CONVICT
Curvy Women Wanted
Sam Crescent
Copyright © 2018
Chapter One
Ryker wrapped his arm around the curvy woman and felt her ass against his dick. Damn it, this wasn’t supposed to make him think of sex, or taking her hard. He’d not had a woman in a very long time, but then being incarcerated for murder would do that. The only evidence that would have been able to save him had been destroyed, or at least the men who framed him thought it had. Everyone had been working against him, and he’d been way too foolish to trust those that he thought were there to help him.
“Please don’t kill me,” she said.
Even her voice sounded so sweet to him. He’d always been a sucker for curves, and this woman was so soft and fuckable. She was his key to getting away. He couldn’t stay here, and he hoped to God that she lived far away from the cops. No one had paid them any attention so far, and that was exactly how he wanted it to stay.
“Do what I say, and don’t try anything funny, and I won’t kill you.” Right now, it was the last thing he wanted to do. His dick was really happy to be next to her.
“O-okay.”
“Good, put the groceries down, and I want you to climb behind the wheel. Don’t make a single sound, or even let anyone know that you’re upset. I will kill you before anyone even gets here to help you.”
She nodded her head.
At the count of three, he told her to do it.
She placed the grocery bag in the back of her car, lowering the trunk. He walked toward the passenger side, and they climbed into the vehicle together. Her hands shook as she started up the motor. Leaving the small grocery store, he watched as she smiled at a few passing people and gave them a wave.
“Do you want me to drive you somewhere?”
“Where do you live?”
She nibbled her lip and glanced toward him.
Waving the gun in her face, he shook his head. “I don’t have all day.”
“I live near the forest.”
“Alone?”
She opened her mouth, then closed it.
“I’ll know if you’re lying. Come on, little girl, tell me. Do you live alone?”
“I’m not a girl, and yes, I live alone.” She shot him a glare. “Will you please put that damn gun down? It’s not doing me any favors right now, and no one’s around for miles.”
“You’ve got a bit of a mouth on you.”
“I’m not the one asking for favors here.”
“Be careful,” he said.
“Then kill me,” she said.
“Just a second ago you were telling me not to kill you.”
“Well, now I’ve changed my mind. We’re heading to my home, and I’m not going to have you threatening me, pointing a gun at me. It’s rude.”
He stared at her, a little shocked by her sudden outburst and her backbone.
“You’re insane.”
“You’re not the first person to tell me that, and I’m pretty sure you won’t be the last. Be thankful. Half of the women in town would have screamed their heads off at being shown a gun.”
This made him watch her. She hadn’t screamed or shouted for help. Her gaze had been wide as she looked at him.
“Why didn’t you?”
“You’re not the first guy to point a gun at my face.”
He saw her hands grip the steering wheel even tighter, and he didn’t like the way his gut twisted.
“I take it you’re a criminal? On the run?”
“Yes.”
“You know how this story ends, right? They hunt you down, find you, and put you back where you came from,” she said.
“Not this time.”
“You’re going to outsmart the law?”
“That’s what I’m going to do, and I’m going to prove that I’m innocent.”
She shrugged and kept on driving.
“You’re not going to ask me why I was in jail?” he asked.
“Don’t know, don’t care. It’s not going to help me any, is it?”
“What’s your name?” He didn’t like not knowing her name, or what to call her.
“Scarlett. What’s yours?”
“Ryker.”
“Nice to meet you.”
This made him chuckle. “You’re just full of surprises today.”
“Have to be. You’ve got to live every single day as it comes.”
She pulled off the road and started to take a short, narrow road. They entered a bunch of trees, and must have driven for over two miles before she came out, and there sat against the forest backdrop was a large, cabin-style house.
“It’s not a lot, but it’s home. I’ve got electricity, Wi-Fi, and a working bathroom.” Without waiting for him to say anything, she climbed out of the car, went to the trunk, and picked up her groceries.
He got out of the car and watched her, not sure what to say or do. One moment she’d been scared, and now it seemed normal to her to see a gun.
She didn’t wait around for him, entering her home without closing the door. A large Labrador came out. The dog walked up to him, gave him a sniff, then seemed to see he wasn’t much of a threat and walked off.
As he entered her home, the scent of lemon hit him hard. It wasn’t offensive to him. Closing the door behind him, he saw the sitting room, which had one sofa, was neatly kept. There was a television, but she had more books than anything else. He counted six bookshelves that were filled.
Heading toward the noise, he found Scarlett in the kitchen. She hummed to herself as she put her groceries away.
“You don’t have a husband?”
“Nope.”
“A boyfriend?”
“Nope.”
“A kid?”
“Nope. I’m just me, and you’ve got nothing to be afraid of. Unless of course someone is after you, in which case, have a bath. I’ll make you some food, and you can be on your way.”
She brushed past him, and he followed her up a set of stairs, through one door. “Here’s the bathroom. Pass me out your clothes when you’re done. Are they even yours?”
“No. I took them from the guard.”
“Well, hurry up.”
Stepping into the bathroom, he began to remove his clothes, keeping the gun close. She really was crazy.
****
Scarlett washed the convict’s clothing, and every now and then she caught a glance of her reflection in the mirror. She shouldn’t be helping him, and yet when she finally looked him in the eye, she saw the desperation there. He’d wanted to get out of whatever trouble he found himself in, and, being the kind of person she was, she couldn’t just let it go. She knew what it was like to be trapped in a situation that she couldn’t get out of.
With his clothes now being washed, she made her way back toward the kitchen and began making them both a sandwich. Buttering each slice of bread, she watched the door for when he would enter.
She didn’t have to wait long. With a towel wrapped around his waist, Ryker appeared. Every time he looked at her, he seemed a little more confused.
“You can take a seat,” she said.
She was somewhat surprised to see that her hands were indeed steady. All things considered, she imagined she’d at least be nervous when faced with a man intent on using a gun.
This is why you’re weird, and no one wants anything to do with you.
“You know, this wasn’t how I imagined this would go,” he said.
“I’m sure there are a lot of things you’ve imagined over the years that have taken you by surprise.” She cut his sandwich into triangles and put it in front of him. “Enjoy.”
Taking a seat opposite him, she was able to glance at his body and stare at the many tattoos that covered him. They were just marks, ink woven together in large black lines. His muscles stood out as well, even though he had them covered by the ink. She ate her sandwich and watched as he did the same, only the look of rapture on his face intrigued her.
“You’ve not eaten in a while?”
“Let’s say it has been a long time since I’ve had a nice sandwich. Food on the inside leaves a lot to be desired.”
She didn’t respond, and kept on eating her food until her plate was clear, once again, moving from one thing to the next. Food done, dishes done, and normally she found something to clean, or weed in the garden. With Ryker here, she didn’t really know what to do, so trying to ignore him, she moved toward the sitting room. Picking a book off the shelf, she sat down, put her feet up, and began to read through the many pages without seeing a single word.
This was her life. Cooking, reading, cleaning, cooking, going to town, and rarely doing anything else.
Ryker entered the room, and out of the corner of her eye she saw him head to the fireplace and begin looking at each of the few photographs she kept up.
“Why does each one have a part missing?” he asked.
She looked up.
He held a single picture in his hand, his index finger pointing to the missing piece.
“Because … I don’t want that person in my picture.” Now her hand wobbled on the book, and she stood. “I’m going to go and see if your clothes are done.”
Leaving the room, she made her way into the washroom. Leaning up against the counter, she closed her eyes and counted to ten.
Scarlett placed a hand on her chest in an effort to calm her nerves, but still, that didn’t work.
“I didn’t mean to worry you,” Ryker said.
Forcing herself to relax, she turned to him, and his arms were folded, casually leaning against the doorframe as if he had a right to be there.
“You didn’t.”
“That looked to me like you were having a panic attack.”
“It was nothing.”
The washing had finished, and she pulled it out, placing it in the dryer.
“You have a nice home.”
“You can’t stay here,” she said.
“No one in town cared that you had a strange man in your car. In fact, they barely looked your way, putting their hand up in a single acknowledgement,” he said.
Once again, she didn’t speak and made her way out to the kitchen, and when that sinking feeling came, which felt like someone was clawing at her chest, trying to get out, she opened the back door as her dog came rushing in. He brushed past her, and she stroked his long back, making her way outside and taking in several deep breaths.
The town didn’t want to know her.
She was a reminder of what they’d failed to see.
Ryker didn’t get the hint that she wanted to be alone, and he followed her outside. She hated that she felt him. Men meant nothing to her. She never wanted to be near them, and until she’d seen him, nothing had changed.
What made him so different?
“You said you’d had a gun pointed at you before, and you made it sound so casual, as if you’re used to it.”
“I was.” Rubbing her arms, she finally allowed herself to face this man that had broken out of jail.
In a matter of hours, he seemed to care a little more about her than anyone who’d known her for years. When he looked at her, he saw her. There was no passing glance, no apology, nothing. He merely stared, and when he did, she couldn’t hide. She couldn’t escape, even though he’d been gone for years.
“Who’s the man in the picture?” he asked.
“You shouldn’t be asking questions.”
“I’m guessing not a lot of people have paid all that much attention to you,” Ryker said. “I could kill you now, and no one would know about it for weeks.”
No one would ever find her because they refused to come up here and see her, unless it was her father who made the trip whenever he felt like it, which wasn’t often. She didn’t tell Ryker that.
“I’m just a passing stranger, Scarlett.”
“Then why do you care?”
“I’m curious,” he said.
“The man in the picture was my stepfather. I’m used to having a gun pointed at my head because for years after I turned ten, he’d use it to rape me every single night. He’d make sure my mom was passed out on drugs so no one would interrupt him.”