THICK (Biker MC Romance Book 6) by Scott Hildreth

Author:Scott Hildreth [Hildreth, Scott]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2017-07-26T18:30:00+00:00

The sound of keys unlocking cell doors gave warning that the time had come. I remained in my bunk, nonetheless.

My cell door opened. “Time to go play outside, inmate,” the guard said in a sarcastic tone.

For one hour each day, we were free to go to the yard or wander the cellblock. In no order, we filtered out of the cellblock and through the door that led to the outside. After an hour of wandering around and exercising, we were brought inside, returned to our cells, and counted.

Gravy, a man of less than average height with graying hair and a lengthy full beard, walked past with his three rapist friends. Telling a story as he sauntered toward the door, he made no note of me sprawled out on my bunk as he passed by my cell.

I lifted my bedding, picked up the makeshift knives, and slipped them into the pockets of my khakis.

Once on the yard, I made note of the cliques of inmates. A group of blacks gathered just outside the door. The Hispanic population was spread out along the fence that separated the yard from the field behind the prison. Non-affiliated whites were loosely scattered in the center of the yard. The handful of Savages stood beside them on the left, and much larger group of Arian Brotherhood’s men stood on the right. I recognized the leader of the AB group as being the same man who was in charge when I paid my last visit.

So far, everything was going as I had hoped.

If there was one man that no one respected within the walls of a prison, it was a rapist. A rapist had two choices once he got behind the walls. He could either ‘check in’, which would mean that he asked the guards to lock him in the SHU for his entire sentence. Doing so would all but ensure his safety, but he’d spend twenty-three hours and forty-five minutes a day locked in his cell, alone.

Or, he could take his chances in general population.

In general population, he would be shanked, set afire, or beaten to death.

The problem with the Savages was that they hadn’t been tried or convicted. No one knew what their actual charges were. When asked, they probably lied, and said their crimes were meth or murder, both being socially acceptable in prison.

With my head hung low, I sauntered toward the group of Arians. Once beside the group, I looked up and made eye contact with their leader, Tink. In his latter forties with a shaved head, prison-made Arian tattoos, and a goatee, he looked the part he played.

The vast majority of bikers weren’t white supremacists, but they received respect from the men who were. Personally, I didn’t believe any race was superior, but for the time being, my only ally was the group of men who stood before me.

I tilted my head to the side. “Got a minute?”

He and his next in command stepped away from the group.

“Shit.” He looked me over. “Didn’t even recognize you, Meat.

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