The Inmates Obsession by Alexa Riley
Chapter Four
Kai
Prison is exactly as awful anyone outside imagines it to be. Solitary confinement? That’s hell on earth. After three days in the hole, the guard comes over and opens the metal door, sending a fraction of light into the dark space. It must be from the moon because it’s late.
“Tupuola, you’re out,” he orders as he knocks his wooden nightstick against the bars.
I get up off the floor and duck my head. The cell isn’t big enough for me to stand straight, and my muscles protest at being cramped for so long. Thankfully my stitches are still clean, and I’ve healed enough that I’m not worried about them tearing open.
Keeping my mouth shut, I move to the designated spot outside the cell and straighten my spine. It feels good, but I don’t let the emotion show. I don’t let anything show, ever.
The guard leads me and three other men that were in solitary down the long hall that leads to the showers. Inside the bathroom, the stalls are open, with no privacy. Next to the showers are clean jumpsuits and soap, along with a single towel that’s about the size of a stamp. The guards are at their posts as we strip down and toss our solitary uniforms in the laundry bin. After two years here, I know the drill and grab the soap.
It feels good to be clean after a few days of sitting in my own filth. I can’t imagine how the guys who have to stay in there long-term don’t go crazy. Dragging the soap across my chest, I look down at the traditional tattoos that cover most of my body. At first the guards asked me about them, but after not answering for so long, they let it go. You don’t see many men here with tattoos over their ass and down their thighs, but I’m not going out of my way to find them either.
We don’t have long to shower, so I move quickly to scrub off the dirt and then rinse off. Once they call out for us to move, I grab my towel and dry off. Glancing around, I see some of the guys that were in the riot were in solitary with me. I don’t see Leo or the guy whose arm I broke. Most likely that guy will need surgery after what I did to it. Or one of Leo O’Neal’s guys took him out back and dealt with it already.
Once we’re back in jumpsuits, we’re led to the main block where our cells are located. Mine is on the second floor, and after the guards drop off the other prisoners, we go to mine. As I approach the cell I’m surprised to see it’s empty. My cellmate Reggie is a wiry little fuck who was arrested for cooking meth in the basement of an apartment building. The dumbass managed to blow it up, along with himself and a couple of residents. After he healed from the burns, he was moved in here with me, and I’ve contemplated killing him at least a dozen times a day.
“Where’s Reggie?” I turn around to see there’s only one guard now, and it’s the one I remember seeing standing over Leo after the alarms went off.
“A present from the king,” he says quietly and nods as my cell door opens.
My cell only has one cot now, and everything of Reggie’s is gone. I guess they don’t have plans to move anyone else in with me, and if this is a gift from the king, who am I to question it?
“Under the mattress,” the guard whispers before the cell door closes again and they call for lights out.
I wait a few moments to make sure I’m alone and reach under the mattress. There’s a folded piece of paper sticking out at the edge, and I grab it. When I open it, I see it’s from Leo.
A small token of my appreciation for what you did for my daughter and me. I’d like to speak to you after breakfast.
Walking over the toilet in my cell, I toss the note in and watch it dissolve instantly. No matter why that riot happened, I’ve got to make the most of this chance.
Stretching out on the cot, I think about how I got to this point and what this might mean. I close my eyes and think about home, wishing for sunshine and the smell of salt. Praying for the day when I can feel the sand under my feet again and the wind of my island around me.
My mother was from the Philippines and came to Hawaii as a small child. Her family was poor, but when she was old enough she began to work in a restaurant to make extra money. She cleaned tables and washed dishes until she was old enough to cook, then eventually she took over the kitchen. That’s how she met my dad. He was born in Molokai and came to Lanai for work. He was asked to deliver supplies to a restaurant one day, and that’s when he saw her. He told me that with one look he knew, even though he’d never spoken a word to her.
They were married soon after and had me almost exactly nine months later. My parents didn’t have much, but they gave me everything that mattered: a safe home filled with love and an education. They didn’t finish school, so it was important to them that I did. I worked hard because they had all of their hopes and dreams in me, and I carried that on my shoulders with pride. They cried the day I left for college, but not out of sadness. This was an opportunity they’d never dreamed possible, but they didn’t live to see me graduate.
My mother caught a cold that set into her chest and never left. Later the doctors found out it was pneumonia, but by then it was too late. My father disappeared the day she died, and no one knows what happened. Part of me used to dream about him being alive, but I know that he wouldn’t have wanted to live without her. He told me once that when his time was up, he would go into the sea, and that’s where he would meet my mother again. In my heart I know that they are together, I just hope they understand what I have to do now.
After I lost them, I decided the only way to move on was to fulfill the dream they had for me. I didn’t know that it would mean being behind bars and making deals with criminal kingpins.
It’s the best night of sleep I’ve had since I’ve been locked in here, and that’s thanks to Leo O’Neal. I didn’t have to worry about Reggie the tweaker trying to stab me while I was in bed, so I could sleep with both eyes closed.
The reason I haven’t been able to get close to Leo before now is because we were placed in different cell blocks, so we were on different schedules. I don’t know what’s changed, but after breakfast, I go into the yard and see him on the other side with his men. There’s five of them standing next to the fence and Leo is sitting with two guys at a table playing cards. He’s smiling and talking to them until he looks up and sees me. He motions for me to come closer, and I do as I’m told, walking past the groups of people in the yard that are watching us.
“Have a seat,” Leo says, and the guys sitting at the table stand up. With one look, they disperse, and we’re alone. “Sleep okay?”
“Thank you for that,” I say as he picks up the cards and begins to shuffle them.
“I’ve asked around about you.” He doesn’t look at me as he says this, just shuffles the cards and then places them between us. “Cut them.” He nods, and I do, placing half the pile on one side and putting the bottom half on top.
“Find out anything interesting?” I ask as he deals the cards between us.
“You don’t have any friends in here.” It’s a statement that doesn’t require a response. “So I’ve come to my own conclusions.”
“Which are?” I look at the hand he’s dealt me and put them in order. I haven’t played poker in a long time, but it’s not a hard game.
“One of two things.” He discards one card and then draws another.
I noticed he’s not playing with money, and he wasn’t with his men earlier. Leo O’Neal isn’t someone who needs money to get what he wants. He can do that with information and favors. Both of which don’t sit on a table for everyone to see.
“You’ve either been transferred here to kill me—” He looks up and his dark eyes remind me of Sienna’s. “Or you’re a cop.”
“Why can’t it be both?” I ask, and there’s a long pause before a big smile stretches out across his face.
“What do you want?” he asks, waiting for me to discard. I look down at my hand again and shake my head.
“Nothing.”
His eyes narrow, and I feel like there’s more meaning in his question than just the cards. Is this a test? The king didn’t get to where he is by not being able to read people. What does he see when he looks at me? When I look in the mirror, I see the boy who aches for home.
I place my cards down on the table face up, revealing my hand to him. Four kings in a row stare back at us, the weight of their meaning clear. He’s the king, but I’m holding the cards. He’s given me this power by dealing them to me, and now he’s asking what I’d like to do with it.
“How much time do you have left?” I ask, and he smiles again.
“Too long.” He looks toward the fence as his smile fades, and I’m wondering if he’s thinking of Sienna.
“Maybe,” I say, getting up from the table, leaving the kings between us. “Maybe not.”
