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TOM SAT IN THE JAIL cell staring at the floor and shivering. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw what remained of her once beautiful face and his stomach rolled. He decided the stained grey floor was a better alternative. His gaze traveled to his arms and the streaks still marring them and his fists balled against the urge to scrub until his skin was as raw as hers had been.
Tears burned the back of his throat and he blinked back the sudden blur, tightening his jaw against the unwanted tears. He was damned if he’d let them see him cry again.
“Boy, when we get a hold of you, we’ll give you something to cry about,” the prisoner in the next cell said.
Tom had had enough of the threats from the surrounding inmates and shifted his gaze to the adjoining cell. He raised his middle finger and flashed a smug smile.
“You’re a dead man, Windwalker,” the man hissed.
Tom shrugged off the threat and looked out the tiny window at the afternoon sky. Monday was a long ways away and he sighed, wondering if Uncle Steve would be able to pull some strings and get him out early.
The door on his cell rattled open, pulling his attention away from the window. Shock skittered down his spine at the hulking mass in the doorway and he stood, backing up against the concrete wall behind him. His gaze darted to the officer standing next to the man with the sadistic grin.
The officer sent a glare in Tom’s direction and pushed the large man into the cell, closing the door behind him. “Enjoy,” he laughed as he walked away.
Tom’s heart pounded in his chest with the rush of adrenaline and he blinked, his gaze bouncing between the danger in front of him and the cackling man in the adjoining cell, egging the man on. He thought about sending an SOS to CJ or Steve or calling on Ty for help, but he didn’t have time.
The man lurched forward, bringing a knife from his pocket. “I’m going to make you squeal, boy,” he growled.
Anger bubbled to the surface, wiping out any fear or sorrow left in Tom’s heart. Years of martial arts training kicked in, and Tom parried, grabbed the wrist of the hand holding the knife and twisted while pulling the giant closer and rolled him over his hip and into a flip that threw the man into the back wall. Instead of going in for the kill, Tom stepped into the center of the cell, waiting for the attacker to regain his faculties.
Stunned silence settled on the adjoining cells and Tom kept his focus on the man with the sharp blade. He didn’t need to be a mind reader like CJ to understand what this bastard wanted to do to him. He’d had enough of being the victim and was damned if he’d let this thug get the best of him.
“I see you want to dance a little before we get down to business,” the man said, getting to his feet. He approached Tom more cautiously this time, switching the knife from hand to hand. The men in the adjoining cells were at the bars now, cheering their fighter on.
Tom kept his eyes on the knife as the man circled him in the small space. Every time the man sliced toward him, Tom sidestepped out of reach. He didn’t follow through with a defensive blow, instead, he danced away, enjoying the anger and frustration in his attacker’s face. It wasn’t until he brushed up against the bars of the adjoining cell that he understood his mistake.
Hands grabbed him, pulling him against the bars and a voice whispered in his ear, “We’ve got you now, boy.” A hand tugged his head back and feet collided with the back of his knees, dropping him to the concrete floor.
Tom struggled to free his arms, but the men in the adjoining cell held fast, pulling them through the bars to his elbows and a hand gripped a healthy handful of his hair, yanking his head back against the metal hard enough to daze him.
When his vision cleared, the point of the knife hovered less than an inch from his eye. Fear tightened his throat and he turned his gaze up to the man’s grinning face. The sound of a zipper sent shockwaves through Tom and panic overrode his senses dulling the pain in his hyper-extended shoulders.
He closed his eyes and silently shouted Steve’s name, the thought barreling like a freight train in his head just like Steve taught him.