The prick, who called himself Boomer, stopped when he was right in front of Cain. “You ready to get your ass handed to you this time?”
The sound of the fighting on the basketball court sounded like a riot had broken out. Shouting, orders, and curses rang through the air. Cain didn’t respond, just braced his feet apart and waited for Boomer to come forward. They grappled for a few moments, and Cain saw the glint of the shank in Boomer’s hands. He jabbed the sharpened piece of metal toward Cain’s side, but he blocked him, took the asshole to the ground, and was able to get the shank out of his hands. Cain held his hand around Boomer’s throat, but the fucker knocked him in the jaw. Cain tasted blood as his teeth cut into the inside of his cheek, and rage burst through Cain like a wrecking ball destroying a building. He slammed his fist into the other man over and over again, saw the blood come from his mouth and nose, and cover Cain’s knuckles.
“I’m going to fuck you up when you’re not looking, maybe even go after that pretty little slit that left just earlier today.”
Cain saw red at Boomer’s words. He knew that just because someone was locked up didn’t mean they couldn’t get things done on the outside. Cain took the shank, and without thinking jabbed it into the side of Boomer. The man grunted, and Cain twisted the metal so the wound wouldn’t close.
“You don’t fuck with what’s mine. You don’t even talk or think about what is mine,” Cain said in a seething voice.
“Yo, break it up.” Goon said over his shoulder.
Cain glanced up and saw the fight over by the basketball court was being broken up. He moved off of Boomer, who still was on the ground, now curled up and bleeding out.
“Come on, go through the south entrance,” Goon and the other bikers said, and Cain took off, not about to be caught having severely injured an inmate. That would have fucked with his parole, and could have also put more years on his sentence. He followed Goon and a few of the bikers inside, and glanced over his shoulder to see a few guards rushing over to Boomer. The fucker wouldn’t speak, not unless he wanted to be called out as a rat, which would only get him in a lot of shit with everyone in the joint. No matter what group a person was in while locked up, what race or gang, no one snitched anyone out. That was a death sentence.
Cain headed inside, went right to his cell with his hand shoved in this pocket to hide the blood, and once inside he cleared off his knuckles. He watched the blood run down the drain until the water turned clear, then braced his hands on the small metal basin of the sink and stared at his reflection in the dull plastic mirror on the wall. He’d get out of here early, and do what he needed to do. That was his driving force, and no one would fuck with that.
Chapter Three
Present day
Violet stared at the woman, her psychologist that she’d been seeing off and on for the last few years since the attack, and noticed the way Doctor Yen watched her with interest. It had been a long, long time since Violet had been back to talk to the therapist, but she also knew that she wasn’t one hundred percent better either. Maybe at one time she thought she had been, even convinced herself that the therapy hadn’t been working, but the truth was it had been, and she wanted to talk to someone about how she felt about Cain.
“How are you’re feeling today Violet? It’s been a long time since we have spoken together.”
Violet nodded and looked around the office. The building she was in currently held a doctor’s practice, a lawyer’s office, real-estate agent, and her therapist’s office. It was the only professional building in Chatham View, and her therapist, although not one that was a big-shot in Denver or a bigger city, had helped her immensely over the last few years.
“Violet, is there anything you want to talk about, or if you prefer we can just sit here?”
That was genuine sincerity in Doctor Yen’s voice, and Violet knew that she would be more than happy to sit here and let Violet stare off into space. That was the nice thing about coming here: Violet wasn’t expected to do anything she wasn’t comfortable with, even if that was just talking. She looked at her therapist, an older woman with short black and grey hair, flat ironed and swooped to the side. Her dark eyes were partially hidden behind thick black rims, ones that looked stylish and not gaudy. Violet had started seeing Dr. Yen when she was having a hard time concentrating, and partially because Fallina had said it was helping her.
“I just thought coming here might help since I haven’t been able to let my mind get past Cain.”
“Mmhmm,” Doctor Yen said, and jotted something down on her notepad. “This is the man in the motorcycle club, the one that is in jail because he attacked the man that harmed you and his daughter?”