Page 335 of Sinfully Savage Mafia

Officer Johnson brings us into a room and takes a device out of one of the drawers of the desk. “This is a chip reader,” he explains. “So it’ll tell us all of the information we need to locate her owners.”

I nod, and what feels like a watermelon-sized lump forms in my throat. I can’t even squeak out a response.

Officer Johnson holds the reader out to the top of her neck and presses a button. His brows furrow and he holds it over each of her hind legs.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

He keeps clicking the damn thing.

How many chips are there, for Christ’s sake?

“That’s strange,” he murmurs, trying the underside of her belly.

“What?” I rasp, clearing my throat.

“Well, the reader isn’t registering anything,” he says. “I’ve checked her out from head to toe and I can’t find a chip anywhere.”

My heart hammers in my chest. “Wait…so what does that mean?” I ask.

He shrugs. “It means I can’t locate her owner. There’s one other thing I can look at, though,” he says, his fingers flying over the keyboard sitting on top of the desk. He frowns at the screen, scrolling through whatever appears in front of him.

The silence is deafening and finally, I have to ask. “Is there anything in the system?”

Roman squeezes my shoulder and my heart damn near stops beating as we wait for his answer.

He finally looks away from the screen and throws his hands in the air. “I can’t find a single thing about this dog.”

My eyes widen. “So, wait, what happens to her, then?”

Officer Johnson grins at me. “Well, are you volunteering to adopt her?”

I almost jump out of my chair. “Are you serious?” I squeak, tears pooling in my eyes yet again.

“I certainly am. You’ll have to fill out some paperwork, but since we don’t have any record of her, she can be yours if you want her.”

I squeeze her tight, burying my head in her glossy fur. “Did you hear that, baby? You’re coming home with us.”

Bella’s big eyes open even wider as she goes to town, attacking me with her tongue. I giggle-sniffle as she laps up my tears.

The first happy ones I’ve cried today.

* * *

A chill shuttles through me as I walk down a long hallway of white cinderblocks. My sneakers squeak on the shiny tile floor, the sound reverberating between the walls in the stark space. The guard leading me toward the prison visiting room unlocks the steel gate at the end of the corridor, pulling it open. He points toward a doorway.

“Take a seat at the glass and pick up the phone to talk,” he says in a no-nonsense tone that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

I nod and take a few tentative steps into the room. A few others are there, chatting in hushed tones to the inmates whom they are visiting. I walk toward the stool at the far end of the row and sink onto the cold plastic stool as I wait for Papa to appear. I stick my thumbnail into my mouth and nibble it, my eyes darting left and right. There are multiple guards standing around the perimeter of the visitor room and even more guarding the prisoners on the other side of the glass.

Finally, Papa is led over to me by a guard who unlocks his handcuffs so he can pick up the phone. His appearance makes my heart ache. His eyes are heavy with dark circles underneath them. His skin is ashen and worn with deep wrinkles covering areas where only a few small lines took up residence before. His hair is graying, his body so much thinner.

I clap a hand over my mouth to prevent the whimper from escaping my lips.

I need to get a hold of myself, for fuck’s sake.

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