Free The Take by Martina Cole Page A

Parkhurst he had felt as if he had come home. The prison fear was gone from him now.
    He knew he could hack this environment if he had to. He didn't want to, but knowing that if it all came on top he could hold his own without fear made his life so much easier, as well as being a constant reminder to Jimmy of how life could change dramatically, overnight, in their chosen profession.
    Ozzy had two Kit Kats and two mugs of tea delivered to their table. He was the only inmate afforded this luxury and the POs turned a blind eye, understanding his need to be treated with respect. It made his life easier and it definitely made theirs easier. So it was a small price to pay.
    Most of them were crunching extra wages from him anyway, whether it was for a bottle of Scotch to mellow out his Saturday nights or a few ounces of coke to mellow out his evenings while he plotted and planned his empire. He also made sure there was enough smack in the prison to keep many of the lifers higher than a Jumbo jet while they pissed away valuable years of their life.
    Seeing the respect made Jimmy feel fortunate, made him feel a part of the big picture. He was unconsciously modelling himself on Ozzy. He liked the way the man never shouted to make himself heard. Liked the way he smiled and joked his way through trouble, and so sorted things easily and amicably.
    He used violence as a last resort, and it worked for him because when he did use it, the violence was so extreme the repercussions were felt for many years afterwards. He would cripple or maim, and anyone on the receiving end knew that they deserved it. But the reputation he gathered each time was what made him the legend he was.
    When the violence finally arrived, it was far more than should have been expected. It never really fitted the alleged crime, it just shocked even the most hardened of cons in its savagery.
    Never lose your temper in public. That was Ozzy's best advice, and he had been repeating it to Jimmy now for twelve long months. His education was nearly complete. Ozzy asked for, and more importantly respected, his opinions.
    As they sat together now, Jimmy could feel the respect of all the lags and their families around him. He drove a new BMW and he dressed properly, and he was also learning how to play the crook's most dangerous game: how to keep out of stir.
    And he had the best teacher in the world sitting right in front of him.

    Patricia O'Malley was a little bit annoyed with herself. Ozzy would go ape shit if he knew, but even that fact could not disguise the thrill of what she had allowed to happen.
    Freddie Jackson was scum, he was the lowest common denominator, but she had felt the sexuality off him from the first time she had laid eyes on him. It had been years since she had felt that much excitement over a man.
    She liked deep down and dirty sex, always had, ever since she had lost her virginity to a bank robber at fourteen. The next day he had copped a fifteen and she had copped off with her games teacher, another older man who had been kind enough to show her what her mother and every other woman was missing.
    He had shown her how much sex could be enjoyed without love of any kind — she thought like a man in that respect. She liked sex for what it was, a good feeling, a release of tension. Nothing more, nothing less. She couldn't understand how women fucked up their whole lives over it, wasted it on one man.
    And she had dropped to her knees for a man she could crush without a second's thought if he upset her, and who would now think he had one over on her. Freddie Jackson was all she hated in men, and he was also all that she loved. She would enjoy bringing him down, enjoy making him sweat. If he was stupid enough to believe that a roll in the hay was going to bring him any favours from her then he was in for a big shock. He wasn't the first man to think that, and she knew he would not be the last.
    When Freddie walked in a few minutes later she was ready for