Word of Honor, Book 2 (15 page)

“I know that you do.” The man smirked as he slowly twirled back and forth in his chair. “And I’m proud of you, Aaron, regardless of my disagreement with the manner in which you address these sorts of situations.”

“Nobody can define me but me, and since I’m callin’ the shots, trust and believe I ain’t lost in these damn woods any more like I was in that painting! I might still be a little boy in some ways, my development arrested due to a life I didn’t choose, but I can ain’t scared, and I ain’t lost no more, Dr. Owens… I’m prepped and primed to confront my enemy. My biggest rival was Aaron Pike and ain’t nobody badder than ME! So if I can beat myself,” he said, pointing at his chest. “I have a chance to beat
any
damn body! My guns are loaded, and I know
exactly
where to shoot. You better duck, Dr. Owens… would hate for you to get hit in the crossfire…”

Chapter Seven

Clyde,

It has come to my attention that you feel you’d be better suited for my position with the Aryan National Socialist Movement of the Alabama chapter than I am. I’m not going to beat around the mulberry bush with you or pretend for a second longer that I don’t know what’s going on or what you’ve been up to. You’ve never had faith in my leadership abilities, despite the fact that I am result driven and my track record speaks for itself. Regardless of that, you were so blinded with jealousy that you have attempted to turn others against me and destroy my legacy. Trying to prove anything to you with the utilization of logic at this juncture would be a moot point. Please let me know if you need a dictionary for any of the words used in this correspondence, better yet, I will attach my pocket one along with the letter, should you run into any hiccups in comprehension.

Due to the fact that I’m incarcerated and you are not, that puts me at a bit of a disadvantage but regardless, I am still able to conduct my business as I’m sure you’ve noticed, and it has caused you irritation.

Clyde, let me explain something to you. You can never be me, even on my worst day. You aren’t even in the building, let alone on my level. I’ve had to play ignorant for a lot of things over the years for the greater good of the organization. For instance, I was told that you weren’t about shit years ago, as if that was news to me, and recently once again. However, in order to keep peace and not feed gossip, which in turn feeds dissention, I pretended that I was fine with you, cared for you, and had your best interest at heart. It was all bullshit. I’ve been onto since day one. I let things happen naturally in order to see who would cower down and follow you, and who would be led by me…

It was difficult, for I had to lie to my best friend in order to keep things afloat. If he’d known how I
really
felt about you, you would have been removed… and by removed I mean forever, in all areas of life. That same good friend of mine, who you’ve also ostracized and alienated through lies and rumors let me know some things while he is unjustly incarcerated, but all he did was verify what I already knew was true. You have at least one other person working with you. I have my suspicions on who that is, but they are small potatoes and I do not care to waste my energy on them right this second. Trust me though, they will be handled as well. I’ve also heard through the grapevine that you think I’m angry, falling apart, weakening under the pressure. There is absolutely no proof of this. The one incident that got back to you was when I’d tossed some things around in my cell. I assure you, that had nothing to do with you in the least. If it did, I’d own it. You can’t piss me off, Clyde.

I haven’t given you the power to piss me off. I don’t even see you in my vision, peripheral or otherwise. In the meantime, please know this: You don’t deserve my acknowledgement so this is a rare opportunity for you to gain my attention. I haven’t given you consent to make a mark, dent, or smear in my world. You’re dismissed, fuckboy. I am telling you, as a man, that you should consider yourself finished. The masks are off; I can see my opponent and now he is forewarned.

Now that you know that I know, you do realize what this means, correct? I’m sure you do but just in case, I’m willing to explain it to you. By the time you read this, my orders will already have been followed and you better hope and pray, as you have been, that I never get out of this prison to finish the job. Because if I do, me throwin’ a damn mattress around will be the least of your concerns…

The most fucked up of regards,

Aaron J. Pike – HMFIC (head motherfucker in charge)

T
HE CHOW LINE
grew longer in the sickeningly green cafeteria. Someone had painted the damn thing in the last twenty-four hours, an invisible crew of government-mandated improvements carried out while the inmates slept in their steel cages. The strong fumes made his damn throat itch. The baby shit shade of paint made him nauseous upon sight. Nevertheless, things had been good. It had been a seamless morning and afternoon, the type laid out by the gods and goddesses of gifted perfection.

His oatmeal wasn’t as clumpy, and surprisingly, he discovered more than two raisins in it this time—
real
raisins, not the notorious boiled roaches that had gotten too close to the simmering pot jogging back horrible childhood memories. Mia had sent another care package he’d received that afternoon, this one chock full of tender, pepper flavored beef jerky, milk chocolates, her homemade apricot preserves, a tin of sardines, and a ream of crackers per his request. Also included were a fresh deck of cards he could use to play solitaire and a sensual letter that gave him a carnal kiss from afar. The words he read resulted in a restless nap as he reminisced about their weekend. Yes, it had only been a few days since he’d lain in the lap of paradise and tasted her sugary nectar, but it felt like so long ago… The craving within him was constant, and drove him to damn near exhaustion and distraction.

Now he understood that silly saying…

Once you go black, you don’t go back.

He presumed he’d just been lucky, fortunate, blessed…

He’d had a taste, and now his mouth watered in anticipation as he craved that woman, jealous of his own memories of the time spent with her.

That Sunday morning before he’d left, they’d played strip poker. He made damn sure he won. Before he left her there, he made love to her one last time, slow and deep as they stared into each other’s eyes… He loved how her silky smooth skin rubbed against his own; the contrast in feel and appearance
did
something to him…

At various times, he grew fascinated with watching his thick, long, white cock disappear inside of her, then come back out. How absolutely surreal that was, a moment he’d never get over or soon forget. It didn’t feel obscene, disgusting or sinister. She didn’t look wicked as he did that to her; she looked simply in love. Their souls merged once and for all, and he felt compelled to promise her things, all sorts of things, and she promised him things, too…

In those thirty-six hours, they experienced a fair share of laughing to the point of tears as they swapped more stories with one another. He hadn’t laughed that hard in years. He was locked up but felt free as a damn bird with that woman.

In one of the memories he revisited time and again, she lay in his arms on the living room floor, his back against the leg of the couch, holding her close. The glow of the television cascaded across her face as old Barney Miller re-runs played on the screen. As her head rested against his chest, rising up and down with each breath he took, he stared down at her, then nestled his chin in the softness of her hair. He couldn’t believe how damn beautiful she was, what a good person she was, how caring, intelligent and loveable she was… and she was
all
his…

They shared things during their stay with one another—private moments, passionate moments, more and more secrets. And then, of course, more sex,
plentiful
lovemaking. He’d made love to Mia so much and so long, their limbs, down to the damn bones, felt sore and bruised. But he simply couldn’t get enough of her. He’d ravished her, showed her what she should expect when she became his wife… to be cherished, loved, and cared for like she had never been in her life. He played those moments over and over in his mind, determined to be free… determined to get out of that prison and be with her, to make a life with the woman he loved so completely.

Now here he stood, preparing for dinner in the chow hall, but the vibe had been all wrong. Even though the morning began beautifully, even offered a picturesque cloudless baby blue sky and bright, vibrant sun, something in the air wasn’t right. The Devil had whispered in a lunatic’s ear…

…Later that evening, dinnertime

L
IKE A HUNTER
in the dark, dank wilderness, senses were heightened, giving way to pure, instinctual survival skills. If one got quiet and still for just a second or two, they could hear, see, and feel things long before the prey made an appearance… and then, they’d be ready. He raised his invisible bow and arrow and continued down the way, his ochre colored tray in hand as he looked to his right, then to his left, checking the coast. He collected a ration of beef stew, a plastic cup of water, a roll, and an egg sandwich, then went to sit on the bleacher type seat.

“Damn it stinks in here,” he mumbled as he grabbed his spoon and scanned the space again.

A new scent had emerged, one that was certain to aid in a headache of epic proportions. The place smelled of sautéed onions and peppers, mingling in with the odors of the paint that created an even more grotesque mêlée of a fragrance that accosted his nasal passage.

I wish my nose wasn’t so goddamn sensitive…damn! Been this way since I was a kid…

Jamming his knuckle against the side of his left nostril, he gave it a hearty scratch, curing an itch. Then, he shoved himself back into the present, keeping his eyes and ears open as inmates moved about getting their dinner as well.

Clyde… you motherfucker, you…

He’d set the bait for Clyde, instigated and incited the man. It was certainly an easy task; the guy had been itching for a fight but had never had the guts when they stood face to face. Aaron also knew he had another golden egg in his basket: Clyde was a goddamn pussy. Being the emotional mess that he was, no doubt things would fall into place and sure enough, they were…

Aaron turned slowly to his left and spotted the army coming in…

A crowd of men approached from the distance, one by one, their shoulders straight and heads high. Like a perfectly formed lynch mob, they had their gaze fixed on him and… he simply stared back. Some noise behind him had him make a sharp turn. He rose to his feet, his fist balled and ready to go. Instead, he found Daryl, sweat-faced and gripping a cup. The man snatched his arm.

“Aaron, they’re comin’ for you! I tried to warn ya earlier today at breakfast, but I couldn’t get to you. Now look, I talked to some of ’em and it ain’t what you think! They are just playin’ along. Jason and even Jacob hate Clyde; they know about this and talked to the guys… We’re gonna jump ’em, Aaron! It’s on!”