“"Yeah." The muscular black man in the wheelchair looked at Bolan menacingly. "Well, you got the top bunk, new fish." Bolan didn't move. "What if I'm afraid of heights?" The man rolled his wheelchair to within three inches of Bolan's feet. "How do you feel about a shank in your gut?" Bolan aimed up to the top bunk, bounced on the thin mattress. "Hmm, not as high as I'd thought." The black man in the wheelchair grinned. "Well, well, fish. You're a lot smarter than most guys in here. One l...ook at me in this chair and they figure they can take me. All they got to do is maybe tip over my chair or run around behind me. Some tried." He chuckled in a gruff rumble. Bolan jumped down from the bunk, carrying his toothbrush to the sink. The black man whirled his chair around faster than Bolan thought was possible in the small cell. He was in his late thirties, but his arms were huge globes of muscles with thick veins crisscrossing his forearms like underground cables.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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