He didn’t say a word when the guard dropped me off, and I knew just by the hard look on his face that I wouldn’t survive the night.
The door clanked closed beside me, but when I dropped the low-budget supplies I was provided, ready to give as good as I got, he chuckled.
The brute introduced himself to me as Scorpion, disappointed a little when his name didn’t mean anything to me.
Before I went to sleep that night, I got the entire story, or what he was willing to share at least. He’s in prison with three consecutive life sentences for a triple homicide. As a former cop, I had sized him up pretty quickly and presumed he was in here for a violent offense. His body, hands and arms especially, carried the scars of a man rarely willing to back down from an altercation.
What did shock me was his reasoning for those murders. As the former president of the Renegades MC, Brooks “Scorpion” Hannigan killed three of his own members the night he found out one had been raping his sister. The two others were running a child porn website and were literally making child pornography right under his nose.
That’s not even the crazy part. Not only is he Makayla, Dominic’s wife’s brother, but he’s also Jasmine’s—the one involved with Max and Tug—biological father.
Scorpion is the protection, one of the provisions, Hound told me about two days before I was sentenced. I don’t exactly feel safe, and it’s only been a week, but there hasn’t been a whisper of my offense.
Other than Scorpion, most of the guys on this cell block have ten years or less to serve. Knowing there’s light at the end of the tunnel for them means most keep to themselves.
“And what’s that?”
I don’t bother trying to hide the letter in my hand. The man has four inches and about sixty pounds of muscle on me, which is saying a lot because I’m not exactly a small guy. He could take this from me, and I wouldn’t even mutter a word about it.
“A letter from Lawson.”
“That’s your brother, right?” I nod.
The thing about Scorpion sharing a lot of his story was my story was expected in return. I confessed to beating a man to death, but I left out the fact that I was a first responder to the scene of that accident, letting him believe I was just a random guy who happened upon it. Strangely enough, I did confess that I thought Megan was Izzy, and laid out most of the details and my connection of her and I to Cerberus.
“Any news?” he asks as he climbs back to his feet, his muscles pumped and slick with sweat from his workout.
“Izzy had the baby. They’re both doing fine.”
“That’s good news. I know you were worried about that.”
Scorpion stands to the side, not in the least bit shy about whipping out his dick to piss in the shared toilet in our cell.
“And what else did we talk about?”
“Don’t say anything about where you keep your stash?”
He chuckles, his head shaking, but I know he doesn’t find it very funny that I’m avoiding his real question. He didn’t make many rules when I entered into this world, but no bullshitting was one of them. I’d have his protection. He’d guarantee my safety, but if there was a problem he had to know about it. If people were whispering, he had to know about it.
There’s nothing in this cell that could get either of us in trouble, but Scorpion has been here for over twenty years. His connections alone in the prison system is how he landed as the only lifer on this block. He literally has nothing to lose. He’s also the king of the mountain so to speak, and that power isn’t awarded to him just because he’s massive and wakes up ready to die every day.
According to him, he runs the biggest contraband business the New Mexico Prison System has ever seen. If it’s something available on the outside, he can get it on the inside.
Hell, the man still has women brought to him on occasion and the state conjugal visit program ended over six years ago, plus, he’s never been married. His power extends well outside controlling inmates and probably goes as high if not higher than the warden himself.
I struggled with knowing this information when I first arrived, but I’m not a cop on the inside. I’m a felon. Turning a blind eye to guys getting porno mags and cigarettes isn’t the same thing as allowing horrific things to happen without me telling someone. Hell, to ensure my own safety, I’m at the point I’m willing to turn a blind eye to just about anything these days.
Scorpion doesn’t abide by rape, so the only action the guys are getting on the block are from those willing to whore themselves out in exchange for contraband. Surprisingly, it happens more than I thought.
He runs a tight ship around here, and although prison sucks, it could be worse.
“Seriously, O’Neil. What did we talk about?”
“I remember what we talked about.”
“The only way to get through these long-ass days is to cut all ties with those on the outside.”
“I know.” I want to do that. I want to rip this letter to shreds and never open another one. I’ve already refused to have a visitor list, something Lawson ripped my ass for in the very letter in my hand.
“Seeing you inside, caged like an animal is selfish. They need to let you do your time in peace.”
“Yeah.”
“I’ve been here twenty years, and it feels like I just got here last week.”
I huff a humorless laugh. “You’re full of shit.”
He chuckles again, a throaty sound I’ve grown used to over the last couple of days. The man isn’t afraid to laugh and have a good time, something I haven’t managed since I arrived.
“Okay. Maybe like a month then. But seriously, man. You can’t survive in here if your head is still on the outside.” He kicks at my shoe when I don’t look up at him. “Five years, seven months and three weeks right?”
“Right.”
“Then worry about those people when you only have months left on your sentence. Did you hear from the foreman?”
“Start work tomorrow.”
“Where.”
“In the shop.”
“You know I got—”
“I won’t.” I look up at him now. It isn’t the first time the man has offered me a job working for him. “Thank you, though.”
“Let me know if you change your mind.”
I give him a weak smile. He already knows it’s never going to change.
“Don’t wait up,” he says, looking in the metal mirror hanging on the wall.
“What?” I look around. “It’s nearly lights out. Where are you going?”
“Gotta date.” He winks at me, the door to our cell popping open when he steps close to it as if he owns the device to make it work. He turns back in my direction, his eyes serious. “Cut them off, Drew.”
I nod, agreeing with him, knowing I’ll follow through, knowing I’ll push every person in my life away to make my time in here easier. I’ll get the supplies and put pen to paper. I’ll rip my own heart out to keep from breaking theirs any further, but it won’t get my brother out of my head.
It won’t keep Izzy from infiltrating my dreams and making me promises. It won’t keep fantasies of a little boy I’m only able to conjure in my imagination from smiling up at me or running to me, trusting me to catch him in my arms.