Endangered Species Endangered Species (Time Served #1) - Onley James Page 0,44

as Cy’s new reality.

Webster should have known Cy was going to try to protect him. He should have done something, said something, made him promise to leave it alone, but all he’d cared about last night was forgetting about all of it, no matter how much his body and pride had been wounded.

“He’s about to catch assault charges. He’s done. There’s no way he’s going to get out next year now. He’ll be lucky if he ever sees the light of day on his original release date. He’ll probably lose access to the canine program, too. That’s only offered to prisoners with outstanding records.”

Cy loved those dogs. He loved that program. All Webster had wanted was to save Cy, and, in the end, all he’d done was destroy the only bits of comfort he’d had in that fucked up place. Jesus, Linc was right. He really was a fuck-up. Six weeks ago, when he’d set that program in motion, he never could have imagined it would all spiral this out of control quite so quickly. “No. No fucking way. He’s not spending any more time in this place because of me. I’m going to get him out of this.”

Preacher side-eyed him, running his hand over his silver beard. “You have some kind of magic wand or ace up your sleeve you’ve just been holding onto? Because, if not, your best bet is to keep your head down and hope Thor doesn’t find a way to set his whole crew on you. I don’t know how or why de la Fuenta stepped in and rescued your ass, but you can bet there will be a favor attached to it somehow. The Mexican mafia isn’t really known for their kindness and charitable contributions.”

“I have no idea why Javier decided to make me his pet project,” Webster lied. “I just care about getting Cyrus out of here. I’m tired of playing defense. I need a good offense. I need a bargaining chip.”

“What exactly do you think you have that anybody in here would want other than the one thing you only seem to be offering Cy?” Preacher asked, shaking his head.

What did Webster have? Just his tech skills and a computer program that may or may not have spit out a list of people who were all involved in a conspiracy that would likely knock the for-profit prison system on its ass. “How would I get a meeting with the warden?”

Preacher slowly turned to look at him. “Excuse me?”

“How would I go about getting a meeting with the warden?” Webster asked again.

Preacher shrugged. “Fuck if I know. I’ve been here most of my life and I’ve seen the man twice in passing. He’s not what you’d call hands-on. But, I suppose, if you wave a big enough carrot in front of his face, he’ll find you.”

“Webster? Bro, are you okay? Javier told Angel that you were jumped by a bunch of white supremacists, and Angel told Linc who told me. Holy shit, dude. Are you okay?” Before Webster could respond there was a rustling noise and an indignant, “Hey,” from Wyatt, telling Webster that Linc had wrestled the phone from him.

“You good, Nicky?” Linc asked.

“Stop calling me Nicky. It makes me feel like you think I’m not making it out of here. I need a huge favor. I need you and Chao to come for a meeting tomorrow. It’s an emergency.”

There was a long pause before Linc said, “Okay.”

“Did you know attorneys are allowed to bring laptops for their meetings with their clients?” Webster asked, voice uncharacteristically cheerful.

“Yeah, message received. We’ll see you tomorrow.” There was no goodbye. Linc disconnected, leaving Webster to stand there with the receiver still in hand.

Without Cy, their cell was like a crypt, cold and quiet, the only sound the steady drip of the faucet in the corner, which soon began to feel like torture. Even though Webster couldn’t sleep in Cy’s arms at night, there was something calming about the steady cadence of his breathing in the bunk above him and even the way the metal creaked each time he rolled in his sleep. In just a few weeks, Webster had gone from hating sleepover guests to longing for the sound of Cy’s quiet snores.

By the time they shuffled Webster into the conference room the next day, he hadn’t slept in at least thirty hours. His eyes burned and his brain was fuzzy, but seeing Linc seated beside his attorney caused a spike in his heart rate.