possibly be.
He had caught the young bucks in the class, three in all, gawking at her with a little too much interest when she wasn’t paying attention. He could only imagine the concupiscent thoughts going through those young college boy minds. It had irritated him to the point he had to step out of the room or risk bodily harm to someone. Am I he actually jealous? He couldn’t believe himself. I’m a millionaire for goodness sakes! Why should I be insecure about such a thing? Then it dawned on him. She wasn’t officially his yet. He couldn’t even get her to agree to have dinner with him.
There was also the situation with his ex-wife. Being a man, it was inevitable that having a woman leave you would bruise your ego. While not as wealthy during their marriage as he was today, he wasn’t exactly in the poor house when she left him either. At the time Ralph was worth more, had come from a well-established line of money and was a lot more polished than he. However, he wasn’t the self-made man that Tyler was.
Abby was a snob, the complete opposite of Evy. No way would she ever volunteer her time to tutor a bunch of college students, let alone work in a capacity that allowed dirt to touch her expensively manicured hands. At that moment, he resolved to defeat whatever it was that was standing between him and the potential for happiness with Evy. First he had to get her to let him buy her dinner.
***
That Night in Chicago State Penitentiary….
Detective Marcus Cole did his best to ignore the swearing and threats thrown his way by the men, once considered human beings. Being reduced to their present state behind bars brought out an animalistic quality in them that would be utterly impossible to bury again and make them viable members of society. These were the worst of the worst, forced to live out the last of their days incarcerated as punishment for their heinous crimes. Being a fairly new detective, he wasn’t completely prepared for the encounter. Luckily for his ego, most of them were asleep with it being so close to midnight.
He silently followed the guard to his person of interest. The prisoner, Thomas Ratcliff, had specifically requested to see him. Marcus found that odd seeing how he had never encountered the man before tonight. However, he was willing to grant a dying man his final wish.
Reaching their destination, which was in a secluded portion of the prison, the guard called out to Thomas, “Hey, buddy, your visitor’s here. Anything else I can get for you?”
“Naw. Thata be all. Thanks.”
Marcus couldn’t help but be a little surprised at the polite exchange that had just occurred between the two men. He observed Ratcliff as he sat in his cell eating his last meal consisting of a porter house steak, a baked potato and green beans with a Budweiser to wash it all down. He was thankful for the steel bars that separated them. Swastikas adorned his large biceps with the message “kill all niggers” under the symbol on his left arm and “white power” under the other on his right. His knuckles had yet more ciphers across them.
Years of being in prison had done nothing to diminish his muscle mass. At six feet, he was a solid frame of ripped muscle. His long narrow nose, bald head and piercing steel gray eyes made him all the more menacing. He had been sentenced to death for killing thirteen black men in the name of white supremacy. The bodies had been hidden so well that he probably would have gotten away with it if he hadn’t grown a conscience and turned himself in. Both the guard and Marcus were black.
Swallowing the lump that had risen in his throat, Marcus took the opportunity to distract himself by diverting his attention from the man to the cell he sat within. Although the walls matched the cement gray of the building, it was a little homier than most with a
He had caught the young bucks in the class, three in all, gawking at her with a little too much interest when she wasn’t paying attention. He could only imagine the concupiscent thoughts going through those young college boy minds. It had irritated him to the point he had to step out of the room or risk bodily harm to someone. Am I he actually jealous? He couldn’t believe himself. I’m a millionaire for goodness sakes! Why should I be insecure about such a thing? Then it dawned on him. She wasn’t officially his yet. He couldn’t even get her to agree to have dinner with him.
There was also the situation with his ex-wife. Being a man, it was inevitable that having a woman leave you would bruise your ego. While not as wealthy during their marriage as he was today, he wasn’t exactly in the poor house when she left him either. At the time Ralph was worth more, had come from a well-established line of money and was a lot more polished than he. However, he wasn’t the self-made man that Tyler was.
Abby was a snob, the complete opposite of Evy. No way would she ever volunteer her time to tutor a bunch of college students, let alone work in a capacity that allowed dirt to touch her expensively manicured hands. At that moment, he resolved to defeat whatever it was that was standing between him and the potential for happiness with Evy. First he had to get her to let him buy her dinner.
***
That Night in Chicago State Penitentiary….
Detective Marcus Cole did his best to ignore the swearing and threats thrown his way by the men, once considered human beings. Being reduced to their present state behind bars brought out an animalistic quality in them that would be utterly impossible to bury again and make them viable members of society. These were the worst of the worst, forced to live out the last of their days incarcerated as punishment for their heinous crimes. Being a fairly new detective, he wasn’t completely prepared for the encounter. Luckily for his ego, most of them were asleep with it being so close to midnight.
He silently followed the guard to his person of interest. The prisoner, Thomas Ratcliff, had specifically requested to see him. Marcus found that odd seeing how he had never encountered the man before tonight. However, he was willing to grant a dying man his final wish.
Reaching their destination, which was in a secluded portion of the prison, the guard called out to Thomas, “Hey, buddy, your visitor’s here. Anything else I can get for you?”
“Naw. Thata be all. Thanks.”
Marcus couldn’t help but be a little surprised at the polite exchange that had just occurred between the two men. He observed Ratcliff as he sat in his cell eating his last meal consisting of a porter house steak, a baked potato and green beans with a Budweiser to wash it all down. He was thankful for the steel bars that separated them. Swastikas adorned his large biceps with the message “kill all niggers” under the symbol on his left arm and “white power” under the other on his right. His knuckles had yet more ciphers across them.
Years of being in prison had done nothing to diminish his muscle mass. At six feet, he was a solid frame of ripped muscle. His long narrow nose, bald head and piercing steel gray eyes made him all the more menacing. He had been sentenced to death for killing thirteen black men in the name of white supremacy. The bodies had been hidden so well that he probably would have gotten away with it if he hadn’t grown a conscience and turned himself in. Both the guard and Marcus were black.
Swallowing the lump that had risen in his throat, Marcus took the opportunity to distract himself by diverting his attention from the man to the cell he sat within. Although the walls matched the cement gray of the building, it was a little homier than most with a
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