Page 12 of Hart of Vengeance
Rudy poked his head in again. “Your ten just dropped to two minutes.”
A growl was ready to erupt from the deep pit of my stomach. “Sweetheart, put my brother on the phone.”
“It’s for you,” she said to Duke.
Rudy was bouncing on the balls of his feet.
“Hello,” I said to the woman. “Put my brother—”
Rudy ripped the phone from my hand. “Get back to your cell. Guards are coming.” Panic jumped off him in waves, which was a stark contrast to the calm, cool, and collected con man. Rudy had been pinched for armed robbery and was in year three of his five-year sentence. He would’ve been a candidate for the early release program if it weren’t for the contraband he’d been caught with last year.
Grinding my molars together, I ducked out just as heavy footsteps filled the room. Guards piled in. Inmates scattered into their cells.
I eyed Rudy as I slipped into my cell three doors down. He looked relieved.
I was anything but. My pulse thumped a rapid beat in my ears. I’d learned over the years in prison to accept the things I couldn’t control. If I hadn’t, I would’ve gone mad in a split second. But I had a feeling I was going to be a crazy fucker and unleash my pent-up madness on Duke if I got out. I had to reel it in. Otherwise, I was afraid I might do something to screw up my parole, thanks to the Feds.
They’re busting your balls, man. You can’t believe them.
The sad part was that I did, or at least a tiny part of me did. Coupled with Duke not showing his face in six years, I was beginning to believe the Feds were right. I was beginning to believe Duke had indeed had a hand in Hector’s murder. Duke had set me up, and that was the sole reason he never visited me in prison.
The guards finished with their head count, and slowly the normal buzz of chatter returned to the cellblock.
I wanted one more shot to get Duke on the phone. But when I started for Rudy’s cell, the sound in the room died. When I glanced at the main entrance to the cellblock, blood rushed to my head. I clenched my fists, grinding my back teeth, as I watched a guard escort Costa to a cell.
The burly fucker strutted in as though he were the head asshole in charge of the cellblock rather than Rudy. Costa searched high and low until he spotted me. Then those crooked yellow teeth shined like a spotlight.
Rudy sauntered over to me. “He wants to tear off your head.”
“He can try.” I was ready to feel my fists connect with bone. I was ready to taste blood and to draw blood.
Costa bore his lethal gaze into me as he settled into a cell with a short, squat inmate.Poor guy.I didn’t feel bad for anyone in there, but I did now.
Once the guard left behind the ten-inch steel door, Rudy warned, “Careful, Hart. You might not get that freedom you salivate for.”
“What are you, my father?” I bit out.
“I have to answer to the warden,” he said.
I shoved my hands through my hair. “Sucks to be you.”
Rudy had some deal with the warden to keep peace in the cellblock. I had no idea what type of deal and didn’t care to know.
Munster strutted over. “We’re going to have a problem.”
Let the fun begin.
My money was on Munster. He was taller and bulkier than Costa, and he had a right hook that could knock a person’s lights out in a flash. I’d seen him do just that in the yard when some newbie tried to piss off Rudy. Maybe I should just let Rudy’s gang handle Costa.
Costa pushed off the doorjamb of his cell.
“Showtime,” I mumbled.
Munster’s mean glare at Costa said he wanted a piece of the dude. I would gladly give him his shot, but I wanted to know how Costa knew my name and why he had a hard-on for me.
But before I could open my mouth, Costa had his hands around my throat and was shoving me into my cell. I tried to pry his paws off me, but the fucker was strong. The room began to spin as darkness encroached from all sides.
Then he threw me, and my back landed against the stainless-steel sink, punching the air from my lungs. In that moment, I swore I was about to face my maker. I gulped down more and more air as intense pain careened up my spine.
