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“I got my orders.”
Fuck.
Another business principle that apparently holds true for prison: don’t bother negotiating with foot soldiers. They don’t have the authority to cut a deal.
But I kept talking, just in case. I kept my voice calm – I didn’t betray an ounce of fear or weakness – but I let them know they were idiots if they went through with it.
“Kick it up the pipeline,” I said. “Your superiors would want to know they can cut a better deal.”
I stopped short of offering the three of them money to go away. That would make me look weak and open me up to a thousand future attacks. Every asshole in Rikers would be demanding 50 grand to leave me alone.
If I was going to do this, I was going to do it right.
The first fight was going to be the last.
You punch at me, you draw back a bloody stump.
Ugly actually considered for a long moment, then finally shook his head. “No deals.”
He nodded to the other guys, giving them the go-ahead.
My mind raced through what Johnny had taught me:
Go for the eyes and throat.
Use one guy as a shield against the others.
Knees and elbows only bend one way, so make them bend the wrong way.
Disarm, then disable.
And one more piece of information he’d repeated only rarely:
Kill if necessary.
The last thing I thought of, though, was Lily – and prayed I’d get to hold her again.
Ugly smirked as all three of them stepped forward. “Nothin’ personal.”
“Yeah,” I said, and smiled back. “Nothing personal.”
