...but he was, no matter how much it terrified him.
Corey’s mother started sobbing. “I can’t do it, I can’t.” She went to get up, but Corey’s father grabbed her, pulling her to him. She shook in his hold, her agony killing Corey even more. Tears flowed down his own cheeks, Corey not even trying to stop them. He couldn’t even if he wanted to, the grief and loss he felt overpowering, his big sister soon to be gone from his life.
Pushing to his feet, he walked around to the other side of the bed and placed a hand on his mother’s shoulder, wishing Naf was here, his brother still missing. His family had lost so much in the past year—too much. “I’ll do it, Mum.”
She looked up at him, her expression tortured. “I don’t want you to. I don’t want to lose her.” She started crying again, her body shaking violently. “She’s my baby, my little girl.”
Corey’s father turned her face towards his chest, his expression a mask of sorrow. He nodded at Corey, a sign to do what needed to be done, Beth’s soul already gone, only her heart beating weakly in her chest.
Corey turned to his sister. “I love you, Beth.” He bent down and kissed her on the forehead, his tears falling onto her face. He straightened and reached for her life support machine, switching it off.
THE END
BEHIND THE BARS
1
Saul
Saul shifted the barbell to his left hand, working his bicep. Behind him a fellow prisoner continued talking, making him wish he could ram the barbell into the bigmouth’s pie-hole. Instead, he continued pumping the weight, not wanting to get an even longer sentence. He’d been convicted of manslaughter, his lawyer managing to get him off the murder charge. Although it had been murder, because he’d had every intention of killing Morris, something he didn’t regret, the prick getting what he deserved.
“Why are you in the secure wing?” the prisoner asked, referring to the small prison area housing them. It had ten cells, which framed a common room—where they hung out for most of the day, pumping weights, reading, eating, and not much else, Saul already going stir crazy. He’d heard that they got time outside, but were under lockdown at the moment due to a riot in gen pop, aka, general population.
“C’mon, mate, you might as well spill the beans, ’cause I’ll eventually find out,” the prisoner said. He was a thin bastard, with enough teeth to fill a horse’s mouth.
Saul ignored him.
“My guess is you’re the cop the prison guards have been talking ’bout. They said we were getting one in ’ere.”
Saul continued pumping the weight, not saying a word. He’d been transferred back to Auckland after two inmates had tried to kill him in the Christchurch prison. He’d knocked them both out, but not before they’d stabbed him in the side. He’d spent a month in hospital, the shank having done a lot of damage. After he’d recovered, they’d shifted him to another prison, one back in his home town.
The prisoner babbled on, not missing a beat. “Yeah, you’re the cop, all right. You don’t look soft like the other pricks in here.” He pointed to a blond man, who was brushing his fingers through his hair. “Marty over there is in for ripping off pensioners.” He shifted his finger to an average-looking guy, who was sitting at the common room table, reading a book. “While Phelps is in for getting too cosy with some kids, and last but not least, the bruiser doing a CSI on you is a dirty prison guard. He got busted for bringing in drugs and other contraband. And don’t think you’re special; he stares at all of us. He totally wigs me out.”
Saul’s eyes moved to the man, who was leaning against the wall just outside his cell, paying him and bigmouth far too much attention. He was about Saul’s height, just with less muscle, but a much harder face, the guy looking more like a thug than someone who’d once held authority.
Saul grimaced at him and resumed pumping his barbell, knowing he needed to keep an eye on the prick, the dude looking dodgy.
Bigmouth continued talking, “...while I’m in here ’cause I narked on the King family.”
Saul stopped pumping, now interested. “You know Sarah Spader?” he asked, wondering whether the guy had helped her take down the Kings.
“Yeah.” He grimaced. “That bitch did the dirty on me. She promised to get me off and look where I am...” he spread his arms, “living in Shanksville. That bird deserves to get smashed over for what she did to me. I would so...”
Saul grabbed the guy’s shirt and yanked his face close to his. “She’s my best friend.”
The guy’s eyes widened. “I’m full of shit, man, totally full of it. My arse ain’t below, it’s up ’ere.” He pointed to his mouth. “If I breathe on you you’d smell shit, and I don’t blame her for leaving me high and dry, I really don’t. I deserve it for being such a dumbarse. And I would never hurt her; I don’t smash birds, I’m all talk and no action, not only that I’d be signing my death warrant if I touched Ace King’s missus. He may hate her now, but I’d end up fish food if I touched even one blonde hair on her head.”
Saul pushed him away and resumed pumping the barbell. “I don’t want to hear another word from you, unless you don’t want to keep your tongue.”
The guy scurried away from Saul, finally giving his ears some much needed rest.
The door on the far side opened. A prison guard stepped through the opening, yelling, “Mitchell!”
The prisoner who’d been talking to Saul answered, “What do you want, screw?”
“You have an appointment with the doc.”
“What for?”
“A check-up, so move your greasy arse, I don’t have all day. Marty and Phelps, you losers need to come too.” The guard paused as they filed out. “Oh yeah, Johnson, I almost forgot about you. Out.”
Saul stopped pumping the barbell and looked up as the ex screw disappeared through the doorway, leaving only him and the prison guard, the situation setting off alarm bells in his head. Hiding the barbell behind his back, he rose to his feet, his eyes locked on the guard. “Why am I the only one left behind?” he asked, hoping like fuck this wasn’t what he thought it was.
“Dead men walking don’t need medical check-ups,” the guard said, backing out of the room.
Three bruisers pushed past him, their orange pants and white singlets telling Saul they were prisoners from gen pop.
The guard shut the door behind them, locking Saul in with the goons.
The first bruiser headed for him, grinning from ear to ear. “We have a message for you from Ant Torres, copper. Eat shit and die!” He launched himself at Saul.
Saul whipped the barbell around, smashing it against his head. The bruiser collapsed to the floor, either dead or unconscious, either way Saul had one less bastard to fight.
The other two approached him more cautiously, coming in from different angles. Saul threw the barbell at the closet one, then spun around, throwing a punch at the other prisoner. But the guy shot to the side, landing a punch against Saul’s cheek. Saul went with the blow, lessening the impact. Another punch came his way. He ducked and launched himself at the prisoner, wrapping his arms around the man’s wide torso. He drove him backwards into the wall, letting go just before impact. The man’s head bounced off the hard surface, a loud crack accompanying it. He dropped to the floor, out like a light.
Saul turned his full attention to the remaining bruiser, knowing his mate wasn’t going to be getting up.
With a sneer, the prisoner removed a shank from his pants. He was bigger than the other two, with a belly the size of a basketball. “I’m not so easy to take out, copper.”
In a blur, he slashed out at Saul’s face, moving fast for a man of his size. Saul jumped to the side, barely avoiding the shank’s jagged edge. He went for the man’s wrist, intending on breaking it. The bruiser yanked the shank back, slicing it across Saul’s forearm. Not feeling it, Saul dropped to the floor and swept his attacker’s feet out from under him, the adrenalin rushing through his system acting like cocaine, wiping out all pain. The bruise
r landed hard on his back, dropping the shank. Saul swiped it up and kicked the prick in the balls. The man yelled out in agony and curled up into a foetal position, Saul’s boot probably doing some serious damage.
Saul sneered down at him. “Looks like you were easy to take out.” He bobbed down and placed a hand on the man’s head, jamming it hard against the floor. “Tell Ant if he sends any more of you losers my way I’ll make sure my mates come after him.”
“Cops won’t do shit,” the bruiser gritted out, his voice pained.
“They’re not cops, they’re cartel connections. Your boss forgets I was his father’s right-hand man for a long time. Not only that, I’m owed a lot of favours. Maybe I’ll collect on a few of them. Do you have loved ones on the outside? No, don’t tell me, my mates will find out.”
“You’re bluffing!”
“I’m in here for killing one of Ant’s goons. I also wouldn’t be surprised if those two morons you came with are dead. Do you think that sounds like someone who’s bluffing?” Using the bruiser’s head as leverage, he pushed up, intending on giving him one more kick. The main door burst open, stopping him.
The prison guard reappeared, aiming a gun at Saul. “Drop the weapon or I’ll shoot!”
Saul dropped the shank and raised his hands. His eyes widened as the guard fired off a shot, hitting him in the shoulder. He staggered back, getting another bullet in the chest, sending him to his knees. The guard stalked towards him, aiming the gun at Saul’s head. Saul fell forward, out cold before he could shoot.
2
Leilani
Leilani said hello to the prison guard as she neared him. The fifty-year-old man was sitting behind a desk, holding a book. A smile lit up his face, Heath always happy to see her.
“I heard you’ve got a busy day ahead, Ani,” he said.
“Good.” She wanted to be run off her feet so she didn’t have time to think. If anything, she wanted to be so exhausted by the time she got home that she just flopped into bed, falling asleep before hitting the mattress.
“How’s your grandchild doing?” he asked.
“Good,” she repeated. Using her keycard to enter the secure part of the prison, she disappeared through the door, saying, “See ya later,” not willing to stay and chat, questions about her family off limits.
She hurried down the corridor, swiping her card at the other end. She entered another corridor, nodding at a guard as the man directed a prisoner past her.
The prisoner turned his head to look at Leilani, yelling out, “How ya doin’, hot mama?”
The guard whacked the prisoner across the head for his trouble.
Leilani veered left, the noise from gen pop seeping through the far door, the racket coming from the food hall, breakfast now in full swing. She took another left, heading away from the noise. Stopping at the end of the corridor, she let herself into the hospital wing.
She entered the main office, which overlooked the ward, a thick layer of glass separating the two rooms. Gem turned around, a smile lighting up Leilani’s best friend’s face. She was a Maori woman in her late thirties, with full lips, iced-coffee-coloured skin, and a crazy head of brown hair, which was pulled back into a ponytail. She also had a face full of freckles.
“Hi, Lee,” Gem said, using a variant of her name.
The medical staff had a habit of calling her Lee, while the guards tended to use Ani. Even outside of the prison people called her by different names. As far back as she could remember, not even her family used her birth name. She hadn’t even known she was called Leilani until she was eleven and heading to New Zealand, her birth place in the Cook Islands.
“How was your weekend?” Gem asked.
“Good,” Leilani lied, a word she used often. Everything was good, even though it was the opposite. Her marriage was good, yet she barely talked to her husband, and when she did, it usually ended in an argument or tears. Her health was good, yet her depression was growing worse, every day a struggle, only work making it bearable. While her children were good...
“Have you been busy?” she asked, tightening her black ponytail, willing her mind away from that minefield of emotions.
“Yup. We’ve had a death, a hanging, some busted up prisoners from the riot, and a few seriously injured blowhards, minus one honey, who I’d blow hard. Lock up a bunch of bad boys together and they froth at the mouth to show off their cocks.”
Leilani shook her head. “Half the time I have no idea what you’re talking about, and seriously, did you just say ‘show off their cocks’?”
“Yup, those naughty-waughty boys love whipping it out, showing each other who’s the biggest and baddest hood around.”
“You must be watching too much prison porn.”
“Nah ah, it’s true. They strut around like peacocks, showing their cock, cock, cock... Sorry, went all Katy Perry there. Anyway, I think we have a winner in our ward.”
“I’m totally lost, you seriously need an interpreter.”
“The biggest and baddest cock in town, that’s what I’m talking about, girl.” She indicated to the ward with her thumb. “They moved him up from Christchurch after he took out two prisoners. Then, he goes and takes out three more up here, and get this, he did it in the secure wing.”
“I thought nonviolent prisoners were put in there, along with convicted cops and guards.”
“Exactly. The one who beat up the others was a convicted cop. The other three somehow got into the secure wing from gen pop. They think it was a hit and the guard on duty let ’em in. They obviously didn’t think the guy was capable of flattening all of his attackers.”
“Which prison guard was it?”
“Mackelby.”
Leilani grimaced, knowing the man—too well. He was one of the reasons why she’d quit being a prison guard, the creep dirtier than the criminals he was meant to watch. He’d made her life a living hell, harassing her more than the prisoners, which was a lot. As a result, she left to make her dream of becoming a nurse a reality, her husband working long hours to put her through her studies. But she’d found it hard to get a job afterwards, so when Gem had mentioned there was an opening for a prison nurse role, she applied for it, knowing that Mackelby wouldn’t be a problem, since he worked on the opposite side of the prison.
“I hope Mackelby goes down,” Leilani said. “He’s dirtier than the prisoners.”
Gem pulled a face. “Doubt it; his father will probably get him out of trouble, like he always does.”
Leilani grimaced, knowing Gem was right. Mackelby’s father was the warden of the prison. “So, what am I walking into today?” she asked, cleansing her mind of the horrible man.
“Broken bones, the attempted hanging I mentioned earlier, the HIV man, and the cop with the gunshot wounds.”
“He was shot?”
“Yeah, twice by Mackelby. Anyway, Robocop was transferred here from gen hospital a few days ago.”
“Is he conscious?”
“Yup, the attack happened three weeks ago. Luckily Mackelby can’t shoot for shit. He missed all the vital organs, though the cop got an infection from a shank cut, which is making his recovery worse. He needs to be monitored closely.” Gem smiled. “Which isn’t a chore. I do like my eye candy, and this one is beyond sweet. Mmmmm, if he wasn’t a prisoner, I’d be dipping his sugarcane into my coffee.”
Leilani shook her head, a smile pulling at her lips. “Don’t let Beau hear you talking about a prisoner like that.”
“Just saying, not many men look like Robocop in there.”
“It doesn’t matter what he looks like, Gem, he’ll just be a patient to me, and likewise for you.”
“You won’t be saying that when you get a look at the hottie. You’ll be coming to work every day with a grin on your face, eager to sponge bath him. By the way, I’ve already cleaned him.” Grinning, Gem wriggled her fingers. “Tootles, I’m off to Valentines. Beau’s taking me out for our six month anniversary, then I’m gonna climb onto him and ride
him like a bucking bronco, ’cause Robocop in there has got me hotter than a gay boy on Channing Tatum’s dick.”
“Well, have fun, while I’m working hard, saving patients,” Leilani said, refraining from grimacing at the ‘gay boy’ comment.
“Hottie will help you get through the day.” Gem wiggled her fingers again and disappeared through the doorway.
Leilani turned to the other door, swiping her card to enter the hospital wing. The guard on the other side of the door smiled at her, saying “Hiya, Ani.” She replied back politely, then started checking on the patients. Several beds lined the walls, most of them full. Another prison guard stood at the other end of the room—there to protect her, even though all the prisoners were for some reason secured to their beds.
She turned back to the guard. “Why are the patients cuffed?”
“They’re all being punished for the riots.”
“How long will this last?”
“Until we hear otherwise.”
Leilani nodded and turned to pick up the closest patient’s clipboard.
“Cutie pie,” the prisoner coughed, grabbing her attention. “I think I have an STD. I’d love to give you it.” Grinning widely, he thrust up his crotch.
“Shut your mouth, Jones!” the guard snapped. “Or I’ll shut it for you.”
Jones turned his head towards the guard, giving him a fuck you look.
Leilani continued onto the next patient. Ken smiled at her, saying: “I missed you, Ani.” He was a harmless, polite old man in his seventies, who’d been convicted of stealing. Like a magpie, he was always trying to pinch things, which usually landed him in the hospital, his fellow prisoners not taking too kindly to him nicking their stuff.
After a short chat, she excused herself and moved onto the far bed, where a curtain had been erected, which wasn’t the norm. Her eyes went to the other guard, who was standing a few feet away. “Why’s there a curtain around this bed?”
Behind the Secrets (Behind the Lives #4) Page 29
