Page 61 of Ransom
"That's the piece I'm giving you here," Joe said. "The rest — the where, the when, the how Otis works — you bring me to Rafe's table tomorrow and I'll lay it out for him. Not in this closet. There."
"You're asking to live under Rafe Lujan's roof," I said.
"I'd rather answer to Rafe than take one in the back of the head at a bus station in Las Cruces." Joe held my eyes. He let his mouth curl.
"And what's stopping me from promising you a place and then shooting you, anyway?" I asked.
"I knew you was a pussy, but I didn't take you for a lying coward," Joe spat.
Winston uncrossed his boots and stood up. He walked behind Joe and slammed his face into the table.
The sound was wet. Something cracked. Joe came up with blood pouring from his nose, his eyes wide, and his cuffed hands scrabbling at the table's edge.
"What the fuck," Joe said.
Winston grabbed him by the hair and turned his face toward me. Blood ran down Joe's chin and dripped onto the metal in fat red drops. Winston held him there.
"See that man?" Winston said. "That man's mine. You walk onto his ranch tomorrow, you keep your eyes on the ground and your mouth shut, or I'll drive out there and finish what the bus station would've started. You understand me?"
"Yeah." Joe's voice was wet. "Yeah, I got it."
"Good." Winston let go of Joe's hair. He wiped his hand on his jeans and sat back down beside me. "Sorry about that. I just wanted us to be clear."
Joe spat blood onto the table. His nose sat at a new angle.
"Clear," he said.
Winston's knee found mine under the table and stayed there.
The broken nose hadn't been for the case. It hadn't been for the badge. Joe had called me a name, and Winston had broken his face for it. Nobody had ever done that for me. Not once. Not my brother, not Rafe, not any man who'd shared my bed or my blood. I'd been the one who did the breaking my whole life, and I'd done it alone.
My cock was so hard against my jeans I could barely sit still.
I left my leg where it was and put my hands flat on the table and looked at Joe.
"Tomorrow," I said. "Eight."
"Eight," Joe said.
"And when you sit down at Rafe's table, you tell him everything." I held his eyes. "You hold one thing back, you're not my problem anymore. You understand what I'm saying?"
"I understand."
"Say it."
"I tell Rafe everything. I'll hold nothing back."
Winston knocked on the door. The CO opened it. Joe stood, and the guard took his elbow, guiding him away. Joe let the blood sit there on his chin like he wanted it on the record.
"Lanza," Joe said over his shoulder.
I looked at him.
"Thank you."
I didn't answer. The door closed.
Winston pulled a bandana from his back pocket and wiped his hands, slowly, thoroughly, getting Joe's blood out of the creases around his knuckles. He folded it and put it away. Then helooked at me with those green eyes, that easy mouth, and a spot of blood on his shirt cuff.
