by M. C. Cerny
“I can’t believe those gang-bangers are using women to transport drugs and establish the trade routes between southern Texas and Mexico.”
“You seem surprised. Don’t forget those females are full-fledged gang members,” I reminded my boss. They could be pretty, and according to our best profilers pretty deadly. They seemed to recruit the ones most likely to carve out your heart with an audience just for fun.
“Obviously, Cohen. I just hate the idea of sending you and Maris in so soon. The last job–well, you know.”
I didn’t need to be reminded. We had been ordered by the psychologist to take time off after losing one of our team members in a gang related street shooting. Unable to let it go, Maris and I decided to jump back in. Work was the best therapy for us. We’d barely used the vacation time we had coming anyway. A few days on a beach somewhere sounded nice, but we were driven to bring Hector’s gang down for good.
“We needed an in, but this was more than I think we bargained for, given the opportunity.” After all the red tape had been cut, explored and cross-examined, my partner and I had been given permission to go undercover, and my boss, James DeLuca, came back with reservations. I swore the timing was equal parts bullshit and bureaucratic red tape.
“And now we have one.” I smiled sardonically.
James snickered meeting my gaze. “Never pictured you as a warden, Cohen Shepard.”
“Yeah well, tell that to Maris who is going in for prostitution and distribution.” I thought about my undercover partner, Maris Ramos, curvy, dark hair, and big brown eyes that reminded me of sweet chocolate until she got riled up. Maris was capable of hitting back as hard as any of our male agents. She could take care of herself, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t concerned when she was going to be inside the prison without backup or a weapon to protect herself. I wasn’t a chauvinist; I was being realistic. Homemade shanks could kill and I couldn’t back her up the way I wanted to for my own peace of mind.
Prison was still prison.
And those women on the inside… let’s just say I wouldn’t exactly call them ladies or innocent.
James walked around the office picking up framed knick-knacks and books from the shelves. “Well, it’s a tradeoff. Remember your last big sting.”
How could I forget… my last undercover job before the shooting was in an all-male review show. I was comfortable with my sexuality, but I learned a few things about crazy, cock-hungry women as well as how to dance my ass off. Another man might have been embarrassed, but after everyone you’ve worked with has gotten an eyeful of your nine-inch dick bouncing to the rhythm of the music in a g-string barely holding up, you’ve got no shame left. I earned my bonus after busting up that illegal steroid ring. How bad could working in a women’s prison be? I didn’t plan on being alone with any of the women, so I was pretty sure my cock was safe. It was Maris I worried about despite her enthusiasm to jump in.
***
My first week at Colby Meyers Correctional Institution was mostly observational. It was obvious that Evangelina Corazon was the leader of the Red Tribe, but so far, she’d kept her nose clean and used her network of minions to carry out her dirty work. It was frustrating that I had no reason to pull her into my office for questioning that wouldn’t tip her off. The plan was for Maris to commit minor infractions in order to meet with me under the guise of her being in trouble. Her job was to investigate the pecking order around here and get intel on the Red Tribe once she arrived on the inmate prison van from the county lockup.
I took to walking up and down the aisle of the lunchroom, letting my presence be known. Since my arrival, there had been a few shake-ups, fights, and one stabbing that required an infirmary visit and stitches for a female inmate. It was gruesome, possibly more than a men’s prison, which said a lot. The manipulation was different, and I was sure a few of the guards were in on the schemes at the prison. One woman was pregnant but I couldn’t be sure which male guard was responsible. No one was exactly forthcoming in claiming the baby.
Today a mini van carrying six new inmates arrived, one of whom was my partner, undercover now that I’d been established as the new warden. Their files sat on my desk next to more bureaucratic red tape than I thought possible. I worked for the government drug and gang division so this was nothing new. Might as well give me three separate memos from different bosses asking the same damn question in triplicate–shamefully our tax dollars at work.
Three of the women were coming in for a mix of drug offenses, dealing and using. One was in for armed robbery and grand theft auto, helping her boyfriend lift a car. One had been picked up for prostitution which would be Maris’ cover. Her file also said she pimped out girls and then beat them when she felt cheated, according to the file littered with aggravated assault charges–something the Tribe would look to recruit. The last one ambiguous. She killed her supposed lover.
I took a moment to review her file thoroughly. Only nineteen, practically a baby to be in a place like this. Her conviction also made her a perfect recruit for the Red Tribe. They preferred to take women under their wing with serious or violent charges. I had to meet her and figure out if there was a way to take advantage of the possibility she would be initiated into the group. The big bosses had given me some leeway, and I could offer immunity and sentence reduction for cooperation if I thought the info we were getting would be good enough to get the lead to the big fish.
The new girls arrived that morning, and by the time they were processed, it was lunch. I was in a meeting with the corrections board, so the guards brought them through processing. It wasn’t until later that I got down there to see them lined up for a tray of food, if you could call the shit they served food. Today’s meal happened to be some kind of meat patty and a bunch of soggy vegetables that were more yellow than green. Red Jell-O and a container of milk rounded out the nutritional requirements, but I wouldn’t feed this shit to a dog let alone human beings.
As the warden, I would have to review those nutritional guidelines at some point in the shuffle of paperwork and bullshit between the disciplinary hearings. Standing against the wall, several of the guards and inmates acknowledged me by nodding their heads. A few women winked inappropriately, and I ignored their forward behavior. Crossing my arms over the monkey suit I was forced to wear, my jacket strained under the involuntary flex of my arms. Later I would have to address the inmates in a house meeting, establish my dominance, and get to work uncovering the gang activity.
I watched and waited, feeling the air buzz and crackle with tension. A table of women snickered and made comments toward one of the new girls. Five of them, including Maris, ate their lunches, inspecting each item while one stared blankly at her tray. The food remained untouched, and her skin paled under the fluorescent lights. She was fair skinned with a caramel hue that suggested Latina blood flowed in her veins. Her reddish brown hair looked natural with highlights while her hazel eyes suggested mixed heritage somewhere in her family tree.
She was—in a word—stunning. It was easy to tell she wasn’t one of the girls in for drug possession and use. Clear healthy skin made her stick out in the crowd. She wasn’t pregnant like her table mate at the end, and she was too soft looking for the hard life of prostitution. That left manslaughter, and I shuddered to think of her baby face having the hardness or her having the brute strength to whack a man thirty times with a tire-iron with her skinny arms.
I left the cafeteria more curious than before intending to meet with the new girls as soon as I could. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Maris slip into her role, pushing the new girl’s tray clear off the table to the floor in a splattering mess of disgusting food. I guessed I’d also be seeing Maris sooner rather than later for one of those disciplinary hearings…
Three
Nene
“What the hell?” I had just finished pushing my food around the tray, thinking I would rather starve when it launched off the table, skidding across the linoleum floor. Recognizing the wom
an next to me from the bus as the one who tossed it to the floor, obviously I wouldn’t be getting a reprieve. I didn’t eat a lot of meat, but I had highly inflated hopes that the soggy vegetables on my tray had some life left to them.
“I heard you killed a man.” Of course she did, but I didn’t need that advertised on day one. Staying under the radar had been the goal, but me and my stupid mouth. Looking up, I noticed right away how beautiful she was with dark hair, brown eyes, and curves. She had a good number of pounds on her in all the alluring places, and enough muscle under soft feminine flesh that I knew she’d kick my ass if I so much as moved from the table.
“What are you gonna do about it?” Leaning over she whispered in my ear taunting me. Sharee looked over but didn’t say anything to diffuse the situation. Neither did the oh-so-helpful guards who were yelling for a cleanup of the tray, their hands hovering over their tasers. In a way, I didn’t want anyone to interfere because my troubles were my own, and this crazy ass woman seemed to think I was ripe pickings. It was the first time I laughed since this ordeal had started, and it sounded maniacal as reality descended over me. She’d probably kill me in my sleep. After everything before this ordeal would that be a blessing?
“Crazy bitch,” The brunette said, kicking the tray and going over to sit at another table of curious faces.
“Man, you be pissing cunts off left and right with that attitude. Maybe I should call you Stone instead of Nene.”
“I thought everyone went by their last names.” The pregnant girl named Raina looked at me like I had lost my shit. Almost. It was inevitable that I was going to lose it at some point, but not today.
The addicts at the other end mumbled. “Yeah.”
“So what is it?” They asked between the two of them looking a little green and twitchy. I didn’t know how long it took to go through withdrawals, but their eyes remained squirrelly.
“What’s what?” I asked.
“Your last name?” They echoed. They weren’t twins but maybe the drugs had done something to them because they answered together, again.
On a deep sigh I said, “Cruz.”
“Nah, you’ll always be Nene now.” Sharee smiled and helped me clean up my tray as the girls at the other table continued to eye fuck us. Sharee told me to keep my head down for now since that woman got me lit up like Christmas for a bunch of Tribe recruits. I wasn’t sure what that meant exactly, but it didn’t sound good. I was only on day one here and the whole situation felt more than just a clusterfuck. It felt like the beginning of the end with no hope in the middle, nothing but a dreary existence to suffer through.
Sharee ended up being my cellmate, and that ended up being both good and bad. She’d been incarcerated here before but said there was a warden turnover so that meant a whole new set of rules. She didn’t have the influence she had before and told me it would take her some time to get back on top of things. Again, I had no idea but was grateful for her friendship or what she could offer with no strings attached. The warden could fast-track your parole hearings or stall them dead in the water. Sharee was convinced the last one was giving special perks to inmates, and I was hoping to bide my time and avoid that. I didn’t suck cock as a habit, which is what got me in here in the first place thanks to my dipshit lawyer. I definitely wasn’t sucking one to get out either.
“Hey, Cruz.” I looked up at one of the guards, a male, maybe in his mid-thirties and stacked with muscles. Obviously he hadn’t heard I was going by Nene. He seemed to think he was the shit, and I read the nameplate under his badge as Garcia. As good looking as he was and fit, it begged the question of why he was working in a women’s prison, but I wasn’t about ask him about his job choices.
“What?” I calmed the heaving breaths from my chest and looked him straight in the eye.
“You missed a spot, newbie.” Smiling, he poured a carton of milk on the floor at my feet, and it splashed up against my plain slip-on sneakers.
“Fucking hell.” Groaning, I looked down at the wet spot bleeding through the canvas. Spoiled milk reeked, and these would be my only shoes unless I could get something through the commissary. Maybe I’d wear them into the shower once I got an opportunity to clean them off. I couldn’t stand the smell of rotting crap, and this was going to be a problem for me if I couldn’t fix it.
Everyone filed out, and we headed toward the common area. My feet squished with each step as my nausea rose. The day wasn’t going to go any quicker.
Sharee nudged my arm.
“I’ll see if I know anyone in the laundry. Might be able to get you some clean stuff.” A kind gesture, but now I owed her a favor, and I couldn’t have that hanging over my head. Too many favors might obligate me to the wrong people.
I placed my hand over her arm and stopped her, shaking my head no extending my appreciation. “Sharee, I’ll figure it out, but thanks. Thanks a lot.”
I made my way over to the table in the corner alone.
Alone was good for me. I could observe my surroundings and work on relearning my childhood Spanish between the growls of my hunger pangs.
Four
Cohen
I waited for the door to click shut and listened to the rubber-soled boots filtering down the hallway from my office. Garcia had given Maris quite the look over before leaving, and I didn’t like it. I knew guards could be abusive, but seeing it there like a movie in slow motion waiting to happen didn’t ease my conscience. I had few options as to what I could do without blowing my cover and endangering my partner.
I slapped the top of the desk, pissed. “What the hell were you thinking, Maris?”
“What did you want me do? Blow the perfect opportunity to get in?” She shrugged me off, taking this role on a bit thick for my liking.
She crossed her arms, with a petulant look, giving me attitude worthy of a delinquent teen. It was disturbing, and I released the stress I’d been holding onto with a deep breath.
Looking up at the chipped tile ceiling I rolled my neck before speaking, “Maris, Maris, Maris…”
“What? I did what I had to do. I took an opportunity to get the Tribe’s attention. Besides, that girl killed her boyfriend or some shit.” She shifted in her chair seeming to not care at all.
“Maris.” She knew better than to take stupid chances. My gut twisted with worry and I regretted taking this assignment.
“Oh come on, she’s not some innocent lamb, Cohen.” The darker part of me wanted to put Maris over my knee and spank her ass until the attitude stopped. Unfortunately the things we knew about each other prevented that from happening. We tried that as a one time thing and knew instantly it would never work-us-together. Maris was every bit as dominant as I was. It made us great partners in the field backing each other up, but it also kept anything more from happening during the time we worked together. Instead, we were at an impasse, butting heads.
“That doesn’t matter,” I said, pissed off.
She scoffed, “It’s not like I was going to let anything happen in the cafeteria.”
I didn’t like her tone of voice and let her know it.
“The guards have tasers and a job to do, one that includes taking down insolent prisoners.” I pointed at her.
“Well, I’m willing to take that risk.” She rolled her eyes at me and I had to hold back from throwing something and causing the kind of sounds that would have the guards running back here to protect her-from me.
Maybe I was getting too old for this shit.
“I can’t protect you if things go to hell in the cafeteria with cameras all over the fucking place.” I didn’t doubt her ability; I questioned the actions of others in that cafeteria I had no control over.
“Cohen, I was fine.” Maris placated.
“We also don’t drag others into this unnecessarily.” I reproached her.
“Girl looked like she wanted to throw a punch at me, but I don’t think her skinny ass arms could have connected the move.” Maris laughed. This wasn’t the least bit fun
ny.
“Fighting gets you in solitary, and the hole doesn’t get us information.” I leaned over her, my jaw flexed. “Stop. Being. A. Brat.”
Sitting down, her legs crossed and swinging, Maris rolled her eyes, again, instigating me further. She knew what buttons to push as much as I did.
“Gotcha, partner.”
I was annoyed that she found this boring or above her right now. Having barely settled into this post, I didn’t need Maris’ outburst to be another complication.
“So did you find anything out in your little tantrum?”
“Yeah, the food tastes like garbage and those Tribe recruits definitely take orders from someone in here.” She picked at her nails, and I grabbed her hand to stop her. The tension eased as we talked.
My intel was limited, until we got inside the Tribe. It wasn’t the worst I had to work with, but it also wasn’t the best. We had to work as a team in here and play each side’s advantage.
“Did you get a name?” I asked.
“Evangelina Corazon as far as I know.” Maris chuckled moving a few items on my desk around.
“Stop it, Maris.” I slapped at her hands. The disorder distracted me, and the brat I’d been working with closely for years was using it against me on purpose. I moved the items back, earning me another snicker.
“I saw you looking at the girl.” She teased.
My eyes rolled as I tried to deflect. “Where else was I supposed to look except at the commotion? Anyway, I need you to be more careful.” I referred to her lunch debacle.
“Someone has to get in good with those bitches, and I don’t think they’re looking for peacocks, Cohen.” She eyed my dick, and I adjusted myself. She might be right, but there had to be someone I could bend enough to give me information. I wouldn’t always be able to pull Maris in when I needed an update.
A knock on the door startled us, and I stepped away from being so close to Maris. Any familiarity would risk blowing our cover.
