Sadies Game (Ashby Crime Family Romance Book 7) Read online

  Sadies Game

  Ashby Crime Family Romance Book 7

  KB Winters

  Copyright © 2021 by KB Winters and BookBoyfriends Publishing Inc

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by KB Winters

  About Sadies Game

  WSJ and USA Today Bestselling author KB Winters brings you a brand new romantic suspense series about the ruthless Ashby crime family!

  Sadie

  You think you know me? You don’t know Jack.

  Or Father Eric.

  Or Father Sean.

  Or Father James.

  I know them quite well—and more. Biblically you might say.

  It's just a game we play.

  And I have a few secrets, I’m not ready to tell.

  But the ones I tell will blow you away.

  Literally.

  Love a little spice with your crime? Sadie's Game delivers! One click this hot romantic suspense today!

  This is the seventh book in the Ashby Crime Family Series! Better bring a cold glass of water and leave your panties at the door!

  Prologue

  Sadie ~ 1981

  Everyone thought they knew the story of how Sadie Rose Ashby came to be. People knew me as the wife of Colm Ashby and daughter-in-law of Cillian Darragh Ashby. They knew me either as a young whore or a ruthless bitch. At least that was what they thought they knew about me and my life.

  If anyone knew the actual details of my life, they would fear me even more. It wasn’t Colm or Cillian, or even The Crusaders who got me started on this path.

  No, that title belongs to a piece of shit from the summer of 1981.

  Before I became an Ashby, I was Sadie Rose Malone, a proper Catholic school girl who went to class, said her prayers and loved her parents dearly. I tried to do the right thing, be a good person, and follow the path laid out in The Good Book. I tried really hard, and one day, it all fell to pieces in the most spectacular fashion.

  Owen Doyle was seventeen years old and the definition of cool, at least back then. He was gorgeous with broad shoulders and a slender body that young girls thought was so grownup. Back then, I wasn’t immune to the charms of the most popular boy in school. Owen Doyle had big blue bedroom eyes, and when he turned his attention my way, I was flattered.

  I was flattered for the first—and last—time in my life. It was the only time pretty words made me blush like a schoolgirl, the only time I accepted anything or anyone at face value.

  It was a Friday night, and my parents allowed me to go to the high school football game because it was a special game. St. Mary’s Catholic School played against our Lutheran rivals. To my extremely Catholic mother, that made it a special occasion worthy of me possibly spending time with boys. I couldn’t tell you one thing about the game because I didn’t give a damn about football. I just wanted to hang out with kids my own age away from the church.

  “Hey, want to go somewhere quiet to hang out and talk?” Owen Doyle wanted to talk to me, invisible, prim, proper, Sadie Malone, and I nodded like an eager little puppy.

  I turned to my best friend Emily with a wide-eyed grin. There was no question what my answer would be when I turned back to Owen.

  “Yeah, sure, that would be cool.” My fingertips tingled at the idea of going somewhere with Owen. I followed him down the metal bleachers and around back where the cool kids hung out and smoked cigarettes and drank beer if they could snatch some from their parents or older siblings.

  Only when we got back there we were alone.

  I thought it was romantic. “So, uh, what do you want to talk about?”

  Owen flashed a crooked smile that made my heart race as he leaned against the metal leg of the bleacher. “How pretty you are, Sadie.”

  “Me?” I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and smiled like the naïve little girl I was. “I’m not,” I insisted because vanity was frowned upon in my house.

  I wasn’t allowed to wear makeup or style my hair, and even the denim skirt I thought so stylish hit just below my knees.

  “But you are.” Owen’s insistence, accompanied by the way he smiled at me and ran his index finger along my jaw, sucked me right in. “So pretty. I’ve been thinking about kissing you all night. All semester, really.”

  His words shocked and thrilled me, but they also confused me. “But you never said anything.”

  “Neither did you,” he shot back. “But here we are.”

  His words were so smooth I couldn’t help but smile. “Here we are.”

  Owen took a step closer so I could feel his breath fan across my face and sucked in a deep breath. He smelled like cinnamon and melon, an intoxicating blend of spicy and sweet.

  “I need to taste your lips,” he growled a moment before his mouth crashed down over mine.

  The sensation startled me at first, but the feel of his lips on mine was lovely. His tongue slid between my lips; a strange feeling that slowly started to feel good. My heart thudded against my chest, and my palms were sweaty against the leather arms of his letterman’s jacket, but I couldn’t bring myself to push him away.

  I leaned into him, threw myself into the kiss because even though it was my first kiss, it was the most exciting, the hottest, the most thrilling kiss of my life.

  Then one hand slid down my ass until he reached up under my skirt to my bare skin, and that hand slid up the inside of my leg until his fingers brushed over my cotton-covered pussy. I gasped in surprise, but it wasn’t an unpleasant feeling.

  “Owen,” I panted as he ran two knuckles back and forth over my swollen, virginal pussy.

  “I’m right here, pretty Sadie.” His fingers pushed my panties to the side, and his bare fingers slid between my pussy lips.

  “You feel that? Your pussy is wet and swollen because you want me, too.”

  I didn’t know what he was talking about, but I did want Owen. I just had no clue what he actually meant.

  “I do,” I told him breathlessly, eyes closed against the sensations his fingers on my clit caused. I meant I wanted him to keep making me feel the way I was feeling, special and excited, and worked up as I’d never felt before.

  “Good.” The growl was deeper and darker, and a finger plunged into me. I was shocked, to say the least.

  “Owen, no. Slower,” I urged him even as his mouth hungrily sought mine. Blood rushed through my ears as sensations overwhelmed my body. Owen devoured my mouth, plunged in and out of my pussy until I stopped resis
ting. Until I gave in.

  “So fucking tight,” he growled and shoved me to the hard, cold ground. “I can’t wait to get inside that tight little cunt of yours.”

  I looked up at him, shocked by his words. No one I knew talked like that. I shook my head. “No, Owen. I’m not ready for that.” The idea of losing my virginity at all, never mind behind the football bleachers, shocked and appalled me. I always imagined it would be a nice hotel room on my wedding night.

  “Oh yeah, you’re more than ready,” he told me as he knelt down at my feet. “Taste how ready you are,” he said and shoved the finger that had just been inside of me into my mouth.

  I choked on his finger and shoved him away, but Owen wasn’t upset. No, he laughed and used his legs to push my knees apart.

  “Owen, please,” I begged.

  He shoved my skirt up my legs and tore my cotton underwear. “You hear that, boys? She’s begging for it.”

  Boys? When I tore my shocked gaze from Owen’s stupid face, I realized we were no longer alone. At least a half dozen boys in letterman’s jackets stood around with beers in hand, cigarettes hanging from the corners of their mouths as they smiled and watched the show.

  The show.

  Me. I was the fucking show.

  And the show wasn’t over. Not yet.

  “Don’t make her wait, man. Give her what she wants!”

  “No,” I cried out. “I don’t want it. I don’t, Owen. Please.”

  “Yeah, keep begging. My cock is getting so hard.” He unleashed that monster, stroking it hard and fast as he scooched on his knees until his knuckles brushed my thighs with every stroke. “You’ll enjoy it,” he assured me, but the dark look in his eyes terrified me.

  “No. I don’t want this.” I didn’t. I was okay with kissing even though I knew it was wrong. Even the feel of his fingers between my legs was nice. I was prepared for the Hail Mary’s in store for me for liking those feelings, but not for this. Not my virginity.

  “If you didn’t want it, you wouldn’t be so wet for me.”

  I wanted to tell him he was wrong, but I didn’t know that for certain, and I was wet down there. Before I could tell him anything, his penis invaded my body in one long stroke.

  “Ow! No! No!” It hurt like hell, the unwanted invasion, the burning sensation it caused as he pumped in and out of me.

  “Owen, no! Please.”

  His lips spread into a grin. “Tight virgin pussy is my favorite.”

  I looked around, pleading for someone—anyone—to help, but the boys offered no help. They smiled and jeered in the face of my fear, my humiliation. Not one young face looked horrified at what was happening, and I shut my eyes against it. Against all of it.

  Willing myself to die.

  Owen continued to pump his hips, sending his cock deeper and deeper until the physical pain went away. I prayed that it would end soon, that God would take mercy on me and end this pain, this humiliation soon.

  He didn’t.

  It felt as if Owen invaded me for an eternity, and then his hips sped up, pumped harder and faster. Owen wrapped one arm around the back of my neck and pulled me so close I thought I might suffocate against his chest; the other hand gripped my thigh so hard there would be a bruise there before the night was over. He fucked me harder and harder, and I just knew the end was near.

  And then something even more horrifying happened. My body grew warm, and a strange sensation started at my toes and worked its way up until I felt even fuller than before. My pussy pulsed around his cock, tight convulsions that caused a growl of delight to ripple through him and reverberate against my chest.

  “I knew you would enjoy it,” he grunted. “You feel the way your cunt grips me? That means you’re enjoying it.”

  Enjoying it? No, it couldn’t mean that. Could it? I had no clue. The Catholic school version of sex-ed was don’t have sex until you’re married or hell, fire and damnation await.

  “No,” I insisted, more to myself and maybe God, than to Owen.

  “Yeah,” he growled and pulled me closer, his hips moving impossibly fast until a long, keening wail sounded.

  From me. My body flooded with pleasure. I froze and then my body convulsed hard as waves of heat went through me and out of my fingers and toes. “No,” I cried.

  “Oh yeah,” he moaned and bucked his hips a few more times. Hard. Eventually, Owen pulled back until my pussy was cold against the night air, a satisfied smile on his face.

  “Another virgin pussy for my trophy case.” He gave my pussy a smack before he stood and zipped up his manhood, staring down at me with a smile that could have been a sneer.

  I didn’t know, and I didn’t care. While he high-fived his friends, I stood and pressed my knees together before I took off at a full run. I ran and ran through the soccer field and several newly-built subdivisions until I reached the blue ranch house I called home.

  Home.

  I stopped and stared at the house, Owen’s come dripping down my thigh, knowing what waited for me on the other side of the door. Mom would be reading the bible, a rosary clutched in her hands while Dad knocked back his fifth or sixth beer of the night. I knew instantly what I had to do.

  Keep my mouth shut. Dad, if he was coherent, might kill Owen. But Mom, she might make me marry the rapist or worse, send me away in shame. It was bad enough I was probably looking at a lifetime’s worth of Hail Mary’s for letting him touch me, but this? This was eternal condemnation.

  No, I had to keep this a secret from them.

  And I did. I never told a soul, not even Emily.

  Keeping that secret ate away at me. At my soul, at the very core of my being. The school year went on, but word of the rape had reached far and wide, only I was branded a slut instead of a victim, and that stripped away the last bit of the old Sadie Rose that remained.

  I stopped talking to Emily, who was happy to be rid of her slutty friend if for no other reason than to avoid being painted with the same brush. I thought about telling her the truth, but I knew it would do no good. She believed the words of the gossips at school because I had gone with Owen willingly because there were boys watching who vouched for his version of events.

  So I left my last friend behind and kept my head down, studying hard for the rest of the year, taking classes during my lunch period as a plan started to take shape.

  When school was over, I attended summer classes during the day and spent afternoons with my Uncle Seamus, who taught me how to fight. He used to be a boxer for the Army and often made extra cash in what he called ‘off-book fights.’ I learned how to protect myself, to make sure no one ever made me feel the way Owen had. When I came home from school late for dinner with disheveled hair and flushed cheeks, dad was too drunk to notice. But Mom, she was worried. Always worried.

  “Sadie, where have you been?” She would pat my hair down and swipe the dirt from my cheeks. “Are you all right?”

  I nodded and shied away from her touch because I didn’t like to be touched anymore. “I was at church, Mom. Helping at-risk teens who need the guidance of a good Catholic girl.”

  As expected, she smiled and reached out to me, frowning when I stepped away from her. “You’re such a good girl, Sadie Rose.”

  “Thanks, Mom. I need to go wash up for dinner.” I would flash a broad smile at Mom, and that appeased her enough to keep her off my back for the whole summer.

  As I ducked and dodged Seamus’ fists as he trained me in the back room of his favorite bar, all I thought about was revenge. Getting back at Owen and the other assholes who watched and laughed as he took something he had no right to take, those thoughts consumed me.

  “Whoa, lass, who ya fightin’?”

  It was about a month before the school year was due to start up again when Uncle Seamus finally got around to asking that question, and I still didn’t have a good answer.

  “My demons,” I told him in lieu of the truth.

  He nodded and took a swig from his leather flask befo
re holding it out to me until I took it.

  “Remember, demons prey on the weak, lass. The best way to get the better of ya demons is to hide ya strength until it’s too late. Then, ya strike.” He smacked his palm with his fist, the sound echoing in the empty cement room. “And ya strike hard.”

  I took two long drinks of the cheap whiskey, but I didn’t flinch at the harsh, bitter taste. I let the burn dig deep into my body to wash away the guilt. I accepted the burn because it fueled my anger and my desire for revenge.

  “Thanks, Uncle Seamus.”

  He smiled. “Anytime, lass. If ya need back up, I’m only a phone call away.” He kissed my sweaty forehead and sent me home. “Don’t want yer ma worryin’ too much about ya.”

  Uncle Seamus’ words stayed with me for the next few days, his words echoing in my mind whenever I thought about revenge. I cursed my proper Catholic upbringing because I had no experience with things like revenge. All I knew was that I was desperate for it.

  I needed to make Owen and the others pay.

  One day, a week before school started, a plan fell into my lap. I had just come from the shower after a long walk around the outskirts of town to clear my head, to think up a good revenge plan. I stared at the changes my body had gone through over the summer. My boobs were bigger, and most of the baby fat had been replaced with lean muscle. I was strong and more importantly, I was no longer afraid.

  Not of anyone or anything.

  And then I saw him, Owen Doyle, peeking inside my bedroom window, salivating over my naked body. My first instinct was to hide, but Seamus’ words came back to me at that moment. Demons prey on the weak. Still naked, I sauntered over to the window and opened it. “Like what you see, Owen?”