by Cairo
“Fuck all the talk, Lea,” the redbone snapped, glancing at her watch. “Let’s beat this bitch’s ass and be on our way. Shit.”
What Heaven didn’t know was, a big brawl had been staged on the other side of the large yard to distract the COs while the young dread and her friends quickly handled her.
“Let’s get this bitch, now,” the redhead snapped as she lunged forward.
Heaven quickly stepped back. But before the redhead could get anywhere near her, she was unexpectedly met with a homemade club to the right side of her head, knocking her to the gravel, giving Heaven enough time to pull her razor from her sports bra and slash Brown Skin across the face.
The girl screamed out in pain, grabbing her face. Blood poured out through her fingers, causing Dread Girl’s eyes to open in sudden shock. She hadn’t wanted to confront Heaven, but she’d had no choice. She’d been forced to. Now it was too late to back out.
“You fuckin’ bitch!” she yelled as she reached for her shank she’d hidden under her shirt, charging toward Heaven. But Clitina and her three friends pounced on her, slashing her with razors they’d suddenly spat out of their mouths. The blades sliced into Dread Girl’s face and neck, causing blood to splatter everywhere.
Stunned at how expertly each girl used their blades, Heaven quickly stepped back from the attack trying to keep blood from getting on her. She’d already gotten blood on her hands and arm from slicing the chick with the boy cut across the face. She didn’t want blood splattering on her clothes and sneakers, too.
Then, in a wild rush, one of Clitina’s friends—an attractive, dark-skinned female—reached down and yanked Brown Girl’s head back and sliced her across her neck in one swift motion, leaving her to bleed out.
Heaven gasped in shock.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here ’fore the COs get here,” two of the girls said as they pulled Clitina by her arm. The four girls ran off with their bloody razors, laughing as they ran in the opposite direction, leaving Heaven standing there with three bodies at her feet.
Then it hit her.
Ohmygod!
She had to get away from the scene before the COs realized another fight had taken place, and charged her—again, for yet another bloody brawl. But this time there were bodies, dead bodies—well at least one body, which potentially meant more criminal charges and spending the rest of her time in prison on twenty-three-hour lock.
Heart beating fast and hard, Heaven took off running. She’d pray for her sins later, she thought as she scattered away from the blood bath; losing herself in a sea of women.
THIRTY
We’re Gonna Tear This Mother Out . . .
Warden Kate couldn’t wait to get back to the confines of her office, behind her locked door, to her coveted flask. She needed a damn drink. These bitches had gone too damn far. Again. And now she had the commissioner breathing down her neck. He wanted answers. Like, “How the fuck had one woman gotten severely sliced, another’s head bashed in, and a third’s throat slit, while another two women were being badly beaten on the other side of the yard, and not one breathing, goddamn soul saw a damn thing?”
And the one camera that could have shed light on the head-bashing and slashings had no footage. None! Somehow, the camera had malfunctioned.
How convenient.
What the hell was going on inside her prison?
The whole compound was shut down. All movement, all activities shut. The. Hell. Down. And she’d shake this motherfucking prison upside down, and inside out.
With so many women with diverse backgrounds, criminal histories, and personality clashes, there was bound to be violence. It was inevitable and—yes, a daily occurrence on some level. But that still didn’t make the shit acceptable. The warden knew that for many of these women, solving problems with fists and weapons was all they knew how to do.
She sucked in her breath and snatched her desk drawer open and pulled out her flask, frantically twisting off the cap and taking a long swallow. Truths or not, she was sick of rationalizing and making excuses for these wild-ass boorish women.
If they couldn’t find a way to get along and coexist instead of acting like a bunch of barbarians, then she would make their lives a living fucking hell in here. She’d make it a living hell for any of them to jail in her prison.
Try her.
She slid the opening of her flask to her lips again, and swallowed a mouthful of her most trusted friend. Belvedere. She inhaled, then exhaled, savoring the way the alcohol spread warmth down in her chest, then fanned out into her stomach.
She couldn’t let these unruly hyenas get to her. But, with the commissioner now breathing down her neck, they’d really fucked her nerves raw with this most recent shit.
Oh, those bitches were going to suffer. And suffer well!
So far, with the water shut off since the prison yard attacks, no one had been able to shower or flush their toilets—to prevent anyone from flushing drugs, weapons, and any other contraband. And many of the women were starting to feel the effects.
As far as the warden was concerned, it was unfortunate—but if inmates wanted to act like wild animals, then they could stay locked in their damn cells in filth, funk, and squalor, inhaling their shit and piss.
She needed to sort through the drama, and clean out the trouble-making trash. And fast.
The search teams were in full force, turning every housing unit upside down—with explicit orders to not destroy any inmate’s personal property. Any cell found with contraband would result in both inmates being charged, and sent to solitary.
So far, over the last several days, the raids had confiscated a number of cell phones, weapons—ranging from shanks to hammers, and drugs; lots and lots of drugs from weed, cocaine, heroin, and hundreds of ecstasy pills.
Her damn prison was a damn drug den.
These junkie bitches probably been attending NA meetings higher than kites. She took two small sips from her flask.
“I’ll tell you what. I want this situation handled. Now either you get this mess under control,” the commissioner had warned her, “or I’ll find someone else who will.”
Then he was up on his feet, heading out her door, leaving her at her desk with her jaws slack.
She shook her head in disgust.
She had plans to retire in another three years, and she’d be goddamned if she was about to let any of them fuck over her pension—or her plans.
Period.
There was a knock at her door.
She sighed.
“Give me a sec,” she called out, quickly twisting the silver cap of her flask back on. She reached for two cinnamon mints and tossed them in her mouth, then walked around her desk to open her door.
“Yes, Susan?”
Her secretary blinked, startled by her brusqueness. “You have your ‘Do Not Disturb’ on.”
“Oh, right. Yes. I forgot. After having my ass chewed out and handed to me, I needed to steal a moment to myself.”
She nodded knowingly. Susan smiled to herself. Good for her ass. Ever since she’d gotten promoted to warden, she’d become this moody, snappy-mouth bitch. And Susan didn’t appreciate the level of disrespect and disregard she suddenly tossed at her.
“So what can I do for you?”
Susan blinked. A tiny spark of irritation shot up her spine. “Nothing, ma’am. I only wanted you to know that the inmate you requested is outside.”
She glanced at her watch. “That was over an hour ago. Send her in.”
Hand poised on the door handle, Susan said, “I’ll send her in.”
The warden nodded.
As Susan began to walk out and close the door, the warden called out, “Oh, Susan.”
Her secretary popped her head back in. “Yes?”
“Thank you.”
Susan gave her a puzzled look.
“I don’t tell you often enough how much I appreciate you. But I do. So thank you for all you do.”
Touched by the gesture
, Susan simply smiled, then backed out the door. A few seconds later, the door opened again.
And in walked the thorn in her side.
“Miss Lewis, please. Have a seat,” the warden said, forcing a smile to spread over her lips. She eyed the inmate as she sauntered into her office. Her breasts were sitting up high, nice and plump, and somehow she managed to wear the orange jumper like it was Department of Corrections couture.
The warden swallowed. Their last meeting hadn’t gone well, but this time, she hoped they could have a productive, adult-like conversation.
The warden’s gaze drifted lazily up and down Heaven as she took a seat across from her desk. She flopped in the chair across from her desk, emitting a seemingly annoyed sigh as her long, shapely legs crossed.
“How can I help you, Warden?”
The warden gritted her teeth. She had to rein in her temper before she said or did something that would cause her to toss office decorum out the window. She took a breath and stretched her arms out and clasped her hands in front of her.
“Well, Miss Lewis. I’m sure you might be wondering why I had you brought to my office today . . .”
Heaven tilted her head, and gave the warden a really bitch look. “Um. No. Actually, not,” she flatly said. “But since you have me sitting here, I’m wondering when you’re going to lift this lockdown ban. I haven’t showered since the day you enforced this mess.”
“And that’s unfortunate,” the warden stated calmly.
“No, what’s unfortunate is a bunch of grown-ass women having to stay locked in their cells with no running water. You get to go home and wash your ass every night, don’t you?”
“Miss Lewis, I understand your frustration.”
“No War. Den,” Heaven snapped. “I don’t think you do. Is your snatch washed every day? Or do you like a little stank on it?”
The warden fought to keep her expression neutral. But Heaven’s lips distracted her a little. She shifted in her seat and forced herself to keep her eyes fixed on Heaven and let her rant. She actually found her sass disturbingly refreshing.
“Are you walking around in dirty drawers right now, huh, Warden? No, of course you’re not, unless you’re just nasty. Unless you’ve missed the memo, we’re women locked up in a tight-ass space. Smelling each other day in, day out. And as females we need to wash our asses.”
Heaven hadn’t signed up to become a mouthpiece for the prisoners, but since the warden had summoned her, it was only right she gave her an earful.
“I can’t speak for everyone,” she continued. “But I’m not some trashy ho. I get it. This is prison, and we all did something to put us here. But, unlike some, I like getting waxed and pampered. Not walking around with a bunch of whiskers sprouting out of my damn snatch.”
The warden nodded, and listened intently. “Miss Lewis,” she said calmly. “I hear your concerns. Now I need for you to hear mine.”
Heaven grunted in return and shifted in her seat.
“Over the last several months, there has been more violence in my prison surrounding one inmate than we’ve had in years. And the common denominator in each incident, thus far, has been you. So do you see my dilemma here?”
Heaven gave her a probing look. “What exactly are you implying, War. Den?”
“What I’m implying, Miss Lewis, is this: since you’ve walked onto the grounds of this prison, you’ve not only sliced someone with a razor, causing her to need hundreds of stitches . . .”
“And she came into my cell—uninvited—trying to push up on me. Trying to tongue-fuck my pussy. No bitch. I’m not interested. Period. Point. Blank. So she slapped me. And I sliced her. Next.”
The warden gritted her teeth. She was slowly losing her patience with this bitch and her nasty attitude. “And then you attacked another inmate over on Three East, beating her unconscious. Would you like to explain that?”
Heaven swung her ponytail over her shoulder. “And I was punched, kicked and beat with sticks. Like I told you, when you paid me a visit in lockup: I went for help. And when the CO bitch gave me her flat-ass to kiss, I took matters into my own hands. What was I supposed to do? Wait until that bitch got at me while I slept? No, thank you. You got the wrong one. I’m not a gang-banger or some hood-trash chick, but I’m damn sure not some goofy bitch, either, who’s going to let some female threaten me, bully me, or put their damn hands on me. Trust. If a bitch steps to me—here or out on the streets—she has to get dropped before she drops me. And that, Warden, is a promise.”
The warden glanced at her watch and grimaced. She had a date with Captain Caldolini and she’d wanted to be out of the building by three so she could get checked into the Marriott in downtown Brooklyn, then prepare for her date.
They’d made dinner plans the night before, and she was looking forward to seeing him again. This would be her third date with the sexy, hard-bodied captain—and tonight she planned on sitting on his face while getting a taste of that Italian sausage that hung between his strong, hairy legs. Kielbasa or sausage link, it didn’t matter. She wanted to smother herself in his pubic hairs while sucking his dick.
It’d been so long—too long—since she had a dick sliding over her tongue. And tonight, she planned on changing that.
Maybe then she’d stop having dark, dirty fantasies of sliding her clit over—
“Are we done here?”
The warden blinked out of her salacious reverie. “No. We’re not. I listened to you rattle on. Now I need for you to hear me. And here me good.”
Heaven flicked imaginary dirt from beneath her fingernail, then looked at the warden.
“Now I can’t prove it, but I know in my gut that you were—no, are—somehow linked to what happened out in the yard with those three women last week.”
Heaven frowned. “Try again, War. Den. Like I already told you. I’m not gang involved, so I would have no reasons to entertain a bunch of dusty birds, or be involved in what happened to any of them.”
The warden tilted her head. “No, you’re not gang affiliated, but—dusty bitches or not, one of the young women who had her throat slit was a friend of Shareesa Lyons . . .”
Heaven gave the warden a blank stare, then feigned ignorance. “I don’t know a Shareesa Lyons.”
“The young woman whose face you sliced. They called her, Snake.”
“Oh,” she said nonchalantly. “I thought that was a man. But, anyway . . . what does one thing have to do with the other? I was nowhere near that girl, or her friends. So try again. Next.”
The warden stared her down. But Heaven refused to back down. So she stared back. The warden suddenly felt conflicted. A part of her wanted to reach across her desk and slap the inmate’s beautiful face. She was a smug bitch. Yet, she was equally breathtaking. Then there was another part of her that wanted to bite out her jugular. The one between her thighs. She cursed herself for wanting to kneel between her legs and sniff her unwashed cunt, wondering what she smelled like.
She fought to keep her gaze from drifting to her breasts; so goddamned perky and full. Several silent moments passed before the warden shifted in her seat and finally spoke, still keeping her eyes locked on Heaven’s.
“The water will be on by next shift,” Warden Kate stated. “But, understand this, Miss Lewis. I will not let you or any other inmate turn this prison into a battlefield. It stops now. One more incident that comes across my desk with your name on it or anywhere in it, and I promise you this: I’ll have you so hemmed up with street charges that by the time the judge finishes with you, you’ll be rotting under this prison. Now get your shit together, Miss Lewis. Get a grip on your life. And get the fuck out of my office.”
Heaven stared the warden down. Although she wanted to fill the room with a bunch of expletives and tell the warden to kiss her ass, she bit her tongue. The warden’s tone was calm, but there was a bite to her words and an icy glare in her eyes that let Heaven know she meant every word.
As Heaven stood to her feet and tromped
to the door, she could feel the warden’s gaze taking her in. She felt like bending over and shaking her ass in the warden’s face.
Instead, she left the office, slamming the door behind her.
Then the dark desires swept in, and the warden wondered if she had touched her, would there have been magic. Heat. Fire.
She pressed her thighs together, then closed her eyes and shuddered.
Oh, she’d been tempted.
Her lashes fluttered, and her eyes slowly opened. She glanced at her watch.
God, she couldn’t wait to get laid.
THIRTY-ONE
Wild, Wild, Wild . . .
A week later, the prison ban was completely lifted and all was well in the world behind bars. And Heaven found herself entertaining a new friend in her cell. She didn’t believe in coincidences. This unlikely union had to be fate. Still, she never thought in a million years that the same nineteen-year-old girl who’d come to her cell in tears almost two months ago, bloody drawers and all, would become a bona-fide ride-or-die.
Heaven walked over and handed her a large microwavable bowl of tuna salad that she’d made using two packs of tuna, mayo, garlic and onion powder, and relish packs.
Clitina’s stomach growled. She didn’t have any money on her books, and the only food she’d been eating, besides what was served in the dining hall, was food Heaven had graciously started sharing with her after the prison ban had been lifted. The two women were oddly indebted to the other. And, while Heaven had promised herself she’d look out for the young girl, Clitina had already sworn to have her back as well.
The young woman was in awe, transfixed, by Heaven’s beauty. She secretly idolized her, and thought she should be on a runway somewhere instead of a prison cell. She was pretty and classy, but not some soft-ass bitch.
Clitina despised those types.