Page 35 of Endangered Species
Once more, Webster shrugged. “The prison system is already painfully broken. If it wasn’t, you people wouldn’t have been able to do what you did in the first place. You people chose to enslave the underprivileged so you could line your own pockets. You treat them like animals.” Webster forced himself to smile. “If you want to keep your operation under wraps, I suggest you figure out how to give me what I want. Keep in mind, I could be asking for much more.”
The warden’s hands flailed. “I can make some phone calls, get you out in a day or two, make the DA drop the charges, say it was a misunderstanding,” King said. “But Mr. Whitaker is going to take more time. Three months, at least. It’s the best I can do. I can get him before the parole board and give them my letter of recommendation, but I can’t call a special meeting just for him. It would look suspicious after he just went to the SHU.”
Frustration dragged over Webster’s nerves, making him want to hit something. “Cy didn’t kill his father. My mother did. She and the sheriff set Cy up and robbed him of twenty years of his life. He should have never been in here in the first place. His record should be expunged.”
“That’s way out of my limited scope. I don’t have that kind of power,” King said, voice climbing an octave.
“But you know people who do. Right? People much higher up on the food chain than you?” Webster countered.
King fidgeted as he spoke, his calm facade cracking a bit more each minute. “You don’t know who you’re messing with. These people are dangerous. I can’t just go in there demanding favors for one inmate, especially one who’s already served twenty years of his sentence.”
Webster sat forward. “You people did that to him. You picked the wrong man. Get me out of here and put me in the room with the right people, people who do have the power to fix this, or my boss takes everything we’ve discovered and starts calling in favors from our friends, and I promise you, you don’t want to go to war with us over—as you put it—one inmate.”
King didn’t respond right away, leaving Webster to watch as the older man seemed to realize he had no choice but to, at least, attempt to give Webster what he wanted. Might as well ask for one more thing. “Also, I want access to my brother any time I like.”
The warden frowned. “Once you’re free, you can visit him any time visiting hours allow.”
Webster shook his head. “No, you’re not hearing me. I want conjugal visits.”
King’s brows shot up. “I can’t do that.”
“Sure you can. We’re family. Family is entitled to conjugal visits. If it’s going to take you time to get him out, then I want weekend conjugal visits. This is non-negotiable.”
“I’ll…I’ll see what I can do.”
“Oh, and another thing. I want him out of the SHU now. And I want him to be able to keep working with his animals. No more punishments. No more taking things away from him. From now on, he’s a fucking VIP. Got it?” King gave a weak nod. “Also, Rogers and Kemp get moved to another pod. They stay far away from both Cy and me.”
“Anything else?” the warden snarked, seemingly defeated.
“Yeah, I want Cyrus back in my cell tonight.”
The warden shook his head. “I’m afraid I can’t do that. He’s in the infirmary.”
Webster’s heart plummeted into his stomach. “What?”
“It seems your…brother had an outburst in the SHU and decided to punch a brick wall. The nurse seems pretty certain his hand is broken. The doctor needs to look at it when she arrives in the morning. He may require a trip to the hospital for x-rays. He’ll be returned to his cell as soon as that’s been taken care of.”
Webster hated the idea of Cy being upset enough to lash out, more so that he took it out on himself. Fuck. “Fine. But just so your friends don’t get any ideas, we’ve set up several failsafes, just in case my friends and I start mysteriously disappearing. Don’t test us.”
“You’re not a very trusting person, Mr. Webster.”
Webster scoffed. “Not anymore.”
Cy returned to the prison in the early evening, his right arm in a waterproof cast that went all the way to his mid-forearm. He’d fractured several bones in his hand and would be wearing the cast for at least the next three months, but the doctor said he would be lucky if he didn’t require surgery at a later date to fix any lingering damage.
When the guards came to transport him from intake, he was surprised to find himself taken to the pods instead of back to the SHU. Part of him wanted to question it, but the other part told him to keep his mouth shut in case it was a mistake. He needed to see Nicky, needed to know he was okay. If he could just get a look at him, see he was healing, then, if they took him back to the SHU, he’d have a little bit of peace.
The other inmates eyeballed his cast as he entered but said nothing. He nodded at Tig, Jay, and Iggy, who sat at a table playing dominos. They acknowledged his greeting before returning to their game. The walk to his cell seemed to take hours, but the moment he found Nicky, the tightness in his chest loosened. Nicky sat on Cy’s bed, enveloped in Cy’s hoodie. Even bruised, battered, and scruffy, glasses askew, he was the sexiest thing Cy had ever seen.
“I haven’t even been gone twenty-four hours and you’ve helped yourself to my stuff. That’s cold, Nicky,” he said with a soft smile.
Nicky hopped off the bed and into his arms, clearly trusting Cy not to let him fall. He caught Nicky around the waist with his good arm, letting him wrap his arms around his neck, even though others could see. Cy really didn’t give a fuck what others thought anymore.
He set Nicky on his feet. He immediately started fussing over Cy’s cast and the scabs that had formed on his knuckles. “What did you do to yourself?” he asked, his voice distressed.
Cy batted his hands away gently. Nicky was the one who looked like death. His bruises were an ugly yellow green, and his split lip was sealed shut but still swollen. Cy removed Nicky’s glasses so he could look at the bruises under his eyes, cupping his face. “It doesn’t matter now. Are you okay?”
Nicky looked confused by the question, like he hadn’t been jumped within the last seventy-two hours. “What? I’m fine. You’re the one in a cast.” Cy let Nicky pull him behind the open door and drag him down for a kiss that lingered. “I was so worried about you,” he whispered against Cy’s lips. “I was so afraid they were going to hurt you.”
