A commotion followed with men egging on Costa, or maybe me. I couldn’t exactly hear over the pounding in my head and the burn in my lungs.
Don’t engage. You’ll land in the hole, and then your parole hearing will be compromised.
But it was too late. I couldn’t let the fucker kill me. I had too much to do when I got out.
If you get out.
I shook my head to stop the room from spinning when Costa launched into a series of left and right jabs. My head bounced back and forth like a tennis ball.
Bone connected with bone, sending warm liquid trickling out of my nose.
I wouldn’t see freedom. After this, I would probably be waiting another few years to go before the parole board.
Maybe if I didn’t engage, I still stood a chance for parole.
Costa rammed a punch to my gut.
I doubled over. “I have no beef with you. I don’t even know what your problem is.” My words came out strangled.
He bared his teeth. “Tito Alvarez wants you dead, and it’s my job to do just that.”
My body stiffened as I listed to one side. “Hector’s brother?” I wasn’t surprised the fucker would want me dead. The question, though, was why had he waited six years?
Guards rushed in. One of them had his Taser out, ready to shoot Costa.
Costa raised his hands over his head, smirking. “We’re not done, Hart.”
A guard cuffed him. “You’re done for a long time.”
I imagined he would be in the hole for at least thirty days. I’d served the same fate when I first arrived. I hadn’t been trying to kill anyone when I’d gotten that punishment. But inmates who had been in for years were set in their ways, and newbies were put through a hazing of sorts to see what they were made of.
Costa’s nostrils flared. “Watch your back, Hart. Whether in here or out there. There’s a hefty contract on your head.”
The guard dragged him out of my cell.
I held out my arms, ready for Stew to slap the cuffs on me. No matter who started a fight, it meant an automatic trip to solitary.
“The only place you’re going is to medical. You need to get that eye checked.”
I heard him, but my mind was still stuck on one question.Why wait six years to retaliate?I understood Tito’s need for revenge. He was definitely an eye-for-an-eye kind of dude. I was sure he had friends in prison, even though I knew he didn’t have anyone in my cellblock. But the prison had several cellblocks.
I wiped blood from my eye, nose, and face with my shirt. “Why not the hole?”
Sympathy washed over Stew as he grabbed my arm. “Medical first. Standard procedure.”
I had the worst luck. It was as though someone didn’t want me to get out of prison.
Yeah, dude. That someone is the person who murdered Hector.
Rudy whistled. “He did a number on you, man.”
“I’ll be fine. I guess I’ll be staying for a while.”
Rudy’s lips turned down, his expression telling me he was sorry.
I didn’t want his pity. But if I wasn’t getting out, I might as well do whatever it took to protect myself.
5
