Stealing Candy Read online

  ZANE PRESENTS

  STEALING

  CANDY

  ALSO BY ALLISON HOBBS

  The Sorceress

  Pure Paradise

  Disciplined

  One Taste

  Big Juicy Lips

  The Climax

  A Bona Fide Gold Digger

  The Enchantress

  Double Dippin’

  Dangerously In Love

  Insatiable

  Pandora’s Box

  ZANE PRESENTS

  STEALING

  CANDY

  ALLISON

  HOBBS

  Strebor Books

  P.O. Box 6505

  Largo, MD 20792

  http://www.streborbooks.com

  www.SimonandSchuster.com

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  © 2010 by Allison Hobbs

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means whatsoever. For information address Strebor Books, P.O. Box 6505, Largo, MD 20792.

  ISBN 978-1-59309-280-1

  LCCN 2010925102

  eISBN 978-1-4391-6911-7

  First Strebor Books trade paperback edition July 2010

  Cover design: www.mariondesigns.com

  Cover photograph: © Keith Saunders/Marion Designs

  1 0 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  For information regarding special discounts for bulk purchases, please contact Simon & Schuster Special Sales at 1-866-506-1949 or [email protected]

  The Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau can bring authors to your live event. For more information or to book an event, contact the Simon & Schuster Speakers Bureau at 1-866-248-3049 or visit our website at www.simonspeakers.com.

  This book is for Keenan Hobbs

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  To all my readers, I am honored to present you with this novel… lucky Number 13!

  Keith Saunders of Marion Designs, I thank you for another sensual, beautiful, and eye-catching cover.

  Deb Schuler, I appreciate having your interior design inside each of my novels.

  Leona Romich, thanks for all the wonderful reviews. I was so touched when I found out that you buy my books without even reading the back cover.

  Kyndal Hobbs, my precious daughter…I am so proud of you.

  Denise Doward, Sister/Friend, so glad we’ve reconnected. You are a class act.

  Sonia Wells, thoughtful and kind. Thank you for always looking out.

  Charmaine Parker, your showing up at my Pure Paradise release party last summer was a big surprise. Spending the weekend in New York with you and Zane was so much fun.

  Karen Dempsey Hammond, forty years of friendship…Do I need to say more?

  Zane, I think we got one! I am so pleased with this novel. Thank you for sprinkling your magic on the pages!

  CHAPTER 1

  As quietly as she could, Gianna unlocked two rusted deadbolts and slipped out the back door.

  She took in the surroundings. Empty soda cans, beer bottles, cellophane wrappers, and other miscellaneous debris cluttered the yard.

  Four cinder blocks were stacked against a crumbling redbrick exterior wall. The cinder blocks were covered with a grease-tarnished oven rack—a crude, homemade barbecue grill where her meals had been prepared.

  The aftertaste of her captor’s secretions, intermingled with the flavor of charred chicken, lingered on her tongue. The bitter taste in her mouth, the bruised skin around her eye, and the welts on her legs were cruel reminders of what she’d endured.

  As if she’d been oxygen-deprived, Gianna breathed in deeply. The air she gulped in was polluted by smells of poverty: rotting garbage, smoldering charcoal, burning bits of meat, and the stench of urine that wafted from alleyways.

  Ordinarily, these rancid odors would have repelled her, but not now. She took another deep breath of sour air and smiled. Though putrid, the air she inhaled represented sweet freedom.

  A stray cat shot across the litter-strewn yard, startling Gianna. That moment of fear was a reminder that there was no time to bask in her freedom. Her life was at stake.

  She trotted quickly down a gravelly backstreet. The concrete was disfigured by cracks, and numerous crater-like potholes.

  She looked around as she moved forward. Where was she? Still in Jersey? No. While she was blindfolded, she’d heard that man named Jimmy asking Bullet if he had money to pay the tolls.

  She could be anywhere: New York; Delaware; Pennsylvania. Only God knew. She’d only seen dilapidated neighborhoods such as this one in the movies or on TV.

  There weren’t any people in sight. Only boarded-up houses that were scarcely protected by rusted metal gates.

  Gianna wasn’t fooled by the desolate environment. Like the house where she’d been held hostage, these seemingly abandoned houses were probably occupied by unsavory characters, engaging in all manners of heinous crimes.

  A shiver of fear encouraged her to increase her speed, but running in four-inch wedge sandals and a skimpy, tight skirt wasn’t easy. Desperate to put distance between her and the house of torture, she hitched up the restrictive skirt.

  With the tight fabric encircling her waist, her naked, brown backside and semen-slimed pubic hair were displayed.

  No time for modesty. Pressing onward at full speed, she rounded a corner, sprinting past messy yards and vacant storefronts. Her frantic eyes sought law-abiding citizens. Adults who would be outraged when they found out what that grown man named Bullet had done to her.

  Someone had to help her contact her parents.

  Every few seconds, she looked over her shoulder.

  Had he discovered she was gone? She swallowed down a hard knot of fear. Bullet had threatened to cut up her face…disfigure her for life if she tried to escape.

  It seemed like she’d been running up and down narrow back-streets for at least a half-mile, and she hadn’t encountered a single soul. Jerking her head backward, she anxiously looked over her shoulder once again.

  Bullet wasn’t pursuing her. Her ordeal was almost over. Immense relief washed over her. She was safe. Free!

  But where was she? And how long had she been gone? A week? Gianna had no idea. It was the last Saturday in May when she’d been brought to the abandoned house, bound and blindfolded. What day was it now?

  She slowed her pace, looking for a street sign…a landmark… something that would reveal her location. From the looks of the ramshackle houses and decaying streets, she might as well have been in a war-torn country or on another planet.

  She felt like she was a million miles away from her family’s well-tended beach house. Light years away from her parents’ love.

  The neighborhood was a desolate place. House after forsaken house declared itself unoccupied by the boards that covered the windows. Some windows were without boards, gapped open like wide mouths screaming in anguish.

  She pressed forward, searching for a populated street. She yearned to hear the roar of heavy traffic…the sight of a police car.

  Continuing her trek, she rounded another corner. A trio of boys were at the end of what appeared to be another deserted block. Though their backs were turned to her, she could tell they were teenagers.

  Their style of clothes, the way they moved, the sound of their voices, told her that they were close to her age. Thank you, God!

  Certain she’d found salvation, tears of gratitude formed as she dashed toward the boys. Trying to look as presentable as possible, she pulled her skirt from around her waist, tugging on it unti
l it covered her bare behind.

  “Hello!” She waved and trotted toward them. “Hello! I need help! Please!”

  The boys spun around and regarded her with annoyed expressions. The shortest member of the group reached toward the waistband of his jeans, exposing the butt of a gun.

  “Yo, shawty, don’t be creeping up on us like that. You tryna get yourself shot?” His voice was gruff.

  “Excuse me. I really need help,” she said, using a placating tone. These weren’t ordinary teenagers. They were street tough and mean-looking.

  She cleared her throat and spoke in a polite voice. “Would you mind telling me where I am? And um…today’s date?”

  Looking for a trace of kindness, she searched the boys’ faces. She was met with pairs of eyes that took in her torn top and short, tight skirt. Eyes that were alit with vulgar desires.

  “You don’t know where you are? What you been smoking? Must have been some of that bubonic chronic,” a taller boy jeered.

  She was prepared to explain her circumstances—how she’d been abducted, beaten, and molested—but decided not to. Instincts told her that these hardened teens didn’t care.

  The third boy, who was wearing beige cargo pants, scowled at her. “You in Killadelphia, dummy!”

  “Where?” she asked meekly. “Killa…where?”

  “You retarded or something? You in Philly. Damn!” Cargo Pants spat, offended by her ignorance.

  “Philadelphia, Pennsylvania?” Gianna began turning in a complete circle, big brown eyes panning the impoverished area as if the Liberty Bell might pop up and validate the boy’s claim.

  Philadelphia was only about two and a half hours from the beach house in New Jersey.

  “Yo, I got something that’ll bring you back down to earth,” Cargo Pants said with a chortle. Studying Gianna while wearing a leering grin, he rubbed his groin.

  “Take a walk with me to the crib…” He nodded over at one of the boarded-up houses. “It’ll only take a few minutes for me to bring you back down to earth.”

  She took a faltering step backward.

  “Ah, you tellin’ on yourself, man,” the short boy accused with a snort. “You ain’t nothing but a two-minute trick!”

  “Nah, it ain’t even like that. I can stroke for hours, but I ain’t got time to knock that back out the way I usually do. I’m on my grind, yo. Hustle hard or starve…y’ah mean?”

  “Man, you know it’s dead out here. Go ’head and smash that real quick,” the short boy suggested.

  “’Spose D’wan come through?”

  “Man, fuck D’wan. I know he’s your uncle and everything, but making us work this dry-ass block is messed up.”

  “You right. Ain’t no money out here. So…um, you gon’ cover for me or what?”

  “Yeah. If D’wan rolls up, I’ll tell him you had to go take a leak or something. But don’t try to impress shawty. Ten minutes is all you got. I’ma take my turn with shawty after you finish.”

  “What? Y’all just gon’ leave me out?” Hazel Eyes appraised Gianna. “She all jacked-up with that swollen eye, but I still wanna chop it down,” he said, scowling. “But I ain’t tryna be at the end of no damn train. It’s not going down like that.”

  “Yo, Money, you gotta get in where you fit in,” the short boy asserted.

  “You don’t get no special treatment.”

  Hazel Eyes made a grunting sound of disagreement. “Why don’t you let shawty decide who she wants to hit it first,” he said with confidence. “Y’all know the deal. Once I stretch her out, she gon’ be too loose for both of y’all lil’-dick niggas.”

  Gianna was appalled by the crude verbal exchanges. Like Bullet, these boys regarded her as nothing more than an inanimate object. Glancing around, she was ready to make a run for it. Then her eyes locked on a cell phone that was sticking out of Hazel Eyes’ pocket.

  It was a thrilling sight. Now jubilant, she disregarded his vile intentions. “May I borrow your phone? I have to call the police.”

  Hazel Eyes gawked at her and then at his boys. “Shawty got jokes…tryna use my phone to call po-po.”

  “I was kidnapped.” She took a breath. “And raped,” she admitted. Shame caused her voice to crack.

  “I’m not getting involved in no rape case,” Hazel Eyes spewed. His two cohorts erupted in spiteful laughter.

  CHAPTER 2

  The approaching sound of feet slapping pavement cut off their taunting laughter. Gianna and the three youths whirled around in surprise.

  Bullet! He was wearing only a loose pair of nylon shorts, and was barefoot and racing toward her. The muscles on his arms and his bare chest glistened with water beads. His curls were topped with the white lather from shampoo, while a stream of sudsy water trickled down his face.

  Gianna screamed.

  The short boy reflexively reached for his weapon.

  “Whoa, whoa. Go easy, young bull,” Bullet placated, slowing his approach.

  Keeping a safe distance from the boy with the gun, Bullet held up both hands. “I ain’t got no beef with y’all. But that lil’ ho robbed me.”

  Shielding herself from Bullet, Gianna tried to hide behind the three drug boys. She clutched the back of Hazel Eyes’ shirt. “He’s lying,” she murmured. Her breath came out in terrified, shaky gasps.

  “Get off me!” Hazel Eyes yanked away from her clingy grasp.

  “Put your piece away before you end up with a body,” Bullet said to the short boy. “I know you don’t wanna do no long time over that skank ho.”

  He fixed a surly gaze on Gianna. His face was slick with sudsy water and sweat.

  Following Bullet’s suggestion, the short boy returned the gun to his waistband, but kept his hand resting on the butt.

  It was a small victory; Bullet cracked a smile. He ran a hand through soapy curls, a gesture Gianna recognized as a precursor to a big lie. “Do y’all really think I’d jump out the shower and chase down this hooker for the fun of it? If y’all don’t believe me, search her,” Bullet recommended. “She got at least five hunnit-dollar bills rolled up and stashed inside her pussy.”

  Snarling, the boys turned on Gianna like she was raw meat.

  Hazel Eyes grabbed Gianna by the waist with one hand. Quick as a snake, he thrust his other hand up her skirt, his fingers scratching and poking at the tender lips of her vagina.

  Wanting the money for themselves, Cargo Pants and the short boy double-teamed Hazel Eyes, delivering vicious jabs and brutal blows to his face.

  The squealing tires of a gold Escalade brought the action to a halt. Hazel Eyes loosened his grip on Gianna as the tinted window of the driver’s side slid down. The driver glared at the young thugs.

  “Whassup, D’wan?” the short boy mumbled sheepishly as he fixed his clothes.

  “What y’all doing? I know y’all dumb asses ain’t out here bullshitting. I saw y’all scuffling with each other…not even making an effort to get money.”

  “We was on it, but this block is dead,” Cargo Pants explained, his palm sliding across his face, checking for bruises and lumps from the sudden fracas with his partners.

  “Why y’all out here swinging on each other, instead of being about my business?”

  Bullet stepped forward. “Yo, Dawg, I can explain…”

  The driver frowned up at Bullet like he stank. “Who the fuck is you?”

  His manhood challenged, Bullet flinched. Holding his temper in check, he wisely clammed up.

  “I swear…y’all worthless-ass Negroes about to be flippin’ burgers again. Get the fuck in the truck,” he ordered the trio.

  The boys mumbled apologies and began moving toward the Escalade. Gianna scurried to the back of the SUV. Getting her bearings, trying to figure out which way to run, she gripped the bumper.

  She could tell that Bullet had respect for the hustler named D’wan. He wouldn’t tussle with her while she held on to the man’s shiny Escalade.

  “I’ma fuck you up, bitch,” Bullet roared,
stomping toward the back of the SUV.

  The Escalade moved forward and Gianna lost her grip. The truck made a wide U-turn, leaving Gianna exposed and vulnerable.

  He stalked toward her, frowning. “I see that I’ma have to teach you a lesson, ho.” His threat was spoken through lips tightly twisted to contain an explosion of rage.

  “I got something for yo’ ass when we get back home.”

  Home? I don’t live in that nasty dump!

  She couldn’t endure any more of his lessons. Arms flailing, she ran aimlessly, the soles of her sandals pounding loudly against bumpy concrete.

  Within seconds, the Escalade roared past her. Hoping the driver might rescue her from Bullet, she waved her arms in the air, trying to flag the driver down. The Escalade didn’t slow down.

  One narrow backstreet led to another. Weren’t there any streets populated with something other than stray cats and buzzing insects?

  Finally, she caught sight of two men who were sitting outside a vacant garage, sharing a bottle of beer.

  The fading red script on a hanging sign read: Lou’s Auto Body Shop. Skeletal remains of ancient cars were scattered about. The scene evoked sorrow and loss. The metal frames of the old cars seemed to plead for a proper burial.

  “There’s a man chasing me. He’s gonna kill me,” Gianna breathlessly told the men.

  Both men, thin as rails and obviously intoxicated, looked at her through dull, bloodshot eyes. They looked too frail to protect her from Bullet.

  Frantic thoughts raced through her mind. She needed to get to a phone. “Do you have a phone? I have an important call to make.”

  “You say you want a lil’ taste?” Befuddled, one of the men extended his arm, offering Gianna the beer bottle.

  This was a waste of time. These men were too drunk to understand the gravity of her situation.

  Gianna resumed running. Every few seconds, she risked a glance over her shoulder. Thankfully, Bullet was nowhere in sight. Pumping her legs, she fled down another bleak block.

  Then, like a mirage appearing in the desert, she happened upon a busy street.