The Monarch Read Online Free PDF Page B

about to launch himself smack-­dab into their crosshairs.
    â€œI know it’s probably against the rules, sir, but I was wondering if I could get a . . .” A what? A parole? A V8? An amen? Lew’s mind riffled, wondering how long it took to stab someone anyway. Especially when they wanted to be stabbed.
    â€œA what, Lewis?” the AW asked, losing patience. Lew looked past him to the fence in the distance and the line of elms planted beyond it.
    â€œA . . . uh . . . tree. For my cell,” Lew said, not even believing it himself. Really? A fucking tree? Why didn ’t you just ask for a Jacuzzi and a blowjob!
    â€œA what?” the AW asked. But the commotion around the corner finally started and Lew didn’t have to answer him.
    Men were shouting and howling around the corner. It was the prison song of blood, and all the inmates knew the tune. The men in line tried to drift out and around the corner, but the AW knew the song too.
    â€œBack in line! Now! ” the AW shouted, the nice guy all but gone. Lew just wanted the AW to get around the corner so he could get the hell out of there, partly thinking in the back of his mind that this little show meant he was going to miss another meal. He hadn’t thought of that before this.
    The AW went around the corner and immediately raised his arm to the tower. Whistles blew and sirens blared. They were going into lockdown. Lew thought better of running out from the crowd on his own with the snipers in the tower alerted. He did what he thought everyone else who wasn’t involved would do. He went around the corner to watch a man “die.”
    Mickey was on the ground, the shiv sticking out of the padding under his shirt, the blood bag he had taped to it turning the mud crimson. The doc was already at his side. He quickly told two trusties to get him to the prison hospital. The doc would pronounce him dead before they locked the last cell.
    â€œYou men! Back to your cells!” the AW yelled, obviously worried about how he was going to tell the warden that a guy got stuck on his watch. Guards and trusties seemed to ooze out of the ground to shepherd everyone back to their cells.
    â€œNice and calm, ladies! Excitement gets you dead,” one of the guards shouted to the men, pulling the bolt on his rifle to send his point home. They grumbled and milled around for a bit, but mostly they obeyed, the crowd slowly heading back to their respective cells. Lew joined the crowd, just wanting out of the rain.
    â€œKatchbrow!” someone yelled, and Lew stopped dead in his tracks.
    Crap .
    Lew turned and saw the AW walking toward him.
    â€œYes, sir?”
    â€œWe’ve got some talking to do, don’t we, Mr. Tree?”
    â€œH EY! S LEEPY!” T HE warden’s secretary barked at Lew. Lew opened his eyes and looked at him. “You can go in now.”
    Lew grinned and nodded before prying his frame out of its plastic chair wrapper. He shuffled over to the door marked “Norman Quinn—­Warden” and knocked as best he could. When a voice inside said come in, he opened the door.
    â€œYou wanted to see me, Warden?” Lew said.
    â€œCome in, come in,” Quinn said without turning away from the flat-­screen television he crouched in front of. “Sit down, Lewis.”
    Lew shuffled over and sat down with a jingle, trying to figure out how everyone seemed to be on a first-­name basis with him. He watched the warden fiddle with the television’s color settings. It was a nice television. A big fifty-­five-­inch high-­def model. His electronic gadget addiction was no secret, but Lew had had no idea being a warden paid so well.
    â€œLooks like we’ve got a problem, Lewis,” Quinn said. Lew looked out the window behind the warden’s desk and saw that he had a perfect view of the cafeteria where their murder-­in-­one-­act had taken place. I’m screwed.