Lights Out Read Online Free Page B

something.”
    Hall’s eyes widened for an instant, an awful moment when he realized he’d shown his cards, then his poker face returned.
    “Like I said, fuck you.”
    Timms decided to take a different route.
    “Is it retribution you’re afraid of? Maybe you actually saw who did it. Maybe they wanted you to see it, wanted you to get a message of some kind. If that’s the case, Hall, we can keep you safe. We’ll put you in protective custody; you won’t have to worry about a thing.”
    He waited for Hall’s answer, sitting there on the edge of his desk with his arms crossed. A long, silent moment passed, and he kept his eyes locked on the convict.
    Slowly, Hall’s shoulders began to bounce up and down. A chuckle escaped his throat, and soon he was laughing outright, his hands on his belly and his mouth open wide.
    “What’s so funny?” Ronald asked.
    “You, man!”
    “Me?”
    “Hell yeah, Timms. Who you think?”
    Hall’s laughter quieted, and he continued to speak.
    “Think about it a second, man. You bring me in here, sit me down, and tell me how three people were killed in solitary last night--fuckin’ solitary , man--and then you tell me you can keep me safe? C’mon, Timms. How much bullshit you expect a brutha to swallow before he chokes?”
    Timms felt his cheeks flush. Anger rose hot and fast within him. He waved Hall away. “Get him out of here.”
    Kling grabbed the convict under one arm and ushered him toward the door. The man’s coffee went flying across the carpet.
    “You a funny guy, Timms!” Hall called out as he was dragged through the door. “You funny as hell, homeboy! Ought to get yo ass up on stage!”
    Ron slammed the door shut on Hall and Kling, then stomped back to his desk. He downed the rest of his coffee in one gulp, swallowing the bitter liquid, and then crumpled the cup in one hand and tossed it away.
    This was turning out to be one shitty fucking day.

 
     
     
    Four
     
     
    Jefferson Diggs sits in the backseat of the convertible, surrounded by his boys and mellow as all hell. The sticky clings to his lungs, flavors his mouth and throat, numbs his lips. The beer in his hand isn’t as cold as it used to be, but he doesn’t give a fuck. It’ll get him drunk just the same. But right now isn’t the time for getting drunk. Right now, Diggs is a business motherfucker, and his business is retribution.
    He reaches between his legs, and his fingers slide over the .45’s grip. Most of his boys like nines, but Diggs likes his piece to make a good boom! --to put a man on his ass with the first shot. You don’t need no second bullet when Diggs is cappin’ your ass. One’s gonna do you just fine.
    Rollo eases the Caddy to the left, turning the corner. Diggs and the rest crane their heads, eyes peeled as they look for those bitches from Diego Street. They got a solid beef with the DS Raiders, one spelled out in two bodies so far. Diggs don’t think two is gonna even it up, though. He tells his boys he wants motherfuckin’ blood, and they’re more than willing to deliver.
    So they drive into DS territory, and they swear they’re gonna kill every last Raider they see. You don’t toy with the Sevens, man. They gonna fuck you up if you do.
    Diggs sees to that.
    Benjy points to the right, and Diggs turns to see a trio of Raiders hanging on a nearby stoop. Two slingers look out over their hood while the third sits on the steps, some bitch braiding his hair. Diggs smiles when he sees them. Time to up the ante.
    “Dumbass niggas too stupid to know we comin’.” he says.
    “Maybe they ain’t give a fuck,” Benjy says.
    “So what? Don’t mean shit, now.”
    He sets his beer in the floorboard and racks the slide on his piece. Beside him, Benjy does the same with the shotgun. In the passenger seat, Hall knocks the safety off his Uzi. He looks back and tosses Diggs a nod. Diggs returns it.
    Rollo slows the car.
    Benjy rises up out of his seat, leaning past Diggs.
    The Raiders