Wicks put his hand down.
Krista gave the pack to Wicks, then he started his trek with Summer in tow.
Thirty or so steps later, the two of them were in the jailhouse where a pair of metal cages sat along the wall, both with doors open.
Inside each was a foldup cot, a thin mattress, a pillow and a blanket, and last but not least, a five-gallon bucket with a board atop it. The board had a round hole in the center.
Wicks brought Summer to the second jail cell and ran a probing hand over her clothes, patting her down to check for threats. That much was expected. What she didn’t anticipate was him lingering in places where no man should ever linger, not unless he was married to the prisoner.
When Wicks was done checking all her parts, he shoved her inside with force.
Summer lost her balance and fell chest first, almost smashing her head into the frame of the bed.
The door clanked behind her, then the sound of a lock being engaged found her ears.
Summer spun and sat up, locking eyes with Wicks.
The man said nothing as he took two steps back, then put the backpack on the table behind him, tossing it like it was empty.
“Hey, easy with that! There are breakables inside.”
He didn’t respond or seem to care, standing with feet frozen and his square chin jutting out. He folded his arms across his chest and became a statue.
“So what? You’re just going to stand there and stare at me? Like some mindless robot? Really?”
The man never answered, his eyes burning a hole into her.
She shrugged. “Then, I guess it’s true. All you security guys are brainwashed to do whatever Krista tells you, no matter what. Just because she tells you to do something does not mean you have to. You have a choice. You really do.”
“It’s called following orders. You should try it.”
Summer stood up, snorting a quick breath. “Well, how about that? The meathead can speak.”
Wicks bit his upper lip, looking even more pissed than before.
Summer could see she was getting to him, so she decided to keep pressing. Maybe she could get him to do something really stupid. He’d already assaulted her more than once, deserving some sort of payback. The man obviously had issues. Issues she might be able to exploit.
Sympathy is a great thing when you’re in jail. She’d read all about it in her books. The bleeding hearts—the people who love to rescue a lost cause—even when the prisoner is guilty as hell. All a prisoner had to do was wrap their claims inside some perceived injustice and they’d garner plenty of support.
That’s what she needed to do—ramp up the level of mistreatment. Then it would ring true on the heartstrings of the social justice warriors. Warriors named Edison and Blackwell.
Summer grabbed the bars on the door and pressed her face between them, giving him a clear shot. “Come on, I’m right here, Wicks. I know you muscle-bound freaks can’t control yourselves. You just love to hit a defenseless woman.”
Nothing but silence from Wicks.
She switched into her coy, lively voice. “It’s just me and you. Nobody else around. I know you want it, Wicks. Come on, do it. We’re all alone. Nobody’s going to stop you.”
Wicks adjusted his arms, tightening them across his chest.
“It’s a free shot,” she said, watching his face for a reaction. None came, so she continued, raising her attack to a new level. “Nobody would blame a man like you. A pervert who gropes young girls. Probably how you got that nasty scar, too—touching the wrong little girl at daycare or something, back in the day. Even with that tiny pecker between your legs.”
He still didn’t respond.
Summer laughed, feeling the need for another insult. “Somebody’s got a serious lack of ‘danglage’ and I think that somebody is you.”
Wicks held firm, his eyes losing their intensity. It was clear he wasn’t going to take the bait.
“No? Okay, your loss. But you know as well as I do that it would have felt amazing to sink your knuckles into my face. Or your fingers into something else.”
Summer stepped back and walked the cell from one end to the other, retracing her steps as her mind went into analysis mode. There was something she was missing with this cement head.
Everyone has buttons you can push to make them do whatever you want, even though they know better. However, so far, the cretin hadn’t reacted like she expected.
Time to change tactics, she decided, continuing her thought process. She wasn’t sure how long “two shakes” meant in Krista’s mind, but there was probably still time to make something happen with Wicks.
If not, then when Krista arrived, she would check the backpack and find the Seeker Map was missing and discover the other stuff that was personal in nature. Two huge violations of the rules in Krista’s book.
When Summer’s eyes found their way to the edge of the bedframe that she’d almost landed on earlier, a new idea came roaring into her mind. Summer stopped pacing, turned to Wicks, and rubbed her chin, the pain from his slap still resonating.
“I hope you know Edison isn’t going to like you hitting me like that. Or tossing me into this cell. It’s probably going to cost you your job. Might even get you banished. Who knows? I’ve seen worse things happen for far less.”
He shook his head, looking steadfast. A slight smile took over his mouth, almost as if he knew her change in tactics was coming.
Summer wasn’t done. “You guys really need to think twice about roughing up a valued member of the team. Seekers like me keep this place alive. You included. It’s not too late to let me out of here and save yourself. It’s what I would recommend before Edison comes down on you. Hard.”
Wicks kept his tongue silent.
Summer waited to see if he might change his mind. When he didn’t, she let her heartbeat calm, then took a step back. She tossed her hands up, preparing to finish the scene she’d cooked up in her head.
The next step wasn’t going to be pleasant, but she couldn’t turn back now. Not with Krista due back any minute. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Even Krista won’t be able to save you once Edison hears about what you did.”
“Nice try, Summer. But we’re not all as gullible as you think. I know what you’re trying to do. It won’t work.”
Summer twisted a lip, figuring he might say something like that. “Oh, really now,” she said, sauntering back to the front of the cell. “You mean like this?”
Summer pulled her head back and rammed it forward, smacking her forehead into the steel bar directly ahead.
The metal clanged as her skin gave way, allowing the bone of her skull to make impact. She stumbled back in a fog, landing on her butt in front of the cot.
A flood of red raced down her face, bringing rivers of warmth along with it. She put her hands up and let the blood run wild across her fingers, then smeared it on her cheeks, neck, and sweatshirt to amplify the effect.
She rolled over to her knees and leaned forward, letting the blood find its way onto the floor in front of the bed. The throb in her head was intense. So was the blood pouring out of the gash, but the dizziness was fading, allowing her to focus better.
She smeared blood across the front of the bedframe, then moved to the right and spun around to sit. She pressed a hand onto the wound, figuring she’d lost enough blood.
Wicks shook his head, looking confident. “You really think that’s gonna work?”
Summer nodded, pointing a bloody finger at the door next to him. “Depends on who walks in next.”
Wicks turned his head toward the entrance.
Right on cue, Krista burst through the door. When her eyes locked onto Summer, she stopped with her eyes wide and mouth agape. But that look vanished a second later, her feet never moving.