Endangered Species Endangered Species (Time Served #1) - Onley James Page 0,7

to take a crack at him, I imagine others would. It’d be a shame if the others in the yard found out the new fish don’t eat fish. It might even be open season on him. You got a lot of clout out there. Wouldn’t be nothing to start a few rumors and let the laws of the jungle take its course. Keep your hands clean.”

Jesus. What the fuck was this dude talking about? Was he trying to encourage Cyrus to paint a target on Nicky’s back? Why? Like, there was always shit going down between the COs and the inmates, but that was the kind of shit that got you jumped in the fucking shower or sent to solitary. The COs didn’t hand over other inmates on a silver platter. This wasn’t Oz. Cyrus kept mostly to himself, but even he knew that. But he couldn’t say as much. Not to Rogers.

“What’s in it for you?” Cyrus asked, trying his best to act uninterested.

“Aw, don’t be like that, Cy. You’re one of the good ones. The warden likes to reward good behavior.”

Cyrus snorted. “Bullshit. That man still cuts a hole in his sheet to fuck his wife. He sleeps with a bible in one hand and his dick in the other. He thinks we’re all animals. What the fuck is he playing at? Are you all trying to get me thrown in the hole or something?”

This time, it was Rogers who rolled his eyes. “Man, you’re paranoid for a guy who’s just been given a huge fucking gift.” When Cyrus continued to stare him down, Rogers shrugged. “Fine. He just pissed off the wrong people. That’s all you need to know. Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth. If you don’t want him, I’m sure the AB would love that shit. He’ll be holding Thor’s pocket before chow time tomorrow. Either way, your boy’s not long for this world.”

Cyrus’s brain rejected the idea of his little Nicky holding the pocket of a nearly seven foot tall Nazi sympathizer. “Stop calling him that. I haven’t seen him since he was six. Like, I don’t beef with toddlers, man.”

Rogers lazily pulled his nightstick from his belt and started to tap out a pattern against the bars of the kennel beside Rosie’s. Cyrus side-eyed him as he continued to work, never trusting any guard enough to keep his back to him. He could tell Rogers was fuming. He clearly thought this information would endear him to Cyrus. If he was trying for a seat at the cool kids’ table, he was barking up the wrong tree. Cyrus kept his head down and his nose clean. He’d earned respect based on his size and his ability to navigate the yard without getting involved in the drama.

“If you’re not interested, I’ll put him in the C pod. It might be fun to watch the Mexican mafia and the white boys fight over him. Though, I’m not sure what’s left would be any prize.”

“No.” Cyrus was shocked by the venom in his voice. He shook his head. Fuck. This was such a bad fucking idea. “No. Leave him with me.”

Rogers floated closer. “You sure? I mean, you seem kind of torn. It’s okay if you don’t have the stomach for it. Hell, you’ve been jerking off to your own hand for so long, maybe you don’t even remember what a tight hole feels like.”

Cyrus took a deep breath and let it out again, and Rosie looked at him with her wide blue eyes, letting out a whine, her tail wagging like she was afraid the anger she smelled might be directed at her. Cyrus rubbed the dog’s face and neck while he tried to contain the raw aggression coursing through him. “He’s mine. But in my own time. I have a plan.”

Rogers twirled his baton before replacing it in his holster, another fucking grin spreading over his doughy face. How many times had Cyrus thought about smashing his smug face against the bars until there was nothing left? Too many to count. “What kind of plan?”

“The kind that’s none of your business. This is between me and the kid. We got a lot to talk about.”

“Yeah, I feel ya,” Rogers said. Sure, you do. “Just don’t take too long or none of us will be able to keep the others off of him.”

The guard’s laugh echoed in the space like he was a comic book villain, but Cyrus didn’t ignore the implication. If they

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