I sat frozen as he walked away. When he was far enough to prevent me attacking him, I opened my eyes. My appetite had vanished and I pushed away the tray in disgust. That son-of-a-bitch. I swore he’d get what was coming to him. Even if I had to wait until I was out of here, I’d track him down, and I’d kill him.
I picked up the tray and dumped the spoiled food in the trash before making my way back to the dorm. I was hungry again tonight.
I climbed onto my bunk and lay on my back, staring up at the ceiling. I had to remember this wasn’t my life. I had things on the outside I needed to get back to, and that was more important than my stomach right now. Yeah, I was going to end up losing weight I didn’t have, and the lack of food was weakening me, but I needed to stay mentally strong. Vee and the baby needed me on the outside, not locked up here for years because I’d lost it with some asshole C.O.
“Hey!”
A voice hissed at me from the other side of the low wall, which separated our small cubicles of four bunks, which were supposed to have given the illusion of us having rooms.
I braced myself for another attack and turned toward the voice.
“Catch.” A skinny guy who barely looked to be out of his teens threw something at me from the adjacent bunk. I’d noticed him before, mainly because he was the first guy I’d seen in here actually reading a book—a large one, at that. He wore a pair of thick rimmed, black plastic glasses which he pushed up his nose in a nervous habit.
A bag of Cheetos flew toward me and I reached up and snagged them before they hit me in the face.
“What are these for?” I asked. Suspicion was never far from my mind, and with good reason.
“I saw you didn’t get any dinner again. They messed up your breakfast, too, huh? They do that with the new guys. Like to see how far they can push you. I guess they figure when you’re starving, you’re more likely to break.”
I already was starving.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, pay me back when you start getting your commissary coming through. I know you don’t have anything yet.”
“Thanks, man. That’s good of you.”
He shrugged. “Sure. You’re Lee, right?”
“Yeah,” I confirmed. “What’s your name?”
“Edward Clayton. They call me Eddie.”
“So, what are you in here for?” I asked, striking up conversation, though I wasn’t sure why. Perhaps this was the first time someone had talked to me without a threat hidden in the words, and I wanted to hang onto that tiny bit of normalcy. The old X—the one who’d existed before meeting Vee—would never have done such a thing. Hell, he probably wouldn’t have even accepted the Cheetos, assuming there would be an agenda in the snacks. But I’d spent too much time in Vee’s company, and had learned what it was like to be around people who didn’t hate each other, or want each other dead. I guess a part of her had rubbed off on me.
“We don’t ask each other that, dude. Anyway, I’m innocent.”
“Yeah? Me, too.”
He chuckled. “We all are in here, dude. Whole bunch of freaking choir boys.”
I figured it wasn’t worth trying to argue that I actually was innocent—at least of the crime for which I’d been charged. Clearly, I wasn’t innocent of much else. I was a killer, after all. I should probably have been put behind bars years ago, but I would have accepted my situation if I’d been jailed for a crime I had committed.
I lifted the bag of Cheetos at him. “Thanks for these. I appreciate it.”
“No problem,” he said, before lying back down on his bunk.
I tore open the bag and scooped out the brightly colored puffs, shoving them into my mouth until I was covered in an orange dust and my stomach was finally full.
Chapter Eight
X
I was out in the yard, enjoying the late fall sun warming my shoulders as I worked up a sweat with the mower on the lawns. It was a push mower when a riding mower would have been more realistic for a lawn of this size. I guessed the powers that be must have assumed we’d try to use a ride-on mower as a getaway vehicle, perhaps, or else to run one of our fellow prisoners down if they looked at us the wrong way. I was never going to be someone who became institutionalized to jail—preferring life inside to that on the outside—but in moments like this, where I was left alone and was in the fresh air rather than cooped up inside with a dozen or more angry men, I felt at peace with my situation.
I spotted a couple of the guards doing the rounds, watching those of us working to make sure we weren’t slacking off on the job. One of them was Damps, and he caught my gaze, his eyes narrowing at me in response. I didn’t know why the guy had taken a disliking to me. I longed to tell him what my profession had been on the outside, just whisper it in his ear as he passed by, but even if I did, it probably wouldn’t faze him. There were plenty of killers in here. Men like him thought they were untouchable.
A loud buzzer sounded, signaling the end of my shift. I switched off the mower and bent to unhook the grass catcher from the back. It would need to be emptied into the compost, which was then used to grow some fruit and vegetables used in the kitchen to improve the facility’s meals. It was a small step toward better living, but at least it was a step.
Something slammed into my back, pitching me forward. I tried to keep my balance, not wanting the vulnerability of landing on the ground, but gravity was unkind to me. I hit the ground, dust and dirt skidding beneath my hands and feet. I knew I couldn’t stay down long, so quickly twisted, managing to half get to my feet.
My old cellmate and two of his skinhead friends, Clark and Shawn, surrounded me. Shawn was easily recognizable by the twin tears he had tattooed falling from both eyes, and Clark sported full body tattoos that went right up to his neck. I only caught a glimpse of their faces, filled with amusement, before one of their boots caught me in the gut. The air whooshed from my lungs and pain burst through my stomach. I couldn’t help myself and doubled over, even though I knew it was the worst thing to do. The movement brought my face down to foot level, and a second boot lashed out and caught me in the jaw. Something cracked, a back tooth dislodging from the socket. I staggered back, but managed to remain on my feet.
With a roar, keeping my head down, I rushed at Callum. I hit him like an offensive lineman in a football game, slamming my shoulder into his solar plexus, my momentum throwing him backward. He probably had forty pounds on me, but he was also used to prison life and was mean with it. I’d killed plenty, but it was normally done from the end of a gun, no muss, no fuss. The last thing I wanted was to have to kill in here—it would be the end of getting out to be with Vee—but if it was that or lose my own life, I was taking these sons of bitches down.
A hand on my shoulder grabbed me and pulled me back around. I ducked and swept out a foot, taking the guy behind me, Shawn, off his feet. The third guy, Clark, glared at me and lunged, but I twisted again, so my back was to him, and drove my elbow up and back, catching him in the throat. He fell, sucking in air with a wheeze, his hands clutching his throat.
When was someone going to notice? Surely the guards wouldn’t allow this to continue?
Callum had righted himself and came at me again. The thought that one of them would have a homemade shank concerned me. I could handle a beating, but finding my guts on the outside of my body would have been harder to come back from. Callum threw a punch, which I managed to duck, but then the guy whose feet I’d taken out from beneath him, Shawn, landed a punch directly in my lower back. Pain shot through me, and my legs weakened, my knees buckling, dropping me to the ground. Fuck. What was the point? I was never going to win this fight. My face throbbed from where I’d been kicked, and my body would be covered in bruises.
Callum got another hit in, and this time I didn’t defend myself.
“Hey!”
The shout came from a distance away. A whistle was blown.
Thank God, the guards had finally intervened.
The men attackin
g me stepped back and swiftly turned away, hands in pockets, heads down, though they must have been seen and easily identified.
Hands reached down and helped me to my feet. I spat a glob of blood, tonguing my now loose tooth. Would it set again? I was sure I’d heard that sometimes teeth would firm up again after a knock.
“You okay, there?” a male voice asked.
Something inside me knotted as I realized one of the C.O.s was Damps. “Yeah, I’m fine. No harm done.”
“Nah, that looks like a bad hit you took,” Damps continued. “Your jaw is going to be black and blue. We’d better get you to medical and make sure there’s no fracture.”
Why was he being nice to me? I didn’t trust him for a second.
“I’m fine,” I said again, though even the movement of forming the words caused pain to lance through my face, making my eyes water.
But a hand on my back, not far from where I’d been hit in my lower spine, propelled me forward. I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t go against these men. I didn’t want a big deal made, and would have preferred to be allowed to go to the bathroom to nurse my wounds alone, but it didn’t look like that was going to happen.
“Come on. We wouldn’t be doing our jobs unless we got you checked out.”
“What about the other guys?” I asked. “What’s going to happen to them?”
“Oh, don’t worry. We’ll make sure they’re taken care of.”
“I don’t want a big deal made out of it.”
“Ah, but it’s not about what you want. You’re in my territory now, remember?”
I didn’t have any choice. I couldn’t fight everyone—doing so would only get my ass put in the box. While the thought of getting away from all these dim-witted pricks appealed to me, it would also limit access to visitors, and I didn’t want to miss Vee if she came. I knew she’d put in a visiting order, so she must have plans to come. I wanted to see her, but I didn’t want to think about how she would feel if she came to see me only to find I’d been put in solitary confinement. She’d been through enough stress and didn’t need to deal with that as well.
I lifted my fingers to my jaw and winced as I touched the spot where I’d been kicked. It wasn’t going to look pretty. Hopefully, these officers would take me to medical so I could get an ice pack on it.
“Come through to the office,” said Damps. “We’ll write up a report.”
“I don’t want to give a report,” I growled.
“And I said I don’t care what you want. This is me doing my job.”
I clenched my fists and kept my head down, following Damps into the building and down the corridor to where the offices were. I felt the eyes of the other inmates on me as we passed. This would make me look bad, and I didn’t need the extra attention. I didn’t think Damps was doing this to do his job for a second. No, this was his way of making sure I was in a bad light with the other inmates, segregating me further.
He let me into the office and one of the other C.O.s followed, shutting the door behind us.
“Take a seat,” said Damps, motioning to the chair on this side of the desk. My back throbbed from where I’d been kicked, and though I didn’t like doing what he said, I sank down into the unforgiving, molded plastic.
He took the chair on the opposite side of the desk then pulled out a pad of forms. “So, then, you gonna tell me who did this to you?”
I narrowed my eyes. “You were there. You saw it. I don’t have to give names.”
“I don’t know what you mean. I didn’t see anything.”
“Yeah, you did. You came running over just as they ran off.”
He tilted his head, as though I’d said something interesting. “You said ‘they,’ so it was more than one?”
Why the fuck was he doing this? There was only one reason I could see, and that was to cause more trouble for me.
“Give me their names.”
I shook my head. “I didn’t see who it was.”
“Bullshit.”
“I didn’t. I was on the ground. I didn’t see a thing.”
Both of my hands were resting on the table. Before I knew what was happening, Damps lifted the pen he was holding and plunged it into the back of my hand. I let out a roar of pain, my hand frozen in place, the pen protruding from the back of it. I gritted my teeth, not wanting to give him the pleasure of hearing any more of my pain.
“You fucking son-of-a-bitch.”
“What was that? Are you attempting to assault an officer?”
“What—?” His comment baffled me.
But he nodded to the C.O. behind me, who stepped forward and kicked the chair legs out from under me. I crashed to the floor, the pen still protruding from the back of my hand. The chair slid across the floor, and the other C.O. bent down and picked it up. With a flash of malice in his eyes, holding the chair by the legs, he lifted it and then brought it crashing down on my upper back.
I let out an involuntary cry, hating the sound coming from my mouth. It sounded weak and hurt, and not like me at all. I lifted my arm to try to protect myself from a second blow, though I knew it would probably result in a broken bone, but none came.
“Get up, and go back to your dorm,” snapped Damps. “I don’t want any more trouble from you or you’ll end up in the box.”
I figured pointing out that I wasn’t the one who’d been causing trouble wasn’t going to do me any favors. I also figured asking to go to see a medic probably wasn’t going to get me anything other than laughed at. I kept my mouth shut. I’d tend to my wounds myself. It wasn’t as though I hadn’t suffered worse on the outside.
Chapter Nine
V
Each morning, I checked the mail for my visiting order, but each day I was disappointed. I started to think someone was messing around with it. X, as a remanded prisoner, should have been allowed extra visiting rights to someone who’d already been convicted, and I couldn’t help feeling like problems were deliberately being put in our way.
I called the lawyer, Joseph, and told him my concerns.
“I’ll get on it,” he said. “It’s his right that he’s allowed visitors, and you should have been allowed to see him by now. I’ll make some calls and hurry things along.”
“Thank you,” I said, before hanging up. I hoped someone wasn’t causing X trouble inside.
The buzzer to the gates of the house sounded and I checked the cameras. Dylan Ferrera was back. I noted how this time he’d chosen to use the intercom rather than letting himself in.
I wasn’t sure what his attitude would be toward me after last time. A part of me braced myself for any repercussions for shooting Vincent. Dylan could easily have called some friends together and come to the house for payback. But perhaps Dylan hadn’t been so friendly with Vincent after all. Maybe he figured I’d done him a favor.
I hit the button to open the gates, and in less than a minute, Dylan was walking through the front door and straight into my father’s office. He stopped beside the desk and turned to face me, his butt resting upon the edge, his arms folded across his chest, his head tilted to one side as he regarded me.
“Hello, Dylan. I hope you have some news for me.”
His lips twisted. “You know, Verity, it doesn’t seem right, you girls being here all by yourselves. You need a man to take care of you.”
I cocked my eyebrows. “Do you seriously think that?”
“Hey, I know you can handle yourself.” He pushed himself away from the desk and stepped in closer to me. “I’m talking about other things a girl can’t get on her own. Who’s keeping you warm at night?”
“I’m plenty warm, thanks. I don’t need a man for anything.”
Dylan was a good looking guy, but I wasn’t interested. It wasn’t just about X, though of course that was the main reason. I also knew that I needed to keep him down. If he thought he had a chance with me, I’d just be another broad to fuck and ignore. I needed to elevate myself higher than that.
“I’m sure that i
sn’t true. Everyone’s got their needs.”
“Now, now, Dylan,” I said, keeping my voice sweet. “Don’t make me shoot you, too.”
He froze at that. “You’re a crazy bitch.”
“You know who my father is. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
At the mention of my father, the flirty attitude vanished. “Have you heard from him yet? I tried his cell, but it was switched off.”
I shook my head. “No, but I wasn’t expecting to. I told you, he’s left everything in my hands. I was expecting him to be away for a while.”
“Why didn’t he discuss any of this with me?”
“Maybe he doesn’t trust you as much as you thought.”
“But he’d trust the daughter who was going to rat on him?” he snapped back.
I smiled sweetly. “Dylan, has it ever occurred to you that it was all bullshit, and something else entirely was going on? Maybe my father ‘forgave’ me because there was nothing to forgive.”
The expression on his face faltered. “That’s not what happened.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“He would have told me.”
“Perhaps he thought you might try to undermine him.”
“What? On this deal he’s doing now? The one he’s going to be away for an indeterminate amount of time for?”
His tone was still sarcastic, but I could hear the doubt creeping in. Dylan didn’t want to believe me, but a part of him thought it was a real possibility.
“It’s a massive deal, one that could put him right on top, not just of New York, but of the United States. It’s going to take time, and the last thing he needs is you men constantly trying to contact him, flapping around like a load of old women who can’t handle anything by themselves.”
A twitch in his cheek, eyes narrowed. “I can handle things.”
“Yeah? Then start acting like it.”
He glared at me, and for a moment my heart stuttered, wondering what he was going to do, and if I’d underestimated him, but then his expression relaxed. This was a man who preferred to be taking the orders rather than making them, however tough he might be, and he obviously decided it was easier to wait for my father’s return than try to take me on, and deal with the consequences.
Judged (The Mercenary Series Book 4) Page 5
