Chapter Nine
ELIJAH
I ignore the two men fucking in the next shower as I lather up my hair and rinse, watching the soap suds swirling down the drain. I’d gotten a glimpse of Officer Bishop at breakfast this morning, but something had been different about her. She looked tired and worn down as she’d supervised inmate duties, and I didn't like it.
I’d been allowed a shower earlier today since I was meeting with my lawyer, and they obviously wanted it to look like I was well cared for. As I finished rinsing out my hair, I realized I was well overdue for a cut. Long hair behind bars was asking for trouble in a fight, and besides, I’d look good bald, so I wasn’t vain about my hair. It would always grow back. I make a mental note to ask Beans about who the barber in this place was as I dry off.
Once I’m dressed and the two fuckers in the next cubicle have finally come with loud grunts, I’m cuffed and led into one of the interview rooms. They’re not anything special, just like the rest of Ogmore Grange, plain gray walls with a two-way mirror and a camera in the corner of the room. The furniture is simple, a table with two chairs positioned opposite one another.
The officers escorting me unlock my cuffs once I’m seated, and I raise a brow. It was unusual to be out of restraints when meeting with people from outside the prison. My suspicions are further piqued when they take up positions outside the door, rather than inside.
A few moments later, a tall blond man with sharp green eyes enters, wearing a navy suit and a crisp white shirt. He’s carrying a briefcase, which he places on the table before grabbing my arm and pulling me into a hug.
“It took you long enough, fucker.” I mumble into Julian’s ear as I slap him on the back. A quick glance at the camera shows me the little red light has gone out—the power of having an Asaro for legal representation. The fact he’s head of a mafia organization is just a bonus.
“I was tied up in a ridiculous amount of red tape, Eli.”
He sighs, and we finally pull apart. “I mean, an insane amount. Your case was practically mummified in the fucking stuff.”
“Well, what were you expecting? The whole thing has been suspicious since the day I was arrested. And that joke of a trial?” I scoff, taking my seat again.
“I can get you out tomorrow?—”
“No.”
Jules’ brows rise in surprise as I hold up my hand, motioning for him to slow down. “I’m not done here. Someone knows something. Too many pieces on the board revolve around this shitty prison.”
Why was I sent here? Why was I placed near Cartel members? And Officer Bishop, if she really was Judge Walters daughter, what was her role in all of this?
“I suspected you might say that.” Rubbing his face, Jules takes his seat. “Crazy fucker.”
Taking a closer look at my best friend and boss, I realize he looks worried. Not in a way that anyone else would notice, but I’d known him since we were children. I recognized the tight set of his jaw and the way his left-eye twitched ever so slightly, which meant he hadn’t been sleeping properly.
“How is everything else?”
Sitting back in his chair, he crosses his legs and folds his arms. “Cato and Nicco have been keeping things running. I've been very impressed with their work, but they are not you and I need my Left Hand back where he belongs.”
He glances down at his nails before polishing them lazily on his lapel. “Rosie also added two more to her KC.”
Rosalyn Gambino had been raised by her father, much like Jules and I had been raised by ours, with bloody hands and flesh between our teeth. The difference was that we’d been taught to rely on brute strength, and Rosie didn’t have that.
Instead, Vincent Gambino had made his daughter cunning and ruthless. She was like an assassin, trained with poisons and knives. That didn’t mean she couldn’t fight, no, she’d had training with that too and what she lacked in physical strength, she made up for with determination. She claimed her seat on the throne, head of the family alongside Jules, and refused to be a docile little princess. No, she was a bloodthirsty, unhinged queen. And the Kill Count was a testament to that.
Julian was trying to rile me, prod my competitive side into making me consider leaving here early. “Bullshit. You’re lying.”
“I wish.” He rolls his eyes and makes a pained expression. “It would save me a massive headache. You know how much she likes to play with knives.”
The Kill Count, or KC, was a game we’d created to see who was more dangerous. More savage. Each kill earned you a point and if the death was particularly creative, you could rack up a few more. That’s all there was to our little contest. It wasn’t complicated, just cut-throat. Literally, in her case. I preferred guns and my bare hands personally.
“So messy,” he tuts under his breath before saying. “Apparently no one else plays the game right.”
Running a hand through his golden hair, he looks every inch the rich socialite he is, when he’s not being a lawyer or a mafia boss, especially sitting opposite me, with my darkness and scars. We’re two sides of the same coin, and while my father would never have been satisfied with me being second in command, his greed would have pushed me for more. I know I’m where I’m supposed to be.
“How can they play it wrong? There are no rules.”
Julian gives me a dry stare, as if I’m an idiot. “Because everyone else who plays isn’t you .”
The corners of my mouth stretch into a wide, smug grin. “So…what you’re saying is that I’m her only worthy opponent? And that you think she’s only going to win because I’m not able to play while I’m locked in here?”
Green eyes narrow. “I’m not saying that, you are.”
“She’s not here to hear you take my side, Jules. You don’t always have to be neutral like Switzerland.” Tossing back my head, I laugh. Jules was always caught up in the crossfire between me and his psycho banshee of a wife.
Despite how competitive we were, I could read between the lines he was laying down, she missed me and she was worried. She didn’t need to be. I had it handled.
Continuing my teasing, I say, “Sometimes you can just say that your wife is a crazy cunt and that I’m right.”
He checks his watch before making a tutting noise. “I happen to like my head attached to my body and my heart still beating in my chest, so I’ll say no such thing.”
Rosie hadn’t earned the title ‘Queen of Hearts’ for nothing.
Clicking my tongue, I sit forward. “Pussy.”
With a soft sigh, Jules leans forward and opens his briefcase. “Since your stubborn ass is determined to stay in here and play Sherlock, I suppose the provisions I’ve made will come in useful.”
There he is, the mafia man. The planner. The power player.
“What’ve you got tucked up your sleeve, Asaro? What favors have you called in?”
He grins, “For my Left Hand? Well, firstly there’s this.”
Pulling out a tablet in a protective case, he slides it across the table to me.
“A tablet? How the fuck am I going to be allowed to keep that hidden in here?” I push it back towards him, shaking my head.
“No hiding necessary, my friend.” Jules' gaze softens. “This isn’t like juvie all those years ago, or like when your old man was inside. Prison evolves, just like the rest of the world, Eli.”
With a huff, I take it back and switch it on, seeing it already loaded up with several apps that I know for sure are not permitted inside Ogmore. He’s set it up so that I’ll be able to keep working, to some extent, from behind bars.
Crafty fucker. Jules just winks.
“Second, I’ve finally managed to find a few guards willing to shift their allegiances and plant one of our own. Foxx. He’s proved very useful lately…”
Foxx? The officer who’d been eyeing up Officer Bishop in the rec room the other day?
I grumble. “For fuck’s sake, that ginger fucker?”
Jules tilts his head, curious. “You’ve spoken to him already?”
“No. He just wants something that doesn’t belong to him.”
“Hmmm, well, play nice with him since he’s going to be providing your contraband.”
Clenching my jaw, I flip through the tablet. “I doubt there’s anything he can provide that I can’t get myself.”
Julian exhales slowly as he taps on the table. He knows I’m being petulant.
“Well, considering he’s currently overseeing the installation of new mattresses in your wing, I would disagree.”
Blinking rapidly, I look up. “You bought mattresses for everyone?”
He waves his hand dismissively, as if he hadn’t just dropped thousands of dollars on bedroom furniture. “Just in your wing. A charitable donation from the Asaro Foundation to Ogmore Grange.”
The smug expression on his face tells me he’s enjoyed flashing his cash around, reminding the Warden that even though this may not be one of our prisons, he still had power.
“What else have you done, you sneaky fucker?”
The corner of Jules’ mouth twitches. “You’ll just have to wait and see. But a lot of strings had to be pulled and more money crossed hands than strictly necessary so you better find your rat, my friend.”
Humming, I eye him suspiciously. “There’s a few things I want you to look into while I’m stuck in here.”
I wanted to know just who Officer Bishop was, what her life was like outside these walls, and where her weaknesses lay. I was going to embed myself so deep into her life, she’d have to claw me out from underneath her skin. But to do that, I needed information. Insights. Surveillance.
“Email me. It’s secure and Cato will get you whatever you need.” He gets to his feet, straightening his suit jacket before knocking on the door to be let out. Turning back, he grins, and it’s a look I recognize well. “Oh, Elijah, I had to enroll you on a course to justify the tablet…so enjoy.”
“What? What the fuck did you sign me up for?” I look back down at the device, spotting an app I didn’t notice before. Clicking into it, it opens up a webpage. “Hey! What the fuck is ‘Discovering the Middle Ages: Monarchies, Magic and Machines’?”
Scrolling through the module list, I look closer at the topics and credits. Terrible torture devices. Poisonous plants. Divine Rights. Magic and Mosaic Law.
Yelling after him, I curse. “What kind of Harry Potter shit is this!”
His chuckle echoes down the corridor as I’m placed back into my cuffs and led back to my cell.