pen on my desk, clicking it twice before tossing it down.

  I let the thank you remark go for now.

  “So why did you it, Ms. Cruz?” I picked up the manila folder with her name and inmate number on the tab flipping through papers.

  “Curious?” She sat back in the chair, her hands clinking from the shackles she currently wore from shaking.

  “The file says you hit him.” I flipped the pages to the investigative report provided.

  “Thirty-three times.” Her voice dropped low, and her gaze went back to the fucking window, ignoring me. If she kept this up, I would shut the blinds to force her attention.

  “In the head.” I clarified wondering how long she would remain impassive.

  Still nothing, and I said, “I imagine it was a fucking mess.”

  “I imagine it was.” She attempted to cross her legs, right over left, but the shackles prevented her from moving. It was then I noticed her shoes were wet and beginning to leave a small stain on my carpeted flooring. It must have been from the incident in the cafeteria, but she held her head high, queenly and I admired the steel of her spine even if I found myself wanting to spank the tacit defiance out of her.

  “Did you do it?” I asked her. I watched a plethora of
emotions cross her face before going to that blank expression I identified so readily with her in the fifteen minutes she was here with me.

  “I was convicted. It doesn’t matter.” Maybe it didn’t matter to her, but it mattered to me, and I was struck by how much I cared. I shouldn’t care, but the bleeding heart in me was making a mess of this introduction.

  “Hmm…” I dropped the file, wondering how long she would do this dance with me. Round and round, avoiding questions.

  I made a show of smelling the air in my office. “What is that?” I pretended to look around watching her shift uncomfortably in her chair.

  “What?” Her guarded face told me she was on to me.

  “That smell.” I pointed to her feet watching her face get red.

  “Oh.” She remained quiet a moment before beginning again. “My shoes. I spilled milk on them at lunch when I stepped in the meat patty you call a hamburger with no cheese. But don’t worry; I wasn’t going to cry about it.”

  “I didn’t think you would, but I’ll see if I can get you a new pair.” I took out a pad of paper to make a note about replacing her shoes, but she stopped me.

  “I’d rather you didn’t. The smell keeps people away, and I’ve sort of grown accustomed to it.”

  “You don’t have to make your time here more difficult, Ms. Cruz.” I made the note anyway to find her new shoes despite her protest and maybe a few other things she would need.

  “Don’t I?” Hardened, her eyes glared at me.

  “I can make this easier on you.” I said trying to be kind but missing the mark.

  “I’d rather you didn’t. I’d hate to grow soft with longing for things I shouldn’t.” Our eyes met again, and I wanted her to be soft. It made my job easier but she was determined to go the hard route. So be it.

  I muttered more to myself than to her. “Day one and you’re already anti-social.”

  “Isn’t that what they tell you to be in here? Be strong and keep to yourself. Do the time; don’t let the time do you.” She folded her arms around her belly protectively. Her bravado was all for show. There was a lot to admire about her right up front.

  I clicked my pen, pointing it in her direction. “All right, Benedicta, but I’ve got my eye on you.” I had my eye on a number of things. For now, I liked how her name rolled off my tongue, old school and beautiful. Unfortunately her expression took on a cynical edge, her defenses erecting a high wall before my eyes.

  “It’s Cruz. I don’t want to be that familiar with you or anyone else.”

  “Four years, seven months, and twenty nine days is long time to be without an ally in here.” I steeple my fingers, watching her, waiting.

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” Our conversation seemed to make her turn in more on herself, and I was sorry to see her go. I hadn’t learned much of anything from her except that I was in trouble if this attraction got out of hand. I didn’t need to torture myself stroking my dick in private to avoid throwing her up against a wall.

  She jumped up when a knock on the door sounded. Garcia helped himself to the door and took Ms. Cruz by the arm, leading her out. I said nothing as she stumbled away and didn’t look back. I watched them walk down the corridor and out of sight and let go of a heavy sigh. She’d just have to learn to trust me.

  Alone, I pored over her file again. I was going to meet with the other women, but first, I had to wrap my mind around what she’d told me. It wasn’t so much in what she said, but the implication that left a big fucking door wide open. She had said she imagined it was a mess, not that she knew or had even seen it in person. She told me she was convicted and that it didn’t matter, like she had given up on herself when the system clearly did. I didn’t like the questions it raised, and I swore Benedicta Cruz was going to be more trouble than Maris.

  5

  Nene

  “Always liked the newbies.” He smelled my hair pressing against me as bile rose in the back of my throat. Garcia, as I quickly learned, had a desire for hurting others. He fucking rubbed his greasy motherfucking nose against me, making my skin crawl. Acid bubbled low in my stomach. Luckily, I hadn’t eaten anything at lunch so nothing was going to come up.

  “Don’t touch me.” I tried to dislodge my arm from his grasp, but he held firm, squeezing until my skin was pinched and my eyes leaked weak tears.

  “That’s just it, new girl. I can do whatever I want, whenever I want.” His breath danced across my skin like razor blades ready to cut deep. “You play nice, and things will go so much better for you. Don’t play nice, and I’ll make your life a living hell for the next five years, bitch.” He shoved me against the wall, rubbing his erect dick against me. It wasn’t much consolation he was small, not that small meant he couldn’t hurt me, but it made sense why he was such an asshole.

  Four years, seven months, and twenty-nine days.

  The mantra repeated in my head, and each day would be one less to suffer through. He knew nothing about me. Bile rose in my throat burning my nose. I found the energy to finally hit someone out of self-defense, but he let me go. I rubbed my arm, working out the pain, and he nodded to the corridor filled with bunk beds.

  “Sweet dreams.” He pushed me down the hall.

  “I’m already in hell.” I hissed back taking a step away behind the barred partition.

  Garcia sauntered off leaving me to make my way back to my cell.

  “Nene, you okay?” Turning abruptly, Sharee leaned up from her bunk.

  I wiped my good arm over my face clearing it of tears. “Yeah, I will be.” I climbed into my top bunk across from her and rolled over facing the wall. The greyish blue paint was drab and far from a fancy hotel. I pressed my nail against the paint and made an indentation. I’d count the days if it killed me, making a small slash, bending my nail from the pressure. Day one down, I let my eyes drift shut and released my mind into sleep.

  The next morning came too quickly, but I relished the time passing. I had learned that my remaining savings, a few hundred dollars had been used up for legal fees. I wasn’t sure how they managed that, but my funds for the commissary were zero. Not that I wanted anything, but a clean pair of underwear, or flip-flops for the shower would have been nice. Pads were provided once a month; I only had to wait for a guard to get them for me. I figured I’d be bleeding through my toilet paper pad before then, but Sharee got some from the pregnant girl in our room since she was pretty plugged up the next few months anyway.

  More favors I owed.

  Countless debts racked up.

  Showers were first this morning for my block and then breakfast, the day was broken up in segments and my sticky, damp shoes squeaked on the tiles. Hopefully, I would be able to go outside later and have the sun dry these things before my toes started to rot. I said hopefully because the sun drifted behind clouds and the sky got dark, raining down huge droplets into the yard. I’m sure there would have been mud and I guessed going outside was out for today.

  Lunch was pretty much the same. Our little table of newbies crowded together, and the Tribe members eyed us up and down. I bet they were picking out their next victim to attack. They had upgraded the woman named Maris to sitting with them after she dumped my tray. Either that was good for me or bad; I hadn’t given it a whole lot of thought, considering day two was starting out decent.

  Sharee pointed at me with her spoon having licked the pudding off the end of it. “Listen, Nene. Word is that you pissed off some Tribes. Watch your back around here.”

  “I got the message loud and clear.” I pushed the food around on my tray again. Nothing appetizing about chicken parmesan that looked like someone made a crime scene of the breast patty and no cheese topping it. I stabbed the green string beans with my flimsy plastic spork. Overcooked but firm enough to eat. At this rate, I’d die of malnutrition before my parole hearing and save the taxpayers a bunch of money.

  “Here, take mine. The smell is making me sick.” Teresa, the pregnant girl pushed her green beans onto my tray mumbling
about texture and foods she was craving.

  “It’s probably her shoes.” Sharee commented and dumped her beans onto my tray and taking my slaughtered chicken patty instead.

  “Eww gross.” Teresa didn’t know the half of it, but maybe the smell would keep the more violent of the crazies away.

  After lunch, I managed to avoid the Tribe members by keeping close to Sharee. She introduced me to a few members of the Sunshine Sisters, an African American gang that she hung out with. She was like the prison den mother, acting as a liaison of sorts between the groups and organizing the smuggling of contraband. She was a regular Boston Tea Party Patriot, minus the Boston part, the tea, and the patriotism.

  Each day was a learning experience. I was shocked to hear that women smuggled in porn, they hooked up inside, and then some resumed a normal life of sorts outside of here. Whatever the definition of normal was, it wasn’t for me. I got along well with the other women and kept my mouth shut. Getting back to our cell after dinner I found a bundle on top of my bunk.

  “Sharee, what’s that?”

  “What’s what, honey pie?”

  “Uh, you know what.” Annoyed, my brow furrowed as I looked over my shoulder. “I asked you to not get me anything.” I reached up pulling the stuff down.

  “Girl, I didn’t talk to nobody. You get your crazy head on straight.” Waving me off, she resumed doing her own thing, checking out her own stash of items.

  “Right, okay.” I looked over the items in my hands. A pair of shoes, new, and my size were the most obvious. Inside the one shoe was a bottle of shampoo and conditioner, a new toothbrush and toothpaste. In the other shoe, a pair of pale pink cotton underwear was tucked down into the toe. It wasn’t the regulation white cotton shit everyone else got. This pair was pretty, delicate, and edged in lace so fine it rippled against my fingertips as I touched it. I’d have to be careful wearing them because I didn’t need any undue reactions if I was caught with something pretty. Something someone might covet. I just didn’t need any more attention.