Lights Out Read Online Free

down across the table. He set his tray down before folding his arms across his chest and taking a slow breath.
    “So what is it, Omar? I take it you’re looking for information again.”
    “I could be. What makes you think so?”
    “Everyone always is.”
    Marquez shrugged. He enjoyed these little duels with Ribisi. The two of them weren’t like the young chicos who ran the other factions. They were businessmen, respectable.
    Anton sighed. “To tell the truth, I haven’t heard a thing. This is strange, because usually I know every last fucking detail of what goes on in this shithole. Not this time, though.”
    “That’s a shame, Anton. A real shame.”
    “No shit.”
    “Does that make you feel inadequate? Like some puta?”
    One of the young gangsters made a move to stand, his face flushing with anger, but Ribisi put a hand on the kid’s shoulder. His eyes never left Omar’s.
    “No, you ballsy prick. I feel like I’m about to witness something bad.”
    “You think so?”
    “Yeah. Think we might all be in for a world of shit.”
    “Do tell.”
    “Wish I could. It’s just a feeling, though. Couldn’t explain it if I tried.”
    “Because I’m stupid?”
    “No, Omar. Because I--”
    “Excuse me, gentlemen.”
    Marquez looked up, the same as Ribisi, and found Officer Morrow standing over their table with a second guard. Morrow had a shit-eating smile on his face, some kind of “I’m your pal, so long as you don’t cross me” charm, and Omar felt the itching urge to slap it off. Instead, he repeated the smile he’d used to greet Anton. He was pretty sure Morrow didn’t get it.
    “Yes, officer?”
    “I need the two of you to come with me. Father Albright wants to talk.”
    “What about?” Ribisi asked.
    “I’m sure it’s all weather and stock quotes. C’mon. Your boys stay here.”
    Marquez nodded, saw Ribisi do the same. They stood together, then left the table like they owned the goddamn place.

 
     
     
    Three
     
     
    Ronald Timms looked up as a set of knuckles rapped quietly against his door. “Come in,” he said, and Heather stuck her head into the room.
    “Officer Kling is here with Deon Hall.”
    “Fine. Send them in.” A long sigh escaping his lips, he stood.
    The door opened again, and Kling guided Hall into the room. Kinnett expected the banger to be all attitude from the get go, trying to shrug from of Kling’s grip even as he sauntered with the casual ease of a real player, a sneer like a challenge on his lips. Instead, the C.O. led in a man who looked like he’d had the fight bled out of him. Hall’s breath rattled in the spacious office.
    “Sit,” he told the prisoner. He waved a hand at a chair that stood in front of his desk. At the same time, he walked out from behind the polished piece of mahogany, watched as Hall sat down, looking around through squinted eyes. There wasn’t a lot of light in solitary. The inmate’s movements were quick, anxious. Jumpy.
    “There’s no reason to be nervous, Hall.” He kept all but the smallest note of sarcasm out of his voice.
    “That shit’s easy for y’all to say.” A little bit of a sneer, but nowhere near enough to be convincing.
    “What do you have to be nervous about? Really?” he asked. “We just want to talk. No big deal.”
    “Bullshit, man! You know that’s bullshit!”
    “Watch your language there, Hall.” Kling, his voice firm.
    The con seemed to curl up into himself, his face twisting into a small pout. “Fuck y’all,” he said, and his voice was barely a whisper.
    Timms shook his head. “Y’know, Deon, I didn’t have to take you out of solitary for this. I could have come and done this right in the middle of your tiny-ass cell. I’d expect a little more in the way of gratitude.”
    “That so, Timms? Well, sorry all to fuck an’ back. How’s that tickle yo balls? Now, can I go back to my cell, please?”
    “I don’t think so. We’re not done talking yet.”
    “Fuck you, then!”
    Timms