The Starks Trilogy (Book 1 & 2)

by Nesly Clerge

  “Whatever you want, Starks.”

  It was now or never. “I want you to be more independent.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Anything happens to me, you’ll be on your own. Might as well get into practice.”

  “Is something going to happen to you?” Kane gnawed on a nail.

  Starks threw the roll onto his desk. “How the hell should I know? All I’m saying is you need to… When that guy grabbed you by the throat, what did you do? You dangled there like a fucking puppet. You could’ve kicked him in the balls ten times. An altercation can happen anytime in here. If you don’t grow a pair and learn how to stand up for and defend yourself, you’ll pay the price. That’s all I’m saying.”

  “No one bothers me anymore, because they know I’m with you.”

  “That’s not a guarantee. You’re in a fucking maximum security prison. You’re aligned with a strong crew, but there’ll be times when you’re on your own. It’s unavoidable. Acting like a skittish animal is going to draw intimidators to you. Any of this making a dent?”

  “Yeah.” Kane kicked a chair leg. “I get it. I’m a burden you don’t want. Fine. From now on I’ll stay out of your way.”

  “That’s not my point.”

  “Might as well be. I’m going to the chow hall. All by myself.” Kane, head down, stomped from the cell. He dodged CO Roberts and kept going.

  “What’s up with him?” Roberts asked.

  “He’ll get over it. He’ll have to.”

  “Before you ask or tell me whatever, I have to know: were you involved in either or both killings?”

  “Why is that when something goes down, people look at me? I’m not the only person those two had issues with.”

  “I shouldn’t have asked. What did you want to see me about?”

  “Brunson. Tell him to meet me in the library during my shift this afternoon.”

  “I’ll deliver the message. Anything else?”

  Starks shook his head. Roberts left.

  He ripped open a sweet roll package and sat in his chair. His hand holding the roll hung at his side. The conversation with Kane hadn’t gone well. The words had spilled out, with no forethought. What he’d told the kid was true. Spencer hadn’t sent for him, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t. Kane could find himself living alone in the cell for a month. Longer. Or sharing a cell with someone who’d take advantage of him every way possible. Sure, the crew could threaten or deal with anyone who bothered or harmed Kane, but would they stay together if Starks was removed?

  Footsteps echoed in the corridor, growing louder as they came closer. Tank stopped at the entrance. “Kane’s not happy.”

  “Not my job.”

  “I hear that. Wanted to tell you some of what’s going around.”

  Starks motioned to the other chair. “Want a sweet roll or something?”

  “Thanks.” Tank consumed the roll in two bites. “Couple people said Seth’s got a bull’s-eye on you.”

  “By now, he should realize it’s better for him if he either comes in under me or avoids me altogether.”

  “I guess we’ll see about that. The other thing is Trevor. He’s triggering people’s tempers. Some of those people saying you should’ve taken care of him. That Sanchez or Crazy D would’ve already sent him home in a box to his momma.”

  “No one gets to decide what I’m going to do to whom and when but me.”

  “That mean you made a decision about Trevor?”

  “Yes.”

  “Wanna tell me?”

  “I’ll keep it to myself for now.”

  Tank shrugged and scratched his ear. “Thought we’d hear more about what happened. Felipe and some of their guys got questioned. Told the council they didn’t know nothing. That they were in the gym at the time. I don’t know if the council’s done asking questions, but it’s gone quiet.”

  “Maybe no news is good news.”

  “Maybe you got enough guards in your pocket.”

  “What’s enough?”

  Tank laughed then grew somber. “If the same kind of shit keeps happening in here, they gonna make our days twenty-three hours in, one hour out. That would piss a whole lotta people off. They maybe blame you.”

  “I don’t think that’s going to happen. The biggest troublemakers are gone. Things are going to calm down, at least for a while.”

  “What about Seth?”

  “I’m beginning to think Seth’s like the bogey man. A name thrown out to scare people.”

  “You probably seen him around. Got a lion tattoo on his left arm. He was one of Big Bo’s soldiers.”

  Recollection hit. “I had a couple run-ins with him after Big Bo was killed. Seth wasn’t too happy with me when I got him Tasered and thrown into the SHU twice in one week.”

  “He took over Bo’s gang. People saying you need to be scared. In fact, half the people talking to me say they scared shitless of you. Other half think you weak, because of Trevor.”

  “I can’t afford to be overly concerned with what others think of me.”

  “You sure about that?”

  “I know what I’m doing.”

  CHAPTER 90

  THE ANGST HE felt reminded Starks of the first time he’d dropped each of his kids off at school, entrusting his or her care and well-being to strangers. It was irksome to feel that way now about Kane. He needed to find Kane to—what?—apologize, make sure the kid was still breathing? He wanted and needed Kane to trust himself. That meant he had to trust Kane, as well.

  Trust someone and you pay for it. Distrust was a necessary pain in the ass.

  He glanced at the clock: Ten till eleven. Kane had to come back for the count.

  Any attempt to focus on words on a page was futile and had been all morning. Starks put the book away and splashed cold water on his face, stopped himself from standing at the door to watch for Kane. Didn’t want to be spotted by the kid or other inmates looking as anxious as he felt.

  Three minutes before eleven, chatter filled the block as inmates filed in from wherever they’d been. Two minutes before eleven, Starks’s heart thumped hard. He picked at a cuticle until it bled. One minute before eleven, he got up from the chair and stood outside his cell door, gaze fixed on the mouth of the corridor. Kane turned the corner and jogged to his place next to Starks.

  “Cutting it close, kid. There’s a penalty for being late or missing count.”

  “Just staying out of your way.”

  “You’re acting like a petulant child.”

  “What are you gonna do, put me in time-out?”

  “You’re already in time-out.” Starks elbowed Kane.

  Kane scowled at him then grinned. The count started; they stopped talking.

  Afterwards, Starks said, “Want to come with me to the library today?”

  Kane shook his head. “Me and the guys have a basketball game running. You going to chow with us?”

  “I’ll eat one of my sandwiches here. Think I’ll go to my shift early.”

  “Catch you later.” Kane speed-walked away.

  If only every disagreement was resolved so easily, Starks thought.

  There were still a number to resolve.

  And always more springing up at him like a jack-in-the-box.

  *

  Watching the clock was an unsettling annoyance, but Starks needed Brunson to show. It was only one twenty; two hours and forty minutes until his shift ended. He could count on Roberts to convey the message. No telling what time Brunson would arrive, or if he would. Starks busied himself with every mundane task he could think of.

  At a quarter to four, Brunson swaggered in. Starks motioned with his head for the CO to follow him into the office.

  Brunson closed the door. “Got the payment. All of it. Your guy works fast.”

  “Glad it went well.”

  “Why’d you want to see me?”

  “I have what may be an impossible task for you.”

  “Nothing’s impossible if t
he price is right, except maybe getting you out of prison.”

  “It’s regarding Trevor Morgan.”

  “I know that little prick.” Brunson smirked. “Let’s hear it.”

  CHAPTER 91

  A STEADY DRIZZLE KEPT the dust in the yard down and filled the air with an earthy scent. Instead of watching his crew play basketball from the sidelines, Starks joined the game. Plenty of time to shower before his shift started at one.

  He was aiming a shot when CO Roberts called out to him. Starks blocked from his mind what the guard might want—like to tell him he was caught and his life was over—and made the throw. The ball went through the hoop. Crew members patted him on the back as he jogged over to Roberts. “What’s up?”

  “Woman’s here to see you. Margaret Hessinger.”

  Starks stared at Roberts.

  “Want me to send her away?”

  “No. I wondered if she’d actually have the nerve. Can’t help how I look or smell, not that I give a fuck what she thinks.” He turned to the players and shouted, “I’m out. There’s something I have to take care of.”

  Starks kept his pace moderate so he could gather his thoughts and tamp down the anger that threatened to boil to the surface. There was no advantage to greeting her with rage. Margaret wanted something from him. He wanted something from her.

  The visitation room was nearly empty. Only three tables had people at them. If possible, Margaret’s face was even more pinched and pale than it had been at his trial.

  He was halfway to her when she saw him. She got up too fast, too clumsily. Her chair fell over, drawing guards’ and visitors’ attention. Face flush, she righted the chair and held out her trembling hand to him.

  Starks glanced at the extended hand and said, “Seriously?” He took the chair across the table from her.

  Margaret chewed her bottom lip and stared at him. “I didn’t recognize you at first.”

  “You look the same.”

  She patted the right side of her thin, lank hair then dropped her hand into her lap. “Thank you for agreeing to see me.” When Starks didn’t respond, she said, “I’m divorcing Ozy.”

  “I heard.”

  “He’s trying to persuade me to drop it. He says our children need a stable home with two parents.”

  “Too bad he didn’t feel that way about my children.”

  Margaret’s cheeks reddened. “It wasn’t just him your wife was with, and you know it.”

  “Unbelievable. You’re still defending him.”

  “No… I… I’m not doing this right.”

  “What do you want, Margaret?”

  “I want to know if there’s anything you can tell me to persuade me to go through with the divorce.”

  “I would have thought hearing Jenny’s testimony would have convinced you. Let me remind you that he was fucking Kayla for three years. Promised to dump you and marry her, which he never intended to do, not that that should score any points. Did the nasty with my wife in public, where anyone could have seen them, and did. And there’s that whole group-sex thing. How much more convincing do you need?”

  “It’s not so easy to destroy my family.”

  “It was easy enough for you to destroy mine.” Starks exhaled hard and shifted forward. “Ever wondered what he did while you were away with the kids?”

  “He was having sex with your whore of a wife.”

  Starks snorted. “When you and your children were out of the way, he had sex with Kayla in your house. In your bed, on your dining table, where your children played, inside and out. If there was a surface where they could lie, sit, kneel or stand, it got used. Ozy didn’t give a shit about family stability. Or you. Only thing he was concerned about was—”

  Almost in a whisper, she said, “In my house?”

  “Good. You were listening.”

  “Oh, God.” Margaret’s trembling hand went to her bony chest. “I ought to burn the place down with the bastard in it.”

  “I don’t advise it. You might end up in a place like this. You might end up looking like this.” He raised his shirt.

  Margaret flung her hand over her mouth, her gaze fixed on his scars. Color drained from her face. “I feel sick.” She retrieved a tissue from a pocket and held it to her lips.

  Starks lowered his shirt. “What a luxury for you that that’s all you have to feel about it. You lied about the knife. I probably would have gotten some time in a less severe environment for assault, but not fifteen years in a place that put me into a coma for a few months and scarred me for life.”

  Margaret looked up. “You were in a coma?”

  “Ironic, right? I went to your house that night to tell you what was going on because I figured you didn’t have a fucking clue. Your husband attacked me. I fought back. He pulled a knife on me, which he intended to use, and I fought back. No matter how you look at it, everything I did that night was self-defense. And it cost me everything. What I want to know is why you lied.”

  “I thought I was protecting my family. My children.”

  “That’s something I understand. And yet—”

  “We both lost everything that night.”

  “Wrong. We lost long before then.”

  Margaret was silent for a few moments. “The night it happened, I didn’t believe what you said about Ozy.”

  “Didn’t want to, you mean.”

  “I was terrified when I saw you beating him. Distraught because my kids saw what you were doing to their father.”

  “That’s the only thing I regret about that night.”

  “I’m sure if you could go back in time, you wouldn’t do it.”

  “If I could go back in time, I’d do a better job of it and enjoy it more.”

  “You don’t mean that.”

  “His coma should have been permanent. Then you wouldn’t struggle with whether or not to divorce a man who has no respect for you or your marriage, because eventually you’d pull the plug and get on with your life. The question is, Would I get on with mine in here or out there? Would my children still have their father?”

  Margaret lowered her eyes and shrugged.

  “So,” Starks said, “is there anything else you’d like to say?”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “All things considered, Margaret, an apology doesn’t cut it. You could say you’ll make it right; that you’ll leave here and go directly to the police or whomever and admit the truth about the knife.”

  When she remained quiet, Starks shoved away from the table and left the room without looking back. He could call Parker and tell him what Margaret admitted, but if asked, she could deny it. The admission had to come from her.

  All he could do was hope her conscience wheedled her until confession was the only way to silence it.

  CHAPTER 92

  THE NEXT DAY, when a CO told Starks a woman waited for him in the visitation room, hope filled him. He was certain Margaret had decided to confess and felt it worth another trip to announce this to him. He sped through the corridors, debating whether to thank her or make her grovel for a few minutes.

  He spotted his visitor easily, even though she didn’t look the way she usually did. In fact, she looked like hell. Starks stood in place, trying to get his tremors to stop. Waited for the hair on the back of his neck to lay flat. Waited for profound disappointment to abate. Reflex caused him to dig his nails into his palms as he waded through the mostly empty tables to where Kayla waited.

  She raised her aqua eyes, saw him, and attempted a smile, which she instantly abandoned. He knew his expression was anything but welcoming.

  “What the hell do you want?”

  Kayla shifted in the chair. “I wish you wouldn’t speak to me like that. After all, I’m the mother of your children.”

  He wanted to call her a liar and state why, but knowing Kayla as well as he was sure he did, it would likely hurt Blake more than her. He quashed that desire and said, “You might be their mother, but you’re also a closet slut. Oh, I
forgot. That fact has been out in the open for quite a while. Answer me: what do you want?”

  Kayla kept her expression contained. “You look different, but you’re still the same. Will the verbal abuse from you ever stop?”

  “Why don’t you just get to the reason you’re here.”

  Kayla pushed her dark hair behind her ears. “I didn’t come all this way to trade insults or point fingers. Whatever happened is in the past. It’s over. But did you give thought to the fact that changing the child support payments was unfair to the children? That it would affect their well-being?”

  “My mother will handle their financial needs fairly. They won’t go without.”

  Through clenched teeth, Kayla said, “Lynn’s a witch. There are a lot of other labels I could use, but I’ll go with that one, as she is your mother. I’m the mother of our children, and I need money to take care of them, without having to wait for your mother to dole out funds for everyday needs.”

  “You’re not fooling me. You want that money—you need that money—to carry on your lavish lifestyle. Fancy trips, spa time, home decorations, and Jaguars cost. Yeah, I heard. Sorry, sweetheart. You want those things you’ll have to find a way to pay for them yourself.” Starks learned forward and lowered his voice. “Here’s an idea. Ask all the men you screwed for free for the money. Back payment for services rendered. Start with Ozy and Bret.” He laughed without humor. “What’s between your legs is your most valuable commodity. Spread them again. There’s no shortage of men, but this time ask for payment first. With the men from your past and any new ones you spread ’em for, you should make a bundle.”

  “When will you let that go? My God.”

  “Let it go? You get to go home and enjoy your life and our children. You don’t have any fucking idea what my life is like now. Because of you, you selfish, self-absorbed bitch.”

  Kayla’s eyes filled with tears and her face blotched red. “Stop calling me names. You have no right. I’m no longer yours to use and abuse. You blame me for what happened, but it was your actions that put you here. Not me.” She brushed tears from her cheeks. “Let’s be honest. It was your inflamed, entitled ego that did it. Ego sent you to Ozy’s house that night. And for what? I’d ended it with him. You and I were separated, and you were living with Emma.”