Deadly Together-The Outcasts 2

By Amarinda Jones

Tasha lifted her head when she heard the door to her room open. She had very good hearing. It was one of the things she knew could save her life. Tasha turned around and stepped out of the shower. She left the water running so whoever was out in her room would think she was oblivious to their being there. She reached for a small, threadbare towel that covered the basics and wrapped it around her body. Her gun was the next thing she grabbed. She hadn’t shot a man since she was in service but she would if she had to. Tasha stepped through the door, gun drawn and looked at the man standing beside the bed. “Oh for fuck sake. What is it with you?”
“Are you following me?” He asked with a crooked grin.
“Yeah right like I have nothing else to do with my time. And, might I add the bleeding obvious, that you’re in my home.” Such as it was.
He looked around him and then back at her, denim blue eyes alive with interest, “Okay then. I’ll admit it. I’m following you.”
She looked from his still bloody face to his torn shirt. “Why?”
“’Been thinking about you.”
Tasha narrowed her eyes. “Why?”
“You interest me,” he responded sitting down on the bed.
“Why?” she repeated, knowing there was so much more to what was going on.
He raised his eyebrow. “Are you always so suspicious?”
“As suspicious as you are.” That’s what kept them both alive.
The man grinned at that. “Touché. But the thing is I fancy you.”
Tasha snorted and looked at him like he was mad. “You don’t know me.” And one moment of chocolate sweet kisses did not make an acquaintanceship. “How did you get in here?”
“The madam on the door can be bought for very little money.”
Yeah, that sounded like Hilda. Time to find a new place to live. Tasha blew out a sigh. “Okay, I’m going to give this to you straight. I don’t pick up strangers to have sex with.”
“When we kissed did it feel like we were strangers?”
No. It hadn’t. It felt right, which in itself had been scary. “I don’t do sex.” Craving it was one thing. Rejection was another. She wasn’t into pain.
“Why not?”
“Because.”
“Is it because you lost a breast?”
Tasha staggered under the simplicity of his words and the look of caring in his eyes. No man had ever come right out and acknowledged it. “Er—”
“When did it happen?”
“Does it matter?” It wouldn’t change anything. She wasn’t whole and she didn’t want to be embarrassed by any man’s disgust.
“Yeah. Tell me.”
She looked at him in wonder. “Who are you?”
“Wylie Smith. And you are?”
He was calm, battered and acting like they were at the tea party. It was surreal and strangely disarming. Normally she would have been ready to do battle with anyone who invaded her home. But this man? He was different. Why? I dunno. “Tasha Knowles.”
“Drop the towel, Tasha Knowles.”

• Language: English
• Publisher: Scarlet Harlot Publishing
• Release date: Apr 20, 2013
• ISBN: 9781301059126

Amarinda Jones

Amarinda Jones believes anything is possible and sometimes just asking for the impossible will surprise someone enough that they will give it to you. Writing is like that. Put it out there and wait for a response. There is always the possibility you may fall on your arse, but after all, that's what cellulite is for. Amarinda believes in taking chances, speaking her mind and aging disgracefully. Twenty years from now she plans on being the neighborhood witch that all the kids are scared of. But then, everyone has to have a hobby.

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Published by Amarinda Jones at Smashwords

www.amarindajones.com

Copyright© 2013 Amarinda Jones

Cover Artist: Amarinda Jones

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Deadly Together

The Outcasts series

©Amarinda Jones

Chapter One

She couldn’t remember how long she had been held in custody. It seemed like hours. There were others like her there, all crammed into a series of small, cement block cells that had one door and no windows. The air was rank with sweat and body odor. She could see the worry and fear in their pale faces.

Lois Cantwell?

What? She felt no need to be polite as she looked up at the woman who came to the door of the cell. At least she thought it was a woman. Like so many who had excelled under the Jacobson Committee ruling, Lois had trouble differentiating between men and women. They spoke the same, dressed the same and their gender seemed to blend into one with their short, severe haircuts. In a time when it was deadly to be a woman, that probably wasn’t a bad thing to aid survival.

Come with me.

Lois could feel the eyes of the other women upon her. It was a look of ‘better you than me.’ She sat for a moment thinking about her options. She knew where this was going. They would try and hound her until she broke down, as many had before her, and do what they wanted. That was unlikely. Or, more likely, she would be back in the cell waiting whatever decision they chose to make.

Lois stood up. She looked around at the others. She wanted to stay something stirring to help them keep the faith and fight the tyranny they had been thrust into. But she knew that was pointless. People chose their own destiny and some refused to fight. Encouraging them to believe in themselves and the possibilities was often not worth it.

Lois followed the guard out of the cell. Her eyes ran up and down the bulk of the figure in front of her as she calculated her chances of knocking her out and escaping. A couple of days ago she would have said they were good. But after no food and little water, Lois doubted her ability to knock the woman down, let alone run. If only I still had my knife. But they had found that when she was arrested. Her eight-hole grungy Doc Marten boots were the first thing they made her take off. The knife she always carried in the left one had surprised them.

"Like to cut people do we?"

"Only assholes who ask dumb questions."

"Think you’re tough do you?"

"I know I am."

That had earned her a clip around the ear from one guard and a shove from the other. Neither hurt. It was more annoying that Lois could do little to retaliate for she knew they weren’t above killing her. She had heard of the deaths of women in custody. Her demise would prove nothing. She needed to stay alive and get out of where she was in order to help herself and others.

In here, the guard ordered, pointing to a doorway.

Lois preceded her in. The room was small, dull and consisting of one basic table and two chairs. She looked above her and smiled faintly at the light from bare light bulb glaring down on her. Now, all we need is bamboo under the fingernails. Lois glanced at the guard. She suspected she probably would enjoy that. Lois sat down and waited for the inevitable questions. She knew what they were going to be. She had had heard about them from others.

Did I tell you to sit? the guard barked.

Lois crossed her legs and looked calm. No. And fuck off. The guard charged towards her, hand raised. Lois waited for the blow but it never came.

Let her be, murmured a tall, dark gray suited man, carrying a file, and as he entered the room and shut the door. He nodded to Lois. You’re quite the problem aren’t you?

I try. Lois stuck her tongue out at the guard and then smiled. Bitch. Dress like a man but you’ll never be treated as an equal.

The man sat down opposite her at the table. Who’s the father of your child?

And here we go. None of your business.

Under the Jacobson Ruling of March 2015 it was made law that if a woman is found to be pregnant and unmarried and refusing to marry, she will be incarcerated during the term of her pregnancy and the child will be taken from her.

You said that verbatim. I’m impressed, Lois remarked, her gaze not leaving his eyes for a second. The pale shallowness of them intrigued her. How could someone so wishy-washy be a threat?

You know it’s against the law to be single and pregnant, he went on as if she said nothing. And yet here you are. Single and pregnant.

Yes. Correct. I am what you’d call recalcitrant. There was no way she was going to be frightened by this man.

He looked hard at her. And?

What?

Save yourself and name the father.

If she did they would let her go. Lois knew that. She had seen women give in because it was easier to do so than living in terror of what the Jacobson goons might do. Ever since the worldwide rise to power of the Jacobson Committee, women had been under direct threat. No woman could work. All women were supposed to be married and expected to produce at least one child. If they couldn’t, they had to provide medical evidence why. If they were single, they had to be considered grossly deformed and deemed too ugly for any man to be expected to endure having sex with them.

The Jacobson Committee had taken over the world. It was never made clear who this Jacobson person was and what nationality he claimed. There seemed to be no one person singled out. More, it was a committee of people—men—who fronted and influenced world leaders and celebrities to drastically change the rights of women to make the world a better place. In their view, women, it was argued, were not meant to be leaders or workers. Their place was at home, with children, doing what they were told to do by a man. Whoever Jacobson was, he collected the right sycophants to sell his message to the masses.

Women all over the world had revolted when the Jacobson ruling came into place. Many had died fighting it. Others had succumbed to the will of the Committee and lived in loveless, often violent marriages, producing child after child, hoping each time it wouldn’t be a girl because her fate would be genetically sealed. Her sister Anna had been one of the lucky ones. She had a man who loved her and was safe. For her sister’s own sake, Lois kept her distance. She didn’t want anything she did upsetting Anna’s life. Women like Lois, who still fought on refusing to give in to what was decreed as her fate, were trouble no one wanted visiting them.

Lois worked in the outcast part of town. It was less than fondly known as the OC. It