Devious Roses: A Dark Mafia Romance (Gangsters & Roses Book 4) by Sienne Vega

Author:Sienne Vega [Vega, Sienne]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-07-15T22:00:00+00:00

I receive my trial date. It’s set for a month out. Meaning I’ll have at least two or three more months behind bars before I have a chance at freedom. That’s if I’m found not guilty. Otherwise, I’ll be sentenced to who knows how many years in prison.

Those details I don’t focus on.

As more days pass, I develop a routine. I get by in small increments. Moment to moment. Hour to hour. At night, I know how many hours of sleep to expect before one of the guards bangs their baton on the cell bars and wakes us up. During the day, I pay attention to whatever hour I’m allowed to do what.

That means, during free time in our cells, I’m engrossing myself in writing letters. I’m cranking out more pushups and other basic exercises you can do without equipment. I read books. Lots of them. Even the Bible to Elmer, who is grateful.

Most importantly, I keep out of trouble. I avoid LaTessa, and he seems to be avoiding me too. Our paths don’t cross nearly as much as they did during my first week. Apparently, all it took was knocking him out twice before he understood I’m not one to be fucked with.

I’m assigned a job within the jail. I’m on laundry.

It’s one of the more frequent jobs. I’m required to spend an hour a day washing people’s uniforms, sheets, blankets, and everything else that needs to be laundered. The couple other guys who work laundry are decent enough that the role’s not so bad.

Anything that keeps me busy can only be a good thing.

On Fridays, we do bedding. I’m tasked with the sheets. After pushing in the large bins overflowing with dirty bedsheets, I begin sorting them out and throwing them in the washer.

My first clue something’s up is the absence of noise. The industrial-sized laundry room goes from being filled with chatter to just the squeak of worker boots on the tiles. My next clue something’s up is even more obvious. Several of the lights cut out.

I look up from where I am by the washer and barely have a chance to react.

LaTessa shows up with two of his guys in tow. He’s brought the gangly, sunken-eyed jackass and the boxer from our last altercation. By now, our bruises have faded, though he has faint scarring from the cuts he sustained.

He steps forward. “Look what we’ve found. A mafioso doing laundry. There’s a joke there somewhere.”

“I’m not interested,” I say.

“Not interested? That’s too bad for you. ‘Cuz I am. Somebody on the outside told me all about you. I gave you a fair shake but you wanted to disobey the rules around here. So now I’m gonna keep my word to him and take you out. You should be very afraid,” LaTessa sneers. He motions to the guys at his side, and both produce blades. “Don’t ask how I got them. Just know that I do.”

“You really want to make your situation worse?”

That’s my best attempt at mediating.

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