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

by Sophia Gray

  When it was time for the inmates to go out to the prison yard for fresh air and exercise, Beth found Foley Cartwright and pulled him aside. She tried to make sure no one noticed.

  Just looking at Cartwright made Beth's stomach turn. The Sinners were still forcing him to wear makeup, and his hair was being held up by colorful plastic flower barrettes, like a little girl's. Worst of all, his eyes were flat and dead, like a crab's eyes.

  “I know you've had a rough time since you got here,” Beth whispered. “I thought you might like a chance to get some revenge on the Sinners. Interested?”

  Cartwright stared at her for a long moment, then nodded slowly.

  Beth handed him the Lullaby. “On Wednesday at three p.m., you'll be assigned to work laundry duty with Roberto Torres, the leader of the Sinners. The guard on duty in the laundry room is Officer Fitch. He's an incredibly lazy asshole who spends half his time dozing and the other half jerking off in the bathroom. When no one's looking, I need you to use this to kill Roberto, then stash his body so no one finds it until he doesn't show up for count and they have to go looking for him. Remember, go for his throat or his heart. Anything lower than that, he could survive and it's all been a waste of time. Then, when he's dead, you put this in his hand before you hide the body.”

  She gave Cartwright the stolen name tag.

  “I don't understand,” he murmured. “What is this? What's your plan?”

  “My plan is to give you a chance to put down the animal who's been torturing you, without buying yourself a longer sentence or payback from the Sinners. You want it, or not?”

  “Sure,” Cartwright nodded. “Sure, I can do that.”

  “Good. Just remember, it has to be on Wednesday between three and four o'clock. You kill him at any other time, or you use this shiv for any other reason, and I'll make it my personal mission to ensure that you never make parole. Got it?”

  “Uh-huh. Thanks.”

  Cartwright hid the shiv and name tag, then waddled off slowly, leaving Beth to wonder if his broken mind would make him deviate from the plan and ruin the whole thing.

  But when Wednesday came and Roberto Torres didn't show up for count before lights-out, Beth looked over at Cartwright and saw him give her an almost imperceptible nod.

  The alarms blared and Bluebonnet was locked down as Beth joined the other guards in their search for Roberto. Finally, word came in from the laundry room that he'd been found stuffed into an industrial dryer. There was a washcloth stuffed into his mouth, his throat had been slashed from ear to ear, and his genitals had been severed and placed neatly into his pocket.

  And Captain Butler's name tag was in his hand, as though it had been ripped off during a struggle.

  Warden Quayle was summoned to the scene of the grisly murder, and Butler was called in at once, still wearing his civilian clothes. Beth stood with the other guards, watching as Quayle pointed to the name tag clutched in the dead man's fingers.

  “Captain Butler, what is the meaning of this?”

  Butler stared at the name tag in disbelief. “I don't know how that got there, sir. Obviously, I had nothing to do with this. I was off-duty today.”

  “Really? Then surely, we can clear all of this up as soon as you provide a solid alibi for where you were during the period of three to four o'clock this afternoon.”

  Butler's eyes grew wide, and his face grew flushed as he stammered. “I was...I mean, I...I...”

  You can't, Beth thought with a flash of righteous triumph. Your alibi is that you were balls-deep in a schoolgirl, you fucking pig. Just like you are every Wednesday once school lets out.

  “I see,” Quayle replied tightly. “I'm afraid I'll have to suspend you from duty until all of this has been worked out. We'll take you into custody until the proper authorities arrive. Officer Lindhurst will assume your responsibilities in the interim. But between you and me, Butler, this is one disciplinary hearing I highly doubt you'll emerge from unscathed. A fiasco like this can cost a man his career, and even put him behind bars.”

  Butler was dragged away by a few of the other guards, still spluttering and protesting.

  Beth smiled inwardly.

  Phase One of their plan was complete.

  Chapter 34

  Beth

  Over the next few days, Beth watched patiently as the entire prison descended into a seemingly endless cycle of blood and payback.

  The word among the inmates was that Bull had finally crossed the line. It was one thing for the Knights to carve up a Sinner or two, but executing their top guy was a step too far—especially when all evidence pointed to the fact that the captain of the COs had done it for them.

  The air in Bluebonnet seemed to crackle with the constant promise of violence, like electricity.

  Lindhurst wasn't a strong enough leader to keep the guards calm and disciplined, and they started lashing out at the Sinners preemptively, trying to show them who was boss before things got out of hand.

  The new leader of the Sinners was a hothead who saw these assaults as proof that Butler had whacked Roberto, so he encouraged them to respond in kind, preparing attacks on guards whenever the correct conditions presented themselves.

  And Bull kept insisting that he hadn't ordered Butler to kill Roberto, that he wanted to broker some truce—but no one trusted him, and he ordered the White Knights to start stockpiling weapons in preparation for the worst. He was even too busy to order Beth around.

  Four Sinners were beaten almost to death by COs in separate incidents.

  A Knight had his eyes and tongue gouged out, and died from blood loss.

  A guard was cornered and stabbed to death by a trio of Sinners.

  A Sinner who worked the cafeteria died of third-degree burns when a vat of boiling oil was tossed at him.

  And on. And on. And on.

  Until one day, a fight broke out in cell block D and spilled over into the neighboring blocks on both sides. By the time the guards mobilized to try to take control of the rapidly-escalating situation, half the prison was locked down, and uncontrolled carnage tore through the other half like a hurricane. Quayle was cowering in his office with the governor on the phone, and every available corrections officer was called to blocks B through G to try to put down the riot.

  No one was looking at Ad-Seg, one of the few areas of the prison where the inmates were still locked up tight in their cells.

  Perfect.

  While all of the guards were distracted, Beth hurried down to the hole and hit a few buttons on the keyboard, unlocking Hank's cell. She jogged down the corridor and swung his door open.

  “It's happening,” she said. “Let's go.”

  Hank nodded and jumped to his feet, running after her.

  Beth had mapped the ideal route for their escape. With the riot exploding in the main cell blocks, no one would be anywhere near the gym, or the locker rooms that were off the adjoining corridor. From there, it was just a few short steps to the side entrance the guards used. Then they'd get to her car, use her key card to leave through the officers' parking area, and leave this miserable place behind them forever. Bib had prepared their new identities, which were tucked under the spare tire in the trunk of the car.

  They reached the gym, and Beth almost fainted with relief. The sounds of the riot could be heard from a distance, even over the screeching alarms.

  Just a few more steps, Beth thought. Freedom is so close...

  But when they entered the short hallway that led to the locker rooms, they found Bull, War Skins, and 88 waiting for them. Each of them held a pair of shivs.

  “I knew it,” Bull sneered. “I knew you two were behind this shit. I should've had you both killed at the first sign of trouble. But no, I had to show compassion, like some kind of fucking idiot.”

  Fuck, Beth thought. I should have brought a weapon for Hank, in case we ran into trouble. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

  She slid her baton from her belt. “One warning. That's all you get. Let us pass, or by G
od I'll beat the brains out of your skulls.”

  “I just watched Ram get stabbed to death by about a dozen Sinners,” Bull snarled. “He was my best friend in this shithole, and he died so you and your lover boy could run off together and play 'Happily Ever After.' Well, guess what? I'm going to carve my name into your hearts while they're still fucking beating. I'm going to make sure you never leave this place.”

  The three Knights lunged at them, the blades of their shivs glinting in the red emergency lights. Beth swung her baton and cracked it against the side of War Skins' head, knocking him out immediately. As she did, she saw Hank jump on Bull, knocking the shiv out of his left hand and grappling furiously for the one on the right.

  88 swung one blade at Beth's face, slashing her left cheek even as the other blade swooped down toward her midsection. She used her baton to parry it, and succeeded in smacking 88's hand hard enough to make him drop it. But he was fast, and his remaining shiv darted toward her torso again. She side-stepped it clumsily, but it came close enough to nick one of the buttons off her uniform.

  You can't stab me there, she thought. You can stab me anywhere else, but motherfucker, you are not taking this baby away from me.

  The knife came in for the kill again and Beth caught the blade with her left forearm on purpose. She barely registered the pain as she twisted her arm to one side, wrenching the weapon from 88's fingers. But as she raised her baton to strike, 88's fist extended with blinding speed, hitting her squarely in the face.

  Beth felt her nose crunch under the force of the blow, and her head snapped back as stars danced in front of her eyes. She was caught off-balance, and it was just the opening 88 needed to snatch the baton from her hand. Before she'd even had time to process the punch to the face, she felt the hard polished wood of the baton connect with the top of her scalp.

  She sank to one knee, the world around her briefly fading into shades of gray. As 88 raised the baton again, she saw that Bull had managed to wrestle his way on top of Hank. His weight gave him the advantage, and Hank grunted as he tried to keep Bull's thumbs away from his eye sockets.

  We're not going to make it, Beth thought blearily as she waited for another crack from the baton. We got so close, so fucking close, but it's going to end right here in this hallway. I'm sorry, Hank. I did my best.

  Suddenly, Beth heard Bull let out a shriek of agony. She looked over and saw him flop over onto his side, bleeding from a half-dozen puncture wounds in his upper back. His eyes were rolling up in his head, and saliva was foaming at the corners of his mouth.

  Speed Bump stood over him, holding a bloody shiv.

  “You get Hank outta here,” he said. “I got this. If y'all get a chance to see Bib, tell 'im I'm sorry I let the Warriors down.”

  As Beth pulled Hank off the floor and dragged him along behind her, she saw Speed Bump run toward 88 with his shiv. 88 ducked down, reaching for one of the discarded blades. He retrieved it just in time to drive it deep into Speed Bump's jugular, even as Speed Bump stabbed him in the chest and stomach over and over. They collapsed to the floor together, both sticky and slippery with blood, their bodies locked together in the spasms of death.

  Beth's hand was shaking so hard she could barely get her key card into the slot that unlocked the side door. She and Hank held onto each other until they made it to her car.

  Then they drove off and never looked back as the riot at Bluebonnet raged behind them.

  Epilogue

  Beth

  A year later, most of the major TV networks in the Southwest covered the anniversary of the riot at Bluebonnet. They showed the same footage from the prison security cameras, over and over. They recited the same dreary statistics: Twenty-seven inmates killed, along with six guards. They speculated endlessly about what had happened to the two people who were determined to be missing in the wake of the riot—convict Henry “Hank” Hall, and corrections officer Beth D'Amato, which was now known to be the alias of Bethany Callaghan, niece of the alleged president of the Carnage Warriors motorcycle club.

  But in a small house in Nashville—the home of Henry and Elizabeth Huston, an auto mechanic and a stay-at-home mom, respectively—no one watched this story on the news. No one cared. After all, both of the parents had seen it for themselves, and their four-month-old baby didn't seem interested, either.

  And besides, Henry and Elizabeth—“Hank” and “Beth” to each other, when they were alone—were keeping busy in plenty of other ways.

  For example, at the moment, Hank was occupying himself by kissing the scar on Beth's cheek. She loved it when he did that. When she was out in public, most people—especially men—glanced at it and then looked away self-consciously, with a mixture of pity and revulsion in their eyes. But Hank had told her that he found it sexy. He said it was a constant reminder of how much she loved him, and the fact that they were strong enough to get through anything together.

  To Beth, the strongest reminder of this was the way their crooked noses looked when they nuzzled them together affectionately. Both of the noses had been broken in Bluebonnet, and they lent additional character to the faces they were on.

  Hank and Beth wrapped themselves around each other in the bed they shared. The scars on their naked bodies seeming to fit together perfectly, like corresponding pieces in a puzzle. The contours of their muscles were highlighted by the golden sunbeams that spilled in through the window, and a light breeze tickled their bodies playfully. Beth had left the window open on purpose—she knew how the smell of fresh air turned Hank on.

  Their lips were locked together as they shared each other's breath, exchanging it from one mouth to the other slowly and sensually. Their chests were pressed together too, and if Beth really concentrated, she was sure she could feel their pulses beating in a single rhythm. Two hearts that had finally found perfect harmony in each other.

  Hank cupped one hand behind Beth's head as the other slid between her smooth thighs. His forefinger rubbed against her clit, and Beth gasped sharply, smiling. No matter how many times he touched her, it felt like the first time.

  No. Better. Because this was so much more than some sweaty, confused encounter in a dirty public bathroom. This was the promise of forever, of basking in the glow of another person's love from now until the sun went cold.

  This was everything she'd ever wanted, and it was finally hers.

  Hank continued to touch her, delicately stroking the lips of her pussy and enjoying the way her body twitched with pleasure.

  “I love the way you touch me,” she whispered in his ear.

  “I love touching you,” he replied. “When I was cuffed to the bed in the infirmary, this was just one of the things I thought about doing to you.”

  Beth laughed. “I don't know—it was kind of nice having you handcuffed and unable to move while I had my way with you.”

  “I guess I know what to get you for Christmas now,” he chuckled, kissing her behind her ear.

  “Shhh. Just keep touching me.”

  Hank's fingers were slick with juices as he slipped the first two inside her. She let out a long moan, loving the fact that they could take their time with each other now—that they didn't have to worry about being caught and punished for their love.

  He re-positioned himself, sliding his body down over the covers until his head was between her legs. He continued to push his fingertips inside of her as his mouth settled over her clit. It throbbed as his sandpapery tongue flicked against it insistently. The feeling of his breath against her was soft and tantalizing, and she felt her thighs close reflexively on the sides of Hank's head.

  She ran her hands through his hair, tugging it gently. Her breath was coming in sharp hisses now, and she wasn't sure how much more she could take.

  “Please,” she pleaded. “I need you inside me. Now.”

  Hank scooted up between her legs again, her scent still clinging to his lips as his cock pressed against her gently. He was inside of her a moment later, his mouth caressing the sid
e of her neck while he buried himself deep within her. She felt something light up in the pit of her stomach, a tiny flame that quickly spread through her until her entire body felt consumed by wildfire.

  Beth clung to his body as tightly as she could, holding his torso against hers as her legs wrapped around his hips. Her nails dug into his back and he inhaled sharply, playfully nipping at her neck and shoulder with his teeth. The sounds they made seemed to intertwine into a single passionate voice, crying out over and over.

  When they finally came together, it felt like the entire universe beginning and ending, only to begin again in a blinding cosmic blast of form and energy.

  Beth heard the baby crying in the next room. She and Hank looked at each other, then laughed. Of course their sounds had awakened her from her nap—it wasn't the first time, and it wouldn't be the last. In a minute or two, one of them would rise from the bed, walk into the baby's room, and walk back and forth with her until she went back to sleep.