DEVOUR ME: A Dark Bad Boy Romance (The Wicked Angels MC)

by Sophia Gray

  She matched the description Dutton had given Beth, but still, she had to be sure. She peered through her camera, zooming in on the name embroidered on the front of the girl's shirt: Maria Gonzales.

  Beth nodded. So far, so good.

  Maria peered around quickly to make sure no one was watching her. Then she walked over to a blue two-door convertible, getting in on the passenger's side.

  Butler was waiting behind the wheel. When Maria got in, Butler leaned over, putting an arm around her and giving her a long kiss on the lips.

  Beth started to snap pictures.

  Maria gently touched the bandages on Butler's cheek and forehead, looking concerned. Beth couldn't hear their words, but she saw Butler making some kind of “Aw shucks, it's not so bad” gesture before he kissed Maria again. His arms shifted, and it was hard to tell, but it looked like he was sliding one hand between her legs.

  Right across from the school? Beth thought smugly, continuing to take photos. You brazen son of a bitch, Butler.

  It almost seemed like Butler must have heard Beth's thoughts, because he withdrew his hand and turned his car on. Beth quickly took a few final shots which included Butler's license plate before he drove off.

  So there it was.

  Beth had hard evidence that Butler was having a relationship with Roberto Torres's 18-year-old cousin.

  If word of this reached the prison, it would be a race to see who would eat him alive first—the Sinners for having sex with their leader's barely legal relative, or the Knights for betraying their whole racist ideology by fucking a Mexican girl. This info was so juicy, Beth could hardly believe it was true. She had to check and re-check the pictures, just to make sure.

  But now what?

  Sure, she could try to corner Butler alone during her next shift and lord it over him, warning him to stay off her case and stop screwing with Hank. That didn't seem smart, though. It would just put Butler between a rock and a hard place, since the Knights would still expect him to follow their orders. If Butler was trapped like that, there was no telling what kind of desperate moves he could make. Worse, if he knew she had this evidence against him, that might give him enough time to think of how he could slime his way out of it. Beth would be back to square one—and it would be even worse, since now she'd have Butler as a real enemy.

  She could go to the Knights or the Sinners with the info, but again, what then? In the best-case scenario, they'd have Butler killed. Then he'd be replaced by some other guard who was loyal to the Knights, and their abuse of her and Hank would continue. Again, she'd be back where she started.

  No, this kind of thing had to be used carefully, with surgical precision. It was like having a gun with a single bullet in it—a powerful weapon, sure, but she had to make her one shot count.

  Maybe Hank could help her come up with the best way to use it. Now that she had compromising information about Officer Rory in Ad-Seg as well, she'd be able to visit with him.

  But first things first.

  Beth dropped off the rental car, then went to a drugstore on the way home and bought a pregnancy test. The clerk, a middle-aged woman with frizzy gray hair and thick glasses, studiously kept her eyes down as she rang up the purchase. Even so, Beth thought she saw the clerk shake her head almost imperceptibly.

  When Beth got home, she took the test, then sat on the lid of the toilet and waited for the results. Finally, two lines appeared on the strip.

  That was it, then. She was pregnant. It wasn't what she'd been hoping for, but even so, it felt better knowing for sure. It didn't even feel like much of a shock, and she realized that on some level, she'd been steeling herself for this ever since she first noticed the blood on her sheets.

  She went to the bedroom, stretched out on top of the blanket, and stared at the ceiling.

  How would Hank react?

  The truth was, she couldn't even begin to guess. His entire life had already been turned upside down since he'd gone to Bluebonnet. Contemplating a two-year sentence was one thing—lots of short-time prisoners were released with babies waiting for them at home, either from sex before they'd been sent away or during a conjugal visit. But now that he was facing the possibility of a life sentence, what would the thought of having a child on the outside do to him?

  And despite what they'd shared in the infirmary, how could she even know for sure that he would want her to have his baby? Their whole relationship had been chaos and uncertainty from the beginning. He was clearly still mourning his wife and child. How could Beth possibly hope to fill that void for him? What if he rejected her for trying?

  Beth didn't have any answers to these questions, but she knew one thing: She was going to keep this baby. She couldn't bring herself to abort it, or give it away for adoption. It was a part of Hank, and she wanted it in her life, if only because it was probably the closest thing she'd have to being with him.

  She hoped Hank would understand that, even if he didn't want any part of it. She hoped he wouldn't be upset with her for her decision.

  Eventually, the sun set and Beth's eyelids grew heavy. She fell into a shallow and restless sleep, dreaming of how things might go when she saw Hank again tomorrow. None of the potential outcomes seemed good.

  Chapter 31

  Beth

  The next day, Beth woke up early to get a take-out bag of breakfast from a diner down the street. Then she went to Bluebonnet a couple of hours before her shift was due to start. She wore her uniform to avoid attracting attention, and whenever someone noticed her and asked what she was doing there so early, she mumbled something about needing the overtime and scuttled away quickly, trying to keep the bag of food behind her back.

  She carried the bag to the overseer's office in Ad-Seg, where Officer Rory sat in front of an array of security monitors with his feet up on the desk, reading an old, tattered issue of Penthouse. Rory was a morbidly obese man in his late forties, with short, spiky red hair that was starting to turn gray. The monitors displayed the live feeds from the cameras in the corridor, showing that the hall was empty and the cell doors were shut.

  When Rory saw Beth, he tossed the magazine aside, licking his chops lasciviously. Beth wasn't sure whether he was ogling her or the food she was holding.

  “Officer D'Amato! What brings you down to the bowels of Bluebonnet?”

  Beth smiled warmly. “Well, I've been meaning to visit you down here ever since I started this job. Ad-Seg is my favorite part of the prison. There's just so much history down here. It must be fascinating!”

  “It sure is, toots. We've had lots of famous bad guys come and go over the years. Come have a seat, and I'll tell you about some of them.” He chortled, putting his feet on the floor and patting his knee invitingly.

  “Actually, there's one in particular I'd really like to talk about. The rich artist who killed his wife and her lover—Sam Lockhorn.”

  Rory fidgeted uncomfortably in his chair, loosening his tie. “Why, uh...I mean, what do you want to know about him?”

  “Oh, it's not so much what I want to know as what I know already. For instance, I happen to know that while Lockhorn was staying down here before he was transferred to death row, you smuggled in some art supplies for him—”

  “Now wait a goddamn minute—”

  “—and that you currently own the last thing he ever painted, so you can anonymously sell it for upwards of a million dollars when you retire in a couple years.”

  Rory's face was turning red. “That's a fucking lie.”

  Beth shrugged. “Maybe it is, maybe it isn't. But I'm willing to bet that if word got out among the convicts, at least one of them would have friends or family members on the outside who'd be willing to break into your house and grab it while you're here on duty.”

  “Oh yeah, you half-bright cunt? What makes you think I haven't got it stashed someplace else?”

  “Simple. You have no friends, your family fucking hates you, and the painting's too big for a safe deposit box. Stop screwing around, R
ory.”

  Rory's teeth were clenched so tightly that the muscles in his jaw were twitching. Finally, he said, “Fine. So what do you want from me?”

  “Nothing too complicated. Whenever Butler and his goons want to come in here without showing up on the security tapes, you arrange it. I want you to do the same for me.”

  “What, now?” he whined plaintively.

  “Yes, right now.”

  Rory sighed, then dragged the computer keyboard closer to him and started typing. A few seconds later, the screens blinked, then continued showing the empty hallway.

  “Okay, I've tricked the cameras so they'll show a loop of the empty corridor while continuing to stamp it with the current date and time. I'm assuming you want Hall's cell open?”

  Jesus, Beth thought. It didn't take long for everyone to hear about that. But hopefully, in just a few short days, it won't matter how many people know about it. We'll be long gone.

  “That's right,” she replied curtly.

  Rory nodded and hit a button, unlocking Hank's cell. “Okay. You have five minutes.”

  “If you want to hang onto your little retirement plan, then I have all the fucking time I want, fat man.”

  And with that, Beth opened the door to the corridor and walked over to the door of Hank's cell. Her heart was slamming against her ribcage like a fist, and she could hear her own blood rushing in her ears.

  This was it. The moment of truth.

  Chapter 32

  Hank

  When Hank heard the lock on the door click open, his entire body tensed automatically, sending fresh waves of pain through his ribs. He fully expected to see a group of guards led by Butler, or maybe Bull and some of the bigger members of the Knights. Either way, he'd be severely outnumbered, and in his weakened condition, he probably wouldn't last long before they cut his wrists or strung him up so he'd look like just another suicide in the hole.

  Well, fine. Let them come. He'd fight them to his last breath, and at least it would all be over soon.

  As the door opened, Hank thought his mind must be playing tricks on him again. Beth was standing there, framed in the pale light from the corridor like some kind of angel. She was carrying a brown paper bag, and the smells coming from it made his stomach do backflips.

  “Is it really you?” he croaked through parched lips.

  “It's me,” Beth answered, crouching down next to him and opening the bag. She withdrew a styrofoam clamshell and opened it, revealing a greasy pile of fried eggs and sausage patties. Then she handed it to him, along with a plastic fork. “Here, eat up. I know how they 'feed' the inmates down here.”

  Hank desperately wanted to hold Beth and kiss her, but the needs of his body rudely jostled these impulses out of the way. He grabbed the fork and dug into the food, wolfing it down.

  “Try to go slow,” she said softly. “You'll make yourself sick.”

  “How did you get in here?” Hank asked between bites. “If Butler finds out—”

  “He won't. I took care of it. Besides, I've got something on Butler. Maybe even something big enough to help us get out of here.”

  Hank finished the food, wiping his mouth on his forearm and looking at her. First Beth shows up with food, then she talks about a plan for both of them to leave Bluebonnet?

  He leaned forward, touching her shoulder with his index finger.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Gotta make sure you're really you. Being down here...it does stuff to your thoughts sometimes. You see, hear, even smell things that aren't there.”

  Beth took Hank's face in her hands gently and kissed him. The taste of her lips was sweeter than the food had been. They were real, but somehow, they also seemed better than real, like a fairy tale spell conjured from pure sunlight. The walls around him seemed to withdraw, letting in fresh air, big skies, freedom...everything from the outside he'd almost stopped believing in.

  “I told you, I'm real,” Beth said. “And yes, I think I've got half a plan to break you out of here so we can be together, far away from this hellhole. But first, there's something I need to tell you.”

  Hank braced himself. He knew this would end up being some cruel trap of the mind, with hope as the bait. As soon as he reached for it, it would spring shut on him, snapping his sanity in half. The lovely mirage of her would fade, replaced by thin air—or worse, Butler.

  “I'm pregnant. And it's yours.”

  Hank stared at her with his mouth open, trying to process these words. They were literally the last thing he'd expected to hear, and now they echoed in the space between them.

  “Knowing that, do you...think we could still have a future together?” she asked quietly.

  Suddenly, a cyclone of images whirled through Hank's mind, making him dizzy. He thought of waking up next to Beth every day for the rest of his life, in a real bed, with the rays from the morning sun streaming in through the window. He thought about the joy of holding a baby in his arms again, comforting it when it cried, playing with it as it laughed. He thought about everything he'd wanted for Jason—the best, safest, happiest life a child could possibly have—and he thought about being able to make those plans again. To see them through this time.

  Another chance to love a kid again, completely and unconditionally. Another chance at a wife and a happy family. The future that had been stolen from him, returned to him again.

  In that moment, he realized that he'd never wanted anything more in his life.

  “Yes,” he said. “Of course we can.”

  Beth smiled gratefully, tears shimmering at the corners of her eyes. She embraced him, showering his face with kisses until he almost couldn't breathe.

  “Easy, easy,” he laughed. “I haven't bathed in days. Now, what's this 'half a plan' you've got?”

  “It involves something I heard one of the other guards say. There's a theory that the riot that happened here fifteen years ago was organized as a cover for a couple of inmates to escape. After all, if I tried to get you out of here under normal conditions, about a hundred different people would notice. But if everyone were too busy trying to put down a riot...”

  “We could slip out in the confusion.” Hank nodded. “It's a solid plan. But how do we kick off a riot?”

  Beth told him what she'd learned about Butler. “Do you think we could use it somehow?”

  Hank considered it carefully. “Yeah. Maybe. I think I've got an idea. But first, we'll need one more thing to pull it off.”

  Chapter 33

  Beth

  Before her shift started, Beth snuck into the men's locker room carefully, making sure no one else was in there. She crept over to Butler's locker and pulled a paper clip from her pocket, straightening it out and fashioning it into a crude lock-picking device.

  Sure, Butler had broken into her locker to plant the drugs. But he hadn't expected anyone to do the same to him, and his own locker was protected by a cheap padlock that was almost pathetically easy to open.

  And with her misspent youth as an honorary member of the Carnage Warriors, Beth had picked her share of locks.

  She opened the door, looking for the spare uniform that every guard kept in their lockers. Prisoners could sometimes throw food—or more objectionable substances—at the corrections officers, and it was important for them to be able to change into fresh uniforms so they could finish their shifts. Butler's uniform was meticulously folded at the bottom of his locker, along with a spare name tag.

  Beth deftly removed the name tag from the uniform, then closed and re-locked the locker. Hank had been right—if this plan was going to work, securing the name tag was the most important part.

  She briefly felt light-headed at the thought of Hank. He did want to be with her after all, and he wanted to raise their child together. The prospect of their future together made her deliriously happy...

  ...but no. She had to focus on the task at hand, or else there'd be no future for either of them.

  During her lunch break
, Beth slipped down to the contraband locker, where shivs and other confiscated items were kept. No one guarded this area, since prisoners weren't allowed in this part of Bluebonnet and none of the guards cared about a bunch of junk cobbled together by inmates to kill other inmates. She opened the locker and selected an unused Lullaby that had been taken from a Sinner the previous week. She was careful to wear latex gloves when she touched the handle, and tucked it away in the pocket of her uniform. She had to walk a bit stiffly to make sure the sharpened metal didn't dig into her, but she doubted anyone would notice.