by J. D. Sloane
Jesus Christ! He thought, breaking into a run as Baker and two other inmates dragged Blaine into an open cell. He dropped down the metal stairwell two steps at a time as he reached for his radio and then stopped mid-step as Reynolds leapt onto the landing, raising his gun to his forehead.
“Sorry, Captain,” he said, his smile so violent and amused that Munoz raised his hand, struggling to place it. “Nothing personal. Just a better job offer. You know how it is.”
Munoz began to swallow and then felt his body pitch backwards as if of its own accord. He blinked once as he hit the floor, watching the blades of the ceiling fans oscillate overhead and closed his eyes as he saw Reynolds lean over him, angling his sidearm down towards his head.
White, he thought, a warm sensation beginning to spread through his body in a pleasant, disconnected wave. He smiles just like White. He opened his mouth to say so and then simply sighed instead, his consciousness winking out all at once like a campfire caught in the downdraft of an oncoming storm.
Lance looked up as he heard an alarm go off in the hallway and turned his head towards the doorway as the entire room dropped into a sudden uneasy silence. He glanced at Daniel as one of the guard’s radios went off and watched his expression change as he paced towards the back of the room, holding up his hand as the other guard walked over.
“What was that?” Piper asked, her brow furrowing as she tried to catch Daniel’s eye. “A fire alarm?”
Lance took a step towards the glass as one of the guards signaled to Dula with his hand and then turned towards Ronan as he cleared his throat, leaning forward cheerfully as he spoke into the holes between the glass.
“What a shame,” Ronan said, his low gravelly voice sharp with humor. “And just when we were getting to know each other, too.”
Ronan’s smile broadened as Piper stood up, shooting him a look of hatred as she disconnected her mic and joined Matt at the back of the room as Dula banged impatiently at the gate door. Ronan laughed as he watched her sail past, watching the sudden huddle of bodies gathering at the wall with a delight that was almost adolescent. He broke off as he noticed Lance watching him, his dark eyes narrowing with speculation and then raised his brows as Lance stepped forward, brushing his thumb across his lips as he gave him his sudden, undivided attention.
He felt an irrational stab of resentment as he got his first close look at him, the hard river of scars across his face doing little to blunt his striking, movie star good looks.
And I’ll bet the reputation doesn’t hurt either, he thought frowning slightly as Ronan tipped his head in his direction. Nothing like a homicidal lunatic to get all the ladies fainting in the aisles.
“I’m kind of surprised you were willing to do this interview without her to be honest,” Lance said, trying to keep the bitter edge out of his voice as he yanked his hat down around his forehead. “Alicia said that you two worked pretty well together. It’s going to hurt her, you know. Not having this story to fall back on.”
He stood his ground as Ronan looked him over curiously, and then gave him a friendly shrug, his attention so singular and unfiltered Lance had to remind himself not to shift on his feet.
“It’s too bad really,” Ronan said, his low voice filling a detached sort of empathy. “I liked Alicia. And I hear your boss has a problem keeping his hands to himself.”
Lance blinked as Ronan’s lips curled with a delighted sort of malice and then became politely bored again as Dula held his hands up to the circle of guards around him.
“Tell her hello for me,” Ronan said, stretching his legs out in front of him as he made a careless gesture with one hand. “When you see her again. I get the feeling she’s going to get a crack at that anchor desk sooner than she thinks.”
Lance brow furrowed as he began to whistle quietly, his wide eyes ticking around the room with a sudden restless energy and then joined Daniel at the wall as Dula stepped back through the gate, beckoning to the crew members calmly as he gave them a stiff smile.
“I’m afraid there’s a little bit of a problem,” he said, his eyes cutting to the guards along the wall before swinging back to the larger group. “It’s nothing to worry about, but it appears we’re going to have to cut the interview short. There’s a small situation in another block…”
“What kind of situation?” Piper said, her eyes twirling to Matt so suddenly the entire set glanced in his direction.
“Nothing too extraordinary for a prison I’m afraid,” Dula said, raising his voice as the chatter rose around him. “Just a minor dispute in one of the other blocks. I assure you it’s completely under control and you are quite safe. We are simply going to have a handful of guards escort you out as a precaution. It’s simply a matter of protocol.”
Lance looked up as the entire room seemed to burst into activity at once and watched Dula’s face darken as he rapped sharply at the gate again until someone buzzed him in.
Yep, no worries at all, Lance thought, watching one of the grips pick up some of the smaller equipment as Daniel loaded up the duffel bag at his feet. Am I the only one who gets nervous when some suit like that rushes into a room and starts telling everyone not to panic?
Lance stepped back as three people jostled around them in a sudden stampede, guarding the camera instinctively as he threw out his arm.
“Watch it!” He said, his face twitching with impatience. “This shit is expensive.”
He shifted the boom closer to the ledge as he looked around for someone to help him move the heavier equipment out and then paused as he noticed Ronan leaning forward in his chair, dropping his hands to his side as his broad shoulders rolled. He heard the exit door to the prison buzz open behind the glass and then froze as he realized that he had actually seen Ronan’s legs slide forward from his chair, a bright throb of dread pulsing right through the base of his spine. He felt his stomach drop as Ronan glanced in his direction and then swept his hands across the ledge like a master pianist as he gave him a wink, every muscle in his body springing into action at once.
Holy Fuck! Lance thought, too surprised to react as Ronan sprinted across the room, hooking one of the guards by the back of the collar and felt his pulse escalate into a gallop as Ronan dragged the guard backwards on his knees, digging a blade into the hollow curve beneath his jawline before ripping through his throat in one quick arc.
He backed towards the wall quickly as his throat ran dry and heard Piper start screaming as a group of five guards punched through the doorway, the entire room pressing together in a sudden violent huddle. His jaw dropped as a tall man near the front swung what looked like a semi-automatic at the guard next to him and opened fire without speaking, the sudden spatter of gunfire echoing through the room. He slid backwards without thinking as some of his crewmates tried to make a break towards the door and cringed as the biggest man he had ever seen cracked one of the grips across his nose, dropping him to the ground as he swung his gun in their direction.
Lance turned his head as he heard another alarm blare down the hallway and felt every nerve in his body try to respond at once as one of the men tossed Ronan what looked like a semi-automatic, his dark eyes spinning with a delighted sort of fury as someone started shouting behind them. He felt the entire wall cringe as Ronan glanced around briskly, passing another gun to the guard behind him and then whipped his head around as Dula made a break for the doorway, his expression darkening as he plowed through the crowd with both hands.
“Ah-ah,” Ronan said, breaking into a run as every muscle in his body seemed to spring forward at once. “Not so fast, Warden.”
Lance held his breath as Ronan half-jumped, half-slid over the yellow metal gate separating one side of the room from the other and kicked Dula in the back of the skull as he made it to the other side, the momentum of his body sending the warden sprawling into the wall with a sudden yelp. He saw Daniel throw a protective arm over Piper as two of Ronan’s men dragged him back into prison side of the vis
itor’s hall and watched Ronan pace around Dula restlessly, making a quick gesture to the men on his left.
“Wouldn’t want to leave the whole tour group behind already, now would you?” Ronan asked, his low voice carrying through the hall with an amused sort of violence. “That wouldn’t make much of a headline. I hear these last few weeks before the award ceremony are what really put those ‘Man of the Year’ candidates over the top.”
Dula looked up as Ronan leaned over him and patted his hand against his bloody mouth with the stunned look of a man who had spent all his life on the spectator side of every street fight he’d ever seen.
“But don’t worry, Dula,” Ronan said, his low, gravelly voice filling up every empty corner of the room as he gave the warden a friendly wink. “I’m sure you’ll still find plenty of time to catch up with all of your number one fans after we hit all the hot spots. You’d be surprised how many of the men you’ve helped are anxious to return the favor.”
“All right, let’s go,” the largest guard said, his voice so low and reasonable it sounded like he was trying to round up some clients for his next low impact spinning class. “Come on. Everyone inside. There we go. Right along the counter there.”
Ronan stood up and glanced up and down the row as two of the guards swung their weapons in a slow arc around the crowd, the swell of bodies rolling away from him like school of startled fish.
“Has anyone seen the lovely Miss Webb around?” Ronan asked loudly, moving across the room. “She seems to have slipped the noose.”
Lance dropped his camera as he saw Piper cower behind the group and then screamed as one of the guards reached out and yanked her by the arm, pulling her towards the front of the crowd as she fought him wildly. He felt his stomach clench as the guard shoved her forward and Ronan swung his gun in her direction, whistling under his breath as she skidded to her knees.
“What’s the matter, Miss Webb?” Ronan said, his voice smooth and contemptuous as she tried to turn her body away from him. “Aren’t you enjoying your fifteen minutes of fame?”
Piper looked up at him with a panicked sort of hatred and then pressed her lips together tightly, her screams dying in her throat as if someone had simply flipped a switch.
“What?” Piper said, her teeth clattering together in a sudden grimace as Ronan raised his brows at her politely. “What do you want from me?”
“Oh, just a little of that star quality of yours, Piper. Same thing I always wanted. True talent is so hard to come by these days, don’t you think?”
Lance froze as Ronan twirled his eyes in his direction and then made a quick gesture to the guards along the wall, his lips curling up slightly as he pointed his muzzle towards Matt’s face.
“And you. That’s right. Mr. Golden Gloves. Let’s put those good old Irish hands to work for you, shall we? That’s it. Don’t be shy. Right up to the front of the class.”
Ronan dropped his gun to his side, swinging it away from his body with the air of a master showman and Lance looked at Daniel quickly as the largest guard yanked Matt out of the fray, shoving him into the center of the room with the butt of his gun.
“You’ll never make it out of here,” Dula said behind then, his voice low and strained. “This whole place will be locked down in less than ten minutes. The SWAT team will just pick your men off one by one.”
Ronan gave Matt a friendly smirk and then tipped his eyes in Dula’s direction as one of his crewmen yanked him to his feet.
“Oh, I think you’re being modest, warden,” he said slowly. “Only a little. After all we do have almost ten innocent lives hanging in the balance. And at least two respected captains of industry. Your lives are bound to be worth something to someone on the outside.”
He looked over the injured side of Matt’s face pointedly for a moment and then leaned over him until they were at eye level, his dark eyes beginning to twirl with a slow unhealthy light.
“Or. Maybe. Not. What do you say, Matt? Feel like finding out once and for all what kind of street value that net worth of yours actually has?”
Alicia sat with the remote in her hand and held it up to the television before setting it back down again, rubbing her eyes before reaching for her cigarettes. She bit her bottom lip and then stood up and paced across the floor, taking a drag off her cigarette as she spun open the blinds. She caught a glimpse of herself in the window, the soft sunset turning the pane of glass into a smooth orange reflecting pool and walked over to the mirror next to the door as she gave herself a long look, wishing for the thousandth time that day that she had no idea that the interview was going on at all. Or when. Or with who.
I’ll bet Piper wears that pink dress of hers too, just to annoy me, she thought, admiring her freshly dyed auburn locks for a moment as she took a drag off her cigarette. The one that makes her look like a homecoming queen who just wandered into the station with her crown tucked around her ears. She made a low noise of annoyance as her cigarette ash dipped low enough to singe her fingers and stamped it out impatiently, rubbing her hands through her hair as she played with the low v front of her slashed white tee.
And won’t Matt just make an absolute meal out of that too? Parade Piper around like the city’s newest answer to journalism while he sends me scurrying out the back door with all the would-be interns who couldn’t make the cut. Simply because I wouldn’t play by the rules. His rules. Made up at whim to appease his ridiculous, overblown ego.
She felt her teeth grind together and let out a sigh as her eyes rolled to the duffle bag in the middle of her floor, the strange post-midnight frenzy that had her possessed her while she packed it giving her a residual blast of panic. She scratched her arm, her body turning towards it as if the contents were emitting some sort of low frequency soundwave and then tipped her eyes towards the opposite wall as she heard her phone let out a muffled chime.
And it looks like good old Chief Nolan isn’t going to do me any favors either. He must feel pretty confident that his men have as much to lose as he does. In my experience no one’s that loyal. Especially once I leak that footage to every police watchdog group in the city.
Alicia paced over to the couch, swiping through her messages with a pass of her fingers and then paused, looking for the message that had proceeded it.
White has us, the message began. They’re taking
She felt her stomach drop as she realized that Lance had sent it over 40 minutes ago and scrolled quickly for a second message as she shook her head, grabbing the remote without thinking. The television snapped to Channel Six the moment she hit the power button and she heard a low noise of surprise escape her throat as a helicopter shot of the Belle isle suddenly came into view, a line of police cars blocking the drive leading up to the long chain of brick buildings.
Live! The tagline read in a sudden sweeping red graphic across the screen. Riot at Connor Prison! News Crew Taken Hostage.
Alicia brought her fingers up to her lips as she read the text again, her eyes darting over it wildly as if trying to decipher some hidden message inside Lance’s cryptic message. She looked at the time stamp, typing a response automatically and then stopped herself, her entire body flying into motion. She crouched down in front of her duffel bag, unzipping it briskly as she snapped her hand through the contents and grabbed her Channel Six news badge, tossing the nylon cord around her neck.
He would’ve written more if he could’ve, she thought, pulling her dark leather jacket on over her tee shirt and black leggings before picking up her phone again. Don’t want to draw attention to him if I don’t have to. And he might be hiding someplace in plain sight.
She picked up her keys off the table by the door, her mind spinning in a hundred directions at once and then paused mid-step as she realized that she had left her company car back at the station, hoping to avoid the smug, awkward conversation with Matt she knew was coming.
Which means that I have no car at all, she thought, her anger over how he
lpless and cornered she felt beginning to blot out her fear in a thin red cloud. No way to even get to the station to load up the van unless I feel like waiting on a service. And who knows what Matt told the office crew. I’m not even sure they’d let me take a van if I tried.
Her gold eyes darted around the room wildly, a wave of pure outrage pulsing through her temples and then blinked down at her phone as she scrolled through her call list rapidly, hitting the redial button on her phone. She drummed her fingers against her thigh as the phone rang, pacing in front of her window and then looked down at her phone as she decided to text instead, the green talk screen leaping to life in her hand.
“Yeah? Hello?”
Alicia pressed the phone against her ear as Emilio’s voice came over the opposite end and paused in front of the window, looking down over the empty road as she tried to arrange her thoughts along more professional corridors.
“Emilio? This is Alicia. Are you watching the news?”
Emilio sighed on the other end and she felt a brief surge of impatience as she realized how relaxed he sounded, almost as if he had been sleeping.
“No. I worked until four last night. I did want to thank you though. Your guy- I think it was Lance? He called me the other day. Wanted to set up an interview…”
“Turn it on. Channel Six.”
“Yeah. All right. Hold on.”
She heard a TV blare to life in the background, the sudden stutter of channel surfing filling the receiver and then felt a brief rush of relief as Emilio swore under his breath, his voice suddenly becoming more alert.
“Christ! What happened? Is this live?”
“It’s live,” Alicia said curtly, beginning to pace again as her mind began to spin in cool, hard circles. “There’s some kind of riot at the prison. Do you have a hand-held camera? Something besides your phone?”