Lost World by CJ Bishop

Author:CJ Bishop [Bishop, CJ]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-06-29T16:00:00+00:00

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The sense of unease struck out of nowhere, lodging in the Egyptian’s gut the moment he drove through the prison gates and into the employee parking area.

Something’s wrong.

His gut feelings had saved his life many times over. He’d learned to give them the respect they deserved. Cochise went on instant alert as he left the van and zipped up his jacket, concealing his blood-stained shirt, and entered the prison. Gunther met him on the way to his quarters. Distress strained the guard’s face.

“What’s wrong?”

“Hallahan brought in the new kids.”

“Yeah? You knew he was going to. That’s why we went out today—to pick them up.”

“Yeah, I-I know.” Gunther stared at the corridor floor as they walked along. He was shaken—badly.

Cochise stopped. “What is it?”

“The kids they brought in this time—”

“There you are.” Hallahan came around the corner. “What the fuck took you so long?”

“I told you,” Cochise muttered. “I had to get the van fixed and it took longer than expected.”

“So you did.” He cranked his head at Gunther. “Did you get them processed like I told you?”

Gunther nodded.

“Good. So, go make yourself useful. Tell the warden Kanaan is back.”

Gunther nodded again and started to walk away.

“Hey,” Hallahan stopped him. “See anything of Willard yet?”

“No.”

Hallahan chuffed and waved him off. Gunther glanced discreetly at Cochise and left them alone. “Lazy ass piece of shit,” Hallahan muttered. “Probably got himself split in half trying to fuck a big nigger.”

Cochise was no fan of the “N” word, but he ignored it. Racist assholes like Hallahan were a lost cause and there was only one way to deal with them—and he would soon enough. “The warden?” Cochise asked, bringing the subject back around.

“Yeah. He was… concerned that you had car trouble.” Hallahan smiled dryly. “He cares about his employees.”

Like fuck. Cochise didn’t need to meet the man face-to-face—he’d encountered enough men like him already. He knew exactly what men like Sorensen cared about. Themselves—and what profited them.

Cochise switched subjects again. “I want the kid earlier tonight.”

“The Mexican?”

“Of course, him—who the fuck else would I be talking about?”

Hallahan chuckled. “Need to get rid of today’s frustration? I kind of pity the little wetback. He won’t be walking for a week—if he even survives till tomorrow.” He held up a finger and grinned. “Remember—you break him, you buy him. John-boy is very clear about that.”

“I know the rules.”

“Good. You might be a big fucker, but John-boy is no one to cross. He’s got a lot of white boys in his crew who would love to cut into your raghead ass.”

“I’m not a raghead,” Cochise corrected. “And if he and his boys want to give it a shot—we can rumble.”

“You’re a real badass, are ya?”

“Piss me off and find out.”

“Ooh, I’m affrighted.” Hallahan snorted.

You will be, motherfucker.

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