Total pages in book: 54
Estimated words: 49589 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 248(@200wpm)___ 198(@250wpm)___ 165(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49589 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 248(@200wpm)___ 198(@250wpm)___ 165(@300wpm)
“Son of a bitch,” I growled, the words tearing from my throat as I plowed through the sea of bodies. The kid was on the ground, clutching his side, blood seeping through his fingers like he was trying to hold onto life itself.
“Move!” I barked at the kid. He tried to scramble to his feet but couldn’t quite get off his knees. I grabbed one arm and dragged the kid away from the melee to the relative safety of the prison wall. I moved us carefully, making sure I kept us in sight of the yard cameras. Last thing I wanted was to get blamed for the young man’s death if he didn’t make it.
I whipped off my shirt and shoved it over the wound before helping him cover his head in case the fighting got closer to us. We were out of the way for now, but I didn’t want to take chances.
The siren finally went off, though everyone not directly involved in the fighting was ready to assume the position, only not lying flat on the ground straight away in case they needed to protect themselves.
I could feel the tension ratcheting up. Not just because of the riot, but because here I was, right in the fucking middle of it when I’d spent years keeping my head down. The last thing I wanted was to get a couple years tacked on to my sentence when I was so close to getting out.
“Get your ass down, Pain, or I’ll take you out myself!” Mother fuck. If it wasn’t that same Goddamned guard I’d been looking into. Fucker would love to shoot me because he knew I was on to him. Nadine was right. The fucker was a predator. He’d been shuffled around the federal system from prison to prison because no one wanted to deal with his skank ass. Everyone knew he had some serious misconduct but, to put it bluntly, no one gave a good Goddamn if he was hurting prisoners or not.
I moved slowly, keeping my hand over the young man’s wound, until I was on the ground on my stomach. I still held pressure because I could already feel blood seeping through my balled-up shirt. I needed to actually look at his wound because I could be doing more harm than good if the shank penetrated his lung.
“Get your fuckin’ hand away from him, man. Don’t be fuckin’ stupid.”
“You realize he’s bleeding out. Right?”
“I don’t give a fuck! Get your hands away from him!”
“Stand down, Grayson!” The command sliced through the clamor, sharp and unexpected. It was Guard Roberts, his voice cutting through the mayhem in our vicinity.
Grayson lowered his weapon but not his glare. His lip curled up just enough to let me know he had me in his sights. But for now, he stepped back, letting Roberts take the lead.
“Don’t move, Pain. Keep pressure on his wound or whatever you have to do, but lie still until we get things under control.” Roberts was standing slightly in front of us, protecting us from anyone who got too close. Roberts was one of the guards in Knuckles’ pocket. He would protect me because Knuckles told him to, and Knuckles was the one making sure he got paid. He was also the one who would take any skin I lost in here out of Roberts’ hide.
“We’re gonna have to get him to medical, Roberts. Fast. He’s bleeding, but I think the shank also penetrated his lung.”
“He’ll be the first to leave when we get the yard locked down.” Roberts grabbed Grayson by the vest and jerked him away from me and the kid on the ground next to me. “Go help the guys on the East side of the yard. These two aren’t going to be a problem.”
“You sure? I don’t trust Pain. He’s just itchin’ to stab someone. You can see it in his fucking eyes.”
“Get your ass to the fucking East side, Grayson!” Roberts snapped. “Or I’ll see to it you accidentally get locked in the yard on your own.”
With a snarl, Grayson did as Roberts said, stomping off like a fucking toddler.
I chanced a glance at the young man beside me. “Hang in there, kid.”
“Do you have any idea how clichéd that sounds?” Though his words were strained, I was glad to see the kid had a sense of humor.
“I mean, I grew up watching Clint Eastwood reruns on WGN in Chicago. It was all clichéd. That’s a line Eastwood would say.”
“Or John Wayne,” Roberts offered.
I rolled my eyes. “Ain’t you supposed to be helping to get us all under control?”
Roberts shrugged. “I got a hurt prisoner who was just tryin’ to get out of the fuckin’ way. If you think that gives your sorry ass a little added protection, mention it to Knuckles. See if he’ll give me a bonus.”