Well it finally happened...Wicked Incarceration (Wicked Ways #1) is out and about—and only one day late! *wiggles and hip bumps to the right*
And OMG it already has a kick assets review under its belt! I'm all verklempt and whatnot...(and yes...I did spell that word correctly without the help of my dictionary app *puffs out chest and struts around* lol)
Thank you to Sid Love's blog for posting the review and to Macky for reviewing Wicked Incarceration...*big smiles*
Macky gave the 3rd book in my PulpFriction series Wicked's Way a 4.5 stars and had this to say...
"Another brilliant addition to my favourite series Pulp Friction that in my opinion just seems to get better and better as it goes along. Love it!"
Here is the entire first chapter for your enjoyment...*winks*...hope you like! :)
Sometimes the only way for justice to prevail is to get a little Wicked…
Who knew that meant Wick Templeton would end up on the wrong side of the cell door and looking for trouble—the kind of trouble that lands inmates on the funny farm and turns their brains into jelly.
Now he’s calling in favors and using his prize weapons—his charm and subtle wit—to plant himself smack dab in the middle of the party. With help from his willing friends and not-so-willing acquaintances, he plans to rule the cellblock. Criminals, watch out. Wick's burning, and nobody better get in his way.
Caution: With Wick in jail anything can happen. A little mild violence and a whole lot of attitude never hurt anyone.
A big hand connected to the middle of Wick's back and roughly pushed him through the open door and into the narrow cell.
"There you go, Mr. Templeton, penthouse suite just for you. I hope you get along with the other A-listers bunking in this block, because they don't play well with people they don't like." The guard chuckled at his own joke and stepped back so the detective accompanying him could approach Wick.
Detective Jenkins crowded into the cell, nodding to the guard in what could only be construed as their "special code" to take a hike.
Wick figured this should only take a couple of minutes if he kept his damn mouth shut and just nodded and smiled. Scratch that, smiling in this situation might not be welcome, people always interpreted his smiles as being false or condescending or even wicked.
So he schooled his features and leaned against the back wall, the only solid wall in the six by nine foot rectangular space. The dick sat on the bed and tilted his head to the open door.
"You want to run right now, don't you?"
Wick shrugged, all decked out in his bad ass mode. "Wouldn't be the smartest move I could make, now would it?"
"Oh, Wick, you've never been about what was smart. You just like to bulldoze over everything that doesn't suit you. It's what got you kicked off the force: your rhinoceros complex."
Okay, no smiling or snarling. Though Wick desperately wanted to take this asshole and show him a rhino complex—which wouldn't be anything like the detective imagined, that Wick guaranteed. Instead, he behaved. He knew an egging on when he saw one—hell, he invented the phrase and wouldn't fall prey to a bad imitation of it.
Anyway, this shit had no idea why Wick left the force. Kicked out? That was a joke in the making.
He twisted his torso and deepened his slouch, then brought his hand up and nonchalantly picked at the peeling paint on the wall. "So what are you doing here, Detective Jenkins? You and I both know, no matter how lax this block of the jail is, detectives visiting prisoners in their cell isn't the norm."
"I'm just here to make sure you settle in all nice and cozy and to inform you that your lawyer isn't your hero in this case. She won't get you off." He stood and stepped the whole foot to get in Wick's face. His breath smelled of stale cigarettes and onions, what a mixture. "I finally got your ass. You're behind bars due to your own stupidity. Not surprising, it was bound to happen. You'll stay behind them thanks to me. No matter how many hours I have to put in, no matter how exhausted I get in the process…I'll nail your ass."
Wick widened his eyes in mock surprise. "Well, that's why they kicked me off the force; I obviously made a lousy detective. I never knew you craved the finer aspect of my physique." Wick glanced up and down, lingering very obviously on certain areas of the detective's anatomy, then finally raised his gaze and smirked. "You know, I've never thought of you like that before…but…you aren't terribly bad to look at and your body could do with a little wicked workout. Of course, we'll have to do something about that stick shoved up your ass, I don't like competition."
Jenkins sneered. "You go ahead and make your funny jokes. I know you and how you work, but that won't get you shit in here. You can't charm the inmates or guards. You're not that damn good."
"Why do people keep telling me that? If I hear it another couple million times, I might get a complex."
Jenkins snorted and crossed the threshold of the cell, turning back to Wick and resting his wrist on the bars. "The only reason you survived as long as you did was because of your friends and connections. You have none of them here and no access to them either." He turned his head and projected his voice, "Guard! I'm done."
As soon as the guard stepped up, Jenkins started to walk toward the exit gates. Wick yelled after him, "Next time you come to visit, wear green. I think it will make your eyes pop."
The guard's massive frame completely blocked the entrance to the cell. He eyeballed Wick as he pulled out his Nextel and rattled off some numbers then declared for the door to be closed.
"You seem to make friends real well." His gruff voice held a hint of amusement to it.
Wick plopped down on the lumpy mattress and immediately winced when four coils poked through the fabric to abrade his skin. At least the coils were so poorly made they didn't have much bite to them.
He rested his head on the side by the bars in order to look up and see the guard, well, an upside down version of the guard. Tucking his hands behind his head, he winked.
"It's a gift. I'm a real people person."
The guard looked down at him and shook his head slowly. "Yeah, well watch the people you try that line with in here."
Wick nodded. "Advice received, Randy. Now, I need the red phone that I was booked with, a secure area to make a phone call, and a caramel latte with an extra shot of espresso. All within the hour if you don't mind."
Randy looked up and down the corridor then whispered, "What about a tall, halfway decent, and extremely hot cup of plain old coffee, nine cream and sugar?"
Wick curled up his lip then sighed. "Oh, whatever you can manage."
"Give me twenty or so minutes and I'll have your stuff for you." The guard nodded once quickly before adding, "Hey, thanks again for clearing my cousin in that vandalism case. He isn't a bad kid—"
Wick waved him off. "Yeah I know"—he mimicked Randy's deep voice—"He isn't a bad kid, just started hanging around a bad crowd…" Wick looked him in his upside down eyes. "I've heard it all and I don't give a shit. I helped him for a few very short reasons; one of them being it's easier to stop him now rather than beating the hell out of him later. I'll continue to make sure he stays straight, my word is my law."
Randy straightened and nodded one more time. "Whatever your reasons for being in here, I'm not sure. I personally think you're a loon of some sort. But my sister stands by you and I stand by family. So thank you." He disappeared down the corridor.