All Chained Up

by Sophie Jordan

  “Yeah. Everyone’s been talking about this new nurse in there. You must have seen her. Old Smitey couldn’t stop talking about her. Hell, everyone’s suddenly claiming they’ve got food poisoning to get in there and check her out . . .”

  The rest of his brother’s words faded. A roar of blood rushed to his head. He turned around, scanning the yard, searching for the two new fish his brother was talking about. He remembered them. They talked too much and spent the better part of their time getting their asses handed to them. Skinny guys, both in for armed robbery. Repeat offenders, they were in for life this time.

  “Where are they?” he demanded.

  His brother looked at him oddly, his dark eyebrows drawn tightly together. “They both faked sick. Made themselves puke and everything. Guards took them about twenty minutes ago.”

  He must have just missed them.

  The roar in his ears faded to a dull ringing. Cold seeped over him as he thought of Nurse Davis in there with those two bastards. His cousin’s face flashed across his mind. All her youth, all her innocence, destroyed. In its place had been only a ravaged shell with soulless eyes.

  Shaking his head, he faced his brother. “Fuck me up.”

  “What?”

  “Listen to me. I need you to hit me. Make sure you do some damage.”

  “Fuck that. I’m not hitting you.”

  He grabbed his brother by the shirt, gripping fistfuls of white fabric. “I need in that infirmary. Either you send me there or I pick a fight and let someone else fuck me up.”

  North’s gaze drilled into him. “You’re serious?”

  “Make it look good.” He released his shirt and backed up a step.

  His brother studied him a moment longer, his eyes full of questions. Knox knew he wanted an explanation, but there wasn’t time. She was in there now. With them.

  His brother trusted him enough to do as he asked. North also knew he would get someone else to give him a beating if he refused. If that happened, there was no telling what kind of injuries he could sustain.

  “Do it,” Knox barked, his pulse throbbing wildly in his neck. “Make me bleed.”

  North clenched his jaw with resolve. His dark eyes glinted, reading Knox’s urgency. “All right.” He shrugged and cocked back his arm. “What are brothers for?”

  Knox braced himself for the blow, sorry his brother might get a brief stint in the hole for this, but there was no help for it.

  He had to get to her in time.

  EIGHT

  THE MOMENT THE two new inmates arrived, unease bubbled like acid in the pit of Briar’s stomach. God. Working here was going to give her an ulcer. Would she never get used to it? Hopefully, they would find a full-­time doctor soon and she wouldn’t have to.

  Wiping a loose tendril of hair back from her forehead, Briar eyed the newcomers over the laptop where she worked as they entered the room with all the boisterousness of two ­people arriving at a party. Like this wasn’t a prison. Like they weren’t inmates at all—­or sick, for that matter.

  Her disquiet deepened as one of them leveled his gaze on her and elbowed his companion. As Murphy frisked them, they looked her over from across the room.

  Finished searching them, Murphy returned to his chair. The wood legs creaked beneath his settling weight. Josiah motioned them to a set of beds nearest the door. They moved with all the swagger of young men who owned the world.

  The skinny one with a ponytail talked to everyone in the room—­not just his companion. He called out to the guard. Josiah. The approaching doctor. Even Briar. He talked even if no one answered him back.

  They were different than the others who came through here, who were mostly subdued because they were hurting or sick. They were hyped up almost like they were high. A definite possibility. There were drugs in prison. She’d watched enough prison movies and 48 Hours episodes to know that. But their eyes weren’t dilated. Simply wild and shifty. Like the raccoons her father used to catch for their pelts down by the creek. Sometimes she would sneak out before sunup and set them loose from their traps. Even though she was trying to help them, the animals had tried to take a chunk out of her hand on more than one occasion.

  These guys made her feel that same sense of wariness.

  Ponytail bounced on the bed lightly, testing it out as though it was a Holiday Inn and he was settling in for a long stay.

  Josiah paused near her elbow.

  “They hardly look sick,” she murmured.

  “Well, they must be. The guards don’t bring them in here unless they show some signs of illness or injury.”

  She nodded, still not entirely convinced and still keeping an eye on Ponytail. For some reason, she couldn’t take her eyes off him. It was like with Knox Callaghan . . . but different. Knox made her uncomfortable for different reasons. Reasons she hated to admit were wrapped up in his good looks and nonstop muscles. It was perverse of her, but nonetheless true. These guys simply creeped her out.

  Dr. Walker settled on a stool between their two beds and began conversing with them in his low, calm voice.

  Briar sighed and set her hands on the edge of the table, ready to push up and see if he needed assistance. No matter how uncomfortable it made her, this was her job and why she was here.

  Josiah looked down at her and patted her shoulder. “Why don’t I take this one?”

  She smiled up at him and eased back on her stool. “You know I’m growing to love you, right?”

  He winked. “Just pay me with bagels tomorrow. I like strawberry cream cheese from the Bagel Stop in Sweet Hill.”

  “Done.”

  She tried not to feel guilty as she settled back into her chair. She was a nurse. She shouldn’t suffer such qualms. If she did, she had no business being here. Ignoring her guilt, she concentrated on the computer screen in front of her as Dr. Walker and Josiah conducted examinations of the new patients, telling herself she was working, too. Someone had to organize patient files, after all. They hadn’t even removed inmates from the system who’d died ten years ago.

  A half hour passed before the door buzzed and two more guards entered. She blinked at the sight of the inmate between them. Un-­flipping-­believable.

  She rose to her feet and crossed her arms, glaring as Murphy patted down Callaghan. He was bleeding from the mouth and nose. He had just been released from segregation today! Couldn’t he stay out of trouble even for an hour? Disappointment washed through her at the sight of him. He was back again, and judging from the restraints, he was somehow responsible for his current injuries.

  His eyes collided with her across the distance and she felt sucked into that ocean, lost in the dark blue depths. She quickly shook off her disappointment. It wasn’t hers to feel. He was a dangerous criminal. Should she have expected any less of him?

  “Hey, man!” Ponytail called from the bed. “You fucked those skins up last week!” He gleefully slapped his knee while his friend nodded. “What happened to you today? Looks like we missed a helluva fight!”

  Without comment, Callaghan was led to a bed across from the other two inmates, his hands bound before him, the chains of his cuffs clanking slightly.

  “Watch your mouth, boy,” one of the guards warned as he attached Callaghan’s restraints to the loops at the sides of the bed.

  Callaghan didn’t look particularly proud of the other inmate’s praise. He was stoic as always, staring back at the two inmates without a flicker of expression on his face. Shaking her head, Briar wondered what it would take for him to crack, to let emotion bleed out. Did he even have it in him or was he simply without feeling?

  Ponytail glared at the guard, his lips compressed in a flat line as though he was fighting the urge to mouth off. His eyes flashed with something that made her shiver. Clearly he didn’t handle authority very well.

  The two additional guards departed, and they we
re left with Murphy snoozing by the door again. For a moment she had the wild impulse to call them back.

  Callaghan looked the ultimate savage sitting there shackled, blood running from his lip. A quick glance confirmed the doctor and Josiah were still occupied. There was no choice. She had to attend to him. Steeling her spine, she marched over and stopped several inches from his bedside. “Back again?”

  He hardly spared her a glance. Just stared straight ahead with frightening intensity. A nerve ticked at the corner of his eye. She followed his gaze to the two inmates, wondering if they had something to do with his altercation today and they just didn’t realize it. Barely checked violence radiated from Callaghan as he sat propped on the bed.

  She moistened her lips, reluctant to get any closer. Her skin broke out in goose bumps. “What happened to you?” she asked carefully, mindful to keep any judgment from her tone.

  “You need . . . to go.”

  He uttered the words so quietly she thought she misunderstood him at first. She leaned forward slightly. “I beg your pardon?”

  His gaze snapped to her for a moment and then away, focusing again on the other two inmates. “You heard me. You need to get the fuck out of here.” She flinched at the ugly words. “Go. Now, Briar.” She started at the sound of her name on his lips. Of course, he must have heard the doctor or Josiah address her as Briar before . . . but to hear him call her by her name, and in such a rough manner, rattled her.

  She pulled her shoulders back and reminded herself that he was the inmate shackled to the bed. She was the free woman here . . . and a professional. He needed to be reminded of that. “How dare you—­”

  His gaze shot to her face, and the intensity there struck her like a slap. The blue was bright and fierce, scraping the skin back from her bones. “You need to get out of here before it’s too late.”

  She backed away at the threat, uncertain, but full with the knowledge that this man was dangerous. That she was in danger. Restraints or no restraints, he was close to erupting. She crossed the room back to her desk, eyeing the bright red panic button. Something told her to push it—­an instinct that her logic fought against as too extreme.

  “Aww, how come I get the guy? Hell, there shouldn’t even be guy nurses. That’s just fucked up!” Ponytail’s loud complaint drew her attention as Josiah took his vitals. The inmate caught her gaze and winked. “I want the pretty girl to kiss my boo-­boos.”

  Briar frowned. He so did not look sick. Had they fabricated some illness just to get out of the general population and visit the HCU? The possibility of that hinted at a deeper cunning than she wanted to credit them with. If they were capable of fooling the guards, what else were they capable of?

  Murphy, in a rare show of awareness, stood up from his chair and inched away from the door. His footsteps clicked on the concrete as he approached the beds. “Enough of that, you hear? You show respect.”

  “C’mon. Who would you rather have tending your wounds?” Ponytail motioned across the room to Briar. “A pretty piece of ass or some guy?”

  Murphy blustered, his hand moving to his side. She wasn’t sure if he was reaching for his mace, the radio, or baton.

  Ponytail exchanged a look with his fellow inmate on the bed beside him, and that’s when she knew. Everything inside of her squeezed tight. Prickles broke out over her skin and her nape tightened. She’d felt this way countless times at the dinner table. When her mom said the wrong thing. Used the wrong tone of voice. Served the wrong thing for dinner.

  It was like that moment when you trip. Those seconds before you land on your face. When you’re on your way down and you know pain was all that waited.

  Murphy sputtered, his swollen hands finally clasping the radio at his belt, presumably to request backup. Unhooking his radio, he brought it to his lips, grumbling, “Maybe a little time in seg will teach you to watch your mouth.”

  Something sank and twisted inside her. Murphy made the wrong choice in that split-­second decision. He should have gone for the mace. Or baton. A weapon, at the very least. Not his radio.

  Ponytail’s sideways glance and the flick of his hand were subtle. If you weren’t looking for it, it was easy to miss. Josiah didn’t miss the gesture, however. He pushed back from the rolling stool and sent it crashing into a neighboring bed.

  “Murphy!” he warned as he quickly backed up. “Watch out!”

  It was too late. Ponytail surged up from the bed and latched onto Murphy like some kind of jungle monkey. He wrapped his arms and legs around him and held on tightly, arms locked around his neck.

  Briar lunged the two steps she needed to get to the panic button and slammed it down. The alarm peeled out across the room and beyond, but it didn’t matter. Too late. Ponytail had Murphy’s gun from his holster. He jumped off the guard’s body, the gun clasped in both hands, his eyes wild, a crazed smile creasing his sweating face.

  Murphy held his hands up, shaking his head fiercely, senseless words tripping from his lips as he clumsily backed away.

  “Gronsky! No!” Josiah shouted, holding out a hand as if that could somehow stop the inmate from firing.

  Two bullets punched the air. Briar jumped at the loud pops. Murphy jerked as he took the hits. She covered her mouth with both hands, stifling a scream.

  Murphy’s heavy weight dropped to the floor with a rattling groan.

  She trembled, her breath escaping in violent pants. Oh God. Oh God.

  She took a staggering step toward Murphy where he sprawled on the floor. Suddenly, Josiah was at her side, stopping her, pulling her away and tucking her behind him.

  “That’s the alarm,” Josiah warned Gronsky, his gaze steady on him, still holding up one hand as if that would be enough to hold him off.

  “Yeah, motherfucker, I can hear it.” Gronsky closed the distance and turned the gun sideways in Josiah’s face. “But I don’t really care. No one’s storming in here.” He stabbed the gun closer. “Not while I’ve got the four of you at my mercy.”

  From the corner of her eye Briar glimpsed the other inmate yanking Dr. Walker from where he sat shell-­shocked on his stool. She winced as he threw the older man to the floor like he was nothing more than a rag doll.

  She tried to lunge around Josiah to reach her boss, but Josiah held her back, not letting her go as the other inmate started kicking the doctor.

  “Stop!” she pleaded, watching helplessly as Dr. Walker curled into a small ball, crying out sharply from the blows. “He’s not fighting back! Stop it!”

  It didn’t seem to matter to the inmate. He continued kicking and kicking, his breathing harsh with excitement.

  “Please,” she begged over Josiah’s continued attempts to reason with Gronsky. “You’re going to kill him!”

  “Pritchard,” Gronsky snapped. “Enough. Can’t you see you’re upsetting her?”

  She swallowed a sob. Still keeping the gun trained on them, Gronsky marched over and snatched the doctor up from the floor.

  Briar’s heart lurched at the sight of his bloodless face. The inmate dragged Dr. Walker to the corner of the room and grabbed him by the chin, forcing him to look up into the camera where she knew officers in the control room were watching.

  “You want him to live? You want anyone else to die? Then go ahead and come in this room,” he called up into the camera, pressing the barrel of Murphy’s gun to the doctor’s temple. The move forced Dr. Walker’s head far to the side, and she bit her lip to stop the whimper that threatened to escape her. “That bull won’t be the only one to die, I fucking promise you! The HSU belongs to us now. Got it?” Gronsky pointed the gun toward the camera and shot off another round, blasting it to pieces.

  She cried out. Bitter fear coated her mouth. It was insane. She felt like she was trapped in some crazy movie. This didn’t happen in real life. Not my life. Not me.

  Except it was happening.
<
br />   It was happening right now to her.

  Her fingers gripped Josiah where he still stood before her. She glanced around the room, as though searching for a way out. Her gaze jerked to a stop on Callaghan, sitting so calmly, bound to the bed, his face void of emotion. He didn’t even care. He dealt in violence. Saw it every day. Committed it. What was happening in this room didn’t faze him. Disgusted and glad that at least he was restrained, she returned her gaze to the inmate with a gun.

  Finished with the camera, Gronsky forced the doctor to sit on one of the beds. The slighter man immediately slumped over, holding his ribs, and she felt true fear for his injuries.

  The other inmate, Pritchard, removed everything else from Murphy’s belt. Murphy gave a small groan, indicating he was still alive, and she uttered a small prayer. Until she realized he wouldn’t be alive for long. Not without medical care. Blood pooled around him like thick dark syrup.

  Dr. Walker must have had the same thought. He lifted his head and gestured to the guard, his voice a weak wheeze as he said, “He will die. Let me see to him—­”

  “You think I care about some pig?” Gronsky demanded. “Maybe I should go ahead and shoot him? Put him out of his misery.”

  “You kill him and it won’t go over easy for you,” Josiah warned, his hands palms out once more, as though he was trying to placate a wild animal. Which was essentially the scenario.

  “You think I care? I’m in for life! They’re not letting me out again.”

  There was a heavy pause. Just the soft wheeze of Dr. Walker’s breaths and a faint gurgling sound from Murphy as he bled out.

  “How long do you think you can hold us in here?” Josiah asked, his voice surprisingly even and calm. “Before they force their way in?”

  Gronsky shrugged. “Don’t care. Might as well have some fun while we’re here.” His eyes drifted to Briar then and a cold finger scraped down her spine.

  Josiah’s hand gripped her hip, tucking her even farther behind him. “No.”