Prison Chic #1st book of the Chics series (EDITING)

Chapter 3

Edited! Mark’s picture on your right>>

Mark was driving home from the airport after a two and a half hour flight from Colorado, where he had to drop Joanna.

Now that he's back in San Francesco, he had to start his survival plan, because after all, helping Joanna this time actually affected his life as well.

Once the gang, the mob or was it the fucking Mafia, found out that Joanna Blake wasn't in the Central California Women's Facility in Chowchilla, one word could describe the future: CHAOS. It had been already a few hours since she was supposed to be admitted there.

He knew that changing her paper could get them both in big troubles if they were found out; but having his lawyer license confiscated was the least of his concerns. What he had to focus on at the moment was how would he divert the mob’s attention away from him.

Joanna was covered, for a while at least, thanks to his skills in changing her identity. Now, he'll be the site of attention. Hell, he'll be in the top of the suspect list.

Mark reached his apartment block in South Beach Marina of Townsend Street. He parked his car and went right up to his apartment in the sixth flour. He inserted the lock and opened the door, stepping inside slowly.

Something was amiss.

Mark didn't think they'd figure it out this fast. But once he saw the tall man in black standing in front of the big glass window in his living room, he knew he underestimated them.

"Good afternoon." the stranger said, turning around to face him. "Mark Boyd?", it was more of a statement than an actual question.

Mark switched the game-mood in his brain, as he placed his hands on either side of his hip. "Having you breaking into my home gives me the right to ask questions, and the first one would be: are you going to leave or should I call the cops?" Mark said, tilting his chin up with the most authorized posture he could master in this situation.

The stranger chuckled. He was in his mid, forties, Mark noted, with a gray-ish heir and a hard bone structured face, "No need to get aggressive, kid. Just have a few question I need you to answer..." 

Did he just call him kid?

"I told you to get the hell OUT!" Mark all but yelled at the man and got his cellphone out of his pocket trying to put a show of dialing numbers.

"Where's the Blake girl?" The man said, his voice didn't seem the least bit concerned about the dialing.

"Excuse me?" Mark frowned his eyebrows questionably as he looked up at the stranger.

"Joanna Blake, the girl you worked on her case just last week?" The stranger bit out, patience obviously seeping out of his tone.

"I’m sorry sir but that is confidential." Mark barked the answer at the man. "Leave. NOW" Mark whipped his right arm dramatically to the side hoping to make the man flinch.

He didn't though, bur Mark still proceeded with the charade he was playing and placed the phone against his ear.

"You might want to consider answering me first." The stranger said calmly, yet every syllable was more threatening than the other one as he so smoothly pulled his jacket away from his left hip where something silver shined.