Knox lifted both hands in the air, palms up, in an attempt to show he didn’t plan on causing any trouble. Well, any more trouble.
Chester, one of the more brutal of the corrections officers at Devil’s Rock, took one look at Knox and batoned him in the ribs twice. Knox could have guessed it was coming. The SOB loved taking down inmates. Whether necessary or not, he was all about cracking heads with his baton.
He bowed over, a whoosh of air leaving him as pain exploded in his side. That bastard really enjoyed his work. Guards came at Knox then, shoving him down to the concrete. He didn’t resist, but that didn’t stop Chester from dropping his knee and grinding it into his spine. He bit back a cry of pain, not about to give Chester the satisfaction of knowing he’d hurt him. Instead, he smiled as they cuffed him.
Yanking Knox to his feet, the guards shouted for everyone else to disperse. He caught a glimpse of his brother’s scowl and sent him a shrug and a cocky grin meant to reassure him.
“Move it,” Chester snarled, pushing him roughly after the other two inmates. Knox stifled a wince at the sudden movement. The prick had done a number on his ribs.
North nodded back at him, trying to convey that he would be all right, that Knox shouldn’t worry. They knew the drill. Knox would get nothing less than a week in segregation for the fight. A week was nothing. He’d done longer stints in the hole. Weeks where he doubted his sanity within the gray, enclosed space.
Out in the hall, Lambert, the head bull on duty, looked them over with a bored expression.
The inmate Knox had kicked sniveled, unable to stand. Two guards supported him.
“What happened?” Lambert demanded.
Knox held his gaze, schooling his face into something blank and impenetrable. “We were just fooling around.”
No one ever admitted to fighting. No one ever pointed fingers or blamed anyone. It was an unwritten rule, even among enemies. Fighting, whether one was the attacker or the victim, got you a longer stretch in the hole.
Lambert snorted. “That so?” He tapped the skinhead kid’s knee with the tip of his baton, which only earned another howl. “Looks broken.” He sent Knox a hard look before returning his gaze to the kid. “Callaghan do this to you?”
The guy brought his sniveling under control and lifted his chin, his expression under all that ink once again fierce. “Like he said, we was just fooling around.”
Lambert rolled his eyes, clearly finished with them. “Fine. Whatever. Take them to the HSU. If that knee is broken, arrange transport to the hospital.”
The skinhead’s eyes lit up, broken knee and all. Out was out. God knew the food would be better in a hospital than the slop they ate here.
“C’mon, Callaghan.” Chester prodded Knox in his already tender back, getting him to move after the other two inmates.
He shot a glare over his shoulder. It was all he could do. His restrained hands tightened into fists, his knuckles whitening around the raw and bloody scrapes.
Funny how he still felt this reaction. How some bull digging his knee into his spine or prodding him in the back and eyeing him like he was a piece of shit could still get a reaction from him. After all these years, you would have thought he wouldn’t care anymore. That he would have given up all expectations for anything more. Anything better.
He should have accepted that this was simply his life.
THREE
IF BRIAR WAS hoping for a quiet first day, it wasn’t to be. Thirty minutes before their first appointment, the door to the unit buzzed open.
Four guards entered the room escorting three inmates in full restraints, hands bound in front of them. Murphy quickly patted them down, checking for any hidden weapons. The chains clinked at their wrists as they walked.
She stood up from the desk where she and Dr. Walker had been reviewing the files of the incoming patients, already making notes and potential diagnoses based on Josiah’s assessments. They were hoping to see all the inmates Josiah had scheduled for today and maybe some additional cases, too. After glancing through the wait list and reviewing some of the inmates’ complaints, Briar and Dr. Walker had exchanged looks. It was alarming how many of these men were walking around untreated with conditions that would have put them in the hospital in the real world. In fact, she suspected Dr. Walker was going to recommend immediate hospital transport for one or two of them.
The room suddenly seemed to shrink at the arrival of these menacing men in restraints. Dr. Walker and Josiah moved forward, directing the guards where to place the inmates, but her limbs froze. A dull beat started in her ears as she surveyed them. She couldn’t move.