Chapter 32

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

ZAIN

6 Years Ago

"Forty-seven." The bellowed number is accompanied by a light shining through the slot in my cell door, and a bang on the metal.

I'm already awake, unlike some others judging by the groans and swearing that erupts from the other cells. I'm off my bed and standing in the center of my cell when the door swings open ten minutes later.

"Morning, Zain." A guard steps inside, another behind him.

"Mr. Kramer. Mr. Langley."

"What's your choice this morning? Shower first or rec yard?"

"Rec, please. Shower after."

Kramer nods. "Then let's get on with it."

He folds his arms and leans against the doorframe while Langley walks around my cell. I strip, squat, drop, and cough, then straighten.

"Nothing to see," Langley says, and Kramer gives another nod.

"Get dressed."

I'm back in my clothes in record time. When I first arrived, there was nothing more fucking humiliating than the daily strip search. Now it's just another part of the day. I don't hide anything where it shouldn't be, and the guards don't have to get up close and personal with my body parts. It works out for both of us, and is over in minutes. Unlike some who put up a fight every single fucking day.

I hold out my arms and wait for Kramer to cuff me.

Is it overkill? For me, absolutely. But there are many here who need to be restricted every time they set foot outside. So, I don't take it personally. They can't afford to take the risk to their lives or anyone else's.

Grabbing the book I'm reading off my bed, I leave my cell and follow them along the hallway, wait while the door unlocks for us to go through, and step out into the yard.

It's cold, the sun hasn't risen yet, but I don't care. This is my one chance at being outside and getting fresh air all day, and I make the most of the hour I have. Sometimes I use the gym equipment, sometimes I play ball. Today, I just want to sit down and read.

Kramer takes off the cuffs, and steps back behind the fence, just as a few other prisoners are brought out. I make my way over to a bench and sit down. Tipping my head back, I take in a deep breath of the chilly morning air.

The light of dawn is enough to read by, so I flip open the book, and lose myself for a while inside the words.

"Ryder!" My name being yelled from across the yard disrupts my focus, and I lift my head to search out who called.

Another inmate is striding toward me. Franklin Jones, a guy I clashed with more than once when I first got here. He's another lifer, like me .

I wait, remaining seated, but don't take my eyes off him. If I stand, it will look like I'm preparing to defend myself from attack. In this place, nuance is everything. He comes to a stop a couple of feet away.

The dynamics in here are interesting. Especially amongst lifers. Once you've established your place in the hierarchy, it's just a case of maintaining the status quo.

My place is one of distance. Leave me alone, and I won't fuck you over. It took a long time to reach it, and I have no intention of doing anything to change it. And that's why I don't speak until after he does.

"Someone is moving into your cell. They were bringing him in just as I came out. Thought you'd want to know."

"Who?" I've never had to share my cell before.

"Never seen him before. Looks more white-collar criminal than one of us. Older than you, though. Matthews brought him in. Looked real nervous about taking his cuffs off."

Interesting.

"Thanks. I'll send some cigarettes over to you later."

Information in here requires payment in some form. Some give sexual favors, some ask for a favor to be given at a later date, some want items. It's best to establish what you're willing to pay in advance, so you're not confronted with something you really don't want to do.

It wouldn't be the first time I've walked in to find a newcomer on their knees with a dick in their mouth because one of the others helped them out, and an agreement wasn't made about how they'd pay it back.

At six forty-five, my name is called and I'm taken to the shower block. A quick shower, fresh clothes, and I'm cuffed again and led back to my cell.

My cell door is open, and just like Franklin said, when I walk inside, Matthews is there with another inmate. His back is to me, and he's fiddling with the sheets on the lower bunk. Matthews turns to face me.

"Ryder. Warden decided it was time you played nice and shared your cell." He dips his head toward the other guy. "This is Chambers. He kills people too. So you have things in common."

A snort comes from the direction of my new cellmate.

"I'll leave the two of you to get better acquainted." Matthews grins at me before backing out of the cell, so he can close the door.

I stay where I am, watching as the newcomer straightens the bedding.

"Who'd you kill? Family? Friend? Scorned lover?"

"None of the above." He turns to face me. "Would you believe I'm innocent?"

I shrug. "Wouldn't be the first man in here who didn't do what they've been accused of. Are you innocent?"

"Of this particular murder? Absolutely." He smiles, and I know without any shadow of a doubt, that this man is a killer. It's there in the gleam of his eye, and the sardonic tilt of his lips.

He holds out a hand. "You must be Zain. Matthews told me all about you. Got yourself a nice little reputation in here as being the fuck around and find out type."

"Nice little reputation?" I toss my book onto my bunk, then climb up.

"Not true?"

"Oh, it's true."

"Do I need to?" He leans against the wall, folds his arms, and looks at me.

"Need to what?"

"Fuck around and find out?"

I laugh. "You mean do we need to have a weird battle to establish dominance?"

"You tell me."

"Not before breakfast."