The Payback Man

Robert was an unknown quantity. He could be a kid who went for joy rides in other people’s cars, or a gang member who had gunned down someone on an opposing gang. Steve was fairly certain drugs played some part in his sentence, but whether Robert was a consumer or a supplier, Steve had no way of knowing.

And Big? Despite his size he seemed like a shy, frightened child. Forrest Gump in extra, extra large. If so, why was he in prison?

Steve had taught reading at Big Mountain. He’d written letters for illiterate cons, helped with their business problems. Many knew they owed him. If and when he got a chance to talk to any of them, he’d try to get some information about the team members he did not know. Inside the fences, knowledge was definitely power.

He’d been offered a job teaching here, as well, but working inside the compound all day didn’t serve his purposes. He had to seem trustworthy on his own, away from the group, even if that meant passing up chances to escape in favor of better chances down the road.

He had always worked out and, besides polo, had played handball, tennis and golf. He’d run in charity races. He was already in shape. When he discovered the weight room at Big Mountain, he put on twenty pounds in six months—all of it muscle.

One con had tried to attack him with a knife, but Steve had countered him successfully and won grudging respect. His knowledge of business eventually won him some measure of protection, as well. As long as he kept his mouth shut, he was moderately safe at Big Mountain.

The prison farm, however, was a new environment. He didn’t understand the rules or know many of the people, and they didn’t know him. He’d met sadistic guards before, but not one who had an unreasoning personal grudge against him.

Eleanor had to be the catalyst. She was the outsider, the female among males. A peahen for a Lard Ass Peacock to preen in front of. Newman’s ego had taken a beating from her. Maybe he’d picked Steve for his scapegoat because he and Eleanor seemed to have an affinity.

The CO was right. Steve and Eleanor did have a connection. Steve had felt it the moment his eyes met hers in that parking lot. Nothing that happened since had changed his mind. Today, when he’d snatched her away from the snake, he’d felt her in his marrow. Newman had punished him tonight not so much for touching Eleanor as for Eleanor’s response. He’d nearly forgotten what a woman’s soft voice sounded like, how she thought, the way she felt.

He’d have to be more careful.

The problem was that he wasn’t certain he could be. It wasn’t simply that she was an attractive woman, someone with the same kind of background as his. Not even that she was the first woman he’d touched in three years.

No, not even that.

If he had met her at a cocktail party or a polo game before…well, before, he knew he would have felt the same pull. She stirred his blood, yes, but more than that, she stirred his imagination. He could hear her voice in his head, see the gentle smile she’d given Big. Wished that smile had been for him.

He couldn’t afford to lose his objectivity, his separateness, his focus.

He was going to escape and kill a man. He needed to husband his anger, hone his bitterness, remember his grief.

He did not want to feel anything but hatred.

CHAPTER THREE

“SO HOW DID YOUR FIRST DAY GO?” Precious stretched out her long legs and propped them on the nearest cardboard box in Eleanor’s small living room. The white walls were devoid of pictures. Except for an old leather couch and matching chair, a couple of end tables and a rolled-up rug in the corner, the room was furnished with cardboard boxes.

Eleanor handed her a glass of white wine, then took her own and sat on the chair across from her. “Weird.”

“How weird?”

“On the one hand, they seem like people you’d meet anywhere, might even like, and then some tiny thing sets them off and, bang, it’s World War III.” She shuddered. “Slow Rise, this country boy over sixty, nearly came to blows with Robert Dalrymple, a lanky black kid, when the kid said he was crazy. I don’t think Robert meant anything by it—just a casual remark.”

“I know Slow Rise,” Precious said, watching the wine swirl in her glass. “He’s usually very gentle, but he’s inside for killing his wife’s lover in a fit of rage.”

“My God! Now I’m terrified.”

“Don’t be. Most of the time he’s the soul of kindness. He’s got another ten years to serve before he can even think of applying for parole.”

“He probably won’t live that long.”

“No, he’ll likely die in prison.”

“Lord, how sad.”

“Don’t let the sad stories get to you, Eleanor. Remember he did kill a man.”

Eleanor leaned her head back against the chair. “You’re right. I had no idea I was this tired. Do you mind if we skip the unpacking tonight? I’m grateful for your help, but I really think I just want to go to bed. Tomorrow I’ve got the men in the morning, and then I’m working a full shift at the clinic in the afternoon and evening.”

Precious finished her wine and stood. “Girl, you are going to burn out at that rate.”

Eleanor didn’t bother to get up. She was sure her legs would be too weak to hold her.

“Want me to fix you some soup or a sandwich?”

“No thanks, Precious. I’m sorry to be such a poop.”

“Forgedaboudit, as they say in the gangster movies. We’ll do it this weekend.”

“You have things to do.”

Precious laughed. “Right. A couple of rich radiologists are just breaking down my door trying to take me away from all this. Girl, I so have nothing to do this Saturday except unpack your stuff. Now, go get some sleep.”

She moved to the door. “I’ll let myself out.”

Eleanor listened for the closing door without opening her eyes.

Not since the long nights and days nursing Jerry had she felt this completely depleted nor this close to despair. She roused herself long enough to call Raoul Torres. When he answered, she said, “Raoul, were you serious when you offered to give me some help understanding this place if I needed it?”

“Absolutely. You feeling overwhelmed on your first day? Want me to come over? I can be there in five minutes.”

“Thanks, but it’s not that urgent.” In the background, Eleanor heard the sound of at least two children, one of whom was screaming something in Spanish.

“Pipe down!” Raoul shouted. “Lupe, tell my children I will chain them to the whipping post and flog them as soon as I’m off the telephone.”

A woman’s voice said something indistinguishable, and the screaming children began to laugh.

“Okay, if not tonight, when would you like to get together? Tomorrow sometime?”

“What?” Eleanor had lost track of the conversation momentarily. “Oh, how about I buy you lunch tomorrow? Someplace close to the farm. I shouldn’t be as dirty as I was today.”

“You got it. I’ll pick you up at the barn about eleven-thirty.”

“Thanks, Raoul. I really need to talk about the men. If I’m going to work with them, I need to understand them.”

“Don’t worry about everything so much. It will work out.”

“I hope God’s listening to you on that one.”

She crawled into bed certain that she’d fall asleep instantly, but found she was too tired and ached in too many places to get comfortable.