Read Online Kiss of Temptation: A Deadly Angels Book by Sandra Hill - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sandra Hill
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he saw one.
But it was more than that. Ivak’s heart was racing, and his palms had gone clammy. His favorite body part, if it could have talked, would be shouting, Mine, mine, mine! He had to concentrate to keep his fangs from emerging, as they were wont to do when he was in high emotion. This was the worst possible thing that could have happened to Ivak, at this time and in this place.
“What the hell’s wrong with you?” Leroy asked. “Your face is so white, you look like you might faint.”
Without warning, Ivak’s loins caught fire, and he sank to his knees, just as Vikar had predicted. “I think I’m going to be sick. Or in love.”
Prison creates strange bedfellows . . .
“Ain’t this nice?”
Gabrielle looked at Tante Lulu as if she was crazy. They were sitting on folding chairs at metal tables in a prison visiting area that could only be described as bleak, despite the faded mural on one wall that must have been painted by a prisoner. The smell of pine-scented cleaner rose from the newly mopped floors, and institutional cooking wafted from a cafeteria somewhere. Whistles blew periodically to signal that inmates were to be counted before moving on to some new activity or place, like Pavlovian mice. Bars, barbed wire, and armed guards were front and center, everywhere. And it had to be over a hundred and ten degrees inside, without any air-conditioning. “Nice?”
“Well, I was ’spectin’ ta see chain gangs outside and jailbirds inside walkin’ around, carryin’ them homemade knives made from tin foil, and lookin’ at us wimmen with hungry eyes lak we was an afternoon delight.”
“Oh good Lord!” Gabrielle muttered.
“Remember Paul Newman in Cool Hand Luke ? Yum! I woulda shared a cell with him anytime.”
In all the years Gabrielle had been visiting her brother at Angola, she’d never once seen a Paul Newman look-alike. Not even close. More like the nut cases in Stir Crazy . Or bad-ass criminals like The Sopranos or that hardened ex-Angola inmate in Urban Cowboy . And chain gangs? They’d been outlawed years ago.
“Tante Lulu, you know this isn’t regular visiting day,” Charmaine said, as if movie celeb convicts would be here on regular visiting days. “They only let us come this afternoon as a special favor to you.”
And wasn’t that an amazing concession, one Gabrielle had never been able to gain on her own?
“I didn’t know you and the warden’s mother used to double date with the Jemeaux brothers. I dated Jimmy Joe Jemeaux one time, but he had hands like an octopus.”
“So did his grandfather,” Tante Lulu said.
Gabrielle did not want to be picturing Tante Lulu engaged in a make-out session, not even a young Tante Lulu.
Charmaine winked at Gabrielle, as if they shared a joke.
Gabrielle felt as if the joke was on her, but then she saw Leroy in the doorway, and she plastered on her positive smile, the one she always wore when visiting Leroy, no matter the news. But he wasn’t looking at her. His eyes were riveted on Charmaine. No surprise there. Everyone they’d passed in the past half hour had practically tripped over their hanging tongues.
Gabrielle stood and waved for her brother to come join them.
That’s when she noticed the man rising from his knees at Leroy’s side. He was the same height as her brother, about six foot four, but his shoulders were broader, his waist and hips narrower, every bit of exposed skin striated with muscle. Long blondish-brown hair was tied at his nape with a leather thong. A designer stubble adorned his classically sculpted face . . . in fact, he resembled that male model with pure, sharp Nordic features in those glossy magazine cologne ads. But no designer clothing on him and no denim prison garb, either. Nope, he wore an odd, little white turtleneck collar under a black muscle shirt that hung loose over tan Bermuda shorts. His big feet were exposed in a pair of rubber flip-flops.
She was staring at the man . . . and
But it was more than that. Ivak’s heart was racing, and his palms had gone clammy. His favorite body part, if it could have talked, would be shouting, Mine, mine, mine! He had to concentrate to keep his fangs from emerging, as they were wont to do when he was in high emotion. This was the worst possible thing that could have happened to Ivak, at this time and in this place.
“What the hell’s wrong with you?” Leroy asked. “Your face is so white, you look like you might faint.”
Without warning, Ivak’s loins caught fire, and he sank to his knees, just as Vikar had predicted. “I think I’m going to be sick. Or in love.”
Prison creates strange bedfellows . . .
“Ain’t this nice?”
Gabrielle looked at Tante Lulu as if she was crazy. They were sitting on folding chairs at metal tables in a prison visiting area that could only be described as bleak, despite the faded mural on one wall that must have been painted by a prisoner. The smell of pine-scented cleaner rose from the newly mopped floors, and institutional cooking wafted from a cafeteria somewhere. Whistles blew periodically to signal that inmates were to be counted before moving on to some new activity or place, like Pavlovian mice. Bars, barbed wire, and armed guards were front and center, everywhere. And it had to be over a hundred and ten degrees inside, without any air-conditioning. “Nice?”
“Well, I was ’spectin’ ta see chain gangs outside and jailbirds inside walkin’ around, carryin’ them homemade knives made from tin foil, and lookin’ at us wimmen with hungry eyes lak we was an afternoon delight.”
“Oh good Lord!” Gabrielle muttered.
“Remember Paul Newman in Cool Hand Luke ? Yum! I woulda shared a cell with him anytime.”
In all the years Gabrielle had been visiting her brother at Angola, she’d never once seen a Paul Newman look-alike. Not even close. More like the nut cases in Stir Crazy . Or bad-ass criminals like The Sopranos or that hardened ex-Angola inmate in Urban Cowboy . And chain gangs? They’d been outlawed years ago.
“Tante Lulu, you know this isn’t regular visiting day,” Charmaine said, as if movie celeb convicts would be here on regular visiting days. “They only let us come this afternoon as a special favor to you.”
And wasn’t that an amazing concession, one Gabrielle had never been able to gain on her own?
“I didn’t know you and the warden’s mother used to double date with the Jemeaux brothers. I dated Jimmy Joe Jemeaux one time, but he had hands like an octopus.”
“So did his grandfather,” Tante Lulu said.
Gabrielle did not want to be picturing Tante Lulu engaged in a make-out session, not even a young Tante Lulu.
Charmaine winked at Gabrielle, as if they shared a joke.
Gabrielle felt as if the joke was on her, but then she saw Leroy in the doorway, and she plastered on her positive smile, the one she always wore when visiting Leroy, no matter the news. But he wasn’t looking at her. His eyes were riveted on Charmaine. No surprise there. Everyone they’d passed in the past half hour had practically tripped over their hanging tongues.
Gabrielle stood and waved for her brother to come join them.
That’s when she noticed the man rising from his knees at Leroy’s side. He was the same height as her brother, about six foot four, but his shoulders were broader, his waist and hips narrower, every bit of exposed skin striated with muscle. Long blondish-brown hair was tied at his nape with a leather thong. A designer stubble adorned his classically sculpted face . . . in fact, he resembled that male model with pure, sharp Nordic features in those glossy magazine cologne ads. But no designer clothing on him and no denim prison garb, either. Nope, he wore an odd, little white turtleneck collar under a black muscle shirt that hung loose over tan Bermuda shorts. His big feet were exposed in a pair of rubber flip-flops.
She was staring at the man . . . and
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