Their Queenpin (The Ridge MC #6)

Chapter 5Sas

Chapter Five

Sas

This isn’t awful. I had a cell to myself and there was a mattress with a pillow and all. Shit, this the fucking Four Seasons of jails.

Juvie, now that had been terrible: overcrowded with so many violent boys. I hadn’t been like them at the time, only trying to take care of my family. A big load for a twelve-year-old boy.

That had been my first prison experience. It lasted six months. My mom didn’t have the money to spring me before I went through the system, and she certainly couldn’t afford a lawyer, because every extra quarter she made at her three jobs went to take care of my sick brother, Jake.

My crime had been minor—a lookout for a group of thieves. They’d offered me a measly hundred dollars to stand watch.

They assigned me some crappy public defender, and the judge had actually said, “Just another delinquent for Central.” The way he’d said it made me think he was bored. And I’d wondered if anyone faced that man without doing time.

All I’d been trying to do was feed my family. When I’d arrived at Central Juvenile Hall in LA and learned who was in for what, fuck, I didn’t sleep for a week.

Thankfully, I’d gotten a stabby motherfucker rather than a rapist. His name was Johnson. Figured he’d be named after a dick.

At twelve, short and scrawny, I hadn’t stood a chance against Dick. He welcomed me by insisting that all my rationed food was his. He’d broken my nose twice before one of his groupies told him he should aim for somewhere that didn’t leave visible marks. I only fought back when I the hunger threatened to eat me alive.

As a result, I had no problems taking a fucking beating. That all calmed down after Dick left and I got a new roomie: baby-faced Alejandro Vega. A much nicer boy who seemed to have my back... until he didn’t.

Here, back to today—my fucking wedding day, of all things—at this luxury resort, I was disappointed by the lack of shit happening. Although, it wasn’t the middle of the night yet, so perhaps the real party hadn’t started.

Even though it was the five-star version of jails, the smell was the same: shit. Backed up water hovered in the toilets, compacted with the stale air. I didn’t gag—I had smelled worse—but fuck, I was bored.

Usually by now in the drunk tank, I would have some guy coming up to me wanting to fight, either because of my height, my cut, or my tattoo. But I had the penthouse of jail cells. No sloppy drunks. No meth heads. Again, the fucking lap of luxury. Guess they had to keep up appearances for the khaki-wearing Vegas tourists, caught up in too much partying.

“Tate, got a visitor,” called out a pig, and I stepped up to the cell door.

“My lawyer’s here?” I asked.

The officer, hand resting on his gun, said, “She says she’s your old lady.”

“You mean wifey ?” I knitted my eyebrows together, ’cause I sure as shit did not have an ol’ lady.

I didn’t want Adelina here. She was too much of a princess for this dank shit. Any man in my neighboring cells would’ve been leering at her, and I would’ve had to break their noses for looking at what was mine.

“She said old lady,” said the cop.

“Tell her to go the fuck away.” I didn’t believe it was Adelina.

Cops, in my experience, played too many mind-fuck games just to get people to talk. I wasn’t saying shit. If anything, I had said too much already.

“She must have friends in high places,” said the cop. “But with a name like Parisi, makes perfect sense.” The cop narrowed his gaze on me.

“My wife’s last name is Tate,” I said as the cell door opened and the cop came forward to cuff me.

I held out my wrists like a good little bitch. I didn’t need an overpaid lawyer to tell me how to play nice with the cops.

“You may want to tell her that.” He took my elbow and twisted my arm around behind me to put on the cuffs.

Keeping his arm on me, he waited for the cell door to close and then led me down the long hallway and into one of the interview rooms. Adelina, as promised, was at the metal table bolted to the concrete floor. She rose to greet me with a smile sparking on her face, before she schooled her features.

Relief skittered across her face, but it would’ve eased my mind more if the cop didn’t shackle me to the table. His rancid breath puffed right onto my face, masking her perfume.

I pulled away to stare at her, though. She’d dressed for business in a button-down shirt, a pencil skirt that fell to the middle of her calves, and heels. Her hair had been tied back into a low ponytail, and she looked refreshed, even if stiff and stressed, but determination hardened her dark brown eyes.

The whole look aged her ten years.

And I wondered if she still had that little remote-control vibrator hidden beneath the power suit.

The cop had checked the strength of my chains, jiggling them to be fucking annoying, and then he pointed to a camera in the corner. “Since she isn’t your lawyer, everything you do is on video, and we have mics too.”

Adelina raised her chin toward the cop. “What about husband-and-wife privileges?”

“Little lady, you don’t have a signed license yet. In the eyes of the law, you’re not married.” The man folded his arms over his significant belly and tilted his head.

Wifey, then, reached into her jacket’s inner pocket and pulled out a set of papers folded in thirds. “That little problem will be solved in sixty seconds.”

The pig shook his head. “Not on record at the courthouse yet. Recordings stay on.” He winked at Adelina.

The shackles jangled as I surged toward him, intent on strangling the piglet. I growled, “You’re one lucky motherfucker!”

He tapped his temple. “Smart is the word you’re looking for.” To my wife, he said, “You can do better.”

“Perhaps.” Adelina slowly lowered herself into the chair and reached across the table, touching my hand. “But we’ve got something people don’t find every day.”

I certainly didn’t calm the fuck down because of her, but threatening cops here wasn’t smart either. Especially while being recorded. I could keep my mouth shut. Occasionally. If I tried really fucking hard.

“Bye-bye now,” I said to the cop and jutted my chin toward the door.

“Suit yourself, Miss Parisi .”

My upper lip twitched into a snarl at his address.

“Mrs. Tate,” I corrected to his back.

Not responding, the uniform made his way back to the metal door.

Finally, I caught my breath.

Adelina pressed her fingertips to my hand and pried my fingers open, revealing my palms. I gave her them but wasn’t sure what she wanted. Instead, she drew her fingernails across the lines like she needed something to do.

Her finger lingered over where my ring should be, but they’d taken it when they processed me. My eyes landed on the pinkish gold band I had given her. My black ring and her pink matched in simplicity, but the colors told such different stories. Her dolled-up beauty to my blackened soul.

As much as I hated to admit it, there was something more than right about that.

With her head down, she whispered, “I won’t ask if you’re okay. I assume you’re surviving.”

I didn’t have long locks to hide my barely parted lips. “I’m alive.”

“No fights?”

I narrowed my eyes at her. “You think the worst of me, wifey.”

“Not princess anymore?”

Giving her a shrug, I replied, “Things changed today, no?”

She giggled, and I fought the urge to smile too. I also shifted to relieve the sudden and violent reaction my cock had to the sound.

Damn, I had become too easy. “When’s my lawyer coming?”

“Wilde is working on it,” she said, “but I expect soon.”

“Your father isn’t involved?”

She flicked her gaze up to the camera and then ducked her head, massaging my hands a little more. “I used his connections to get in, but no more than that.”

I wouldn’t ask for more details now. It didn’t seem to be a secret that Massimo Parisi had an in at the LVMPD, but I didn’t need my ass thrown into a holding cell meant for the Mafia either. If this sitch was at the Don’s order, there might be a nasty surprise waiting for me there.

“Is it still in you?” I asked, my voice low.

She raised her head, working her jaw. She knew exactly what I was talking about.

I straightened in my seat. I didn’t give a fuck if the cops heard how I fucked her or what I’d done to her at our wedding. If she was a good little girl, she would’ve come around the table and sat on my lap. My cock was ready for her, which surprised the hell outa me.

Normally, it took a lot of touching to get him to stand at attention.

“No,” she said.

“You took it out?” I asked, watching her. The coolness of the jail had left goosebumps on her skin.

“Rafe did,” she said in a low voice.

That beast. “Did you tell him to do it?”

“Yes.”

“Did he fuck you?”

“No.”

“Did he make you come?”

She stiffened—a solid admission.

My cock rubbed against the seam of the orange jumpsuit. “Don’t tell me you’re scared to say, wifey.”

“I’m not scared to tell you. Just... worried about how you’ll react,” she said.

With my hand that wasn’t shackled to the table, I reached over and took her chin between my thumb and forefinger, forcing her eyes up to meet mine. “There is nothing you will keep from me, Adelina. Nothing. Do you understand?”

“Why?” she snapped. “So you can use it against me?”

“There’s my feisty little slut.” I gritted out the last word through clenched teeth, then let her go. “But that’s not the reason.”

“Then because you’re a control freak.”

“And you like it. Don’t you?”

Her cheeks flushed pink, and that’s all the response I needed. She did love it when I was in control. Although, we had only scratched that surface.

But right now, I craved this answer, because I wanted to know how much she wanted him—or maybe needed him. Graff, I already knew he would be one of her men. Someone who would soothe her when I couldn’t.

He made sense.

As for Rafe, she could have him too, if that’s what she desired. But she needed to be fucking certain I would own everything he did to her. The thought of watching him make her explode made me as horny as an eighteen-year-old. Or both him and Graff.

“Tell me,” I ordered again.

She answered in a near whisper, “Yes, he took it out. Yes, he made me come.”

“How?” I asked, leaning forward in my seat. My balls squeezed between my hard length and the metal chair.

“It was so deep inside of me,” she said.

“How deep?”

“Very.”

I smirked. “Did it hurt when he took it out?”

“Yes.” It was a soft verbal confirmation. Then a coy smile played on her lips. My little princess liked it.

“Just his fingers?” I asked.

“I’m not sure, but it felt like his whole fist.” Her eyes flitted toward the camera.

“Ignore that and keep talking.”

“What else am I supposed to say?”

Her response to my prodding was the most adorable and blue-ball-inducing thing ever. Nothing like how a bunny would reply, and it was a reaction I don’t think I would ever get enough of. Surely, it had something to do with the innocence I’d fucked out of her.

I started with slow, specific questions. “Were you laying down?”

“No.”

“Standing?” My brows lifted.

“Yes.”

“And you didn’t fall?”

She pinched her lips and shook her head.

“How did you manage that?”

Adelina took a long breath.

I grabbed her chin again. “No thinking. Just answer.”

“I held onto Rafe’s shoulders.”

“Mmmmm.” I sat back in the chair, tilting my face up to the ceiling, and imagined driving my fist into her while she used me for a crutch. A fucking wet dream. “How did you stretch?”

“Wide,” she said. “It burned.”

“Did it feel like when you first took my cock?”

“No.”

“Better?”

She eyed me under her thick eyelashes. “No.”

I laughed. “You little whore. Always hungry for cock.”

“Only yours.”

“Lie,” I said. “Graff told me how much you liked his as a pre-wedding gift.”

She shrugged like it was no big deal to be fucked by my best man under my orders as her uncle held her and watched. What a kinky princess. Naturally, a fist wouldn’t faze her. She would have that much and more one day. More than my cock too.

A knock rattled the interview room door, and I bit back a growl. Really? They had to interrupt us when it was getting good. When Princess and I were finally having our first real conversation.

I bet the cops heard everything, and they needed to stop us before I ripped up the table, slid the cuff off the leg, and slammed my cock so deep into Adelina that it choked her. Instead, the same pig opened the door, allowing a woman in a suit to step inside.

“I see my lawyer has finally arrived. Took you long enough, Lanie.” I slumped in the chair, throwing my ankle across the other knee.

“Thank you,” she said to the cop. “And I expect—per lawyer-client privilege—those recording devices will be turned off immediately.”

The cop sized her up and then nodded. Angel’s ol’ lady didn’t bat an eye as she stepped out of the way before the cop shut the door on her.

She turned toward Adelina and me, scrutinizing both of us. “I’m Melanie Flemming.”

“She’s Angel’s old lady,” I said.

“Outside court, yes,” Lanie retorted. She stuck out her hand, and my little princess dropped my hands to shake hers. What a traitor. “Nice to meet you in person, Adelina.”

“You’ve met?” I asked.

“Church earlier today,” Lanie said. “I was on the video call. Besides being Angel’s ol’ lady and Maddie’s sister, I’m also a lawyer and a former DA from Los Angeles.”

I blew out a whistle. “Angel’s cock must be good if he convinced you to leave all that behind.”

“Sas,” warned Adelina. “Don’t be a dick.”

“My natural state,” I said, flashing a smile at my new wife, but she rolled her eyes. How fucking dare she. “I’m the ass. You’re the brat, wifey. Seems like a perfect pair.”

Melanie scowled at me. “I’m here to talk about your case and get you out of jail. We will first need to get through arraignment.”

“But you’ll get me out on bail,” I said.

She pinched her lips together. “The police found five kilos of coke tucked into various compartments on your bike.”

“Wasn’t mine.” I wasn’t stupid enough to carry that shit around like that. “Get me out of here so I can figure out who the fuck planted it.”

“And,” she continued without reaction to my comment, “you had a gun strapped to your ankle when arrested.”

“It’s for protection.” I lifted one shoulder.

“You don’t have a license to carry in the state of Nevada,” she said.

“Technicalities,” I dismissed.

But Adelina whispered, “Sas, this is serious.”

I glared over at her, but she had lost that coy smile. Now, she looked genuinely upset. Was my princess about to cry? I couldn’t have that, so I turned back to my lawyer. “You’re going to get me out on bail.”

She shook her head. “Bail is unlikely.”

“Make it likely,” I growled. Fuck, Angel had to like her for some reason. She didn’t have much in the way of tits she was hiding under her suit, so it must’ve been her mind or some shit. She should’ve known how to get me out of this clusterfuck.

“Unless we get a very lenient judge, bail will not be happening,” said Lanie. Her voice was so final that I wanted to throw something across the room. How did Angel deal with her? “But based on your past arrests, it’s even more unlikely.”

“What? Is this really the third strike and I’m out?” I demanded, and Adelina stiffened, ducking her chin. She should’ve done a happy dance for not having to deal with my sorry ass again.

“Yes,” said Melanie. “I can talk to the DA about a plea deal?—”

“No goddamn plea,” I growled. “I didn’t do it.”

“I’m doubtful that the DA will want to give you parole or a suspended sentence based on your rap sheet,” said Melanie. “And with what they found on your bike and your person, they’re not going to offer a plea. They’ll probably try to go for a long sentence to make a spectacle out of this and show they are hard on crime.”

“What the—” I wasn’t even sure what I was about to demand, but I cut off when I saw that Adelina had looked away. She was still, but I was sure she was hiding her tears from me.

Thankfully, she turned back, no teary-eyed gaze. Her chin jutted out.

I spun back to Melanie. “So what the fuck are you gonna do?”

“I need more time,” she said in a calm tone.

“The fuck does that do for me?” I argued. “I’m rotting in jail.”

“Something tells me you’ll be fine,” said Lanie. “They tell me you have a private cell.”

I scoffed. “What kind of shit lawyer are you?”

“It’s called waiting it out and seeing what we can do,” said Melanie. “We can’t make any rash decisions that’ll give the prosecution the upper hand.”

I rolled my eyes. “Did you tell Angel that too? What about the Prez? I’ve got shit to be doing.” We had the cargo to intercept out East.

“Your shit, as you call it, will have to be done by someone else in the club.” Lanie stepped back toward the door. “Adelina, I’ll be in touch.”

“Wait!” Adelina reached for the folded paper still sitting on the desk and then into her jacket for a pen. “Can you witness our signatures and get the marriage license filed?”

As I watched Adelina scratch her name on the signature line, my blood heated to a boil. This was the pinnacle of fucked up, and the simple act of watching her sign our marriage license in a goddamn jail made me want to murder the person responsible for this.

She passed the papers across the table to me and held out the pen. I bit down and took it from her hands, gripping the pen so tightly I thought it would snap. But my eyes refused to leave hers. She dragged my hand to the paper, and without looking, I scribbled an S and a line following.

Lanie looked it over, signed, and folded the paper.

Swatting me on the shoulder with it, she warned, “Sas, keep your inner asshole leashed. Words of wisdom from Angel.” Then she walked out of the interview room.

“Fuck her,” I muttered under my breath. I didn’t give a shit if she was Angel’s old lady. She was the fucking reason I didn’t deal with lawyers.

Once the door was closed behind Angel’s chick, I leaned toward Adelina. Hopefully, we would have a minute before the recording devices were turned back on.

“Adelina, listen to me,” I said, keeping my back to the camera and window. Anyone watching might’ve tried to read my lips.

“Sas, we?—”

“Stop,” I ordered, and her mouth hung open. Fuck, I hated doing this now. “There are a few things you need to know about the business. The Colombian cartels going to war. The Rojas brothers with the Medellín Cartel are holding my toes to the fire. This jewel heist is their doing. They’re trying to overthrow the Barranquilla on the Colombian East Coast.”

“Sas, we can’t talk about this,” she said.

I glanced toward the camera. The red light was still off. We had a few seconds. “The Medellín wouldn’t put me in here, because it’ll undermine their plan. It’s gotta be bigger than them. And the Barranquilla are oblivious as far as I know. We gotta look deeper.”

“Sas.”

Shaking my head, I continued in a rush of breath, “Rafe is in charge. Your father will have three men, and the MC will have three too. I was supposed to be one of them. Most likely, Wilde will have to take my place, but with Wilde gone and me out of commission, the MC will be weak. That is exactly when someone will strike. Cartel, Mafia, whoever?—”

“Light,” she murmured, a scream to my ears. Her head bowed down and her hair created a curtain around her face.

Fuck, we had run out of time, and I hadn’t told her everything.

“Come here,” I said, beckoning her over.

Adelina flipped her hair over her shoulder, her mouth set in a thin line. How determined she was. Everything we said was now being recorded. We were on thin ice.

She walked around the table. The cops would break us apart soon, especially as I grabbed her body and pulled her close. I seized her mouth, kissing her with all the savage need I had pent up inside, then I pulled her into my lap.

I let my thumb wander over her upper arm, curious if—yep, there it was, the unmistakable little bar under her skin. Nuzzling my nose into her neck, I growled, “Good girl.”

“I don’t want to get pregnant, and after the bathroom incident during our rehearsal dinner...” She shrugged.

A groan rumbled through my chest as I pulled the weight of her onto my rock-solid cock. “I can’t wait to get out of here and fuck you into the next week.”

“Sas.” Her eyes fixated on the camera again.

“Let them watch.” My hand reached toward the hem of her tailored skirt. A garment I hated because it didn’t allow her to straddle me.

I sealed my mouth over hers again, wasting precious seconds, but shit, it felt good to have her on my lips again, and in my lap. She kissed me back, grinding down on my cock. So needy. I wanted to invade her cunt, to feel her lower lips clenching around me. Her body was so good that I almost forgot what I had to say.

“Keep kissing me,” I ordered in a low voice.

“I never want to stop,” she moaned, trailing her lips across the corners of my mouth. She tried to slip her tongue inside, but I pressed my lips together. If I allowed her in, she would really undo me. And I didn’t need cum in my pants.

As her lips reached my neck, I thrust my fingers into her hair and placed my lips at her ear. “You cannot trust anyone on the outside.”

“Sas,” she groaned, “please?—”

“Keep kissing me.” I pinched her ass, and she mewled, shaking on my body. “And listen.”

“You need to listen to the MC. They’re our brothers,” I said. “They’ll take care of you. Especially Graff.”

She jerked back, her eyes scanning my face, and I hated the distance. I thrust my hips up, the bulge in my pants rubbing against her thigh.

“Graff?” she asked.

I heard the hard boots against the floor and the clanking of the keys. We were out of time.

“And Rafe,” I said. “Graff—he is my ride or die. But I think Rafe is good shit too.”

“You’ll share me? Why?” she asked, scowling.

The door handle jiggled. Only a second more.

“Because I’ll never be able to give you everything you deserve,” I said, “so I’m glad they’re here for you.”

She gasped, “Sas.”

The door swung open, and the pig yelled, “Get off his lap now! You know the rules. Your father can’t buy your way out of this!”

Before Adelina stood up, the cop had his hand on her forearm, wrenching her away from me. I tried to reach for her, but the chains jerked me back. Pain split my skin, the metal drawing blood. I didn’t even blanch as the cop forced Adelina away.

“Take your filthy hands off her,” I roared, standing, but the shackles held me to the table bolted to the floor. I tried to jerk but almost ripped my shoulder from its socket.

The cop still had his hand on Adelina, pulling her toward the door, but my wife looked back at me, the determination shining in her eyes.

Yes, my wife.

My ol’ lady.

Mine.

“We’ll figure this out,” Adelina called over her shoulder. “I promise.” Then she was forced from the interview room, the door slamming shut behind her.