As they entered the apartment, Claire let out a girlish yelp as JD scooped her up and threw her over his broad shoulder as if she were nothing. “Put me down!” she giggled, though she wanted nothing of the sort.

JD ignored her request, choosing instead to playfully slap her ass. “Which room is yours?” he asked, heading ( Read more... )

            The tires of his crème Mercedes S 600 screeched as Lucian stopped in front of La Belle Morte. He tossed his keys to the valet, not bothering to make eye contact with the man as he muttered something vaguely cordial and rushed to the entrance. Usually, he would have taken his time, made nice with the man who would be handling his pride ( Read more... )

    Jesse Desario took a final drag on his cigarette, letting the smoke curl around his lips as he flicked the butt over the balcony railing. He watched it fall, but lost sight of the faint orange ember long before it reached the ground ( Read more... )

            Lucian Grey sipped on his whiskey and pretended to watch the boxing match on the television. It’s not that he wasn’t interested in the sport-it appealed to him, as to every man, in its purity and simplicity. What appealed to Lucian more, though, was the burly, balding man at the other end of the bar, eyes red from frustration and too ( Read more... )

            By the time the girls left La Belle Morte, the sun had finally set and Luna Street was full of people. The doors of clubs and bars were open, enticing the well-dressed and slightly drunk crowd with loud music and the promise of controlled danger. That was the major draw of Death Row-- its patrons could walk on the wild side, so to speak ( Read more... )

The sweltering late summer sun was slowly disappearing behind the Mississippi, painting the water a deep, flickering red. The irony was not lost on Claire- they were having dinner on Death Row, after all; everything here was red ( Read more... )