Deadly Charade by Virna Depaul

rooting for the same team, watching a game could bring together men who’d normally be at each other’s throats. Didn’t matter. Tony’s attention wasn’t on the game or his fellow cellmates. It was on Linda. How she’d expressed belief in him. And how he’d thrown that belief back in her face, deliberately hurting her.
    Once again he told himself he’d had no choice. As tempted as he’d been to tell her the truth, he couldn’t let anyone know he cared about her or allow her to get close to him again. And if she knew the truth? She would get close to him again. She’d feel compelled to intercede. To protect him. Regardless of whether it put her in danger or not.
    No, the only thing he could do was convince her that he was a bad man, a druggie and a murderer, so that she’d stay as far away from him as possible. That way if his cover was blown or someone decided they wanted to challenge him for the vacancy left by Guapo’s death, Linda wouldn’t become a target again.
    “Man, what happened to the Kings? They suck,” the kid sitting to Tony’s left said, jolting him out of his thoughts.
    Absently Tony turned his gaze on the televised game just in time to see a Kings player lose the ball. Still he said nothing. As Sacramento’s home team, the Kings had a loyal following even in lockup.
    The kid snorted with disgust when the visiting team stole the ball. “What a waste of time. Guy couldn’t keep hold of the ball if it was glued to him. I—”
    “Shut up.”
    Though he kept his gaze on the game, Tony automatically stiffened. He recognized that voice. It belonged to Larry Moser, a hulk of a man two cells down from him. The one with a swastika tattoo on his forehead and who looked like he ate nails for breakfast. Literally. His teeth, what was left of them, were a mess.
    Listen to him, kid, Tony thought. But he wasn’t surprised when just the opposite happened.
    “You a fan? I didn’t think they had any more of those. Like I said, they suck.”
    Moser stood so suddenly that his chair would have toppled over if it hadn’t been bolted to the floor.
    “I told you to shut your mouth. I don’t have a problem smacking my own kid around when he deserves it. What do you think I’ll do to you?”
    Tony finally looked up. The kid was trying not to look scared, but his gaze flicked over to the guard’s station. The two guards on duty were talking, unaware of the tense situation currently brewing. The kid swallowed hard, then reluctantly stood. Tony understood why. Someone who wasn’t willing to stand up for himself in jail soon became victim to a whole new host of problems.
    Moser stepped closer.
    Tony’s pulse revved up. Damn it. He stood and faced the much bigger man. Damn, the guy looked like a bloody mountain. “You don’t want to do that,” he said quietly. “Even if the kid is an idiot.”
    Moser laughed. “What do you know about what I want, pretty boy?”
    Pretty boy. Not exactly what a man wants to be called when he’s locked up in jail with a bunch of other guys.
    “Let’s just enjoy the game, okay? The kid won’t cause any more trouble. Will you?” Turning, Tony glared at the kid. The younger man opened his mouth but Tony never heard his reply.
    Moser punched Tony in the face. Hard.
    Tony staggered back, slamming into a table that, like the chairs, had no give. Pain shot through his leg, but he quickly straightened. Damn it, he wasn’t a natural fighter. Sabon had scarred him up plenty to prove it and, contrary to what he’d told Linda, Mattie had been the one to kill Sabon, not Tony.
    Plus, even though he’d packed on weight and muscle since then, even though he’d trained and was a much better fighter now, better still didn’t mean he could go up against a man like Moser and win. Not without some kind of weapon. And by the way the kid had backed up and the other men around them had started cheering, he wasn’t going to be getting any help from them. The guards were shouting and