On a Knife's Edge Read Online Free Page A

discarded towel with a
blasé shrug. “Nah. He’s in the yard.”
    The guy eyed Lynch like a cat would a wounded mouse. “Name’s
Beck. Just transferred in and heard Oscar was the main guy on this block.
Wanted to stop by and…make his acquaintance.”
    Bullshit. This meathead didn’t want to make anyone’s acquaintance .
He wanted to establish his dominance by challenging El Jefe . Well he
could try.
    Lynch tightened his grasp on the terrycloth. “Like I said,
he’s in the yard.”
    A slow, nasty grin lifted the corners of Beck’s mouth. “You
his guppy? Maybe I’ll make your acquaintance first. As a warm-up.”
    Lynch permitted his own lips to quirk up. “Have at.
Fucktard.”
    Beck’s smile disappeared and he pulled his hands from his
pockets. A short, but no doubt deadly shank glinted menacingly in his right
fist.
    Well shit. It probably hadn’t been the best idea to insult
this guy, but live and learn.
    Shifting his left leg forward, Lynch angled his body to make
himself less of a target, his muscles tense. He wrapped the towel around his
hand, knowing the cramped quarters would either save or kill. A crap shoot
either way.
    Beck weaved the shank back and forth. He feigned a thrust.
Lynch responded with a sweep of his toweled hand, almost knocking the blade
free.
    Beck’s eyes widened then tapered into slits. He adjusted his
hold on the makeshift knife. “Guess this ain’t your first rodeo.”
    Lynch didn’t bother answering. He kept his gaze trained on
Beck, ready for the next attack—when the unit guard, Johnston, appeared.
“What’s going on?” he demanded.
    Beck quickly pocketed his weapon. “Nothing.” He glared at
Lynch. “Right?”
    Lynch refused to relax his bearing. “Right.”
    Beck backed out of the cell with a warning look. “See you
later. Guppy.”
    “Count on it.”
    After Beck left, Lynch unraveled the towel and tossed it
onto his top bunk. He looked at the guard. “You need something?”
    “Yeah. Your lawyer is here.”
    Lawyer?
    Lynch didn’t have a lawyer. He’d fired his public defender a
month into his incarceration. But maybe his mom hired him a new attorney.
    He dismissed the thought as soon as it formed. With her
beauty salon in Stardust, his mom struggled each month just to make her
mortgage, so paying for legal counsel was out of the question. Plus, aside from
a couple of Christmas cards, he hadn’t had any communication with her, or
anyone else, since he got inside. His choice. He lived in box now and having
contact with people outside that box didn’t benefit anyone.
    Johnston blocked his access to the door. “You want to tell
me what was going on between you and that new guy, Beck.”
    “Just inmate shit.”
    “Anything I need to deal with?”
    “Nah. Oscar’ll handle it.”
    “Riiight.” Johnston moved to the side. “Just make sure Oscar
handles it when I’m not on shift.”
    With a nod, Lynch exited his cell and headed down the narrow
walkway, the guard right behind him. Other convicts moved to the side to make
room.
    “I don’t remember you ever having a visit from your lawyer,”
Johnston commented.
    “Once.” Lynch stopped at the heavy unit door.
    The metal hinges creaked in protest as Johnston opened it.
“You remember the procedure?”
    “Has it changed?”
    With a small chuckle, Johnston shook his head.
    “Didn’t think so.” Lynch descended the three flights of
stairs.
    Nothing ever changed in prison. Same schedule, same food,
same shit-brown walls. If you were smart, you found comfort in the fixed
routine. If not, well, you went a little batshit crazy.
    All the way to the ground floor, Lynch felt the gazes of the
sharpshooting guards on his head. That was something else that stayed the same
in prison...you were never alone. Not ever.
    At the bottom, he walked out into the lower yard. The April
sun warmed his face. At least he thought it was April. Might be May by now.
    Lynch sauntered across the expanse of dirt and gravel.