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I lift an eyebrow. “You think you know what big is? Think again.”
That gets him. His eyes go wild, as if he’s mad. “You watch it, Savage. Yeah, I know who you are. Falcon Bellamy. And I know you ain’t in for no murder.”
“You did your homework,” I say. “So fucking what?”
“You think you’re so fucking tough. You don’t know what it’s really like to be a criminal. What it feels like to shove a knife into someone’s flesh, watch them bleed out. After you’ve fucking taken their pussy and ass in every way possible.”
So he’s a rapist. Good for him. He won’t get along well here. Not in my cell block. We don’t take kindly to rapists.
They’re only above child molesters on our totem pole of who are the worst degenerates of humankind. Even murderers fare better. At least their victims don’t have to live the rest of their life in fear.
“Keep talking,” I say. “You’re close to signing your own fucking death warrant.”
“Big words,” he says again.
“Original words on your part.”
The irony seems lost on him.
He finally backs away, standing straight and tall, still meeting my gaze. “You need to watch it, Bellamy.”
“His name is Savage,” Larkin says through gritted teeth.
“The only thing I’m going to call him is fresh meat.” He grabs Tommy’s arm, yanking him toward him. “And I’m taking you.”
“Maybe I didn’t make myself clear.” I stalk toward Zion, force him to let go of Tommy, and then lead him to the concrete block wall, where I grab a fistful of his orange jumpsuit. “You don’t touch any of my men. Have I made myself clear now?”
With his right hand, Zion grabs my wrist.
And I’ll give him one. He is fucking strong.
But I’m stronger. And meaner.
I wasn’t always mean like Zion, but you learn to be mean on the inside. You do it for survival. You do it to protect those who are too weak to protect themselves. And you do it to put shitheads like Zion in their place.
“Quite a grip you’ve got,” I say. “But it won’t get you anywhere here. Stay away from all of them…or I’ll fucking kill you.”
My words aren’t even menacing. I say them matter-of-factly. I’ve found they have more effect that way.
Let them think I’m a little off my rocker. Let them think whatever they want.
All I need to do is watch my back, and the backs of the rest of the men on my block.
Not too difficult.
Not for Savage.
“All wireless alarm systems rely on radio frequency signals sent between door and window sensors to a control system that triggers an alarm when any of these entryways are breached,” Leif says quietly. He points to several circled areas on a blueprint of the McAllister estate. “The signals deploy any time a tagged window or door is opened, whether or not the alarm is enabled. But when enabled, the system will trip the alarm and also send a silent alert to the monitoring company, which contacts the occupants and the police.”
I shake my head. “How is this even possible?”
“It is. All the systems use different hardware, but they are essentially the same.” He scans the immediate vicinity. “This isn’t that advanced. It’s been around since the nineties. I can jam the signals to prevent them from tripping an alarm by sending radio noise to prevent the signal from getting through from sensors to the control panel.”
“It all sounds like gobbledygook to me.”
“It did to me at first too,” Leif says. “But it’s actually pretty simple once you understand how the tech works.”
“Right.”
