On a Knife's Edge Read Online Free Page B

Some
convicts shot basketballs into net-less hoops while others lifted weights.
Still others lingered in clusters for supposed protection.
    He scanned the nearby area for Oscar even though he knew Jefe’s usual post was the handball court on the far side. He needed to tell his
cellmate about Beck. But warning him would have to wait until Lynch finished
his visit.
    Another guard, Morgan, met him at the strip-out room. After
disrobing and spreading his ass cheeks for inspection, Lynch redressed then walked
with Morgan down the hall to a semi-private room. Through the window, he saw a
man and a woman sitting at the table their backs to him.
    The hairs on Lynch’s neck itched as he walked into the room.
Something wasn’t right. The man sported a Marine buzz cut while the woman had
her auburn hair drawn into a severe bun. Seeing their faces felt like Beck’s
shank had found its mark in his gut.
    These two were either former military or feds. Probably
both. Neither of them bothered standing when he sat facing them, his palms flat
on the tabletop. Morgan closed the door and took up his post at the window
looking in.
    “Mr. Callan,” the woman said. “I’m Special Agent Emma Jarvis
and this is Special Agent Sam Newman. We’re with the FBI.”
    Lynch maintained a neutral expression and studied the first
woman he’d seen in more than seven years. Attractive enough…if you liked the
button-up. G.I. Jane type. Green eyes assessed him through black-rimmed
glasses. She pursed her lips which gave her a pinched look. The firm set of her
chin said she was probably a ball buster. He switched his gaze to Newman. “I
was told my lawyer was here.”
    Newman folded his brawny hands on the table. “This meeting
needed to stay as quiet as possible so as not to put a…damper on your life
expectancy.”
    Lynch swallowed his snicker. Anyone who got a look at these
two would know exactly who there were. “What do you want?”
    “Your help,” Jarvis said.
    A smile split Lynch’s face. “My help? In case you missed it,
I’m in prison.”
    “We’ve missed nothing, I assure you,” she replied dryly.
“Not even the part that the man you tried to kill is the sheriff of Grant
County. However that doesn’t change the fact that we need your help.”
    Lynch tensed at the mention of Dell Albright. Though he and
the good sheriff had grown up as classmates, they never hung in the same
circles. Not unusual considering Dell’s father had been sheriff twenty years
prior to his son and Lynch’s mom had been the old lady to the Streeter VP. Fact
was, Dell hated him. A sentiment Lynch returned.
    But Lynch never tried to kill Dell because if he’d tried ,
he’d have succeeded. His grin widened. “Get me outta here and I’ll see what I
can do to help you.”
    “That’s exactly what we intend, Mr. Callan.” She thumbed
open a file.
    Lynch sobered. “What does that mean?”
    “It means we can arrange a new trial for you.”
    Distrust tightened Lynch’s skin. “In exchange for what?”
    “Your cooperation with your old biker gang, the 5th
Streeters.”
    Lynch’s smile returned. “Biker gang? Oh, you must mean the
5th Street motorcycle club. It’s not a gang, though. Just a bunch
of weekend warriors riding around on their tricked-out Harleys.” He pulled his
lips into a thoughtful frown. “I honestly didn’t even know they were still
around.”
    Jarvis flipped over a picture and pushed it toward him. A
man’s hideously bloated face looked up from under harsh autopsy lights. Lynch’s
stomach did a slow roil.
    “This is…” Jarvis’s voice hitched slightly. “Was Agent
Olsen.”
    She turned over more photos. Lynch immediately recognized
his best friend, Hez along with Rolo, the Streeter president and Flyer, the VP.
There were other club members…Mick, Grunge, Picket. His mom. Plus Ennis and
Tiny—when did those two go from being prospects to full-fledged Streeters?
    Jarvis added more pictures…of his crew riding