Anyway, his carefully conceived plans called for a woman and one he could trust all the way. Tony Poirier had lauded the praises of his voluptuous young wife the entire length of time that they'd shared a cell, long enough and with sufficient enthusiasm to lead Shannon to believe that she might be just the accomplice he was looking for… if he could enlist her help. He'd told Tony nothing of his intentions, simply picked his brains until he was satisfied that he knew Madeleine Poirier as well as did the young husband, himself, even to every inch of the soft, white flesh of her delicious body… and this was why he hadn't wasted any time sating his immediate carnal desires. He'd managed to survive for five years and another day or so wasn't beyond his realm of endurance; besides, from the small picture that Tony kept of her on the wall above his bunk, plus the untold hours he had listened dry-mouthed with his prick anvil-hard and throbbing painfully while the Frenchman expounded on her sexual charms and abilities, he was convinced it was going to be worth the extra short abstinence.

Of course, there were still questions he had no way of knowing the answers to, yet; questions like: how much had she changed since Tony'd been sent to prison? Did she still love him? What was she doing; how was she getting along? Could she really be trusted… and was he going to have to rape her, or would she fuck willingly? Because he damned sure intended to have her, one way or the other.

He'd formed a few ideas of his own and based them on the fact that her letters to her husband had fallen off to one every two or three weeks, and dropped from six and seven pages to one… it all added up to one thing, little Madeleine had had it with her Tony. New things were in the wind for her, which might well play right into his hand. Besides, he still had his main ace-in-the-hole… her kid, and this was what he was counting on to swing things his way.