Page 22 of The Fall Guy

“A wish come true,” I say.

“Excellent. I have an idea how you can use it.”

I’m surprised the priest gave away incriminating information so easily and Max already has a task thought out. He’s eithervery trusting or he knows something I don’t. I may be in prison but that doesn’t mean I want to further my life of crime.

“Okay. I’m listening.” If he’s planning a Great Escape type situation, I’m doubtful it’ll work, but the alternative is going to put me in hot water. I’m not doing his bidding even if we’re both Cyclones.

“Your roommate could use a warning.”

I frown, caught off guard. “Rio.”

“How many other roommates do you have?” He laughs.

I wonder what his interest is in Rio. Does he know what’s been going on between us? No, that can’t be it. He must have other reasons for wanting to send a message.

“I thought you sorted your troubles with him the other day?”

He arches his brow at me. “Do you have a bond with your cellmate?”

I scratch my face, trying to keep my cool. There’s nothing going on with Rio and me. “What? No. Of course not.” My answer isn’t as smooth as I wanted it to be and probably raises his suspicions.

“Then there won’t be a problem.”

I don’t miss what he did there. If I refuse to do as he asked, it’ll look like I’m pining over my roommate, leaving me no choice but to accept. “Is there a message to accompany the scar?” I need to clarify what he wants me to do before I get in over my head.

“Tell him we’re watching him.” His serious gaze never wavers as he stares into my eyes.

The door to the priest’s chamber opens, indicating our time is up. It breaks the strange vibe between Max and I. Guards enter from the main entrance, completely ending our conversation.

We’re taken back to our cellblock. Rio is sitting on his bed when I enter my room. He briefly glances up before going backto his word search. I get onto my bed, hiding the makeshift knife under my pillow.

Rio has already proven he has what it takes to threaten me, and I guess I owe him a thank you.

I’ve proven myself to the Cyclones in the outside world and although I won’t do anything I don’t want to, proving my worth on the inside will only benefit me.

Our cell and surroundings are quiet, probably because it’s well after midnight. Rio never makes a sound during the night, so I’m unsure if he’s asleep. I hang down from my bed, trying to get a look at him through the shadows. The light from the moon isn’t so great tonight. His eyes are closed, giving me the chance to sneak up on him.

Untucking the knife from its hiding place, I make an advance, my heart pounding, which is unusual. It’s uncommon for me to get nervous when threatening someone. It’s not like I’m going to make an attempt on his life like he did me.

Coming to the top end of the bed, I crouch down to try and avoid his counterattack.

I run my finger along the sharp blade edge. It won’t take much to break his skin. I hold the weapon between my thumb and middle finger, bringing it close to his neck. The rhythm of his chest stays even, giving the illusion he’s asleep. I know Rio, though; it’s almost impossible to blindside him.

Starting above his inner right collarbone, I jab the knife edge into his flesh pulling it across to his shoulder. Metallic blood assaults my nostrils, but Rio doesn’t flinch. The sick fuck licks his lips like he’s enjoying this. Taking his time, he opens his eyeswhen I lift the blade from his skin. Blood spills along his top, soaking into the material.

“I hope you’re going to clean that up.” His voice comes out rough.

“This is a warning that the Cyclones are watching you,” I say, mesmerised by the blood pooling on his collarbone.

“So you’re an errand boy now? Just a little bitch who can’t think for himself.” He grits his teeth showing the first sign of anger.

“Fuck you, man.”

Max may have planted the idea of attacking Rio, but no one forced me. I did this because I wanted to. After the way Rio treated me that first night I owe him. My dick starts to harden, and I try not to curse. Why does he have this effect on me? Am I turning into a sick fuck, just like Rio? Violence doesn’t usually turn me on.

“Well, prove me wrong. Why did you cut me?” He lets out a huff when I don’t answer straight away. “Be a good boy and clean it up.”

A mixture of emotions run through me: anger, lust, and embarrassment. He’s playing me, and I don’t have a comeback argument. Getting to my feet, I climb back into my bed before I do something else stupid. I spin the blade between my fingers watching it glint in the moonlight.

---