Read Savannah Swingsaw for Free Online Page B

difference between "supposed to be" and "is."
    Bolan knew that, but he had to check on Dodge Reed, make sure the kid was okay for the next couple of hours. "Thanks for the warning."
    Carrew shrugged. "Just looking out for myself."
    "Yeah, right."
    Bolan was about to leave when a shark-faced guard blocked the doorway, chewing gum noisily.
    He slapped his baton into his palm and nodded at Bolan. "Come with me, Blue."
    "Where?" Bolan said. He recognized the guard as the one who'd exchanged glances with Rodeo out in the courtyard, the one who'd ignored the fight.
    "You don't ask no questions around here, Blue," the guard barked. "You do what you're told. Now haul ass, mister."
    Bolan started for the door, tripped over Carrew's wheelchair and fell sprawling to the floor next to the chair.
    "Shit, man," Carrew complained, almost getting knocked over.
    "Sorry," Bolan said, climbing to his feet, his hand pressed against his chest as if he'd bruised something.
    "Don't get nervous now, Blue," the guard taunted with a chuckle, chewing his gum rapidly. "We ain't going to no gas chamber."
    "Aren't you?" Carrew said.
    "Watch yourself, Carrew. You don't want none of his trouble, do ya?"
    Carrew stared angrily at the guard, then looked up at Bolan. "Like I said before, man. You'll have to help yourself."
    "I just did," Bolan said. His back was to the guard as he opened his fist clutched to his chest. In it was Carrew's shank, which Bolan had taken from the wheelchair when he'd fallen. He stuffed it down his shirt.
    "You mother," Carrew said, groping under the seat of his chair, finding nothing. He looked angry enough to lunge at Bolan, but the Executioner was already failing in step next to the gum-chewing guard. The other prisoners looked away as the two men marched by, as if they didn't want to be able to testify later.
    Once they were out of sight of the open cells, the guard threw Bolan up against the wall, pressing his baton into the base of Bolan's skull as he frisked him. He pulled Carrew's shank out of Bolan's shirt. "Beena bad boy, Blue."
    "Just something to sew my torn shirt."
    He shoved Bolan ahead of him as they continued down the hallway. Bolan watched the guard unlock the door to the corridor for solitary confinement cells. They were hardly ever used to lock up prisoners, though they were a popular spot for boozing, shooting up or just passing a joint around.
    "What's this all about?" Bolan asked innocently.
    "Whaddya think, fish?"
    "Maybe my pardon came from the governor?"
    "Yeah," the guard snorted, "I want ya to meet the governor and his staff." He prodded Bolan ahead of him down the dim hallway. The doors on either side began opening. Three rough-looking men with shanks stood sneering at Bolan. And finally at the end of the walkway, Rodeo stepped out, his fists fitted with heavy brass knuckles with sharp one-inch spikes protruding from each knuckle.

9
    "Wait outside," Rodeo told the guard, who grinned and left. The door closed behind him with a hollow thud.
    Bolan was silent. He eyeballed each man carefully, analyzing from the way they moved what their strengths and weaknesses were. He didn't find many weaknesses.
    The three men faced Bolan in the narrow corridor like a wall of malignant flesh, their hard thick bodies tense and bristling. The flat, crudely made blades shone dully in their hands.
    Behind them, Rodeo chuckled.
    There was no way out. On the other side of the door, their bribed guard was waiting. On this side, three armed bone-crushers and one bald giant with spikes on his knuckles.
    Some choice.
    "You boys can cut him up some," Rodeo was telling them, "but I want him alive." He hoisted his studded knuckles. "For these. My tenderizers."
    Bolan fell into his combat stance, feet apart, weight evenly distributed. The corridor was too narrow for any fancy moves, but if he could get the knife away from one of those guys, he might just have a chance. Slim, but a chance.
    The first to step forward was the heavy one