On Best Behavior (C3) by Jennifer Lane Read Free Book Online

and angry he made that choice for you.”
    Ben nodded.
    “You know, we’re focusing on all the negative traits that can be passed down through families. But you’ve inherited some good stuff too. I never met your father, but I know your uncle. Grant’s intelligent, kind, a hard worker—just the way I described you earlier. He’s got a lot of integrity. He’s honest, and he tries to do the right thing. You’re headed in that direction yourself.”
    Ben dared to look up at him. “Really?”
    Dr. Hunter smiled. “Really. Now let’s talk strategy for beating Sophie in the hundred fly.”

4. Consternation
    N EW I NMATE A NTHONY “Tank” Tanketti strolled along the fence line of the prison yard, dirty snow crunching under his boots. He tugged his scratchy woolen hat over his ears.
    After spending two months stuck indoors at the county jail while he waited for a transfer, Tank was grateful the Gurnee guards believed in putting the prison cattle out to pasture. He sighed. If only the cattle’s unfettered access to each other out in the open didn’t place him at risk for slaughter.
    But maybe his connection to the Barberis would keep him safe. He caught a glimpse of two of Enzo’s men across the yard, but saw no sign of the don. If Enzo was still in solitary, he’d be one enraged son of a bitch when he got out. He could only hope Enzo never found out about his role in Logan’s murder. Grant said he’d kept his mouth shut, but something about the boy scout seemed less than trustworthy.
    He recognized Jules “Jewels” Monroe, one of Enzo’s men. He’d met Jewels five years ago at a poker game at Angelo’s club. He’d just decided to approach the craggy-faced man, when a blond inmate stepped in his way.
    He looked down at the boy’s elfin features, figuring him for no more than nineteen. The boy grinned up at him, his green eyes slanting with menace.
    “Outta my way, Pink Taco,” he growled.
    The boy stepped in closer, and Tank’s hand balled into a fist.
    “Don’t you touch my boy.”
    The foreign voice came from his right, and he turned to see a muscled blond smirking. He tried to place the slight accent—German maybe? He certainly had a Nazi sneer.
    Blond Hitler’s icy blue gaze started at Tank’s shoes, slid up his legs, languished below his belt, seemed to appreciate his sizeable pectorals, then arrived at his face with a challenging stare. “Tank’s a good name for you, I think. Wouldn’t mind you mowing me down one day.” His eyes lingered suggestively.
    Another young, blond, ponytailed inmate next to him snickered.
    Tank felt the presence of Elf-Face at his left hip, and he contemplated his odds in three against one. Placidly he asked the leader, “Who the fuck are you?”
    Blond Hitler gave Elf-Face a look of wonder, then looked back at him. “You have not heard of me? I’m insulted. Ricker Mullens, at your service.”
    “That’s Mr. Mullens to you,” Elf-Face contributed.
    He fought the urge to backhand the little leprechaun and kept his eyes on Ricker. “How’d you know my name?”
    “I make it a point to know Enzo’s men.” He sauntered closer, and Ponytail followed. “I especially like the tall ones.”
    As they neared, Tank reached out to squeeze Elf-Face’s shoulder, and Ricker’s face darkened. The boy squirmed as he dug his fingers into his collarbone. “If you like the tall ones, then why keep this gnome around? You takin’ his picture for Travelocity or somethin’? Filling your prison scrapbook?”
    Ricker’s voice was a low growl. “Watch your mouth.”
    When he crowded Tank’s personal space and diverted his attention, Elf-Face managed to shrug out of his hold.
    “Barberi’s still in the hole,” said Ricker. “Been there two months already.”
    “Why the fuck should I care?”
    “Because he’s not here to protect your bubble butt. Not that he would have your back anyway. You’re nowhere near as pretty as the last one of his goons he protected.”
    He