Game of Fear (Montgomery Justice #3)(63)

In fighting, she’d created a prison with another set of bars.

The doors swished behind her, but instead of low conversations of kids pretending to be normal, she entered into an eerie silence.

The lunchroom was quiet except for the sound of spoons and the occasional plastic cup on the hard plastic tables.

No one had forks or knives.

Ashley slowly made her way across the room. She could feel the tension rise. Several teens glared at her. This place was bad enough. Ashley’s troublemaking had brought the full fury of the Warden down on them.

Any whispers. Punishment.

Any note-passing. Punishment.

A failure on a level. Punishment.

And Ashley had somehow become the leader of the troublemakers.

By the time she reached Justin’s table, she thought she might pass out. She sat across from him. He lowered his gaze, then made a quick scissor motion with his fingers.

She nodded. Yeah, they’d cut her.

The muscles in his jaw pulsed. His gaze narrowed on the guards, skewering them with hatred. They both knew she couldn’t leave with them as planned. The chip set off the sensors and then acted as a tracking device.

He frowned, then sat back, sadness lining his face. He didn’t want to leave without her. She placed her hand on the table, inches away from his, for just a moment.

She needed him to leave. Needed him to get to Deb.

They’d never touched or kissed since they’d been here, but he still made her feel things she’d never felt before.

She just wished he could hold her, make her feel safe for a second. None of them were safe, though.

She flicked her gaze to Dave, snagging his attention, then back at Justin. Shielding her hand from view, she briefly made a walking motion on the table, then rested her hand on the table and gave a quick thumbs-up. They would leave through the C2 exit tonight.

As long as she did her part.

She’d already programmed the C grid to shut off. The timing had to be perfect. This was their one chance.

The redheaded guard slammed his hand down on the table between them. Then he grinned and gripped his baton. He slapped the wood against his palm and gave them all knowing glances.

He didn’t have to say a word. He’d love to beat the crap out of them.

Everyone lowered their gazes.

The spoons stilled. The room had gone silent, the tension unbearable.

After several minutes, he walked back to his post. Utensils scraped against the plates again.

The moment the guy turned his back, Floyd, sitting at the table opposite Ashley, winked.

She had to wonder if, after his brother’s murder, he’d gone a little crazy. Or if he just didn’t care anymore.

Floyd had been here longer than almost anyone. He knew this place. He was the one who had warned her that the Warden had cops and FBI on the payroll, that once they got out, they had to find someone they trusted.

Justin had promised her he would find Deb—and no one else.

Ashley shifted in her chair. The movement pulled at her side and she winced. Floyd gave a slight cough. She looked at him, eyes wide. What was he doing?

He lowered his head and she followed the movement to his hands.

His finger barely stirred, but he tapped out a message in Morse code. Mail sent yesterday.

The package to her sister.

He knew? If Floyd knew, who else?

Panic made her cheeks flush.

OK, he tapped out.

But would her sister understand the message? Ashley could only pray. If Justin and Dave didn’t make it . . . that package might be their only hope.

A few familiar guards entered the room, this time bearing automatic weapons.

The room went silent again.

Whispers had circulated since she’d arrived that something huge was going down. Guards with guns. It didn’t look like it was going to be a lot of fun.

Ashley swallowed hard.

If the Warden was turning this place into an armed camp, maybe she’d been wrong. Maybe it would be better if her sister stayed away.




The charred shell of Sammy’s Bar looked even worse in the light of day. The stench of soaking, burned debris filling the parking lot made Deb’s stomach roil. This was Denver, Colorado, not a war zone, and yet, it looked like a drone had hit the place.

A shiver skittered down her back just before a warm hand touched her shoulder. “It’s a mess, isn’t it?” Gabe’s warm breath teased her ear.

“You can rebuild,” she said.

“Maybe.”

She looked over her shoulder at him, at his fatigue-filled eyes, at the hurt just beneath the surface. She saw depths in Gabe that she hadn’t expected. Especially after last night.

She faced him. “How are you doing?”

“No one ever asks me that.” He touched her cheek. “Not bad, except I wish we hadn’t fallen asleep in that hotel room. Not how I’d planned to spend our first night in the same bed.”

She stared at the collar peeking over the neck of his sweater. “Me, either, but it was the best night’s sleep I’ve had in a long time.”

Gabe leaned close, his presence seducing her in the middle of disaster. “Too bad it took a fire and a break-in to force us into what we both want. Want to try again? Soon? Like tonight?”

God, he was charming. They hadn’t spent the night in that hotel for a quick—or long—night of hot, wet, slow kisses. They went there because his place reeked of smoke; hers was a disaster, but more importantly, too many people knew where they lived.