Endangered Species Endangered Species (Time Served #1) - Onley James Page 0,64

another way, but not this time. “Please, Linc. I have to get him out of there. The longer he’s in there, the more likely it is that they’ll try to use him against me.”

“You really do love him, huh?” Linc asked.

Webster flushed at the direct question. “Yeah, I do. If there’s such a thing as soulmates, then he’s mine.”

Linc’s eyes went wide at Webster’s confession. “Well, shit. Wanna go to my office and day-drink? I cleared my calendar for this shit show.”

Webster must’ve looked desperate for Linc to offer the good booze before noon. “Yeah, actually. I do.”

Webster’s phone rang at three minutes after seven. He snatched it up, fumbling to push the button to accept Cy’s call. “Hi, sexy,” Webster managed, his voice soft and his words slightly slurred.

As always, Cy’s voice was a barely-there growl, doing his best to maintain some kind of privacy in a room of a hundred other people. “You okay, baby?”

“I’m a little drunk,” he admitted, holding his fingers an inch apart, as if Cy could see him.

“Are you just getting drunk alone in your apartment?” Cy asked, sounding like he was concerned but doing his best not to judge.

“No. We had a meeting with some people that didn’t go well, and then I told Linc we were soulmates and he offered me alcohol to make me feel better,” Webster said, closing his eyes and rubbing Rosie’s ears. She laid beside him with her head on his belly.

There was a pause, and then Cy said, “You told your boss he’s your soulmate and he got you drunk in his office.” It wasn’t a question, more a confused reiteration.

Webster giggled then slapped a hand over his mouth to stifle it before saying, “No. I said you were my soulmate and I was sad because you’re in there and I’m out here and I just miss you so much.”

“You think we’re soulmates?” The relief in Cy’s voice made Webster’s heart soar.

“Don’t you?” Webster asked, his tongue far too loose for this kind of conversation.

“Yeah,” Cy said. “We are.”

“I can’t wait ‘til you’re out of that place and I can sleep beside you every single night,” Webster mumbled.

“Same, baby. Soon.”

“I hate this. You know? I should have stayed in jail. I thought I could help you from out here, but I’m just screwing it up. In there, at least I could kiss you and hold you and ride you and suck you off whenever I wanted.” He moaned as blood rushed to his cock.

“Nicky.” His name was a frustrated exhalation.

“What? I can’t help it. Don’t you miss it? Miss me? My hands… My hole.”

“I swear, if you give me a boner in the middle of the common room, I will get even,” Cy scolded, but there was humor in his voice.

“What are you going to do? Spank me?”

“That and more, baby. That and more,” Cy promised. “I’m going to go before you have me embarrassing myself.”

“Would you be embarrassed if I said I love you?” Webster asked.

“Never. I love you, too. Drink some water or you’re going to have a hangover tomorrow.”

“I can’t wait ‘til you’re home,” Webster said, curling to cuddle Rosie. “Then we’ll be a family again. But a happy one, this time.” If Cy answered, Webster didn’t hear it. He was already drifting off.

The buzzer sounded, indicating the lock was disengaged. Cy shuffled along in leg and ankle chains, sandwiched between two guards both a head shorter than himself. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a visitor during visitor hours. His heart flipped in his chest at the thought of seeing Nicky. Even if they couldn’t touch, just seeing him was enough.

Maybe it was a sign Cy had gotten too cozy with his cushy new status at the prison. Maybe it was simply Cy’s bad luck striking once more. Whatever the reason, seeing the man responsible for his arrest and subsequent conviction sitting on the opposite side of the table in the visitor’s room hit him like a fist in the gut.

Sheriff Tom Dooley had not aged well. His thick brown hair was now a few gray wisps clinging to a scalp riddled with scars and lesions, and his blue eyes—once as piercing and mean as a snake’s—were watery and bloodshot. He wore black tactical pants and a black t-shirt with the sheriff’s logo in the upper left hand corner, highlighting the gut hanging over his belt.

Cy didn’t realize he was standing there, frozen, until Dooley gestured to the chair opposite him.