Page 1 of Broken By A King

One

STONE

Visiting Room

White Pines Penitentiary

White Pines Village, New York

"Idon't usually accept visits from strangers."

I stare menacingly at the vertically challenged man wearing a black cloth patch across a missing eye as he sits down. He looks like a short pirate in a three-piece suit.

"Correction, you don't take visits from anyone."

I narrow my eyes and take a longer look at my visitor. He's been doing his homework on me which means he wants something. Anyone who takes an interest in me wants something.

"How would you know that."

"I know a lot about you, Michael Barringer, and it's time that you know a bit about me too. The name's Silas Buckshot Porter. Most people call me Bucky, and I'm the man you stole seven million dollars' worth of heroin from."

Fuck me.

So, this is him.

I'm serving time in prison, because I was caught in possession of a large quantity of heroin with an intent to distribute. This man's heroin.

I've been watching my back inside of these prison walls for five years. Waiting for some connection he may have inside to make their move on me in retaliation, but no one ever did. I thought maybe I got away with it. That I was all good. But it's in this exact moment that I'm realizing that was a mistake. I let my guard down. Only now am I remembering and understanding what my father always told me.

There's no way to avoid the wrath of the devil, Stone. When he comes, he comes, and you just better be prepared to deal with the motherfucker.

"So, it was your product."

"Not even going to pretend that you didn't take it, huh?"

"Nope. I definitely took that shit and it was real easy."

He grins baring a set of perfect white teeth.

"I like that about you. You've got balls. May I ask what made you target my shipment in particular?"

"No reason."

He smooths the lapels of his jacket.

"I don't think that's true, Mr. Barringer. I think you targeted me specifically, because that seems to be your pattern. You stole from a few other people I know. You have a particular hard-on for heroin dealers."

"You do realize that our conversations are being monitored, right?"

He chuckles.

"If I was worried about that I wouldn't be here. The difference between you and me is that I have connections that you don't. That you'll never have. That's why you're in there and I'm out here. You'd do best to remember that."

"I'm getting tired of this fucking conversation. Say what you came here to say and leave."

"All right–"

He leans in farther toward me.