He’s an ass, but I can give credit when credit is due. He doesn’t try to fight his way out of a wet paper bag. He accepts my rejection like a knock to the chin.
After pulling his wedding ring out of his pocket, he slides it back onto his finger. “Those are some mighty impressive investigative skills. Have you ever considered joining the force, Miss…”
I leave his invitation for an official greeting hanging. “Good afternoon, Officer Packwood.”
Ignoring the pain darting up my leg, I hobble back to Caidyn’s Jeep parked half a block down before slipping behind the steering wheel. Officer Daniel watches me the entire time, his eyes only shifting from my ass so he can mentally jot down the tags on Caidyn’s Jeep. It won’t do him any good. Not only is Caidyn’s Jeep not registered in either of our names, but it is addressed at a business location that no longer exists since Caidyn torched his up-and-coming multi-million-dollar business to even the score between Maddox and my uncle.
My uncle was so embarrassed when Maddox knocked him out, he demanded immediate retaliation. Maddox seemingly had nothing to give. Caidyn had everything, and he sacrificed it all for his baby brother.
Perhaps I’m more like the Walshs than first perceived.
The thought makes me smile.
I’ve wanted to be a part of their dynamic for years. I just wish it could have occurred without murder, mayhem, and an uncle I’d rather kill than obey. Alas, my father was right, beggars can’t be choosers, and I’ve been a beggar longer than I’ve been a woman.
11
Maddox
Three weeks later…
“What do you want me to say, Arrow? That I personally promise he won’t do it again?” I stand from the desk in the room our monthly meetings are held in with a puffed chest and balled fists. “He got the message. He won’t talk to anyone from the Feds again.” I work my jaw side to side before correcting myself. “Sorry, he won’t talk to anyonebutyou.”
Agent Moses walks around the desk I haven’t been shackled to for over four months. “He’s said that before—”
“BeforeIgot to him. BeforeIadvised him otherwise.” I bang my chest with my fist during my last ‘I’ to emphasize my point. “He won’t make the same mistake twice.”
I never understood Agent Moses’s wish to command the cells at Wallens Ridge until I discovered how far the roots of this network spread. Prison systems are an entirely new underworld. They are full of violence, corruption, and wheeling and dealing. The only difference between prison-run operations like Wallens Ridge and the ones outside of these walls is that I’m aware every man I cross is a murderer, rapist, or thief. There are no cloaks to hide behind, no corporations. They are criminals, and they’re not ashamed to admit it.
I’ve been incarcerated for a little over six months now. In that time, I’ve seen millions of dollars traded between mafia sanctions, overheard the organization of two dozen hits, and have personally seen pounds upon pounds of drugs walked through the front entrance. And what has the warden done about it?
Not a single fucking thing.
“I handle over three thousand dangerous criminals day in and day out. I don’t have time for your concerns, boy.” That’s what he said to me when I tried to explain the undercover police officer’s beatdown was staged, and how I was set up to become Agent Moses’s bitch. “But if you unearth a way to increase my share of the pie, my door is always open.”
When I found out Agent Moses wasn’t working directly off Col’s orders, I could have manned up and told him to fuck off. I could have shown him exactly how damaging my right hook is, but when I recovered from his first exploit, my roommate got me thinking otherwise.
I don’t need to use my fists to get my point across. How I defended myself against a gang of thugs already had the prisoners cautious about getting on my wrong side, then the beatdown I gave the undercover cop and the weeks I survived in the hole saw them award me their unwanted respect, so all I needed to do was capitalize on that.
Words. That’s pretty much all I’ve used the past couple of months. The occasional fist has been thrown, but that’s only when new fish enter the pond, and they’re unsure of the rules.
Am I’m worried I’ll become addicted to the power associated with such a high-up role in the underworld? No. Why? Because Demi keeps me grounded. If it weren’t for her, I would serve my sentence in silence. Neither the warden nor guards would know my name, but since that isn’t the case, I do what needs to be done to ensure she’s never a stranger to me.
The perks will never be the equivalent of a free man, but they’re better than a kick in the teeth. I get to hold Demi in my arms for a minimum of ten minutes once a month, am served first each mealtime, and my newly assigned cell is close to the yard, meaning I see the sun set every single day.
Even hundreds of miles away, Demi sees the same stars I do.
That awards me an immense amount of calmness in an extremely volatile world.
After taking a second to revel in the rarity, I get back to my conversation with Agent Moses. “Henley advised the shipment would continue as arranged with you last week. Your cut will be twenty percent.”
When his eyes gleam, I know I have him.
He’s a sucker when it comes to profits.
His greed will be his downfall. To begin with, mafia figures will accept it as part of his package, but eventually, his inability to see through the dollar signs forever flashing in his eyes will wear their patience thin.
It has mine, and he doesn’t make a dime from me.
