Article 5 (Article 5 #1)(89)

He was gone for only a few minutes. Long enough for me to do what needed to be done. To set the wheels in motion for tomorrow’s escape.

I was sitting on a hip-high cabinet above the safe when he returned. The discarded blanket was piled beside me. I swung my heels against the wood impatiently and made myself think about freedom, rather than what was to come.

“We’re clear,” he told me, sauntering over.

He didn’t hesitate. He shoved himself between my knees, jerking my hips to the edge of the tabletop. Then his face lowered to mine.

He smelled wrong. Tasted wrong. His mouth was too hard. His hands were selfish. I tried to back away, but he wrapped his casted arm unyieldingly against my back. His other hand slid up my stomach. It rose higher, over the itchy fabric covering my ribs. Higher, to where I would not allow those fingers to roam.

“That’s enough.” Every nerve inside of me flatlined. I shoved him away, appalled with myself.

“Not yet.” Tucker leaned in again, but I pushed his shoulders back hard and then lifted my knee between us. The next time he tried to advance, my foot was pressed against his crotch. Ready to kick.

“Just try it,” I dared him.

He chuckled, lifting his hands in surrender.

“God, I wish Jennings could have seen that. We wouldn’t even have to kill him. He’d off himself.”

My temper spiked. “You sure talk about him a lot. If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were heartbroken, Tucker.”

I’d said too much.

His grin vanished. Then it returned, with a vindictive light in his green eyes. His fingers skimmed my throat, feeling the jugular vein. His touch was too delicate, and I could feel the power thrumming beneath it. I breathed out unsteadily, hands clenching into fists. Tucker was jealous of Chase, of all the attention he had received. He could hurt me just to get back at his old partner.

“Are you scared?” he whispered. “Do you know what I could do to you?”

“Rebecca Lansing,” I prompted, working hard to swallow.

To my relief he released my throat.

“Rehab center in Chicago.”

My stomach dropped. Chicago. Where Chase had lived with his uncle. Where he had been drafted. It wouldn’t be easy to find her in a war-torn city that housed one of the biggest bases in the country.

“They didn’t kill her?”

“She got lucky. Who knows, maybe you will, too.”

It was time to go. I pushed off the cabinet.

“Wait, wait, wait.” He blocked my exit. “We were just getting started. A guy can’t just shut down like that.”

I tried not to gag. But then my ear perked. “Here comes the guard. Still want to fool around? Maybe he’d like to watch.”

Tucker listened, and winced when he recognized the footsteps. While he was distracted, I grabbed my blanket and slid by him out into the hall. Once the guard saw me, Tucker would not be able to hide that we’d been together.

“Well played,” he said, clapping his hands lightly. “You are a tease, aren’t you?”

My face burned and my teeth ground together, but I forced myself to saunter down the hallway, knowing he watched my every step. I waited for him to open the door and let me into my cell. A few moments later he exchanged muffled words with the guard. I heard them walk all the way down the stairway.

And then I unrolled the crumpled blanket to reveal the handgun—the one I had stolen while Tucker had been checking the halls—and smiled.

*



AWAKE, I plotted my escape. Step by step.

Delilah would come get me just after curfew lifted. We’d go to the supply room, and I’d force her to give me the key. Hopefully she wouldn’t make a fuss when I locked her in. I’d push a cart past the office to the freight elevator, take it down to the first floor. The guards at the back gate wouldn’t stop me; they’d assume I was headed up to the crematorium, and they’d be right. I’d deposit the cart at the side door, beneath the awning. And then I would run.

I didn’t allow myself to consider any deviation from this plan. I already knew what I would do should something go wrong.

I held the pistol in my hand, turning it, warming the handle with my palm. Inoculating myself to its presence. It was the same kind of gun Chase had been issued: sleek, silver, with a thick barrel. I flicked the safety on and off to become accustomed to the sound and feel.

I wondered what Beth and Ryan would think if they saw me now. I wasn’t the frightened little girl being dragged away to rehab anymore. Something had changed inside of me, whittled away and made me hard. I doubted I even looked the same.

Losing your family … it puts fear in a different perspective, Chase had once told me. Yes. I understood now. It didn’t remove the fear, but made it tangible, like a sharp blade you had to carry.

Muffled voices down the hallway grabbed my attention. It was too late to transport a prisoner; it had to be close to midnight. Curious, I stuffed the gun beneath the mattress and pressed my ear against the door.

“He’s a mean SOB, that’s for sure. Those two on watch will be in sick bay for a week.”

“Got you twice between the eyes, didn’t he?”

“Shut up, Garrison. You should talk. Least I wasn’t pissing myself in the corner.”

A chuckle. Then a grunt. The sliding of fabric over the linoleum. The jangling of keys. A door whined softly as it was opened.