Page 7 of Endangered Species
“Damn, Cyclops. You know Poindexter?”
Did everybody have a nickname in this fucking place?
Cy stepped back, giving Webster a strange look, before turning to face the others. “Yeah, he’s family.”
There were some snickers.
“I’d love to see that family tree.”
Cy didn’t elaborate. “Nicky, that’s Timber, Iggy, Jay, and Cricket.”
Cricket? What the fuck?
“Hey,” was all Webster could think to say.
“Y’all leave us alone so we can talk.”
There was a lot of grumbling, but then they wandered off in a group like a pack of dogs. Webster supposed it wasn’t that far off. Packs watched each other’s back. Didn’t pay to be a lone wolf in a place like this. Webster had no pack. But it seemed, despite everything, he somehow had Cyrus.
As soon as they were alone, Cy slammed him up against the wall, balling his jumpsuit in two tight fists. “What the fuck are you doing in here, Nicky?”
Webster could feel the cold brick at his back and Cy pressed against his front, and, somehow, it was like being a kid all over again with Cy yelling at Nicky for talking in class, knowing they would both catch hell from Phoebe. His emotions swirled in his chest—fear, anger…relief. He was relieved to know that, somehow, despite all the odds, Cy had somehow survived that fucking hellhole for twenty fucking years.
“I thought it was time for a family reunion,” Webster snarked, trying to defuse the spark of anger that lit up Cy’s molten amber eyes.
“You think this is funny?” Cy snapped.
Webster shoved at Cy uselessly. “Do I think this is funny?” he asked in a hissing whisper. “I’m a fucking computer nerd. The closest I’ve come to prison is playingGrand Theft Auto. Do you think I want to be here? I’m being framed, and they stuck me in here with you so you could do their fucking dirty work for them. So, why don’t you just go ahead and get it over with?”
Cy let him go and moved to pace the cell. “This is a bad fucking situation, Nicky. They definitely want you dead. They said if I didn’t make your life a living hell, they were just gonna set the others loose on you. Do you know what they could do to somebody like you?”
Webster closed his eyes, letting his head hit the wall. “Yeah, I do. I’ve been told in nauseating detail about all the men who are going to turn me into their favorite trick. The guards were practically salivating over it.”
“Do you have a lawyer? Can they get you transferred out or put in protective custody?” Cy asked.
“You think I’d be better off alone with the same guards who just asked you to hurt me?” Webster asked. “Look, this isn’t your problem. I have friends on the outside who are trying to get me out of this. I’m not trying to make shit hard for you.”
Cy’s gaze softened a bit, and he shook his head. “That’s the thing, Nicky. They’ve made you my problem. If I don’t hurt you, they’ll find others who will. I can’t protect you from everybody.”
“I’m not six years old anymore, Cy. I’m a fourth degree blackbelt. I know Krav Maga. I even kick-box on weekends. I’m not helpless, but I’ve got a bullseye on my back. I might be able to take on one or two guys at the same time, but I’m not fucking Bruce Lee, especially if they’ve got weapons.” Webster swallowed the lump in his throat. “You might have to just let them have me.”
Cy looked at him like he was stupid, but Webster’s gaze strayed over his shoulder to the guard watching from the other side of the unit.
“Hit me,” Webster said suddenly.
“What?” Cy muttered.
“Hit. Me. Do it. They’re watching.”
“No. No way.”
“Hit me or they’ll find somebody who will.”
Webster had no doubt that Cy had tempered his punch, but that didn’t stop his nose from feeling like it had exploded, his blood gushing like a fountain. Webster lurched over to the sink, eyes watering as he watched blood circle the drain. A rag appeared in his vision, and he accepted it, stuffing it under his nose.
“You okay?” Cy asked.
“Aces,” Webster muttered, his nose and head throbbing in time with his heartbeat. “I think we might need to come up with a better plan,” he said, sounding like he had a head cold.
