Chapter 3
CHAPTER THREE
NIKOLAI
H appy Birthday to me, indeed.
It’s not often that life gives me exactly what I need in the moment that I need it. Even more rare that I’m gifted a toy that I hadn’t even asked for. Yet, there she was - a perfect, beautiful new doll, all for me. Even better yet, I can tell that she’s got more than a little bite in her. She’s perfect.
I didn’t have any doubts about her legal skills. Her talents and reputation do, in fact, more than speak for themselves. She’s not my usual type, but I can’t deny that I’m drawn to her flame. Since my sentencing, I’ve felt more than a little trapped here. Not just in the bars-on-the-windows-and-doors-sort-of-way, no, that would be far simpler to endure. I feel almost as if I’ve been trapped on the glass slides of a microscope. I don’t know how to get out of it. There have always been eyes on my movements, it’s a hazard of living the life I did and running the organization that I had. But this is far more personal. Before now, those eyes that liked to watch me were not exactly in a position that they could touch me.
Certainly not the case now.
At this very moment the guards are leading me through the winding halls of the prison. It’s designed this way specifically to disorient us inmates. They want us to feel like rats in a maze. It works a little too well given that the inmates here have unusually high aggression levels. I can feel them radiating in my direction. Not that I don’t deserve it, of course I do. I am not apologetic for my life in the Bratva. I was always exactly the man that my father raised. Brutal, lethal and merciless. I am not going to change that just because I’m in here.
I just might not live as long with those choices.
Already rumors are circulating about which lawyer I was just meeting with. Of course, the usual rabble about her pretty face and perfect legs are stirring up the usual perversions. But her mind is sparking other debates as well. Ms. Thorne’s ‘barracuda’ reputation precedes her. Other inmates are going to try to enlist her, or outright steal her from me. She can’t represent a dead man, after all. Hell, if she manages to pull this off, and I’m sure that she will, she’s going to have more work than she knows what to do with. Hope she’s ready for that sort of notoriety. More than a handful of gangs in here would love nothing more than to have an attorney like her on permanent retainer for their organization.
If I wasn’t public enemy number one in here before, I sure as shit am now.
Most of my enemies have spent the months that I’ve been here biding their time, chipping away at me here and there. Most of them do not underestimate the threat that I represent to them. Unarmed, I can easily take most of these men here. Hell, I’m itching for a fight. They all know that. There’s a certain look that wild animals get in their eyes when caged like this. All that pent up energy with nowhere to go? I would love to see them try anything.
There will be more challenges now.
We pass the yard and I see a good handful of people that I’m personally responsible for putting here. Enemies galore. I can’t let my guard down, not even for a single second. I have hardly been able to sleep a wink since being in here. I don’t think that Ms. Throne properly understands just how much I need her, or how right she was about all the big talk that she was making. Probably felt like bravado to her at the time but I do have to do what she asks. Well, mostly. She’s going to be back soon when she realizes that I didn’t sign the paper that she wanted me to sign the most.
Having her as my lawyer will make people realize that I’m going to get out of here sooner rather than later. Their window of opportunity to get their revenge against me is going to quickly dwindle with every passing day. Eyes are glued to me as I walk past with my head held high.
One man stands apart from the others. Old enough to be my father, Fausto Di Gennaro came up on the scene about the same time my own father did. Old school. They do things a little bit different. He’s my real threat. He’s the only one who doesn’t look at me like he’s in a rush to kill me. Honestly, if anybody in this prison has the right to end my life, it is him. He’s not going to feel pressured by the fact that Ms. Thorne is my lawyer. Very little gets to him.
I remember the feud between my Bratva and the Camorra that put Di Gennaro behind these very bars. I put him here to rot and absorbed every one of his resources. His whole clan was imprisoned because of me. For the first few years, they suffered drastic losses as Di Gennaro can’t ever be somewhere that he’s not the top dog. Over time, however, he took over control of operations in here. Which also makes him the only one who is actually a threat to me.
The Camorra had attempted to strike up a deal with the Mexican Cartel. Problem was, the deal happened to feature something that I wanted for my Bratva. It was only good business to make a competing offer. I almost felt bad for him and the fact that he simply could not hold a candle to the raw numbers that I possessed. I walked away from the deal with all the shipments happening over the border in Neuvo Laredo. I was happy enough to let Di Gennaro’s men do all of the dirty work, and leaked some key information for Houston PD to pick them up as they crossed the city on the way to New Orleans.
Then, when the Houston PD started to move all the merchandise out of the city, my men took the inventory off of their hands.
Makes sense that he wants my head on a pike. I would too if the situation was reversed.
It is painful for me to admit that, while I was never afraid of Di Gennaro when I had the force of my Bratva behind me, now that I’m considered a rogue agent it’s unnerving how much venom is in that man’s stare.
The safest place for me is the isolation cell. Just me and the bars and four small walls that would start to feel smaller with each passing day. But I also can’t afford to make Kate’s job any harder by stepping out of line. I do consider it for a moment, though. It would only be a matter of grabbing one of these guards escorting me and wrapping one of the chains on me around their neck. I could start a fight with them and end up stuck in iso for the upcoming weeks or months but then even Kate wouldn’t be able to get visitation with me.
The damned guards take sides anyway.
Meaning all that I can do is defend myself. But even then, it seems like when another inmate throws himself at me, it’s quickly ignored, while I can’t even so much as raise my fists before they are there coming for me. It’s not just bad luck. I’m fucked if I stay here.
It’s no mystery that that the food in prison is garbage.
I can’t eat it. I move the line like I’m supposed to. The plastic tray in my hand is little more than a weapon to me. It has nothing to do with food, because nothing that’s being plopped onto the tray is edible. On either side of my body, there’s a large gap in the line. People like to give me a wide berth here. They don’t get in my way if they can help it because I’m bigger than most of the other men on this block.
Because of this, it’s real obvious what’s going to happen when another man slides into the line behind me, cutting the rest of the inmates. People have been stabbed for a lot less than that here. I know what’s coming. The man starts moving erratically, pulling his tray along with his other hand tucked firmly in his pocket. He’s glancing over his shoulder anxiously and looking to somebody across the room for confirmation. I know what’s going to happen the moment that I, too, turn to look to see who is giving the orders to him. But, to get this over with - I look.
The much smaller man behind me makes his move.
I see the glint of metal out of the corner of my eye and I move instantly. The tray of food I was not looking forward to eating comes up and I use it as a makeshift shield to knock the man’s hand away from me. The crudely made knife in his hand goes clattering to the floor. I flip the tray once more in my large hands and use it to bash the man across the head to ensure that he can’t go for the knife.
Since I’ve actually hit him, the guards arrive instantly, metal batons in their hands as they run up on me. All of my fighting instincts tell me to dodge them. I was trained for combat situations like this. It doesn’t matter if they outnumber me or that they are armed and I’m not. Pulling my punches? It’s fucking embarrassing. Di Gennaro wants me to feel like a puppet under his ministrations. The guards, the men, all pieces that he moves at his whim, I can’t let that happen to me. Di Gennaro wants me to be scared, and I’m worried that it might just work.
They are going to take their time with the long game. I know that they want to slowly break down my defenses and that this is just the beginning. Even as my arms are twisted behind my back by the guards and I’m walked out of the mess hall at the awkward, uncomfortable angle that I am, I know Di Gennaro’s loving this.
I focus on the knife on the ground, the one that was meant to kill me, and hope that Kate can work a miracle.