Beast shook out his hands and moved to follow Gaffin as I shoved the cuffs back into the pouch on my belt. I put myself in his way, and he snapped at me, teeth clicking like a rabid dog.
“What are you doing?”
“Saying hi to an old friend.” His gaze drifted past me.
“Black, you got no friends. Leave him alone.” Gaffin had taken off too fast for Beast to be his friend. Besides, if this was anything like the two “friends” Gaffin had already met, I did not want it happening.
Beast shrugged, but we both watched as the door shut after Gaffin, and I got a terrible sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach at the satisfied smirk that played on his lips.Fuck.He had to know him.
“Find something useful to do.”
Beast shrugged and headed into his cell. If I had to guess, he was off to do something fun, such as whittle a shank to murder me with.
I took off after Gaffin. When I got through the small hallway bracketed by doors that separated the corridor between blocks, he glanced over his shoulder, those pretty honey-brown eyes of his wild.
“Stop.” My voice bounced around in the mostly empty gray-brick hallway.
Peter pushed himself along faster, almost like he couldn’t hear me.
“Stop, damn it.”
Wettekin straightened up from where he’d been slouching against a wall texting. I hadn’t noticed him because I was too caught up in my mind with the mystery of Peter Gaffin and all the bad men who wanted to beat his face in. Wettekin reached out and snagged the handle of the chair, causing it to turn and almost dump Gaffin on the floor. I held my breath and rushed forward.
“A guard told you to stop!” Wettekin snarled into Gaffin’s face.
Gaffin’s rebuttal—a shove with his hands—was easy to see from a mile away, but I groaned as Wettekin didn’t dodge back, took the less-than-powerful blow, and then slipped the cuffs from his belt. Before I could stop him, he slapped one cuff on Gaffin’s wrist. Gaffin tried to tug away, the muscles in his neck standing out.
“Fuck, don’t do that.” For a second, Wettekin blinked at me in confusion, then he frowned.
“This con’s getting a shot on his record. He struck me.” Much the same way he usually did, Wettekin sounded far too fucking happy about writing someone what amounted to a penitentiary ticket. He enjoyed the power he held.
“Just forget it.” I tugged the keys out of my pocket and uncuffed Gaffin. His skin was soft and warm as my thumb brushed over his wrist, and the glance he sent me from under half-lowered eyelids appeared grateful. I hated seeing the way he swallowed hard and was maybe scared of a piss stain like Wettekin. I didn’t want that look on his face, the same as I hadn’t wanted to see him scared because of Beast. “Your food I owed you is in the break room fridge.”
“Really?” Wettekin perked up at that. He swiped a hand over his broken-out cheek, stopping to pick. Ugh, I hated that.
“Yeah, so go? Please.”
“All right, but watch your ass. Being in a chair doesn’t mean he’s not dangerous. Between you and fucking Brandon treating everyone like they’re human, someone’s going to stab you in the eye.” Wettekin shook his head slowly at me. Swinging himself around, he began to whistle as he walked quickly off down the hall. I hoped he choked on the pork loin.
“Someone’s going to stabhim,” Gaffin said under his breath as we both watched the door at the end of the corridor swing shut behind Wettekin.
Glancing around, I sighed before I steadied my glare on Gaffin. He shrank down in his seat a bit. “Could you not fucking hit anyone? I’m pretty sure that is the only time me stepping in will ever work. Wettekin isn’t exactly a senior staff member, but if you try that with the wrong person, they’ll clock you and fill your nose full of pepper spray. Then they’ll stuff you in a solitary cubbyhole your chair won’t even fit into.”
He tried to roll away from me, and I went to grab for the chair handle, but the fury that passed across his face stopped me. Yeah, to him, touching the chair was like grabbing someone else’s arm. I sighed and walked with him.
“Where’d you get the chair?”
He grunted. “Loaner.”
“Where are you headed?”
Gaffin was quiet and rolled the chair forward. He seemed to be moving better today, and I was happy for that.
“Do you know the men who hurt you answer to Beast? The man you just ran from? It’s not a small secret that he has his own gang in here. Not many in it, but they’re all mean as fuck. Most of them used to be Warriors, in a biker gang, and now they’re just happy to kiss his ass.”
“Tatum Black,” Gaffin gasped out. Sweat beaded on his forehead from how hard he was working to try to get away from me. “And I’m not running. I’m rolling.”
My stomach dropped. “Same difference. You’re scared. Everyone here calls him Beast. Not many people know the name Tatum.” I was dying to ask him how he did. My suspicions sharpened. Maybe he didn’t look familiar because of the way he acted—maybe he looked familiar because I’d actually seen him before.
