Two Hitmen: A Double Bad Boy Mafia Romance (Lawless Book 1) (129 page)

TWO HITMEN
Epilogue, continued…

My thin cellmate had given me a whispered guide to the local celebrities and the faces to watch. As we shuffled along the breakfast line among the rattle of tin cups and tin bowls, with her eyes on the floor, she tilted her shoulder or inclined her head and murmured names.

After each name she said, “Don’t go near that one,” and “Stay away from her. “She’s one you don’t want to get on the wrong side of.” All of the women Shayla pointed out were, according to her, women to avoid and be afraid of.

As we sat to huddle at the end of a long tressle she indicated a huge blonde woman inmate with a loud laugh, a circle of hunched followers and a wide grin that flashed with gold when she threw back her head and let loose her braying laugh. Any time an inmate made a distinct sound above a murmur, one of the women guard whacked a nightstick on the table right by the side of her. Not this one, though. Not Zarina.

Zarina’s braying voice startled me. “Outside people ask about you.” The hairs on the back of my neck straightened in waves as I felt her come closer. Her voice was soft. Near. “You’re something it seems.”

My whole body tingled. My fingers, resting on the cold steel sink trembled.

She shouted, “You.” I didn’t know what to do.

“Turn. Look me in the eye.” I didn’t want to. But I did. Instinct took over. Her blonde hair in huge, ornate waves, made her look like a pale Samoan supermodel squeezed into prison coveralls. The shelf of her breasts was level with my chin. She probably could have knocked me out just by shaking her shoulders.

Her eyes were hard and a gray that matched the mirror. The echo of her voice filled the room. “You.” She snarled, “You’re worth something. Or so it seems.”

I was backed against the sink with nowhere to go. Nothing in either hand. Nothing I could even reach for. A cloth, a quarter of a bar of hard soap and a cheap plastic hairbrush. I didn’t see a way that I could defend myself with any of those things.

“Somebody has a message they want you to get.”

The lump in my throat was too hard for me to swallow. I feared I might choke.

Her perfume was overpowering. “Prosecutor comes today, no?”

With my lips pressed together I nodded.

Her head craned down towards me. I was backed up and unsteady over the sink, her voice ground like rusty machinery. “You tell him go fuck himself.”

I blinked.

“You keep quiet. You got a ticket out of here.” Her eyes narrowed. “Any trouble,” her nose was against mine, “Anyone wants to fuck with you,” her grin split wide open showing the metal in her teeth, “I break them.” The word ‘break’ rolled long and hard in the tiled room. She put a hand on my shoulder and it took all my self-control to keep from collapsing.

“Now,” she said, “now you’re with me. You got two, two and a half weeks and you’re out of here.”

Her arm went around my shoulders and her massive hand clapped on my arm. “You got friends outside.” She squeezed. “And now, you got one inside, too.”

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