a cold smile. “Oh, I wasn’t talking to you.”
He held up his watch, showing him the tiny microphone at the bottom. Dooley paled, his gaze darting to his service weapon on the table between them.
“You think you can make it to that gun before me, you bloated fuck? I doubt it. But there are several DOJ officers outside right now. You can try your luck, I suppose, but all you’re doing is adding a murder charge to the already long list of things you just confessed to on tape.”
Dooley tried to get up but fumbled. “You rotten little fucker. They’re going to kill you and your boyfriend. You know that, right?”
Webster was too emotionally rung out to gloat. He shrugged as the door busted open and agents Fields and Watts entered, yanking Dooley up and forcing his hands behind his back.
Once Dooley was secured, Webster walked up to him, leaning in close enough to smell the beer on his breath. “I’d worry less about us and far more about yourself. Oh, and a piece of advice. I’d cut a deal and start talking as fast as you can. I hear those guys have a lot of pull in the prison system.”
“None of this is gonna stick!” he shouted as they dragged him out in handcuffs.
Webster dropped to his knees and looked under the table at the tiny dog. It growled at him, nipping at Webster’s fingers when he offered his hand to sniff. It took him fifteen minutes and some kibble to coax him out, wrapping him in a towel and carrying him out of the house like a baby.
Outside, Linc leaned against Webster’s car. “Good job in there.”
“Thanks,” Webster said, taking a deep breath and letting it out. “You know how much I love using our spy equipment.”
“What the hell is that thing?” Linc asked, looking at the dog.
Webster fished the collar out from the towel. “His name is Brutus.”
Linc looked at the little dog with suspicion. “Well, don’t let Wyatt see it or he’ll want one just like it.”
All of the nervous energy Webster had been riding on suddenly left him in a rush. “Is everything set up? Are we good to go?”
“Yeah, everything is in place. I figured you might want some company on the ride there.”
Webster thought about it. “Actually, if you don’t mind, I think I want to do this on my own.”
Linc nodded, clapping him on the back. “Okay.” After a moment, he asked, “You want me to take that…Brutus?”
“No, we’re bonding.”
Cy replayed his talk with Nicky over and over again. He’d tried to call back, but Nicky hadn’t answered. He didn’t know if that meant he was angry with him or if he’d gone and done something stupid that might get him killed. It was the latter thought that occupied his mind, causing a fear that made his guts clench. He should have never opened his mouth. A conversation like that should have been Nicky’s decision, and it should have happened face to face.
Nicky needed to see that it changed nothing between them. Why would it? Still, Nicky should have been able to tell Cy in his own time, and he’d ripped that choice away from him. Fucking Dooley. Would that bastard ever stop ruining their lives?
Outside his cell, a chorus of whistles and then boos echoed, followed by shouting. Cy ignored it. If a fight was breaking out, it was best he just mind his own business. He wasn’t counting on Nicky getting him out of there as quickly as he said, but he could do the rest of his sentence if it meant Nicky would be there waiting when he emerged.
“On your feet, inmate.”
Cy was so deep in his thoughts he’d never even noticed the guards enter his cell. There were four of them, decked out in full riot gear. He frowned, heart knocking against his ribs. The only time Cy had ever seen that many guards for one inmate was ten years ago when they brought in a serial child killer and were afraid the inmates would tear him apart.
Cy stood, holding his wrists out for the second time that day. He watched as they clumsily worked to secure his hands over his cast, trying to figure out what had happened to warrant this level of security.
“Am I being transferred? What’s happening?”
Nobody spoke or even acknowledged his question. They led him from his cell, two guards in front, two behind. Every inmate in the day room watched as he was