Breaking The Chains (Satan's Knights Prospect Trilogy) Read online

  Contents

  ©Copyright All Rights Reserved 2019

  -Prologue-

  -One-

  -Two-

  -Three-

  -Four-

  -Five-

  -Six-

  -Seven-

  -Eight-

  -Nine-

  -Ten-

  -Eleven-

  -Twelve-

  -Thirteen-

  -Fourteen-

  -Fifteen-

  -Sixteen-

  -Seventeen-

  -Eighteen-

  -Nineteen-

  -Twenty-

  -Twenty-one-

  -Twenty-two-

  -Twenty-three-

  -Twenty-four-

  -Twenty-five-

  -Twenty-six-

  -Epilogue-

  -Prologue-

  -One-

  Other Books by

  Janine Infante Bosco

  About the Author

  ©Copyright All Rights Reserved 2019

  Breaking The Chains (Satan’s Knights Prospect Trilogy, Book Two)

  By

  Janine Infante Bosco

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  Published by Janine Infante Bosco

  For the men and women who pick up their phones no matter the hour and ride to save a child.

  -Prologue-

  Bishop

  Past

  Combing my fingers through my hair, I glance around the room and take in all the children. Not one of them looks happy and I wonder if that’s because they dread these supervised visits as much as I do. Don’t get me wrong, I look forward to seeing my son, it’s the goodbye that comes when our time is done, I can’t fucking stand. It’s feeling him be pulled from my arms. It’s watching his eyes fill with tears as he looks back at me, silently pleading for me to straighten up my act and be the father he deserves. It’s the helplessness I feel in the pit of my gut when the door closes, and he’s gone.

  It’s leaving this shit hole, knowing I failed my boy.

  Sighing, I divert my attention to the door. Through the pane of glass, I spy my son’s guardian, his uncle Pete, and our caseworker, Shay. Watching as they converse, I rise to my feet. My gaze falls to the little boy between them and my heart plummets at the sight of him.

  Children are supposed to be carefree.

  Innocent and curious by nature.

  Happy.

  They’re supposed to be fucking happy.

  Connor is anything but and that’s all on me.

  A lump begins to form in my throat as the door opens. Shay is first to enter and offers me a smile before stepping to the side. I watch as Pete lays a hand on Connor’s shoulder and bends his head, quietly whispering something into his ear. Forcing a smile, I try to hide my heartbreak.

  “Hey bud,” I murmur hoarsely.

  He tears his gaze away from Pete’s hand and turns to me. Keeping his face expressionless, he lifts his chin and stares at me. Trying to feign indifference, I keep the fake as fuck smile on my face and ball my hands into fists. My eyes flit to Pete and I give him a slight nod, acknowledging his presence. He drops his hand from my son's shoulder and tips his chin in response before turning and disappearing out the door.

  Connor remains rooted in place and I nervously look to Shay for assistance. She quickly moves to Connor, bending her knees to be eye level with him, and with a gentle tone, she encourages him to make his way towards me. He doesn’t hug me, and it takes every ounce of control not to drag him into my arms against his will and hold him close. Once he’s seated at the table, Shay walks to the other side of the room. I watch as she takes a seat and pulls out her iPad. For the duration of our visit she’ll sit there and quietly observe us, taking notes that she’ll eventually present to the court at our next hearing.

  Focusing my attention back to Connor, I take a seat across from him. Desperate for contact, I reach across the table, but I stop myself from reaching for his hand. Instead, I lay my open palm on the table, offering it to him. He stares at it but doesn’t take it. I don’t pull it back in case he changes his mind, though. After all, it always takes some time for him to warm up to me. For him to forget I’m a disaster of a father and recognize there is love in my heart for him.

  Sanctioning my patience, I exhale and scratch the scruff hiding my face with my free hand.

  “I..um…I got a job,” I reveal. To him it’s nothing, but for me, it’s another step in the right direction.

  When I first met his mother, Kiki, I was nothing more than a common drug dealer who used more than he ever sold, and she was pretty to look at and easy to please. A willing body is what she was until two pink lines revealed her to be more. I didn’t want kids and as soon as she told me she was pregnant the only thing I thought was that a baby would be nothing but a roadblock between me and my drugs.

  I know, I know…horrible.

  But nonetheless true.

  In fact, before we go any further with this story, I should set you straight…I am not a good man. Never have been and probably never will be. I’m the guy God uses as an example to prove to his disciples Hell really does exist.

  I never tried to get clean or make false promises to Kiki and I don’t remember going to any doctor’s appointments. I also wasn’t there when her water broke. I showed up a couple of days later with a box of diapers, setting the stage for the three years that would follow. Sometimes she’d call crying, begging me for money. But I didn’t answer. I was too busy robbing houses to feed my habit. Connor was born with some stomach issue and he needed a special formula. Public assistance didn’t cover it and it was expensive. Never once did I steal to feed my son.

  Last year, Kiki, found her backbone and took my pathetic ass to court. The judge granted her sole custody and six months ago when she died in a car crash, that same judge laughed in my face when I petitioned the court for guardianship. I didn’t even have a fucking lawyer. I was strung out on drugs, living out of my car and there I was thinking I could be what Connor needed. I don’t know what caused the sudden change of heart. Maybe it was the drugs but when I looked across the courtroom and my eyes found his, I felt something. A dire need to be better. To be the father I never had.

  The judge appointed Kiki’s brother, Pete, Connor’s guardian, and I checked myself into rehab the next day. Twenty-eight days later I was released. Clean and sober, I went to family court and filed for visitation. I had to prove myself worthy of seeing my own son and finally, after a couple of months I was granted these supervised visits. When we first started them, Connor, and I were essentially strangers. I didn’t know his favorite color or what he liked to do for fun. I didn’t know shit. But every week I learn something new and not because he intentionally shares it with me but because I watch him closely. I absorb every single second I spend with him and commit them all to memory.

  His favorite color is green. It’s the crayon he grabs the most and the signature color of the Hulk which seems to be his favorite Avenger seeing as he draws him a lot.

  My eyes drift to the box of crayons and the sheet of paper on the table. Pulling out the green crayon, I place it on the paper and slide it in front of him. To my surprise, he doesn’t take it. I look across the room at Shay, but she is too immersed with her iPad to notice so I continue to struggle with my s
on, hoping something I say will encourage him to engage in the conversation.

  “Hey,” I call hoarsely, diverting my eyes back to Connor. “I have something to show you,” I say, lifting my hand to my short sleeve. Rolling it up past my shoulder, I reveal the fresh ink adorning my skin. Connor hesitates for a second before lifting his head. His gaze locks on the snowflakes tattooed to my shoulder and I smile.

  “After our last visit, I took the snowflakes you and Shay cut out and had a buddy of mine ink them to me. Now even when we’re apart, there is still a piece of you with me. Pretty cool, huh?”

  Naively I thought the tattoo would prove to him that I cared, that I was sticking around. That I fucking loved him. I thought he’d look at those snowflakes and light up, maybe even give me a hug. Instead, he pushes his chair back and jumps to his feet. Surprised by the abrupt movement, my eyes dart back to Shay. This time her eyes find mine and curiously narrow as Connor moves to stand in front of me. Before either of us can react, Connor touches his finger to one of the snowflakes. Slicing my gaze back to my son, my body goes still as he traces every line and every curve. Realizing it’s the closest we’ve been, I close my eyes and breathe in his clean scent. Something breaks the spell and Connor jerks away. My eyes spring open, meeting his that are full of tears and panic instantly engulfs me as I reach for him.

  “Shit,” I hiss. “Connor, I didn’t—”

  “Help,” he whispers so softly I barely hear him.

  “What did you say?” I question, inching closer to him.

  Quietly, he continues to stare at me, and I watch in horror as tears escape the corners of his eyes.

  “Help me please,” he cries.

  I don’t have to know what he needs my help with for his plea to send a jagged spear straight through my heart. Whatever it is, whatever he needs, I’ll do it. I’ll kill, cheat, and steal. Break through locked doors. I’ll send the whole fucking world crashing down, light a match to it and watch it burn to ash.

  Whatever it takes.

  For my son, there is nothing I won’t do.

  -One-

  Bishop

  Present

  “Sweet as a fucking peach,” I growl against her mouth before sucking her lower lip between my teeth. I’ve spent many nights in a cold jail cell with my fist wrapped around my dick, dreaming of this moment. A moan or maybe a whimper sounds from the back of Charlotte’s throat as she threads her greedy fingers through my curly hair. It’s music to my ears and I want more.

  So much more.

  “Don’t stop,” she half begs half demands.

  Little does she know; I have no intentions of ever stopping. I’ve got a million fantasies to live out and the life expectancy of a man is seventy-eight, which gives me a little more than half a lifetime to do so. I’m done wasting time. From this point forward, I want to wake up every morning with Charlotte next to me. I want those beautiful hazel eyes to be the first thing I see, and I want to feel all the wild hair between my fingers as I fuck her mouth. I wouldn’t mind having her legs wrapped around my head either because I know for certain as soon as I get her clothes off and taste that pussy, I won’t ever want to come up for air.

  Peeling my mouth away from hers, I reach for the hem of her t-shirt and swiftly pull it over her head. My eyes dart to her breasts and her pert nipples that poke against the lace. I think back to the first time she teased me with them. She was wearing that tight as fuck Betty Boop t-shirt and I’m pretty sure she didn’t bother with a bra. Not the ideal attire for a prison visit, but my cock appreciated her efforts. Bending my head, I close my mouth around her lace-covered nipple and nip at the erect bud. Charlotte reaches behind her and deals with the clasp of her bra as I flick my tongue back and forth. The straps fall from her shoulders and she inches back, leaving me licking my lips as she frees her swollen tits from their confines.

  “Fuck,” I moan, watching as she cups and squeezes them together. If I wasn’t already on the verge of coming in my pants, I might take the time to fuck her tits. The thought causes me to close my eyes and for the briefest second, I imagine what my cock would look like sliding between those fucking swollen mounds.

  “Bishop,” she pants, and my eyes shoot open instantly. I watch in awe as she rolls her nipples between her fingers. “I don’t know if I can wait anymore,” she breathes, giving each bud a pinch before dropping her hands to hook her thumbs under the waistband of her sleep shorts.

  As a man who can’t remember the last time he fucked, you’d think I’d be more eager to get my cock deep inside her, but I stand, paralyzed, watching her shimmy out of her shorts. There’s a scrap of cotton covering her bare pussy and the thin waistband of her thong, accentuates her round hips.

  “Turn around,” I order, pressing the heel of my hand against the zipper of my jeans. My cock strains as she flips her hair over her shoulder and slowly turns. Her ass is what dreams are made of, perfectly round and oh so tight. I step towards her and with my free hand, I grab her hip and pull her against me. She bends over the bed, splaying her palms on top of the duvet cover as I undo the zipper of my jeans. I don’t take my cock out or push my pants down my legs. I move my other hand and grab both of her hips, steadying her as I rock against her. She pushes back, teasing me and I lose control. Rearing one hand back, I bring my palm heavily down on one globe, watching as the pale skin heats from the sting of the smack.

  Charlotte gasps and wiggles against me, pushing that ass higher.

  “You ever get fucked in the ass, Peaches?”

  “No,” she croaks.

  My eyes close at the admission and I wrap my arm around her stomach, forcing her to straighten against me. I push her hair away from her ear and lick the shell. A shiver runs down her spine and I feel her quiver in my arms.

  “I’m taking your ass, baby,” I whisper roughly. “Not tonight because I need to get inside that pussy more than I need my next breath, but I’m going to be the one and only man that gets your ass, you understand?”

  She doesn’t say a word and I pull my dick out, guiding the crown between her ass cheeks.

  “Gonna need to hear the words, Peaches,” I hiss, bending my head to bite her shoulder. “Say you understand.”

  Her hand closes around mine and she lowers it down her stomach to the apex between her thighs. Tossing her head back, she widens her stance and slides my hand inside her panties. She removes her own hand, leaving mine nestled against her bare pussy and I dip my middle finger inside her warm cunt.

  Until now, I was sure I’d never know Heaven.

  I thought it was only for the good.

  For the pure.

  “Fuck, Peaches,” I breathe. “You’re dripping.”

  Her hips buck and I slip another finger inside her.

  “Please tell me you have a condom,” she shrieks.

  “In my jacket,” I reply, kissing her shoulder. My thumb finds her clit and I begin to stroke it. “First, I want you like this. Can you do that for me, Peaches? Can you come all over my fingers?”

  She whimpers, arching into my hand and I lift my head from her shoulder to study her profile. Her eyes close and she draws her lower lip between her teeth.

  She’s almost there.

  A dream come true.

  A throaty moan fills my ears and I push deeper inside of her as she comes wildly around my fingers.

  “Bishop…” she cries.

  “That’s it, baby, sing for me.”

  And sing she does.

  It’s a beautiful chorus of moans and sighs, with my name acting as the crescendo.

  I pull my fingers from her and just as I’m about to lift them to my lips, she turns in my arms and places her palms to my chest. Guiding me to the bed, she gives me a nudge and my ass drops to the mattress. I stare up at her as she kicks my legs apart and steps between them. Wrapping her arms around my neck she lowers her forehead to mine.

  “Where’s that condom?”

  “Jacket pocket,” I croak, swallowing the lump in my th
roat as she falls to her knees between my legs. Keeping her eyes on mine, she orders me to lift my hips and drags my pants down the length of my legs. I watch in awe as she places her hands on my knees and bends her head. Her lips part and her tongue slips out, licking the spot of come from the head of my cock.

  Every dream, all those lonely nights, nothing compares to here and now. I told myself I was unworthy, and I doubted my intentions, but for some reason, I’ve been given this moment. This second chance. There are no more doubts. Not a single one.

  I choose her.

  Every second of every day.

  I choose Charlotte.

  Us.

  This life and the beautiful music we’re gonna make together.

  She scrambles to her feet and winks at me before turning around. I watch her ass sway as she scans the bedroom searching for my jacket and I send a silent prayer up to God, thanking him for letting me see the error of my ways before I lost this beautiful woman.

  I wrap my hand around my cock and lay back on the bed as she finally locates the jacket on the floor. My hand works my shaft and I grow more anxious with every tug.

  “Peaches, I’m dying here,” I groan.

  At this rate, I’m going to come before the tip even works its way past the slick lips of her pussy. I lift my head off the mattress and spot her standing completely still by the door with her back facing me.

  “Char?”

  The jacket drops from her fingers and she slowly turns to face me. The lustful gaze that flickered in her hazel eyes only moments ago is replaced with a world of hurt. Confused, I force myself to sit up.

  That’s when I see the gun in her hand and the flames of Hell start creeping into my Heaven.

  “Charlotte,” I rasp, standing from the bed. I grab my pants and quickly pull them up my legs. I don’t bother with the zipper as I make my way towards her. “I can explain,” I say, eyeing the gun. She moves out of my reach and closes her hand around the barrel. Lifting my eyes to hers, I hold out my palm and plead with her. “Give me the gun and let’s talk.”